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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/29236-8.txt b/29236-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..06f3f7d --- /dev/null +++ b/29236-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7435 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Graham's Magazine Vol XXXII. No. 3. March +1848, 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: Graham's Magazine Vol XXXII. No. 3. March 1848 + +Author: Various + +Editor: George R. Graham + Robert T. Conrad + +Release Date: June 25, 2009 [EBook #29236] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GRAHAM'S MAGAZINE, MARCH 1848 *** + + + + +Produced by David T. Jones, Juliet Sutherland and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Canada Team at +http://www.pgdpcanada.net + + + + + + + +GRAHAM'S MAGAZINE. + +VOL. XXXII. PHILADELPHIA, MARCH, 1848. No. 3. + + + + +THE CRUISE OF THE GENTILE. + +BY FRANK BYRNE. + + +CHAPTER I. + +_In which the reader is introduced to several of the dramatis personæ._ + + +On the evening of the 25th of March, in the year of our Lord one +thousand eight hundred and thirty-nine, the ship Gentile, of Boston, +lay at anchor in the harbor of Valetta. + +It is quite proper, gentle reader, that, as it is with this ship and +her crew that you will chiefly have to do in the following yarn, they +should be severally and particularly introduced to your notice. + +To begin, then. Imagine yourself standing on the parapet of St. Elmo, +about thirty minutes past five o'clock on the evening above mentioned; +the Gentile lies but little more than a cable's length from the shore, +so that you can almost look down upon her decks. You perceive that she +is a handsome craft of some six or seven hundred tons burthen, +standing high out of water, in ballast trim, with a black hull, bright +waist, and wales painted white. Her bows flare very much, and are +sharp and symmetrical; the cut-water stretches, with a graceful curve, +far out beyond them toward the long sweeping martingal, and is +surmounted by a gilt scroll, or, as the sailors call it, a +fiddle-head. The black stern is ornamented by a group of white figures +in bas relief, which give a lively air to the otherwise sombre and +vacant expression, and beneath the cabin-windows is painted the name +of the ship, and her port of register. The lower masts of this vessel +are short and stout, the top-masts are of great height, the extreme +points of the fore and mizzen-royal poles, are adorned with gilt +balls, and over all, at the truck of the main sky-sail pole, floats a +handsome red burgee, upon which a large G is visible. There are no +yards across but the lower and topsail-yards, which are very long and +heavy, precisely squared, and to which the sails are furled in an +exceeding neat and seaman-like manner. The rigging is universally taut +and trim; and it is easy to perceive that the officers of the Gentile +understand their business. The swinging-boom is rigged out, and +fastened thereto, by their painters, a pair of boats, a yawl and gig, +float lovingly side by side; and instead of the usual ladder at the +side, a handy flight of accommodation steps lead from the water-line +to the gangway. + +Now, dear reader, leaving the battlements of St. Elmo, you alight upon +the deck of our ship, which you find to be white and clean, and, as +seamen say, sheer--that is to say, without break, poop, or +hurricane-house--forming on each side of the line of masts a smooth, +unencumbered plane the entire length of the deck, inclining with a +gentle curve from the bow and stern toward the waist. The bulwarks are +high, and are surmounted by a paneled monkey-rail; the belaying-pins +in the plank-shear are of lignum-vitæ and mahogany, and upon them the +rigging is laid up in accurate and graceful coils. The balustrade +around the cabin companion-way and sky-light is made of polished +brass, the wheel is inlaid with brass, and the capstan-head, the +gangway-stanchions, and bucket-hoops are of the same glittering metal. +Forward of the main hatchway the long-boat stands in its chocks, +covered over with a roof, and a good-natured looking cow, whose stable +is thus contrived, protrudes her head from a window, chews her cud +with as much composure as if standing under the lee of a Yankee +barn-yard wall, and watches, apparently, a group of sailors, who, +seated in the forward waist around their kids and pans, are enjoying +their coarse but plentiful and wholesome evening meal. A huge +Newfoundland dog sits upon his haunches near this circle, his eyes +eagerly watching for a morsel to be thrown him, the which, when +happening, his jaws close with a sudden snap, and are instantly agape +for more. A green and gold parrot also wanders about this knot of men, +sometimes nibbling the crumbs offered it, and anon breaking forth into +expressions which, from their tone, evince no great respect for some +of the commandments in the Decalogue. Between the long-boat and the +fore-hatch is the galley, where the "Doctor" (as the cook is +universally called in the merchant service) is busily employed in +dishing up a steaming supper, prepared for the cabin mess; the +steward, a genteel-looking mulatto, dressed in a white apron, stands +waiting at the galley-door, ready to receive the aforementioned +supper, whensoever it may be ready, and to convey it to the cabin. + +Turning aft, you perceive a young man pacing the quarter-deck, and +whistling, as he walks, a lively air from La Bayadere. He is dressed +neatly in a blue pilot-cloth pea-jacket, well-shaped trowsers, +neat-fitting boots, and a Mahon cap, with gilt buttons. This gentleman +is Mr. Langley. His father is a messenger in the Atlas Bank, of +Boston, and Mr. Langley, jr. invariably directs his communications to +his parent with the name of that corporation somewhere very legibly +inscribed on the back of the letter. He is an apprentice to the ship, +but being a smart, handy fellow, and a tolerable seaman, he was deemed +worthy of promotion, and as his owner could find no second mate's +berth vacant in any of his vessels, the Gentile has rejoiced for the +last twelve months in the possession of a third mate in the person of +Mr. Langley. He is about twenty years of age, and would be a sensible +fellow, were it not for a great taste for mischief, romance, theatres, +cheap jewelry, and tight boots. He quotes poetry on the weather +yard-arm, to the great dissatisfaction of Mr. Brewster, (to whom you +will shortly be introduced,) who often confidentially assures the +skipper that the third mate would have turned out a natural fool if +his parents had not providentially sent him to sea. + +But while you have been making the acquaintance of Mr. Langley, the +steward has brought aft the dishes containing the cabin supper. A +savory smell issues from the open sky-light, through which also +ascends a ruddy gleam of light, the sound of cheerful voices, and the +clatter of dishes. After the lapse of a few minutes the turns of Mr. +Langley in pacing the deck grow shorter, and at last, ceasing to +whistle and beginning to mutter, he walks up to the sky-light and +looks down into the cabin below. Gentle reader, place yourself by his +side, and now attend as closely as the favored student did to +Asmodeus. + +The fine-looking seaman reclining upon the cushioned transom, picking +his teeth while he scans the columns of a late number of the Liverpool +Mercury, is Captain Smith, the skipper, a regular-built, true-blue, +Yankee ship-master. Though his short black curls are thickly sprinkled +with gray, he has not yet seen forty years; but the winds and suns of +every zone have left their indelible traces upon him. He is an +intelligent, well-informed man, though self-taught, well versed in the +science of trade, and is a very energetic and efficient officer. + +The tall gentleman, just folding his doily, is the mate of the ship, +Mr. Stewart. You would hardly suppose him to be a sailor at the first +glance; and yet he is a perfect specimen of what an officer in the +merchant service should be, notwithstanding his fashionably-cut +broadcloth coat, white vest, black gaiter-pants, and jeweled fingers. +He is dressed for the theatre. Mr. Stewart is a graduate of Harvard, +and at first went to sea to recover the health which had been somewhat +impaired by hard study; but becoming charmed with the profession, he +has followed it ever since, and says that it is the most manly +vocation in the world. He is a great favorite with the owner of the +ship; and when he is at Boston, always resides with him. He will +command a ship himself after this voyage. His age is twenty-eight. Mr. +Stewart is a handsome man, a polite gentleman, an accomplished +scholar, a thorough seamen, a strict but kind officer, a most +companionable shipmate, and, in one word--a fine fellow. + +Next comes Mr. Brewster, the second mate. That is he devouring those +huge slices of cold beef with so much gusto, while Langley mutters, +"Will he never have done!" He with the blue jacket, bedizzened so +plentifully with small pearl buttons, the calico shirt, and +fancifully-knotted black silk cravat around his brawny neck. + +Mr. Micah Brewster hails from Truro, Cape Cod, and, like all Capemen, +is a Yankee sailor, every inch of him. He commenced going to sea when +only twelve years old, by shipping for a four months' trip in a +banker; and in the space of fourteen years, which have since elapsed, +he has not been on shore as many months. He is complete in every +particular of seamanship, and is, besides, a tolerably scientific +navigator. He knows the color and taste of the water all along shore +from Cape Farewell to the Horn, and can tell the latitude and +longitude of any place on the chart without consulting it. Bowditch's +Epitome, and Blunt's Coast Pilot, seem to him the only books in the +world worth consulting, though I should, perhaps, except Marryatt's +novels and Tom Cringle's Log. But of matters connected with the shore +Mr. Brewster is as ignorant as a child unborn. He holds all landsmen +but ship-builders, owners, and riggers, in supreme contempt, and can +hardly conceive of the existence of happiness, in places so far inland +that the sea breeze does not blow. A severe and exacting officer is +he, but yet a favorite with the men--for he is always first in any +emergency or danger, his lion-like voice sounding loud above the roar +of the elements, cheering the crew to their duty, and setting the +example with his own hands. He is rather inclined to be irritable +toward those who have gained the quarter-deck by the way of the +cabin-windows, but, on the whole, I shall set him down in the list of +good fellows. + +That swarthy, curl-pated youngster, in full gala dress for the +theatre, drawing on his gloves, and hurrying Mr. Stewart, is, dear +reader, your most humble, devoted, and obedient servant, Frank Byrne, +_alias_, myself, _alias_, the ship's cousin, _alias_, the son of the +ship's owner. Supposing, of course, that you believe in Mesmerism and +clairvoyance, I shall not stop to explain how I have been able to +point out the Gentile to you, while you were standing on the bastion +of St. Elmo, and I all the while in the cabin of the good ship, +dressing for the theatre, and eating my supper, but shall immediately +proceed to inform you how I came there, to welcome you on board, and +to wish you a pleasant cruise with us. + +About two years ago, (I am speaking of the 25th of March, A. D. 1839, +in the present tense,) I succeeded in persuading my father to gratify +my predilection for the sea, by putting me on board of the Gentile, +under the particular care of Captain Smith, to try one voyage--so I +became the ship's cousin. Contrary to the predictions of my friends, +I returned determined to go again, and to become a sailor. Now a +ship's cousin's berth is not always an enviable one, notwithstanding +the consanguinity of its occupant to the planks beneath him, for he, +usually feeling the importance of the relationship, is hated by +officers and men, who annoy him in every possible way. But my case was +an exception to the general rule. Although at the first I was +intimately acquainted with each of the officers, I never presumed upon +it, but always did my duty cheerfully and respectfully, and tried hard +to learn to be a good seaman. As my father allowed me plenty of +spending money, I could well afford to be open-handed and generous to +my shipmates, fore and aft; and this good quality, in a seaman's +estimation, will cover a multitude of faults, and endears its +possessor to his heart. In fine, I became an immense favorite with all +hands; and even Mr. Brewster, who at first looked upon my advent on +board with an unfavorable eye, was forced to acknowledge that I no +more resembled a ship's cousin than a Methodist class-leader does a +midshipman. + +Mr. Stewart and myself had always been great friends before I went to +sea. When I first came on board, Mr. Langley, who had been my +school-mate and crony, was, though one of the cabin mess, only an +apprentice, and had not yet received his brevet rank as third +mate--Mr. Stewart, of course, stood his own watch, and chose Langley +and myself as part of it. The mate generally kept us upon the +quarter-deck with him, and many were the cozy confabs we used to hold, +many the choice cigars we used to smoke upon that handy loafing-place, +the booby-hatch, many the pleasant yarns we used to spin while pacing +up and down the deck, or leaning against the rail of the companion. As +I have said, Mr. Stewart was a delightful watch-mate--and Bill Langley +and I used to love him dearly, and none the worse that he made us toe +the line of our duty. He always, however, appeared to prefer me to +Langley, and to admit me to more of his confidence. Since Bill's +promotion we had not seen so much of the mate, but still, during our +late tedious voyage from Calcutta, he had often come upon deck in our +watch, and hundreds of long miles of the Indian Ocean had been +shortened in the old way. + +Gentle reader, you are as much acquainted with the Gentile, and the +quint who compose her cabin mess, as you could hope to be at one +interview. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +_News from Home._ + + +Mr. Langley had just commenced his supper with a ravenous appetite, +stimulated by the tantalizing view of our previous gastronomic +performances, which he had had through the sky-light, the mate and +myself were on the point of going on deck to go ashore, the captain +had just lighted a second cigar, when Mr. Brewster, who had relieved +poor Langley in the charge of the deck, made his appearance at the +cabin door, bearing in his hands a large packet. + +"She's in, sir!" he shouted, "she came to anchor in front of the +Lazaretto while we were at supper, and Bill here didn't see her. The +quarantine fellows brought this along. Bill, you must be a bloody +fool, to let a ship come right under our stern, and sail across the +bay, and not know nothing about it." + +Langley, whose regards for the supper-table had drawn his attention +from the arrival of a ship which had been expected by us for more than +a week, and by whom we had anticipated the receipt of the packet the +skipper now held in his hands, Langley, I say, blushed, but said +nothing, and turned toward the captain, who, with trembling hands, was +cutting the twine which bound the precious bundle together. + +Now our last letters from Boston had been written more than a year +before, had been read at Calcutta, since then we had sailed fifteen +thousand miles from Calcutta to Trieste, and from Trieste to Valetta, +and here we had been pulling at our anchor for three weeks, waiting +orders from my father by the ship which had just arrived; it is not +wonderful, therefore, that the group which surrounded Capt. Smith were +very pale, eager, anxious-looking men. How much we were to learn in +ten minutes time; what bitter tidings might be in store for us in that +little packet. + +At last it is open, and newspapers and letters in rich profusion meet +our gaze; with a quick sleight the captain distributes them, sends a +half dozen to their owners in the forecastle by the steward, and then +ensues a silence broken only by the snapping of seals, and the +rattling of paper. Suddenly Mr. Stewart uttered an exclamation of +surprise, and looking up from my letter, I noticed the quick exchange +of significant glances between the captain and mate. + +"You've found it out, then," said the skipper. + +The mate nodded in reply, and gathering up his letters, retired +precipitately to his state-room. + +At this juncture, Mr. Brewster, who had just finished the perusal of a +very square, stiff-looking epistle, gave vent to a prolonged whistle. + +"Beats thunder, I swear!" said he, "if the old woman haint got spliced +again--and she's every month of fifty-six years old." + +"That's nothing," cried Langley, "only think, father has left the +Atlas Bank, and is now Mr. Byrnes' book-keeper; and they talk of +shutting up the Tremont theatre, and Bob here says that Fanny Ellsler +is--" + +"Avast there!" interrupted the skipper, "clap a stopper over all that, +and stand by to hear where we are bound to-morrow, or next day. Have +any of you found out yet?" + +"No, sir," cried Langley and I in a breath, "Home, I hope." + +"Not so soon," replied Captain Smith, "as soon as maybe we sail for +Matanzas de Cuba, to take aboard a sugar freight for the +Baltic--either Stockholm or Cronstadt; so that when we make +Boston-light it will be November, certain. How does that suit ye, +gentlemen?" + +I was forced to muster all my stoicism to refrain from whimpering; Mr. +Langley gave utterance to a wish, which, if ever fulfilled, will +consign the cities of Cronstadt, Stockholm, and Matanzas to the same +fate which has rendered Sodom, Gomorrah, and Euphemia so celebrated. +Mr. Brewster alone seemed indifferent. That worthy gentleman snapped +his fingers, and averred that he didn't care a d--n where he went to. + +"Besides," said he, "a trip up the Baltic is a beautiful summer's +work, and we shall get home in time for thanksgiving, if the governor +don't have it earlier than common." + +"Matanzas!" inquired Langley; "isn't there where Mr. Stowe moved to, +captain?" + +"Yes," replied the skipper, "he is Mr. Byrnes' correspondent there--" + +"Egad, then, Frank, we shall see the girls, eh, old fellow!" and Mr. +Langley began to recover his serenity of mind. + +"Beside all this," added the skipper, "Frank has a cousin in +Matanzas--a nun in the Ursuline Convent." + +"So I have just found out," said I; "father bids me to be sure and see +her, if possible, and says that I must ask you about it. It is very +odd I never have heard of this before. By the bye, Bill, my boy, look +at this here!" and I displayed a draft on Mr. Stowe for $200. + +At this moment Mr. Stewart's state-room door opened, and he appeared. +It was evident that he had heard bad news. His face was very grave, +and his manner forced. + +"Frank," said he, "you must excuse my company to-night. Langley will +be glad to go with you; and as we sail so soon, I have a good deal to +do--" + +"But," said I, hesitating, "may I inquire whether you have received +bad news from home?" + +"On the contrary, very good--but don't ask any questions, Frank; be +off, it is very late to go now." + +"Langley," said I, as we were supping at a _café_, after the closing +of the theatre, "isn't it odd about that new cousin of mine?" + +"Ay,", replied my companion, "and it is odd about Stewart's actions +to-night; and it will be odd if I don't kiss Mary Stowe; and it will +be odd if you don't kiss Ellen; and it will be odd if I arn't made +second mate after we get home from this thundering long voyage; and, +finally, it will be most especially odd if we find all our boat's crew +sober when we get down to the quay." + +Nothing so odd as that was the case; but after some little difficulty +we got on board, and Langley and myself retired to the state-room +which we held as tenants in common. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +_In which four thousand miles are gained._ + + +We laid almost a week longer wind-bound. At last the skipper waxed +impatient, and one fine morning we got out our boats, and with the +help of the Pharsalia's boats and crew, we were slowly towed to sea. +Here we took a fine southwesterly breeze, and squared away before it. +Toward night we had the coast of Sicily close under our lee, and as +far away as the eye could reach, the snow-capped summit of Ætna, +ruddy in the light of the setting sun, rose against the clear blue of +the northern sky. + + * * * * * + +We had as fine a run to Gibralter as any seaman could wish; but after +passing the pillars of Hercules there was no more good weather beyond +for us until we crossed the tropic, which we did the 10th of May, in +longitude about sixty degrees, having experienced a constant +succession of strong southerly and westerly gales. But having passed +the tropic, we took a gentle breeze from the eastward, and with the +finest weather in the world, glided slowly along toward our destined +port. + +I shall never forget the evening and night after the 15th of May. We +were then in the neighborhood of Turks Island, heading for the Caycos +Pass, and keeping a bright look-out for land. It was a most lovely +night, one, as Willis says, astray from Paradise; the moon was shining +down as it only does shine between the tropics, the sky clear and +cloudless, the mild breeze, just enough to fill our sails, pushing us +gently through the water, the sea as glassy as a mountain-lake, and +motionless, save the long, slight swell, scarcely perceptible to those +who for long weeks have been tossed by the tempestuous waves of the +stormy Atlantic. The sails of a distant ship were seen, far away to +the north, making the lovely scene less solitary; the only sounds +heard were the rippling at the bows, the low sough of the zephyr +through the rigging, the cheeping of blocks, as the sleepy helmsman +allowed the ship to vary in her course, the occasional splash of a +dolphin, and the flutter of a flying-fish in the air, as he winged his +short and glittering flight. The air was warm, fragrant, and +delicious, and the larboard watch of the tired crew of the Gentile, +after a boisterous passage of forty days from Gibralter, yielded to +its somnolent influence, and lay stretched about the forecastle and +waists, enjoying the voluptuous languor which overcomes men suddenly +emerging from a cold into a tropical climate. + +Mr. Langley, myself, and the skipper's dog, reclined upon the +booby-hatch. The first having the responsibility of the deck contrived +to maintain a half upright position, and to keep one eye open, but the +other two, prostrate by each others' side, slumbered outright. + +"What's the time, Bill?" I asked, at length, rousing myself, and +shaking off the embrace of Rover, who was loth to lose his bedfellow. + +"'We take no note of time,'" spouted the third mate, drawing his watch +from his pocket. "For'ard, there! strike four bells, and relieve the +wheel. Keep your eye peeled, look-out; and mind, no caulking." + +"Ay ay, sir," was the lazy response, and in a moment more the +_ting-ting_, _ting-ting_, of the ship's bell rang out on the silent +air, and proclaimed that the middle watch was half over, or, in +landsmen's lingo, that it was two o'clock, A. M. + +"Lay along, Rover," I muttered, preparing for another snooze. + +"Oh! avast that Frank; come, keep awake, and let's talk." + +"Talk!" said I, "about what, pray?" + +"Oh! I don't know," replied Bill. "I tell you what, Frank, if it +wasn't for being cock of the roost myself, I should wish that Stewart +headed this watch now. What fine times we used to have, eh?--but he +has altered as well as the times--how odd he has acted by spells ever +since we got that packet at Malta. I'm d--d if I don't believe he got +news of the loss of his sweetheart." + +"He never had any that I know of," I rejoined, "but he certainly did +hear something, for he has changed in his manner, and the skipper and +he have long talks by themselves, and I heard Stewart tell him one day +that after all it would have been better to have left the ship at +Gibralter, and not gone the voyage." + +"Did he, though!" cried Langley; "in that case I should have been +second mate--however, I'm glad he didn't quit." + +"Thank you, Bill," said a voice behind us; and turning in some +confusion we beheld Mr. Stewart standing in the companion. "How is her +head?" he continued, asking the usual question, to allow us to recover +from our embarrassment. + +"About west, sir," replied Langley. + +"Well, as the wind freshens a little and is getting rather to the +nor'ard, you'd better give your larboard braces a pull or two, and +then put your course rather north of west to hit the Pass." + +"Ay ay, sir," said the third mate. "For'ard, there, come aft here, and +round in on the larboard braces. Keep her up, Jack, about west +nor'west." + +After the crew had complied with the orders of the officer they +retired forward, and we of the quarter-deck seated ourselves on the +booby-hatch. + +"We were talking about you when you came on deck, sir," said I, after +a short silence. + +"Ah! indeed," replied the mate smiling. + +"Yes," said Langley, "we thought it was rather odd you hadn't been on +deck lately, to see whether we boys were not running away with the +ship in your watch. It has been deuced lonesome these dark blowy +nights along back. If you had been on deck to spin us a yarn it would +have been capital." + +"Boys," said the mate, taking out his cigar-case, "I've a great mind +to spin you a yarn now." + +"Oh! do, by all means," cried the third mate and the ship's cousin +together. + +We lighted our cigars; the mate took a few puffs to get fairly under +way, and then began. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +_The Mate's Yarn._ + + +"I've told you about a great many days' works, boys, but there is one +leaf in my log-book of which you as yet know nothing. It is now about +six years since I was in this part of the world, for the first and +only time. I was then twenty-two, and was second mate, Frank, of your +father's ship, the John Cabot. Old Captain Hopkin's was master, and +our present skipper was mate. One fine July afternoon we let go our +anchor alongside of the Castle of San Severino, in Matanzas harbor. A +few days after our arrival I was in a billiard-room ashore, quietly +reading a newspaper, when one of the losing players, a Spaniard of a +most peculiarly unpleasant physiognomy, turned suddenly around with an +oath, and declared the rustling of the paper disturbed him. As several +gentlemen were reading in different parts of the room I did not +appropriate the remark to myself, though I thought he had intended it +for me. I paid no attention to him, however, until, just as I was +turning the sheet inside out, the Spaniard, irritated by another +stroke of ill luck, advanced to me, and demanded that I should either +lay the newspaper aside or quit the room. I very promptly declined to +do either, when he snatched the paper from my hands, and instantly +drew his sword. I was unarmed, with the exception of a good sized +whalebone cane, but my anger was so great that I at once sprung at the +scamp, who at the instant made a pass at me. I warded the thrust as +well as I could, but did not avoid getting nicely pricked in the left +shoulder; but, before my antagonist could recover himself, I gave him +such a wipe with my cane on his sword-arm that his wrist snapped, and +his sword dropped to the ground. Enraged at the sight of my own blood, +which now covered my clothes in front, I was not satisfied with this, +but applying my foot to his counter, two or three vigorous kicks +sufficed to send him sprawling into the street. Captain Hopkins +arrived just as the fracas was over, and instantly sent for a surgeon, +and in the meantime I received the congratulations of all present on +my victory. I learned that my man was a certain Don Carlos Alvarez, a +broken down hidalgo, who had formerly been the master of a piratical +schooner, at the time when Matanzas was the head-quarters of pirates, +before Commodore Porter in the Enterprise broke up the haunt. When the +surgeon arrived he pronounced my wound very slight, and a slip of +sticking-plaster and my arm in a sling was thought to be all that was +necessary. After Captain Hopkins and myself got on board that night, +he told me a story, the repetition of which may somewhat surprise you, +Frank. Do you remember of ever hearing that a sister of your father +married a Cubanos merchant, some thirty odd years ago?" + +"I remember hearing of it when a child," I replied, "and father in his +last letter says that I have a cousin now in the nunnery at Matanzas. +I suppose she is a daughter of that sister." + +"You are right," resumed the mate, sighing slightly. "Your grandfather +had only two children. When your father was but a small boy, the whole +family spent the winter in Havana, to recruit your grandmother's +health, while your grandfather collected some debts which were due +him. While there, a young Creole merchant, heavily concerned in the +slave-trade, became deeply enamored with your aunt, and solicited her +hand. The young lady herself was nothing loth, but the elders disliked +and opposed the match; the consequence was an elopement and private +marriage, at which your grandfather was so exceedingly incensed that +he disowned his daughter, and never afterward held any communication +with her. Your aunt had two children, and died some fifteen years ago. +Your father shortly after received this intelligence by means of a +letter from the son, and the correspondence thus begun was continued +in a very friendly manner. Señor Garcia, your uncle by marriage, +became concerned, in a private way, like many other Cubanos merchants, +in fitting out piratical craft, and one of his confidential captains +was this same Alvarez whom I so summarily ejected from the +billiard-room. Garcia died in 1830, leaving a large property to his +children, and consigning the guardianship of the younger, a girl, to +his friend Don Carlos Alvarez. The will provided that in case she +should marry any person, but an American, without her guardian's +consent, her fortune should revert to her guardian; and in the choice +of an American husband her brother's wishes were not to be +contravened. The reservation in favor of Americans was made at the +entreaty of the brother, who urged the memory of his mother as an +inducement. Now it so turned out that Don Carlos, though forty years +old, and as ugly as a sculpin, became enamored with the beauty and +fortune of his ward, and, hoping to win her, kept her rigidly secluded +from the society of every gentleman, but especially that of the +American residents. Pedro Garcia, the brother, whom Captain Hopkins +represented to be a fine, manly fellow, was, however, much opposed to +such a plan, and ardently desired that his sister should marry an +American, being convinced that this was the only way for her to get a +husband and save her fortune. 'If,' said Captain Hopkins, in +conclusion, 'some smart young Yankee could carry the girl off, it +would be no bad speculation. Ben, you had better try yourself, you +couldn't please Mr. Byrne better.' + +"'Much obliged,' I replied, 'but Yankee girls suit my taste tolerably +well, much better than pirates' daughters, and I hope that I can +please my owner well enough by doing my duty aboard ship.' + +"'Pshaw! she is not a pirate's daughter exactly; she's Mr. Byrne's +niece.' + +"'For all that,' I answered, 'I should expect to find my throat cut +some fine morning.' + +"'Well, well,' said the old skipper, 'I only wish that I was a young +man, for the girl is said to be as handsome as a mermaid, and as for +money, I s'pose she's worth devilish nigh upon two hundred thousand +dollars.' + +"The next day but one was Sunday, so after dressing myself in my +go-ashore toggery, I went with the skipper to take another stroll in +the city. We dined at a _café_, and then hearing the cathedral bells +tolling for vespers, I concluded to leave the skipper to smoke and +snooze alone, and go and hear the performances. It was rather a warm +walk up the hill, and, upon arriving at the cathedral, I stopped +awhile in the cool airy porch to rest, brush the dust from my boots, +arrange my hair and neckcloth, and adjust my wounded arm in its sling +in the most interesting manner. Just as I had finished these nice +little preliminaries, a volante drove up to the door, which contained, +why, to be sure, only a woman, but yet the loveliest woman I have +ever seen in any part of the world. Yes, Bill, your little dancer at +Valetta ought not to be thought of the same day. + +"Well, boys, I fell in love incontinently at first sight, and was +taken all aback, but inspired by a stiff glass of eau-de-vie which I +had taken with my pineapple after dinner, I forged alongside, before +the negro postillion, cased to his hips in jack-boots, could dismount, +and offered my hand to assist the lady to alight from the carriage. +She at first gave me a haughty stare, but finally putting one of the +two fairest hands in the world into my brown paw, she reached terra +firma safely. + +"'Thank you, señor,' said she, with a low courtesy, after I had led +her into the church. + +"'Entirely welcome, ma'am,' I replied, as my mother had taught me to +do upon like occasions, 'and the more welcome, as I perceive you speak +English so fluently, that you must be either an English woman or my +own countrywoman.' + +"'I am a Cubanos, señor,' said the lady, with a smile, 'but my mother +was an American, and I learned the language in the nursery--but, +señor, again I thank you for your gallantry, and so _adios_.' She +dipped her finger in the holy-water vase, crossed herself, and then +looking at me from under her dark fringed eyelids with a most +bewildering glance, and a smile which displayed two dazzling rows of +pearls between her ruby lips, she glided into the church. + +"'Who is your mistress?' cried I, turning to the negro postillion, but +that sable worthy could not understand my question. The most +expressive pantomimes were as unavailable as words, and so in despair +I turned again into the porch, and stood in a reverie. I was clearly a +fathom deep in love, and as my extreme height is but five feet eleven +and a half, that is equivalent to saying that I was over head and ears +in love with the strange lady. I began to talk to myself. 'By Venus!' +said I, aloud, 'but she is an angel, regular built, and if I only +could find out her name and--' + +"A smothered laugh behind me reminded me that so public a place was +hardly appropriate for soliloquizing about angels. I turned in some +vexation and encountered the laughing glance of a well dressed young +man, apparently about twenty-five, who had probably been edified by my +unconscious enthusiasm. + +"'You are mistaken, señor,' said he in English, and looking quizzical; +'those images in the niches are said to represent saints and not +angels, though I must own they are admirably calculated to deceive +strangers. As you said you wished to know their names, I will tell +them to you--that is San Pablo, and that is San Pedro, and that is--' + +"'You are kind, sir,' said I, interrupting him angrily, 'but I've +heard of the twelve apostles before.' + +"'I want to know, as your countrymen say,' retorted the stranger, with +a good-natured mocking laugh. + +"I fired up on this. 'Señor,' said I, 'if my countrymen are not so +polished in their speech as the Castilians and their descendants, they +never insult strangers needlessly. I have been insulted once before +in your city within a few days, and allow me to add for your +consideration, that the rascal got well kicked--' + +"'You are very kind to give me such fair warning,' replied the +stranger, bowing, 'but allow me to ask whether the name of this person +you punished is Alvarez?' + +"'I have heard so, and if he is a connection of yours I am--' + +"'Stay, señor, don't get into a passion; believe me, that I thank you +most heartily for the good service you performed on the occasion to +which we allude. I only wish that I can be of use to you in return.' + +"'Well, then, señor,' I replied, much mollified, and intent upon +finding out my fair incognito, 'a lady just now passed through into +the church, and if you can only tell me who she is, I will promise to +flog you all the bullies in Cuba.' + +"'Ah, that would be a long job, dear señor, but if you will accept my +arm into the church, and point out the angel who has attracted your +notice, I will tell you her name and the part of heaven in which she +resides. She was very beautiful I suppose?' + +"'Oh! exquisitely beautiful.' + +"'Come, then, I am dying to find out which of our Matanzas belles has +had the good fortune to fascinate you--this way--do you use the holy +water?' + +"'In we went and found the organ piping like a northeast snow squall, +and the whole assembly on their knees. The stranger and myself +ensconced ourselves near a large pillar, and I stood by to keep a +bright look out for the lady. + +"At last I discovered her among a group of other women, kneeling at +the foot of an opposite pillar. + +"'There she is,' I whispered to my companion, who had knelt upon his +pocket-handkerchief. + +"'Well, in a moment,' he replied. 'I'm in the middle of a crooked +Latin prayer just now, and have to tell you so in a parenthesis.' + +"A turn came to the ceremonies, and all hands arose. + +"'_Sæcula sæculorum_,' muttered my companion, rising, 'Amen! now +where's your lady?' + +"'Yonder, by the pillar,' I whispered, in a fit of ecstasy, for my +beautiful unknown in rising had recognized me, and given me another +thrilling glance from her dark eyes. + +"'But there are a score of pillars all around us,' urged the stranger, +'point her out, señor.' + +"'Well, then,' said I, extending my arm, 'there she is; you can't see +her face to be sure, but there can be only one such form in the world. +Isn't it splendid?' + +"'There are so many ladies by the pillar that I cannot tell to a +certainty which one you mean,' whispered my would-be informant. +Stooping and glancing along my arm with the precision of a Kentucky +rifleman, I brought my finger to bear directly upon the head of the +unknown, who, as the devil would have it, at this critical juncture +turned her head and encountered the deadly aim which we were taking +at her. + +"'That's she,' said I, dropping my arm, which had been sticking out +like a pump brake, 'that's she that just now turned about and blushed +so like the deuce--do you know her?' + +"'Yes, but I can't tell you here,' was the laconic reply of my +companion; 'come, let's go. You are sure that is the lady,' he +continued, when we had gained the street. + +"'Sure! most certainly; can there be any mistake about that face; +besides, didn't you notice how she blushed when she recognized me?' + +"'Maybe,' suggested my new friend, 'she blushed to see me.' + +"'Well,' said I, 'I don't know to be sure, but I think that the +emotion was on my account; but don't keep me in suspense any longer, +tell me who she is; can I get acquainted with her?' + +"'Softly, softly, my friend, one question at a time. Step aboard my +volante, and as we drive down the street I'll give you the information +you so much desire. Will you get in?' + +"I climbed aboard without hesitation, and was followed by my strange +friend; the postillion whipped up and we were soon under weigh. + +"'Now,' resumed my companion, 'in reply to your first and oft-repeated +inquiry, I have the honor to inform you that the lady is my only +sister. As to your second question--I beg you won't get out--sit +still, my dear sir, I will drive you to the _café_--your second +question I cannot so well answer. It would seem that my sister herself +is nothing loth--sit easy, sir, the carriage is perfectly safe--but +unfortunately it happens that the gentleman who has the control of her +actions, her guardian, dislikes Americans extremely; and I have reason +to believe that he has taken a particularly strong antipathy to you. +Indeed, I have heard him swear that he'll cut your throat--pardon me, +Mr. Stewart, for the expression, it is not my own.' + +"Surprise overcame my confusion. 'Señor,' cried I, interrupting him, +'it seems you know my name, and--' + +"'Certainly I do--Mr. Benjamin Stewart, of the ship John Cabot.' + +"'Señor,' I cried, half angrily, 'since you know my address so well, +will you not be so kind as to favor me with yours?' + +"'Mine! oh yes, with pleasure, though I now recollect that I have +omitted to state my sister's name--hers first, if you please; it is +Donna Clara Garcia.' + +"'And yours is Pedro Garcia.' + +"'Exactly, with a _Don_ before it, which my poor father left me. You +perceive, Mr. Stewart, by what means I knew you after your warning +about the kicking, eh? I suspected it was yourself, when I saw an +American gentleman with his arm in a sling, and so I made bold to +accost you in the midst of your rhapsody about angels--' + +"'Ah! Don Pedro,' I stammered in confusion, when I recalled the +ludicrous scene, 'how foolish I must appear to you.' + +"'For what, señor--for thinking my sister handsome? You do my taste +injustice. I think so myself.' + +"We rode on in silence a few minutes. I recalled all that Captain +Hopkins had told me about my new acquaintance, his sister, and her +guardian. I took heart of grace, and determined to know more of the +beautiful creature whom I had now identified; but when I turned toward +my companion, his stern expression, so different from the one his +features had hitherto borne, almost disheartened me. + +"'Don Pedro,' said I, with hesitation, 'may I ask if you are angry at +the trifling manner with which I have spoken of your sister before I +knew her to be such?' + +"'Is it necessary for me to assure you to the contrary?' he asked, +with a smile again lighting up his face. + +"'But if,' I continued, 'I should say that the admiration I have +manifested is sincere, that even in the short time I have seen her +to-day, I have been deeply interested, and that I ardently desire her +acquaintance.' + +"'Why, señor, in that case, I should reply, that my sister is very +highly honored by your favorable notice, and that I should do my +possible to make you know each other better. If,' he continued, 'the +case you have supposed be the fact, I think I can manage this matter, +her old janitor to the contrary notwithstanding.' + +"'I do say, then,' I replied, with enthusiasm, 'that the sight of +Donna Clara has excited emotions in my bosom I have never felt before. +I shall be the happiest man in the world to have the privilege of +knowing her.' + +"'Attend, then. Don Carlos is absent at Havana, and will probably +remain so for a few days, until his wrist gets well; in the meantime, +his sister acts as duenna over Donna Clara. She is quite a nice old +lady, however, and allows my sister far greater liberty in her +brother's absence than ordinarily, as, for instance, to-day. I will +get her to permit Clara to spend a few days at my villa down the +bay--Alvarez himself would not dare to refuse this request, if--' my +companion stopped short, and his brow clouded. 'But I forget the best +of the matter,' he continued a moment after, in a lively tone. 'Señor, +you will dine with me to-morrow, and spend a day or two with me. I +keep bachelor's hall, but I have an excellent cook, and some of the +oldest wine in Cuba. Beside, you will see my sister. Will you honor +me, Mr. Stewart?' + +"I was transported, 'Senior,' I cried, 'if Capt. Hopkins--' + +"'Oh! a fig for Hopkins,' shouted my volatile friend, 'he shall dine +with me too. He is an ancient of mine--he dare not refuse to let you +go. But there is the fine old sinner himself in the verandah of the +_café_; now we can ask him.' + +"We rattled up to the door, to the infinite astonishment of my worthy +skipper, who was greatly surprised to see Don Pedro and his second +mate on such excellent terms, and all without his intervention. + +"'Hillo!' he shouted, 'how came you two sailing in company?' + +"The worthy old seaman was briefly informed of my afternoon's +adventures over a bowl of iced sangaree; and when Pedro made his +proposition about the morrow's dinner, and a little extra liberty for +me, the reply was very satisfactory. + +"'Sartainly, sartainly,' said he, 'and I hope good will come of it.' + +"'Well, then,' said Pedro, 'as this matter is settled, I must take my +leave. I shall expect you early, gentlemen. _Adieu_'--and, with a +graceful bow, my new friend entered his carriage, and was driven away. + +"'Now,' said the skipper, after our boat's crew had cleared their +craft from the crowd at the stairs, 'now, Stewart, what do you think +of the pirate's daughter, my boy? D'ye see, I never happened to sight +her, though her brother and I have been fast friends these five years. +Is she so handsome, Ben.' + +"'Full as good-looking as the figure-head of the Cleopatra,' replied +I. + +"'Egad! you don't say so!' exclaimed the skipper, who thought that the +aforesaid graven image on the cut-water of his old ship, far excelled +the Venus de Medici in beauty of feature and form. 'She must be +almighty beautiful; and then, my son, she is as rich as the Rajah of +Rangoon, who owns a diamond as big as our viol-block. Did you fall in +love pretty bad, Ben?' + +"'Considerable,' I replied, grinning at the old gentleman's +simplicity. + +"'By the laws, then, if you don't cut out that sweet little craft from +under that old pirate's guns, you're no seaman, that's a fact! Egad! I +should like to do it, and wouldn't ask only one kiss for salvage, and +you'll be for having the whole concern.' + +"The next morning I packed my portmanteau and dressed myself with +unusual care. About ten the skipper and myself got aboard the gig, and +pushed off for Don Pedro's villa, which lay on the eastern shore of +the bay, two miles from the city, and nearly opposite the barracks and +hospital. + +"We landed at a little pier at the foot of the garden; the house, +embowered in a grove of orange and magnolia trees, was close at hand. +Don Pedro met us on the verandah. + +"'Welcome! welcome!' he cried; 'how do you like the appearance of my +bachelor's hall? But come, let's go in; my sister has arrived, and +knows that I expect Captain Hopkins and Mr. Stewart, of the Cabot, +and,' he added, with a significant smile, 'nothing more, though she +has been very curious to find who the gentlemen is with whom I entered +the church yesterday.' + +"We entered the drawing-room, and there, sure enough, was my angel of +the cathedral-porch. Her eye fell upon me as I passed the doorway, +and, by the half start and blush, I saw that I was plainly recognized, +and with pleasure. We were formally presented by Don Pedro, and, after +the old skipper had been flattered into an ecstasy of mingled +admiration and self-complacency, Donna Clara turned again to me. + +"'I do not know that I ought to have bid you welcome, Mr. Stewart,' +she said, with an arch smile, 'you treated my poor guardian +shamefully, I am told.' + +"'Yes,' cried Pedro, 'and just to let you know what a truculent person +he is, know that yesterday he more than insinuated that he would serve +me in the same way that he did Don Carlos.'" + +"Land ho!" sung out the man on the look-out. + +"Where away?" shouted Langley, walking forward. + +"Pretty near ahead, sir; perhaps a point on our starboard bow, sir." + +"Land ho!" bellowed the man at the wheel, "just abeam, sir, to +loo-ard." + +"What had I better do, sir?" inquired Langley, of the mate. + +"I was looking at the chart just at night, and I should reckon the +land ahead might be Mayaguana, and the Little Caycos under our lee." + +"Head her about west, then; but we shall have the lead going soon." + +We filled away before the wind, which had now veered again to the +eastward, and in a few moments were dashing bravely on, sailing right +up the moon's wake toward the Pass, the land lying on each side of us +like blue clouds resting on the horizon. We settled ourselves again on +the hatch, lighted fresh cigars, and the mate resumed his broken yarn. + +"It is getting late, boys, almost six bells, and I must cut my story a +little short. I will pass over the dinner, the invitation to stay +longer, Captain Hopkins' consent, the undisguised pleasure and the +repressed delight of Clara at this arrangement, and I will pass over +the next two days, only saying that the memory of them haunts me yet; +and that though at the time they seemed short enough, yet when I look +back upon them, it is hard to realize they were not months instead of +days, so much of heart experience did I acquire in the time. I found +Clara to be every thing which the most exacting wife-hunter could +wish--beautiful as a dream. Believe me, boys, I do not now speak with +the enthusiasm of a lover, but such beauty is seldom seen on the +earth. Added to this, she was intellectual, refined, accomplished, and +highly educated. I went back four years in life, and with all the +enthusiasm of a college student I raved of poetry and romance. We read +German together, and we talked of love in French; and the musical +tongue of Italy, it seemed to me, befitted her mouth better than her +own sonorous native language, and when in conversation she would look +me one of those dreamy glances which had at the first set my heart in +agitation, it perfectly bewildered me. You needn't smile, Langley, +(poor Bill's face was guilty of no such distortion,) but if your +little _danseuse_ should practice for years, she couldn't attain to +the delicious glance which my handsome creole girl can give you. The +heavily-fringed eyelid is just raised, so that you can look as if for +an interminable distance into the beautiful orb beneath, and at the +end of the vista, see the fiery soul which lies so far from the +voluptuous exterior. + +"But, though I was madly in love, I had not yet dared with my lips to +say so to the lady, whatever my eyes might have revealed; but Pedro +was my confident, and encouraged me to hope. + +"The third day of my sojourn on shore was spent in a visit to Don +Pedro's plantation in the vale, and it was dark when we arrived home. +After the light refreshment which constitutes the evening meal of +Cuba, Don Pedro pleaded business, and left the apartment--and for the +first time that day I was alone with Clara. + +"'Now,' thought I, 'now or never.' + +"If upon the impulse of the moment a man proceeds to make love, he +generally does it up ship-shape; but if he, with malice aforethought, +lays deliberate plans, he finds it the most awkward traverse to work +in the world to follow them--but I did not know this. I sat by the +table, and in my embarrassment kept pushing the solitary taper farther +and farther from me, until at last over it went, and was extinguished +upon the floor. + +"'I beg ten thousand pardons!' cried I apologizing. + +"'_N'importe_,' replied Clara, 'there is a fine moon, which will give +us light enough.' + +"She rose and drew the curtain of the large bow-window, so common in +the West Indian houses, and the rich moonlight, now unvexed by the +dull glare of the taper, flowed into the apartment, bathing every +object it touched with silvery radiance. Clara sat in the window, in +the full glow of the light, leaning forward toward the open air, and +I, with a beating heart, gazed upon her superb beauty. Shall I ever +forget it? Her head leaned upon a hand and arm which Venus herself +might envy; the jetty curls which shaded her face fell in graceful +profusion, Madonna-like, upon shoulders faultless in shape, and white +as that crest of foam on yonder sea. Her face was the Spanish oval, +with a low, broad feminine forehead, eyebrows exquisitely penciled, +and arching over eyes that I shall not attempt to describe. Her lovely +bosom, half exposed as she leaned over, reminded me, as it heaved +against the chemiset, of the bows of a beautiful ship, rising and +sinking with the swell of the sea, now high in sight, and anon buried +in a cloud of snowy spray. One hand, buried in curls, I have said, +supported her head, the other, by her side, grasped the folds of her +robe, beneath which peeped out a tiny foot in a way that was rather +dangerous to my sane state of mind to observe. + +"We had sat a few moments in silence, when Clara suddenly spoke. + +"'Come hither, señor,' said she, 'look out upon this beautiful +landscape, and tell me whether in your boasted land there can be found +one as lovely. Have you such a sky, such a moon, such waters, and +graceful trees, such blue mountains--and, hark! have you such music?' + +"I approached to her side and looked out. The band at the barracks had +just begun their nightly serenade, and the music traveled across the +bay to strike upon our ears so softly, that it sounded like strains +from fairy land. + +"'They are playing an ancient march of the days of Ferdinand and +Isabel,' whispered Clara; 'could you not guess its stately measures +were pure old Castilian? Now mark the change--that is a Moorish +serenade; is it not like the fitful breathings of an Eolian harp?' + +"The music ceased, but it died in cadences so soft that I stood with +lips apart, half in doubt whether the spirit-sound I yet heard were +the effect of imagination or not. Reluctantly I was compelled to +believe myself deceived, and then turned to look upon the landscape. I +never remember of seeing a lovelier night. It was now nine o'clock, +and the sounds of business were hushed on the harbor, but boats, +filled with gay revelers, glided ever the sparkling surface of the +water, whose laugh and song added interest and life to the scene. +Nearly opposite to us, upon the other side of the bay, were the +extensive barracks, hospital, and the long line of the Marino, their +white stuccoed walls glowing in the moonlight. On our left the +beautiful city rose like an amphitheatre around the head of the bay; +the hum of the populace, and the rumbling of wheels sounding faintly +in the distance. Behind the town the blue conical peaks of the +mountains melted into the sky. On our right was the roadstead and open +sea, the moon's wake thereon glittering like a street in heaven, and +reaching far away to other lands. All around us grew a wilderness of +palm, orange, cocoa, and magnolia trees, vocal with the thousand +strange noises of a tropical night. Directly below us, but a cable +length from the overhanging palms which fringed the shore, lay a heavy +English corvette in the deep shade of the land; but the arms of the +sentry on her forecastle glinted in the moonbeams as he paced his +lonely watch, and sung out, as the bell struck twice, his accustomed +long-drawn cry of 'All's well!' Just beyond her, in saucy propinquity, +lay a slaver, bound for the coast of Africa--a beautiful, graceful +craft. Still farther out the crew of a clumsy French brig were +chanting the evening hymn to the Virgin. Ships from every civilized +country lay anchored, in picturesque groups, in all directions, and +far down, her tall white spars standing in bold and graceful relief +against the dark, gray walls of San Severino, I recognized my own +beautiful craft, sitting like a swan in the water; and still farther, +in the deep water of the roadstead, lay an American line-of-battle +ship, her lofty sides flashing brightly in the moonlight, and her +frowning batteries turned menacingly toward the old castle, telling a +plain bold tale of our country's power and glory, and making my heart +proud within me that I was an American sailor. + +"'Say,' again asked Clara, in a low, hushed voice, 'saw you ever aught +so lovely in your own land?' + +"To tell the truth, I had forgotten my sweet companion for a moment. +'I am sorry,' said I, taking her hand, 'very sorry, that you think the +United States so unenviable a place of residence. I hope, dear lady, +to persuade you to make it your home.' + +"The small hand I clasped trembled in mine. + +"'Señora,' said I, taking a long breath, and beginning a little +speech which I had composed for the occasion, while sitting at the +table pushing the candle-stick, 'Señora, I have your brother's +permission to address you. I am--a--sure, indeed, convinced, that I +love you--ahem--considerably. I have known you, to be sure, but a few +days, but, as I said before--at least--at all events--I could be quite +happy if you were my wife--you know. Señora, and if you could--a--' + +"I had proceeded thus far swimmingly, except that a few of the words I +had previously selected seemed, when I came to pronounce them, as +extravagant, and so I had substituted others in their place, not so +liable to be censured for that fault; beside, a lapse of memory had +once or twice occasioned temporary delay and embarrassment; but I had +got along thus far, I say, as I presumed, exceedingly well, when, oh, +thunder! Donna Clara disengaged her hand, curtseyed deeply, bade me +good-night, and swept haughtily out of the room. Egad! I felt as if +roused out of my berth by a cold sea filling it full in the middle of +my watch below. 'Lord!' thought I, aloud, 'what can I have done? There +I was, making love according to the chart, and before I knew it, I'm +high and dry ashore. One thing is clear as a bell, she is a +regular-built coquette, and all her fine looks to me are nothing but +man-traps, decoys, and false lights. Yet how beautiful she is, how she +has deceived me, and how much I might have loved her. Shall I try +again? No, I'm d--d if I do! once is enough for me. Egad! I can take a +hint without being kicked. To-morrow I'll go aboard again, and to work +like a second mate as I am; that's decided. But--' + +"Absorbed in very disagreeable reflections, I sat by the window, +insensible to the charms without, which had before been so +fascinating, when I was suddenly aroused by the opening of the door. I +looked around, and saw Don Pedro. 'Where's Donna Clara?' he asked. + +"'Gone,' I replied, in an exceeding bad humor. + +"'What! so early? I made sure to find her here as usual.' + +"'Well,' said I, 'you perceive that you were mistaken, I presume'--I +was _very_ cross. + +"'Why, señor, something has gone wrong; you appear chagrined.' + +"'Oh! no, sir; never was so good-natured in my life--ha! ha! beautiful +evening, Don Pedro! remarkably fine night! How pleasant the moon +shines, don't it?' + +"'Mr. Stewart,' said Don Pedro, gravely, 'I do not wish to press you, +but you will greatly oblige me by telling me what has passed between +yourself and Donna Clara this night?' + +"So, rather ashamed of my petulence, I recounted my essay at +love-making. + +"'Carramba!' ejaculated Don Pedro, 'how d--d foolish--in her, I mean. +She is a wayward girl, sir, but yet I think she loves you. I tell you +frankly that I ardently desire her to marry you; pardon me, then, when +I say, that if you love her, do not be discouraged, but try again.' + +"'I think not,' said I, decidedly, 'I go on board to-morrow.' + +"My usually lively and mercurial friend sighed heavily, and then +drawing a chair, sat down opposite me. 'Listen to me a moment, sir,' +said he. 'Cast aside your mortified pride, and answer me frankly. Do +you really love my sister? Would you wish to see her subjected to the +alternative, either to become the wife of Don Carlos Alvarez, or else +to be confined in a convent, perhaps be constrained or influenced to +take the hateful veil? You alone can save her from this dreadful +dilemma.' + +"My Yankee cautiousness was awakened, but I replied, 'I do love your +sister, sir, and would do any thing but marry a woman who does not +love me to save her from such a fate as you represent; but still, sir, +I cannot perceive how that I, till lately unknown to you, can have +such an influence over you and yours. Is not your own power sufficient +to prevent such undesirable results?' + +"I saw by the moonlight that my companion's eyes flashed with anger, +but he made a strong effort to control himself. + +"'I do not wonder,' he said, a moment after, 'that you are angry, Mr. +Stewart, after the conduct of my madcap sister, or indeed that you +deem it strange to find yourself of so much importance suddenly,' he +added, a little maliciously, 'but I will explain the last matter to +you, relying upon your honor. About two years ago, I accompanied +Alvarez to Havana, upon some business relative to Clara's estate. +While returning late one evening to our hotel, we heard in a retired +street the cries of a woman in distress. Midnight outrages were then +very common in the city, and usually the inhabitants, if they were not +themselves interested in the issue, paid very little attention to +calls for assistance, and Alvarez, upon my suggesting to him to go +with me to the aid of the lady making the outcry, advised me to +consult my own safety by keeping clear of the _fracas_, but when a +louder cry for help reached my ears, I could restrain myself no +longer, but started for the scene of action. I soon perceived a +carriage drawn up before a house which had been broken open. Two of +the professional bravos were forcing a lady into this carriage, whom, +by the light of the lanterns, I recognized to be an actress at the San +Carlos. A gentleman in a mask stood by, apparently the commander of +the expedition. I called to the ruffians to desist, but was hindered +from attacking them by the gentleman, who drew his sword and kept me +off, while the robbers forced the lady into the carriage and drove +rapidly away. My antagonist seemed also disposed to retreat, but I was +very angry and kept him engaged, until, growing angry in his turn, he +seriously prepared himself to fight. He was a very expert swordsman, +nevertheless in a few minutes I ran him through the body, and he +instantly fell and expired. At this juncture Don Carlos stepped up, +and when we removed the mask from the face of the corpse, I found to +my consternation that I had killed the Count ----, an aid-de-camp of +the captain-general, and a son of one of the most powerful noblemen +in the mother country. Horror-struck, we fled. The next day the whole +city resounded with the fame of the so-called assassination. The +government offered immense rewards for the discovery of the murderer. +Since that time I hold my life, fortune and honor by the feeble tenure +of Don Carlo's silence. His power over me is very great. I distrust +him much. Unknown to but very few, I have a yacht lying at a little +estate in a rocky nook at Point Yerikos, in complete order to sail at +any moment. On board of her is a large amount of property in money and +jewels, but still, alas! I should, in case of flight, be forced to +leave behind the greater part of my patrimony, which is in real +estate, which I dare not sell for fear of exciting Alvarez' suspicion. +I live on red-hot coals. Clara alone detains me. It is true that she +might fly with me, but she would leave her large fortune behind in the +hands of her devil of a guardian. Now, with what knowledge you already +have of my father's will, you can easily guess the rest. You are no +stranger to me. I know your history, your family, your education, and, +under the most felicitous circumstances, would be proud and happy to +call you brother. Now, then, decide to try again. Clara shall not +refuse you; she does not wish to do so; on the contrary, she loves +you; but some of her oddness was in the ascendant to-night, and so it +happened as it did. At any rate I can no longer trifle with my own +safety, and have no authority or means to prevent Don Carlos from +exercising unlimited power over my sister's actions. Good-night, +señor, you can strike the gong when you wish for a servant and a +light. I shall have your answer in the morning.' + +"Don Pedro left the room in great agitation, and soon after I retired +to bed. I lay a long time thinking over the events and revelations of +the evening; love and pride alternately held the mastery of my +determinations. I loved Clara well and truly, and sympathized with her +and her brother in their unfortunate situation, but I had been +virtually refused once, and my pride revolted from accepting the hand +thus forced into mine by the misfortunes of its owner. At last, as the +clock struck three, I fell asleep, still undecided. The sun had first +risen in the morning when I started from an uneasy slumber. I dressed +myself, passed through my window to the verandah, and down to the +water, where I bathed, and returning through the garden entered an +arbor and stretched myself on a settee, the better to collect my +thoughts. + +"I had been here but a very short time when I heard voices approaching +me, and upon their drawing nearer, I perceived Don Pedro and his +sister engaged in earnest conversation. It was now too late to +retreat, for they were approaching me by the only way I could effect +it, and I was upon the point of going forth to meet them, when they +paused in front of the arbor, and I heard Clara pronounce my name so +musically, that I hope you will not think I did wrong, when told that +I drew back, determined to listen, and thereby to obtain a hint +whereupon to act. Clara leaned upon her brother's arm, who had +evidently been expostulating with her, for his voice was earnest and +reproachful, and Clara's eyes looked as if she had been crying. + +"'And yet you say,' continued Pedro, 'that you can love this +gentleman.' + +"'Can love him!' cried Clara passionately, 'oh! Pedro, if you only +knew how I do love him!' + +"'Why, then, in the name of all that is consistent, did you act so +strangely last night? In your situation an offer from any American +gentleman deserved consideration, to say the least; but Mr. Stewart, a +friend and _protégé_ of our uncle's, a refined, educated man, a man +whom you say you love. Clara, I wonder at you! What could have been +the reason?' + +"'This, Pedro,' said Clara, looking at the toe of her slipper, which +was drawing figures in the gravel-walk. 'You must know that I did it +to punish him for making love so awkwardly. Now, instead of going down +on his knees, as the saints know I could have done to him, the +cold-blooded fellow went on as frigidly as if he had been buying a +negro, and that too with a moon shining over him which should have +crazed him, and talking to a girl whose heart was full of fiery love +for him. Pedro, my heart was chilled, and so, to punish him, I--' + +"'Diablo!' swore Pedro, dropping his sister's arm, and striding off in +a great rage. + +"'Oh! stay, brother!' sobbed poor Clara; 'indeed, I could not help it. +Oh, dear!' she continued, as Pedro vanished from her sight, 'now +_he's_ angry. What have I done?' She buried her face in her hands, +entered the arbor, threw herself on the settee, and began sobbing with +convulsive grief. Here was a situation for an unsophisticated youth +like myself. Egad! my heart bounced about in my breast like a shot +adrift in the cook's biggest copper. I approached the lady softly, +and, grown wiser by experience, knelt before I took her hand. She +started, screamed faintly, and endeavored to escape. + +"'Stay, stay, dearest Clara!' cried I, detaining her, 'I should not +dare to again address you after the repulse of last night, had I not +just now been an inadvertent, but delighted listener to your own sweet +confession that you loved me. Let me say in return that I love you as +wildly, tenderly, passionately, as if I, like you, had been born under +a southern sun; that I cannot be happy without you. Forgive me for +last night. It was not that my heart was cold, but I was fearful that +unless I constrained myself I should be wild and extravagant. Dearest +Clara, will you say to me that which you just now told Pedro?' + +"Her head sunk upon my shoulder. 'Señor,' she murmured, 'I do love +you, and with my whole heart.' + +"'And will be my wife?' I asked. + +"'Whenever you please.'" + +Here the mate paused, and gave several very energetic puffs, and +lighted a new cigar. + +"I clasped the dear girl to my heart," he resumed, "and kissed her +cheeks, her lips and eyes, a thousand times, and was just beginning on +the eleventh hundred, when, lo, there stood mine host in the doorway, +evidently very much amused, and, considering that it was his sister +with whom these liberties had been taken, extremely satisfied. + +"I came immediately to the conclusion, in my own mind, to defer any +farther labial demonstrations, and felt rather foolish; but Clara +arranged her dress and looked defiance. + +"'I beg ten thousand pardons,' said Don Pedro, entering, hat in hand, +and bowing low, 'but really the scene was so exquisitely fine, so much +to my taste, that I could not forbear looking on awhile. Clara, dear, +has Mr. Stewart discovered the way to make love _à la mode_? I +understood you to say he did it oddly and coldly; but, by Venus! I +think he does it in the most natural manner possible, and with some +warmth and vigor, or else I'm no judge of kissing--and I make some +pretensions to being a connoisseur.' + +"'And an amateur also,' retorted Clara. + +"'I won't deny the soft impeachment--but, my friends, breakfast is +waiting for you, if Mr. Stewart can bring his appetite to relish +coffee after sipping nectar from my sweet sister's lips.' + +"We made a very happy trio that morning around the well-spread board +of my friend Pedro. Just as we were rising, however, a servant brought +in a note for his master. Don Pedro's brow darkened as he read it. 'It +is from Carlos,' said he, folding it up, 'and informs me that he will +be at home to-night, and will call for you, Clara--for it seems he has +been informed of your visit here, and is determined that it shall be +as short as possible. We must work quick then.' + +"'But what is to be done?' I inquired. + +"'You need do nothing at present but keep Clara company, while I go to +town to see Capt. Hopkins. We will arrange some plan.' + +"Clara and I passed the morning as you may imagine; it seemed but a +few minutes from Pedro's departure for the city, till his return in +company with my skipper. + +"'Ben,' shouted the latter, seizing my hand, 'may I be d--d but you're +a jewel--begging your pardon, Donna Clara, for swearing in your +presence, which I did not notice before.' + +"When Clara retired to dress for dinner, Capt. Hopkins divulged to me +the plans which had been formed by him and Pedro. 'D'ye see, Ben, my +child, Don Pedro and I have arranged the matter in A No. 1 style; and +if we can only work the traverse, it'll be magnificent--and I don't +very well see why we can't. To day is Thursday, you know. Well, I +shall hoist my last box of sugar aboard to-morrow night, and, after +dark, Don Pedro is going to run a boat alongside with his plunder and +valuables. Your sweetheart must go home, it appears, but before she +goes you must make an arrangement with her to be at a certain window +of Alvarez' house, Pedro will tell her which, at twelve o'clock +Saturday night. You and her brother will be under it ready to receive +her; and when you have got the lady, you will bring her aboard the +ship, which shall be ready to cut and run, I tell you; up killock, +sheet home, and I'll defy all the cutters in Havana to overhaul us +with an hour's start! Those chaps in Stockholm are almighty +particular about your health, if your papers show that you left Havana +after the first of June, and so, to pull the wool over their eyes, and +save myself a long quarantine, I was intending to stop at Boston and +get a new clearance, so it'll be no trouble at all to set you all +ashore, for Don Pedro and his sister will not wish to go to Sweden; +and my second mate, I suppose, will want to get married and leave me. +Now, Ben, my boy, that's what I call a XX plan; no scratch brand about +that; superfine, and no mistake, and entitled to debenture.' + +"'Excellent, indeed!' replied I. + +"'Well, after dinner, we'll give you time to tell your girl all about +it, and to kiss her once or twice; but you must bear a hand about it, +now I tell you, because we must be out of that bloody pirate's way +when he comes, and there's a sight of work to do aboard.' + +"After dinner the whole matter was again talked over and approved by +all, and then the skipper and myself took our leave and went aboard. + +"As Captain Hopkins had arranged, we finished our freight on Friday +evening, and in the night Pedro came off to us with a boat-load of +baggage, pictures, heirlooms, and money. The next day we cleared at +the custom-house, and in the afternoon hove short on our anchor, +loosed our sails, and made every preparation for putting to sea in a +hurry. A lieutenant from the castle came off with our blacks after +dark, and while he was drinking a glass of wine in the cabin, Don +Pedro, most unfortunately, came on board. I heard his voice and +started to intercept him; but he met me in the companion, and seizing +me by the hand, exclaimed, 'Well, Stewart, you are all ready to cut +and run, I see; by this time to-morrow I hope we will be far beyond +reach--' + +"'Hush! hush! for God's sake!' I whispered, pointing to the companion; +'there is an officer from the castle below.' + +"We walked to the sky-light and looked down. + +"'Diablo!' muttered Pedro, with a start, 'do you think he heard me?' + +"'No, I think not; the skipper and he did not cease conversation. The +steward is so glad to get back amongst his crockery, that he was +kicking up a devil of a row in the pantry; that may have drowned your +voice.' + +"'If he did hear me I'm ruined. He is Don Sebastian Alvarez, a nephew +of Carlos', and dependent on him; he has watched me closely for three +months. What is his errand?' + +"'He brought off our cook and steward, who have been confined in the +castle.' + +"'Well, I dare say all is right; he is a lieutenant in the castle, and +there is nothing strange in his being here on such business; but I'll +keep out of sight.' + +"The officer soon came on deck, shook hands with Captain Hopkins, +wished him a pleasant voyage, and then went down into his boat, +ordering the men to pull for the castle. + +"'All right, I trust,' cried Pedro, emerging from the round-house, +'if he had started for the city, it would have been suspicious.' + +"The skipper called the crew, who were principally Yankees, upon the +quarter-deck, and in a brief speech stated the case in hand to them. +'Now, my men,' said he, 'which of you will volunteer to go with Don +Pedro Garcia and Mr. Stewart?' + +"Every man offered his services. We chose six lusty fellows, and +supplied them with pistols and cutlasses. Don Pedro gave them a +doubloon a-piece, and to each of the rest of the crew a smaller sum. +At eleven o'clock we descended into the boat and pushed off for the +shore. The night had set in dark and rainy, with a strong breeze, +almost a gale, from the south. The men rowed in silence and with +vigor, but the wind was ahead for us, and when we landed at the end of +the mole, behind a row of molasses-hogsheads, it wanted but a few +moments of twelve. Leaving two men for boat-keepers, Don Pedro and +myself, with the other four, traversed the silent streets until we +stopped in a dark lane, in the rear of a large house, which appeared +to front upon a more frequented street, for even at that late hour a +carriage occasionally was heard. + +"'Now, hist!' whispered Pedro, 'listen for footsteps.' + +"We strained our ears, but heard nothing but the clang of the +deep-toned cathedral bell, striking the hour of twelve. A moment after +a window above us opened, and a female form stepped out upon the +balcony. + +"'Pedro, whispered the musical voice of Clara, 'is that you?' + +"'Yes, yes--hush! Mr. Stewart is here, and some of his men. Are you +all ready?' + +"'Yes,' replied Clara; 'but how am I going to descend?' + +"'Catch this line, which I will throw to you,' said I, making a coil. + +"The fair girl caught the line as handily as--as--a monkey, I suppose +I must say. + +"'Now, haul away,' I said; 'there is a ladder bent on to the other +end, which you must make fast to the balustrade.' + +"'What!' cried Clara, quite aloud, 'a ladder!--a real, live +rope-ladder! how delightfully romantic!' + +"'Hush! hush! you lunatic!' said Pedro, in a hoarse whisper. + +"'Oh, Pedro!' continued his sister, 'just think how droll it is to run +away with one's lover, and one's brother standing by aiding and +abetting! Oh, fie! I'm ashamed of you! There, now, I've fastened this +delightful ladder--what next?' + +"I ascended, and taking her in my arms, prepared to assist her to the +ground. + +"'Am I not heavy?' she asked, as she put her arms about my neck. + +"My God! boys, I could have lifted twenty of her as I felt then. + +"'This is the second time, señor, that you have helped me to the +ground within a week; now get me on the water, and I will thank you +for all at once.' + +"'In a few moments more all danger will be behind us, dearest.' + +"Clara leaned upon my arm, enveloped in a boat-cloak, while we rapidly +retraced our steps to the boat, which we reached in safety, but, +behold, the men whom we had left were missing. Hardly had we made +ourselves sure of this unwelcome fact when a file of men, headed by +the same officer who had boarded us in the evening, sprang out from +behind the molasses-hogsheads. In a moment more a fierce fight had +begun. I seized Clara by the waist with one arm, and drew my cutlas +just in time to save my head from the sabre of Carlos Alvarez, who +aimed a blow at me, crying, 'Now, dog of a Yankee, it is my turn!' + +"'In the name of the king! in the name of the king!' shouted the +officer--but it made no difference, we fought like seamen. Clara had +fainted, but I still kept my hold of her, when suddenly a ton weight +seemed to have fallen on my head; my eyes seemed filled with red-hot +sparks of intense brilliancy and heat; the wild scene around vanished +from their sight as I sunk down stunned and insensible. + +"When I came to myself, I was lying in my own berth aboard the ship. I +felt weak, faint, and dizzy, and strove in vain to collect my thoughts +sufficiently to remember what had happened. My state-room door was +open, and I perceived that the sun's rays were shining brightly +through the sky-light upon the cabin-table, at which sat Capt. +Hopkins, overhauling the medicine-chest, which was open before him. I +knew by the sharp heel of the vessel, her uneasy pitching, and the +cool breeze which fanned my fevered cheek, that the ship was close +hauled on a wind, and probably far at sea. I looked at my arms; they +were wasted to half their usual size, and my head was bandaged and +very sore and painful. Slowly and with difficulty I recalled the +events of the few hours preceding that in which I had lost my +senses--then I remembered the _mélée_ on the mole. Evidently I had +been severely wounded, and while senseless been brought off to the +ship. Then came the inquiry, what had been the fate of Clara and her +brother. Were they safe on board, or were they captured or killed in +the _fracas_? I hardly dared to ask the skipper who still sat at the +table, with a most dolorous face, arranging the vials and gallipots. +At last the suspense became intolerable. + +"'Captain Hopkins,' said I, but in a voice so weak that it startled +me. Faint as it was, however, the worthy skipper started to his feet, +and was by my side in an instant. + +"'Glory to God!' he shouted, snapping his fingers. 'I know by your +eyes that reason has hold of your helm again. You'll get well now! +Hurrah! D--n, though I mus'n't make so much noise.' + +"'But, Captain Hopkins--' + +"'Can't tell you any thing now, you're too weak to bear it; that +is--you know, Ben, good news is--ahem! dreadful apt to kill sick +people; and you've been horrid sick, that's a fact. I thought four +days ago that you had shipped on a voyage to kingdom come, and was +outward bound; but you'll do well enough now, if you only keep quiet, +and if you don't you'll slip your wind yet. Shut up your head, take a +drink of this stuff, and go to sleep.' + +"Capt. Hopkins left me, and, anxious as I was, I soon fell sound +asleep. When I awoke I felt much better and stronger, and teazed the +skipper so much, that he at last ventured to tell me that after I had +been struck down by a sabre-cut over the head, Don Pedro, also badly +wounded, and Donna Clara, had been captured by the soldiers. The two +boat-keepers also were missing, and one of the others left, either +dead or badly wounded, on the mole. Our other three men, finding +themselves overpowered, succeeded barely in gaining the boat with my +insensible form, and pushed off for the ship. Capt Hopkins, upon +hearing their story, had no other alternative but to cut and run, and +favored by the strong southerly gale, he managed to make good his +escape, though fired on by the castle before he had got out of range. +In the hurry and confusion my wound was not properly attended to, and +a brain fever set in, under which I had been suffering for a week; but +the kind care of Capt. Hopkins and Mr. Smith, and the strength of my +constitution, at last prevailed over the disease. Dismal as was this +story, and the prospects it unfolded, my spirits, naturally buoyant, +supported me, and I determined that when the ship should arrive in +Boston I would leave her and return immediately to Cuba, to make an +effort for the release of my friends. Wild as was this resolve, I grew +better upon the hope of accomplishing it; and when we anchored off +Long Wharf, after a tedious passage, I was nearly well. + +"Notwithstanding the advice of my friends I made arrangements for an +immediate return to Matanzas, but the day before my intended departure +the Paragon arrived from that port; and I learned from her officers +that Don Pedro was closely confined, awaiting his trial for the murder +of Count ----, the result of which would be, without doubt, against +him. Clara, believing the general report of my death, had entered the +Ursuline Convent to begin her novitiate; and I was told that if I was +to be seen in Matanzas, the _garrote_, or chain-gang, was all that I +could expect. Your father then told me that if I would consent to +accompany Captain Hopkins, he would sail in my place to Matanzas, and +do his utmost for his nephew and niece. I could not help but see the +wisdom of this arrangement, and acceded to it. We sailed from Boston +to Stockholm, from thence to Rotterdam, and from thence to Batavia. A +freight offering for Canton, we went to that port, and from thence +came home, after an absence of two years and a half. In the meantime +Don Pedro had been tried, and sentenced to death; but by the exertions +of your father, who wrought faithfully in his behalf, his sentence was +commuted, first to twenty, and then to twelve years in the gallies, +or, as it is in Cuba, the chain-gang. His efforts to see Clara, in +order to disabuse her mind of the belief of my death, was abortive; +and she, after finishing her year as a novice, took the veil--and she +is now a nun in the Ursuline Convent at Matanzas, while her noble +brother is a slave, with felons, laboring with the cursed chain-gang +in the same city to which we are bound. Now, boys, do you wonder that +when I found myself under orders to go again to the scene of all this +misery I was affected, and that a melancholy has possessed me which +has increased as the voyage has progressed? I did determine at first +that I would leave the ship at Gibralter and go home, but I dreaded to +part with my shipmates. I shall not go ashore while we lay at Matanzas +for many reasons, though I should incur no risk, I think. Everybody +who knew me in Matanzas believes me dead long since; and six years of +seafaring life in every climate, changes one strangely. But the wind +has veered again and freshened considerably since I began my yarn. It +looks some as if we might catch a norther by way of variety. Brewster +will have to shorten sail in his watch, I reckon, and maybe keep the +lead going if we make much leeway. Come, Bill, it is 4 o'clock, and a +little past." + +"Eight bells, there, for'ard!" shouted the third mate. "Call the +watch! Rouse Brewster, Frank, will you?" + +The sleepy, yawning starboard watch were soon on deck, half-dressed, +and snuffing the morning air very discontentedly. We of the larboard +division went below to our berths. + +"Langley," said I to the third mate, while we were undressing, "I've +got a plan in my head to get my cousins clear from their bad fix. Will +you help me work it?" + +"Marry, that I will," answered Langley, throwing himself into a +theatrical attitude. "Look here, Frank, this is the way I'll run that +bloody Alvarez through the gizzard!" + +The last sounds I heard that night were the hurried trampling of feet +over my head on deck, and the shouts of the watch shortening sail. I +fell asleep and dreamed that I was in the _fracas_ at the end of the +mole. + + [_Conclusion in our next._ + + + + +WHITE CREEK. + +BY ALFRED B. STREET. + + +[This is a picturesque little stream in Washington county, State of +New York. It flows through the broad and beautiful meadows of the Hon. +John Savage, late Chief Justice of the State.] + + +Over the stirless surface of the ground +The hot air trembles. In pale glittering haze +Wavers the sky. Along the horizon's rim, +Breaking its mist, are peaks of coppery clouds. +Keen darts of light are shot from every leaf, +And the whole landscape droops in sultriness. +With languid tread, I drag myself along +Across the wilting fields. Around my steps +Spring myriad grasshoppers, their cheerful notes +Loud in my ear. The ground bird whirs away, +Then drops again, and groups of butterflies +Spotting the path, upflicker as I come. +At length I catch the sparkles of the brook +In its deep thickets, whose refreshing green +Soothes my strained eyesight. The cool shadows fall +Like balm upon me from the boughs o'erhead. +My coming strikes a terror on the scene. +All the sweet sylvan sounds are hushed; I catch +Glimpses of vanishing wings. An azure shape +Quick darting down the vista of the brook, +Proclaims the scared kingfisher, and a plash +And turbid streak upon the streamlet's face, +Betray the water-rat's swift dive and path +Across the bottom to his burrow deep. +The moss is plump and soft, the tawny leaves +Are crisp beneath my tread, and scaly twigs +Startle my wandering eye like basking snakes. +Where this thick brush displays its emerald tent, +I stretch my wearied frame, for solitude +To steal within my heart. How hushed the scene +At first, and then, to the accustomed ear, +How full of sounds, so tuned to harmony +They seemed but silence; the monotonous purl +Of yon small water-break--the transient hum +Swung past me by the bee--the low meek burst +Of bubbles, as the trout leaps up to seize +The skipping spider--the light lashing sound +Of cattle, mid-leg in the shady pool, +Whisking the flies away--the ceaseless chirp +Of crickets, and the tree-frog's quavering note. + +Now, from the shadow where I lie concealed, +I see the birds, late banished by my form, +Appearing once more in their usual haunts +Along the stream; the silver-breasted snipe +Twitters and seesaws on the pebbly spots +Bare in the channel--the brown swallow dips +Its wings, swift darting round on every side; +And from yon nook of clustered water-plants, +The wood-duck, slaking its rich purple neck, +Skims out, displaying through the liquid glass +Its yellow feet, as if upborne in air. + +Musing upon my couch, this lovely stream +I liken to the truly good man's life, +Amid the heat of passions, and the glare +Of wordly objects, flowing pure and bright, +Shunning the gaze, yet showing where it glides +By its green blessings; cheered by happy thoughts, +Contentment, and the peace that comes from Heaven. + + + + +THE ALCHEMIST'S DAUGHTER. + +A DRAMATIC SKETCH. + +BY THOMAS BUCHANAN READ. + + +PERSONS REPRESENTED. + + +GIACOMO, _the Alchemist_, + +BERNARDO, _his son-in-law_, + +ROSALIA, _his daughter, and Bernardo's wife,_ + +LORENZO, _his servant_. + + +SCENE I. FERRARA. + +_The interior of Giacomo's house. Giacomo and Lorenzo discovered +together. Time, a little before daybreak._ + + _Gia._ Art sure of this? + + _Lor._ Ay, signor, very sure. +'Tis but a moment since I saw the thing-- +Bernardo, who last night was sworn thy son, +Hath made a villainous barter of thine honor. +Thou may'st rely the duke is where I said. + + _Gia._ If so--no matter--give me here the light. + + [_Exit Giacomo._ + + _Lor._ (_Alone._) Oh, what a night! It must be all a dream! +For twenty years, since that I wore a beard, +I've served my melancholy master here, +And never until now saw such a night! +A wedding in this silent house, forsooth,-- +A festival! The very walls in mute +Amazement stared through the unnatural light! +And poor Rosalia, bless her tender heart, +Looked like her mother's sainted ghost! Ah me, +Her mother died long years ago, and took +One half the blessed sunshine from our house-- +The other half was married off last night. +My master, solemn soul, he walked the halls +As if in search of something which was lost; +The groom, I liked not him, nor ever did, +Spoke such perpetual sweetness, till I thought +He wore some sugared villany within:-- +But then he is my master's ancient friend, +And always known the favorite of the duke, +And, as I know, our lady's treacherous lord! +Oh, Holy Mother, that to villain hawks +Our dove should fall a prey! poor gentle dear! +Now if I had their throats within my grasp-- +No matter--if my master be himself, +Nor time nor place shall bind up his revenge. +He's not a man to spend his wrath in noise, +But when his mind is made, with even pace +He walks up to the deed and does his will. +In fancy I can see him to the end-- +The duke, perchance, already breathes his last, +And for Bernardo--he will join him soon; +And for Rosalia, she will take the veil, +To which she hath been heretofore inclined; +And for my master, he will take again +To alchemy--a pastime well enough, +For aught I know, and honest Christian work. +Still it was strange how my poor mistress died, +Found, as she was, within her husband's study. +The rumor went she died of suffocation; +Some cursed crucible which had been left, +By Giacomo, aburning, filled the room, +And when the lady entered took her breath. +He found her there, and since that day the place +Has been a home for darkness and for dust. +I hear him coming; by his hurried step +There's something done, or will be very soon. + +(_Enter Giacomo. He sets the light upon the table and confronts +Lorenzo with a stern look._) + + _Gia._ Lorenzo, thou hast served me twenty years, +And faithfully; now answer me, how was't +That thou wert in the street at such an hour? + + _Lor._ When that the festival was o'er last night, +I went to join some comrades in their wine +To pass the time in memory of the event. + + _Gia._ And doubtless thou wert blinded soon with drink? + + _Lor._ Indeed, good signor, though the wine flowed free, +I could not touch it, though much urged by all-- +Too great a sadness sat upon my heart-- +I could do naught but sit and sigh and think +Of our Rosalia in her bridal dress. + + _Gia._ And sober too! so much the more at fault. +But, as I said, thou'st served me long and well, +Perchance too long--too long by just a day. +Here, take this purse, and find another master. + + _Lor._ Oh, signor, do not drive me thus away! +If I have made mistake-- + + _Gia._ No, sirrah, no! +Thou hast not made mistake, but something worse. + + _Lor._ Oh, pray you, what is that then I have made? + + _Gia._ A lie! + + _Lor._ Indeed, good master, on my knees +I swear that what I said is sainted truth. + + _Gia._ Pshaw, pshaw, no more of this. Did I not go +Upon the instant to my daughter's room +And find Bernardo sleeping at her side? +Some villain's gold hath bribed thee unto this. +Go, go. + + _Lor._ Well, if it must be, then it must. +But I would swear that what I said is truth, +Though all the devils from the deepest pit +Should rise to contradict me! + + _Gia._ Prating still? + + _Lor._ No, signor--I am going--stay--see here-- + + (_He draws a paper from his bosom._) + +Oh, blessed Virgin, grant some proof in this! +This paper as they changed their mantles dropt +Between them to the ground, and when they passed +I picked it up and placed it safely here. + + _Gia._ (_Examining it._) +Who forged the lie could fabricate this too:-- +But hold, it is ingeniously done. +Get to thy duties, sir, and mark me well, +Let no word pass thy lips about the matter-- + [_Exit Lorenzo._ +Bernardo's very hand indeed is here! +Oh, compact villainous and black! conditions, +The means, the hour, the signal--every thing +To rob my honor of its holiest pearl! +Lorenzo, shallow fool--he does not guess +The mischief was all done, and that it was +The duke he saw departing--oh, brain--brain! +How shall I hold this river of my wrath! +It must not burst--no, rather it shall sweep +A noiseless maelstrom, whirling to its center +All thoughts and plans to further my revenge +And rid me of this most accursed blot! + +(_He rests his forehead on his hand a few minutes, and exclaims,_) + +The past returns to me again--the lore +I gladly had forgot comes like a ghost, +And points with shadowy finger to the means +Which best shall consummate my just design. +The laboratory hath been closed too long; +The door smiles welcome to me once again, +The dusky latch invites my hand--I come! + +(_He unlocks the door and stands upon the threshold._) + +Oh, thou whose life was stolen from me here, +Stand not to thwart me in this great revenge; +But rather come with large propitious eyes +Smiling encouragement with ancient looks! +Ye sages whose pale, melancholy orbs +Gaze through the darkness of a thousand years, +Oh, pierce the solid blackness of to-day, +And fire anew this crucible of thought +Until my soul flames up to the result! + (_He enters and the door closes._) + + +SCENE II. _Another apartment in the alchemist's house. Enter Rosalia +and Bernardo._ + + _Ros._ You tell me he has not been seen to-day? + + _Ber._ Save by your trusty servant here, who says +He saw his master, from without, unclose +The shutters of his laboratory while +The sun was yet unrisen. It is well; +This turning to the past pursuits of youth +Argues how much the aspect of to-day +Hath driven the ancient darkness from his brain. +And now, my dear Rosalia, let thy face +And thoughts and speech be drest in summer smiles, +And naught shall make a winter in our house. + + _Ros._ Ah, sir, I think that I am happy. + + _Ber._ Happy? +Why so, indeed, dear love, I trust thou art! +But thou dost sigh and contemplate the floor +So deeply, that thy happiness seems rather +The constant sense of duty than true joy. + + _Ros._ Nay, chide me not, good sir; the world to me +A riddle is at best--my heart has had +No tutor. From my childhood until now +My thoughts have been on simple honest things. + + _Ber._ On honest things? Then let them dwell henceforth +On love, for nothing is more honest than +True love. + + _Ros._ I hope so, sir--it must be so! +And if to wear thy happiness at heart +With constant watchfulness, and if to breathe +Thy welfare in my orisons, be love, +Thou never shalt have cause to question mine. +To-day I feel, and yet I know not why, +A sadness which I never knew before; +A puzzling shadow swims upon my brain, +Of something which has been or is to be. +My mother coming to me in my dream, +My father taking to that room again +Have somehow thrilled me with mysterious awe. + + _Ber._ Nay, let not that o'ercast thy gentle mind, +For dreams are but as floating gossamer, +And should not blind or bar the steady reason. +And alchemy is innocent enough, +Save when it feeds too steadily on gold, +A crime the world not easily forgives. +But if Rosalia likes not the pursuit +Her sire engages in, my plan shall be +To lead him quietly to other things. +But see, the door uncloses and he comes. + +(_Enter Giacomo in loose gown and dishevelled hair._) + + _Gia._ (_Not perceiving them._) +Ha, precious villains, ye are caught at last! + + _Both._ Good-morrow, father. + + _Gia._ Ah, my pretty doves! + + _Ber._ Come, father, we are jealous of the art +Which hath deprived us all the day of thee. + + _Gia._ Are ye indeed? (_Aside._) How smoothly to the air +Slides that word _father_ from his slippery tongue. +Come hither, daughter, let me gaze on thee, +For I have dreamed that thou wert beautiful, +So beautiful our very duke did stop +To smile upon thy brightness! What say'st thou, +Bernardo, didst thou ever dream such things? + + _Ber._ That she is beautiful I had no cause to dream, +Mine eyes have known the fact for many a day. +What villains didst thou speak of even now? + + _Gia._ Two precious villains--Carbon and Azote-- +They have perplexed me heretofore; but now +The thing is plain enough. This morning, ere +I left my chamber, all the mystery stood +Asudden in an awful revelation! + + _Ber._ I'm glad success has crowned thy task to-day, +But do not overtoil thy brain. These themes +Are dangerous things, and they who mastered most +Have fallen at last but victims to their slaves. + + _Gia._ It is a glorious thing to fall and die +The victim of a noble cause. + + _Ber._ Ay, true-- +The man who battles for his country's right +Hath compensation in the world's applause. +The victor when returning from the field +Is crowned with laurel, and his shining way +Is full of shouts and roses. If he fall, +His nation builds his monument of glory. +But mark the alchemist who walks the streets, +His look is down, his step infirm, his hair +And cheeks are burned to ashes by his thought; +The volumes he consumes, consume in turn; +They are but fuel to his fiery brain, +Which being fed requires the more to feed on. +The people gaze on him with curious looks, +And step aside to let him pass untouched, +Believing Satan hath him arm in arm. + + _Gia._ Are there no wrongs but what a nation feels? +No heroes but among the martial throng? +Nay, there are patriot souls who never grasped +A sword, or heard the crowd applaud their names, +Who lived and labored, died and were forgot, +And after whom the world came out and reapt +The field, and never questioned who had sown. + + _Ber._ I did not think of that. + + _Gia._ Now mark ye well, +I am not one to follow phantom themes, +To waste my time in seeking for the stone, +Or chrystalizing carbon to o'erflood +The world with riches which would keep it poor; +Nor do I seek the elixir that would make +Not life alone, but misery immortal; +But something far more glorious than these. + + _Ber._ Pray what is that? + +_Gia._ A cure, sir, for the heart-ache. + Come, thou shalt see. The day is on the wane-- +Mark how the moon, as by some unseen arm, +Is thrusted upward, like a bloody shield! +On such an hour the experiment must begin. +Come, thou shalt be the first to witness this +Most marvelous discovery. And thou, +My pretty one, betake thee to thy bower, +And I will dream thou'rt lovelier than ever. +Come, follow me. (_To Bernardo._) + + _Ros._ Nay, father, stay; I'm sure +Thou art not well--thine eyes are strangely lit, +The task, I fear, has over-worked thy brain. + + _Gia._ Dearest Rosalia, what were eyes or brain +Compared with banishment of sorrow? Come. + + _Ber._ (_Aside to Rosalia._) +I will indulge awhile this curious humor; +Adieu; I shall be with thee soon again. + + _Gia._ (_Overhearing him._) +When Satan shall regain his wings, and sit +Approved in heaven, perchance, but not till then. + + _Ber._ What, not till then? + + _Gia._ Shall he be worthy deemed +To walk, as thou hast said the people thought, +Arm in arm with the high-souled philosopher:-- +And yet the people sometimes are quite right, +The devil's at our elbow oftener than +We know. + +(_He gives Bernardo his arm, and they enter the laboratory._) + + _Ros._ (_Alone._) He never looked so strange before; +His cheeks, asudden, are grown pale and thin; +His very hair seems whiter than it did. +Oh, surely, 'tis a fearful trade that crowds +The work of years into a single day. +It may be that the sadness which I wear +Hath clothed him in its own peculiar hue. +The very sunshine of this cloudless day +Seemed but a world of broad, white desolation-- +While in my ears small melancholy bells +Knolled their long, solemn and prophetic chime;-- +But hark! a louder and a holier toll, +Shedding its benediction on the air, +Proclaims the vesper hour-- +Ave Maria! + + [_Exit Rosalia._ + + +SCENE III. _Giacomo and Bernardo discovered in the laboratory._ + + + _Gia._ What say'st thou now, Bernardo? + + _Ber._ Let me live +Or die in drawing this delicious breath, +I ask no more. + + _Gia._ (_Aside._) Mark, how with wondering eyes +He gazes on the burning crucibles, +As if to drink the rising vapor with +His every sense. + + _Ber._ Is this the balm thou spak'st of? + + _Gia._ Ay, sir, the same. + + _Ber._ Oh, would that now my heart +Were torn with every grief the earth has known, +Then would this sense be sweeter by tenfold! +Where didst thou learn the secret, and from whom? + + _Gia._ From Gebber down to Paracelsus, none +Have mentioned the discovery of this-- +The need of it was parent of the thought. + + _Ber._ How long will these small crucibles hold out? + + _Gia._ A little while, but there are two beside, +That when thy sense is toned up to the point +May then be fired; and when thou breathest their fumes, +Nepenthe deeper it shall seem than that +Which Helen gave the guests of Menelaus. +But come, thou'lt weary of this thickening air, +Let us depart. + + _Ber._ Not for the wealth of worlds! + + _Gia._ Nay, but thy bride awaits thee-- + + _Ber._ Go to her +And say I shall be there anon. + + _Gia._ I will. +(_Aside._) Now while he stands enchained within the spell +I'll to Rosalia's room and don his cloak +And cap, and sally forth to meet the duke. +'Tis now the hour, and if he come--so be it. + + [_Exit Giacomo._ + + _Ber._ (_Alone._) +These delicate airs seem wafted from the fields +Of some celestial world. I am alone-- +Then wherefore not inhale that deeper draught, +That sweet nepenthe which these other two, +When burning, shall dispense? 'Twere quickly done, +And I will do it! + + (_He places the two crucibles on the furnace._) + +Now, sir alchemist, +Linger as long as it may suit thy pleasure-- +'Tis mine to tarry here. Oh, by San John, +I'll turn philosopher myself, and do +Some good at last in this benighted world! +Now how like demons on the ascending smoke, +Making grimaces, leaps the laughing flame, +Filling the room with a mysterious haze, +Which rolls and writhes along the shadowy air, +Taking a thousand strange, fantastic forms; +And every form is lit with burning eyes, +Which pierce me through and through like fiery arrows! +The dim walls grow unsteady, and I seem +To stand upon a reeling deck! Hold, hold! +A hundred crags are toppling overhead. +I faint, I sink--now, let me clutch that limb-- +Oh, devil! It breaks to ashes in my grasp! +What ghost is that which beckons through the mist? +The duke! the duke! and bleeding at the breast! +Whose dagger struck the blow? + + (_Enter Giacomo._) + + _Gia._ Mine, villain, mine! +What! thou'st set the other two aburning? +Impatient dog, thou cheat'st me to the last! +I should have done the deed--and yet 'tis well. +Thou diest by thine own dull hardihood! + + _Ber._ Ha! is it so? Then follow thou! + + _Gia._ My time +Is not quite yet, this antidote shall place +A bar between us for a little while. + + (_He raises a vial to his lips, drinks, and flings + it aside._) + + _Ber._ (_Rallying._) Come, give it me-- + + _Gia._ Ha, ha! I drained it all! +There is the broken vial. + + _Ber._ Is there no arm +To save me from the abyss? + + _Gia._ No, villain, sink! +And take this cursed record of thy plot, + + (_He thrusts a paper into Bernardo's hand,_) + +And it shall gain thee speedy entrance at +Th' infernal gate! + + (_Bernardo reads, reels and falls._) + + _Gia._ (_Looking on the body._) Poor miserable dust! +This body now is honest as the best, +The very best of earth, lie where it may. +This mantle must conceal the thing from sight, +For soon Rosalia, as I bade her, shall +Be here. Oh, Heaven! vouchsafe to me the power +To do this last stern act of justice. Thou +Who called the child of Jairus from the dead, +Assist a stricken father now to raise +His sinless daughter from the bier of shame. +And may her soul, unconscious of the deed, +Forever walk the azure fields of heaven. + + (_Enter Rosalia, dressed in simple white, bearing a + small golden crucifix in her hand._) + + _Ros._ Dear father, in obedience, I have come-- +But where's Bernardo? + + _Gia._ Gone to watch the stars; +To see old solitary Saturn whirl +Like poor Ixion on his burning wheel-- +He is our patron orb to-night, my child. + + _Ros._ I do not know what strange experiment +Thou'dst have me see, but in my heart I feel +That He, in whose remembrance this was made + + (_looking at the cross_) + +Should be chief patron of our thoughts and acts. +Since vesper time--I know not how it was-- +I could do naught but kneel and tell my prayers. + + _Gia._ Ye blessed angels, hymn the word to heaven. +Come, daughter, let me hold thy hand in mine, +And gaze upon the emblem which thou bearest. + + (_He looks upon the crucifix awhile and presses it + to his lips._) + + _Ros._ Pray tell me, father, what is in the air? + + _Gia._ See'st thou the crucibles, my child? Now mark, +I'll drop a simple essence into each. + + _Ros._ My sense is flooded with perfume! + + _Gia._ Again. + + _Ros._ My soul, asudden, thrills with such delight +It seems as it had won a birth of wings! + + _Gia._ Behold, now when I throw these jewels in, +The glories of our art! + + _Ros._ A cloud of hues +As beautiful as morning fills the air; +And every breath I draw comes freighted with +Elysian sweets! An iris-tinted mist, +In perfumed wreaths, is rolling round the room. +The very walls are melting from my sight, +And surely, father, there's the sky o'erhead! +And on that gentle breeze did we not hear +The song of birds and silvery waterfalls? +And walk we not on green and flowery ground? +Ferrara, father, hath no ground like this, +The ducal gardens are not half so fair! +Oh, if this be the golden land of dreams, +Let us forever make our dwelling here. +Not lovelier in my earliest visions seemed +The paradise of our first parents, filled +With countless angels whose celestial light +Thrilled the sweet foliage like a gush of song. +Look how the long and level landscape gleams, +And with a gradual pace goes mellowing up +Into the blue. The very ground we tread +Seems flooded with the tender hue of heaven; +An azure lawn is all about our feet, +And sprinkled with a thousand gleaming flowers, +Like lovely lilies on a tranquil lake. + + _Gia._ Nay, dear Rosalia, cast thy angel ken +Far down the shining pathway we have trod, +And see behind us those enormous gates +To which the world has given the name of Death; +And note the least among yon knot of lights, +And recognize your native orb, the earth! +For we are spirits threading fields of space, +Whose gleaming flowers are but the countless stars! +But now, dear love, adieu--a flash from heaven-- +A sudden glory in the silent air-- +A rustle as of wings, proclaim the approach +Of holier guides to take thee into keep. +Behold them gliding down the azure hill +Making the blue ambrosial with their light. +Our paths are here divided. I must go +Through other ways, by other forms attended. + + + + +LINES TO AN IDEAL. + +BY ELIZABETH LYON LINSLEY. + + + I wandered on the lonely strand, +A setting sun shone brightly there, + And bathed in glory sea and land, +And streamed in beauty through the air! + + A playful breeze the waters curled, +Touched their light waves and passed them by, + Then fanned a bird whose wings unfurled +Were waving on the sunset sky! + + The bird had gone. The sun had set. +His beams still tipped the hills and trees, + And flung a rainbow radiance yet +On clouds reflected in the seas! + + A distant boatman plied the oar, +All sparkling with its golden spray, + His voice came softened to the shore, +Then melted with the dying day! + + And when the last bright lines on high +Departed as the twilight came, + A large star showed its lone, sweet eye +All margined with a cloud of flame! + + The winds were hushed. Their latest breath +In soft, low murmurs died afar-- + The rippling of the wave beneath +Showed dancing there that one bright star! + + So fair a scene, so sweet an hour, +Were felt and passed. In stilly calm + They shed around me beauty's power, +Yet gave no peace, and brought no balm. + + I was alone! I saw no eyes +With mine gaze on the twilight sea-- + No heart returned my lonely sighs-- +No lips breathed sympathy with me. + + I was alone! I looked above. +That star seemed happy thus to lave + Its fairy light and glance of love +Deep in the bosom of the wave. + + I gazed no more! The blinding tear +Rose from my heart, and dimmed my sight. + Had one dear voice then whispered near, +That scene how changed!--That heart how light! + + My soul was swelling like the sea! +Had thine eyes gleamed there with mine own, + That soul a mirror true to thee +On ev'ry wave thyself had shown! + + + + +MRS. PELBY SMITH'S SELECT PARTY. + +BY MRS. A. M. F. ANNAN. + + +"Mrs. Goldsborough's party is to-night, is it not?" said Mr. Pelby +Smith to his wife; "are we going my dear?" + +"_Apropos_ of parties," returned she, waiving the question; "I don't +see how we are to get on any longer without giving one ourselves." + +"Why so, my dear? We cannot afford to give a party, and that will be +an apology all-sufficient to a woman of Cousin Sabina's sense." + +"Cousin Sabina!" exclaimed Mrs. Smith; "as if I, or any one else, ever +thought of going to the trouble of a party for a plain old maid, like +cousin Sabina Incledon!" + +"My dear, I wish you would not speak in that way of Cousin Sabina; she +is an excellent woman, of superior mind, and manners to command +respect in any society." + +"That may be _your_ opinion, Mr. Smith," answered the lady tartly; +"mine is that a quiet old maid, from somewhere far off in the country, +and with an income of two or three hundred dollars a year, would not +make much of a figure in _our_ society. At all events, I shan't make a +trial of it." + +"I thought you alluded to her visit as making it incumbent on us to +give a party," said Mr. Smith meekly; "there is no other reason, I +believe." + +"You will allow me to have some judgment in such matters, Mr. Smith. I +think it is absolutely necessary that we should, that is, if we wish +to go to parties for the future. We have been going to them all our +lives without giving any, and people will grow tired of inviting us." + +"Then, my dear, why not make up our minds to stay at home. I would +rather." + +"But _I_ would not, Mr. Smith. I shall go to parties as long as +possible. My duty to my children requires it." + +Mr. Smith opened his eyes as wide as his timidity would let him. + +"My duty to my children, I repeat," pursued she with energy; "they +will have to be introduced to society." + +"Not for seven or eight years yet, any of them," interposed Mr. Smith. + +"Sooner or later," continued the lady; "and how is that to be done +unless I keep the footing which I have attained--with trouble enough, +as I only know, and without any thanks to you, Mr. Smith. If I give up +parties, I may fall at once into the obscurity for which you have such +a taste. People of fortune and distinction can voluntarily withdraw +for a while, and then reappear with as much success as ever, but that +is not the case with persons of our position." + +"It is only the expense that I object to, my dear; my business is so +limited that it is impossible for us to live in any other than a +plain, quiet way. The cost of a party would be a serious inconvenience +to me." + +"The advantages will be of greater consequence than the sacrifices," +returned the lady, softening as she saw her husband yielding; "the +loss will soon be made up to you through an increase of friends. +Party-giving people are always popular." + +Mr. Smith saw that his wife was determined to carry her point, which +was nothing new. He had learned to submit, and to submit in silence, +so, after sitting moodily for a few minutes, he took up his hat to go +to his place of business. + +"I knew, my dear," said Mrs. Smith smoothly, "that you would soon see +the matter in a proper light; and now about Mrs. Goldsborough's party. +I shall lay out your things for you. I can go with some satisfaction +now that I have a prospect of soon being on equal terms with my +entertainers." + +Mrs. Smith walked round her two small and by no means elegant rooms, +reassuring herself as to the capabilities of her lamps, girandoles and +candlesticks, for she had mentally gone through all her arrangements +long before; the act of consulting her husband being, generally, her +last step toward the undertaking of any important project. She was +joined by the object of some of her recent remarks, Miss Sabina +Incledon, a cousin of Mr. Smith's, who, until within a few days, had +been a stranger to her. She was a plainly dressed person of middle +age, with an agreeable though not striking countenance, and +unobtrusive, lady-like manners. + +"I am sorry you are not going to Mrs. Goldsborough's to-night, Cousin +Sabina," said Mrs. Smith; "I have no doubt she would have sent an +invitation had she known I had a friend visiting me." + +"Not improbable. I do not, however, feel much inclination just now to +go to a party. Had it not been for that, I should have sent my card to +Mrs. Goldsborough after my arrival. I met her at the springs last +summer, and received much politeness from her." + +"Mrs. Goldsborough is a very polite woman--very much disposed to be +civil to every one," said Mrs. Smith; "by the bye," she added, "Pelby +and I have it in contemplation to give a large party ourselves." + +"Indeed? I thought you were not party-giving people; Cousin Pelby +assured me so." + +"And never would be if Pelby Smith had his own way. To be sure, we are +not in circumstances to entertain much, conveniently, but for the sake +of a firmer place in society, I am always willing to strain a point. +As to Pelby, he has so little spirit that he would as soon be at the +bottom of the social ladder as at the top. I can speak of it without +impropriety to you, as you are his relation, not mine. He has been a +perpetual drag and drawback upon me, but, notwithstanding, I have +accomplished a great deal. Five or six years ago we were merely on +speaking terms with the Goldsboroughs, and the Pendletons, and the +Longacres, and the Van Pelts and that set, and now I visit most of +them, and receive invitations to all their general parties. I have +always felt ashamed of not having entertained them in return, and now +I am resolved to do so, as a favorable opportunity offers of doing it +advantageously. I mean the coming out of Julia Goldsborough, Mrs. +Goldsborough's only daughter. It will be something to say that I have +given her a party." + +"Do the family expect the compliment of you?" asked Miss Incledon, +looking at her in surprise; "I did not know that you were on such +intimate terms." + +Mrs. Smith smiled in conscious superiority. "Ah, Cousin Sabina!" said +she, "you are very unsophisticated. Don't you know that a party goes +off with much more _eclât_ for being associated with some name of +importance. Now Julia Goldsborough, from her beauty and vivacity, and +the fashion and fortune of her family, is to be the belle of the +season, and a party got up for her must necessarily make a sensation. +All her friends, and they are at the head of society, will attend on +her account, if for nothing else, and everybody else will be glad to +go where they do. Then the Pendletons and the Longacres and the Van +Pelts, several of them, will give her parties--so it is +understood--and it will be worth an effort to make mine one of the +series." + +A faint expression of sarcastic humor passed over the placid +countenance of Miss Incledon, but she made no comment. + +Mrs. Pelby Smith entered the brilliant rooms of Mrs. Goldsborough that +night with an elated spirit, seeing in herself the future hostess of +the fashionable throng there assembled. Instead of standing in a +corner, listening with unctuous deference or sympathy to any who +chanced to come against her, as was her wont, proffering her fan, or +her essence-bottle, or in some quiet way ministering to their egotism, +she now stepped freely forth upon the field of action, nodding and +smiling at the young men to whom she might have been at some time +introduced; whispering and jesting with some marked young lady, while +she made an occasion to arrange her _berthe_ or her ringlets, and +adding herself, as if by accident, to any trio or quartette of +pre-eminent distinction. She had at length the anxiously desired +opportunity to put out her feelers at Mrs. Goldsborough. + +"What a lovely creature Julia has become, Mrs. Goldsborough!" she +exclaimed; "it seems but a few months since she was a little fairy +only _so_ high, and now she is so well grown and so commanding in her +figure! and her manners, they are as pronounced and _distingué_ as if +she were twenty-five; they appear the more remarkable for her sweet, +youthful face. I have been watching her the whole evening, and seeing +every one offering her their tribute, I have gotten quite into the +spirit of it myself. I'm sure you will smile at me, for you well know +that I am not at all in the habit of such things, but I really must +give her a party. I have known her so long, almost since she could +first run about, and I always loved the little creature so much! I +feel as if I have almost a right to be proud of her myself. Have you +any engagements for the beginning of next week? If not, unless you +positively forbid it, I shall send out invitations at once." + +"You are very kind, indeed, Mrs. Smith," said Mrs. Goldsborough, +smiling cordially, for she was a fond mother, and also was full of +courtesy and amiability; "it will be an unexpected compliment to +Julia. She will be flattered that your partiality for her is as warm +as ever. We have no engagements for the first of next week. The +parties with which my friends will try to spoil Julia do not come on +so soon." + +Her scheme having been not unfavorably received, Mrs. Smith whispered +it to one and another, until it was known to half the company before +they dispersed that Miss Goldsborough was to be _fêted_ next by Mrs. +Pelby Smith. + +Our heroine ought to have overheard the conversation which took place +at the late breakfast of Mrs. Goldsborough the following morning. + +"You could hardly guess whom you have charmed into party intentions +toward you, Julia," said Mrs. Goldsborough; "I suppose you have not +heard? Mrs. Pelby Smith." + +"Defend me from Mrs. Pelby Smith!" laughed Julia; "but are you in +earnest, mamma?" + +"Certainly, my dear; she told me last night that she intended to give +you a party in the beginning of next week." + +"That intolerable, toadying Mrs. Pelby Smith!" exclaimed young Frank +Goldsborough; "I would not allow her to cover the iniquities of her +ambition with my name, Julia, if I were you. Depend upon it, she has +some sinister design in this thing." + +"I agree with Frank," rejoined Miss Pendleton, Mrs. Goldsborough's +sister; "such as elevating herself in society on your shoulders, +Julia, or rather those of your family." + +"Charity, charity! you know I don't like such remarks," interposed +Mrs. Goldsborough, but with little show of severity; "we have no +reason to decide that Mrs. Smith does not really mean a kindness. She +always seemed very fond of Julia when a child." + +"And so she would have appeared, mamma, of any other that might have +happened to be a grandchild of General Pendleton and Judge +Goldsborough. I had sense enough to understand her even then. She used +to call me in on my way to school, to warm my hands, when they did not +need it, and inquire after the health of my mother and grandmothers +and grandfathers and aunts and uncles, and admire my clothes, and wish +her little Jane was old enough to run to school with me, and flatter +me on the beauty of my hair and eyes and complexion, in such a way +that very few children would have been so stupid as not to have seen +through it. Could you not have said something to discourage the new +idea, ma'ma?" + +"Not without rudeness, Julia, though, I confess, I would rather it +could have been done. Even presuming that she is sincere in her +professions of regard, I do not like the thought of a person in her +circumstances going to what to her must be serious trouble and expense +on our account. The easiest way to reconcile myself to it would be by +believing with you all, that she has some personal motive in it." + +At that same hour Mrs. Smith was immersed in her preliminary +arrangements. + +"I shall have to ask you to write some of the invitations, Cousin +Sabina," said she to Miss Incledon; "I am not much in the habit of +writing, even notes; and Pelby, who has not time to attend to it, says +that you write a very pretty hand. Here are pen and paper to make out +the list--I will give you the names. In the first place, there are all +the Goldsboroughs and Pendletons, and Longacres, and Van Pelts--" + +"You forget," interrupted Miss Incledon, "that it is necessary to name +them individually." + +"True, I had forgotten--I have so many things to think about. +Beginning with the Goldsboroughs--Mrs., Miss, and Mr.; then General +and Mrs. Pendleton, Miss Pendleton, Mr. and Mrs. John, Mr. and Mrs. +Henry, and Mr. and Mrs. James Pendleton;" and so Mrs. Smith kept on in +continuous nomenclature for a considerable time. It was only as she +came down into the lower ranks of fashion, after a regular gradation, +that she hesitated for a moment--and then her pauses grew longer and +longer. + +"Perhaps I can assist your memory, Cousin Sarah," said Miss Incledon; +"I have seen several of your acquaintances, and have heard of a good +many more; there is Mrs. Wills, with whom you were taking tea the +evening of my arrival." + +"I have reflected upon that, and conclude that I shall not ask Mrs. +Wills," replied Mrs. Smith; "she is a plain person, and seldom goes to +parties, which I can make a sufficient excuse for leaving her out, +though, to be sure, she would come to mine, if I invited her; and to +prevent her from being offended, I shall send for her a few days after +to come socially to tea, with a few others of the same set. There +will, of course, be plenty of refreshments left, and it will, +therefore, be no additional expense." + +"Then Mrs. Salisbury and her two daughters, who called yesterday." + +"I believe not; they are not decidedly and exclusively of the first +circle, though, as you seemed to consider them, quite superior +women--very accomplished and agreeable. They have not much fortune, +however, and have no connections here. On the whole, I do not see that +any thing could be gained by inviting the Salisburys." + +"I have not your neighbor, Mrs. Streeter down," observed Cousin +Sabina. + +"No; I don't see the necessity for having Mrs. Streeter; she is a good +creature--very obliging when one needs a neighbor, in cases of +sickness, or the like, but would be far from ornamental. I can have an +excuse for omitting her in never having received an invitation from +her--she does not give parties. She will be very well satisfied, I +dare say, if I send her a basket of fragments afterward. You must +understand, Cousin Sabina, that as this is my first party, I mean it +to be very select." + +"Then you will also, I presume, leave out Mrs. Brownell." + +"By no means; I calculate a great deal on Mrs. Brownell. She has the +greatest quantity of elegant china and cut-glass, which it will be +necessary for me to borrow. My own supply is rather limited, and I +must depend chiefly on my acquaintances. It was on that account that I +set down the Greelys. They have the largest lot of silver forks and +spoons of any family I know--owing, it is whispered, to their having, +where they came from, kept a fashionable boarding-house. Also, you may +put down Mrs. Crabbe." + +"Mrs. Crabbe?--did I not hear you describe her as a very low person?" + +"Peculiarly so in her manners--but what am I to do? I must have +persons to assist me; and Mrs. Crabbe makes the most beautiful jellies +and the most delicious Charlotte-Russe I ever tasted. She has a +natural talent for all sorts of nice cookery, and with my little +experience in it, she will be of the greatest service to me. It saves +a great deal to make every thing except the confectionary at home; and +I shall go at once and ask Mrs. Crabbe if she will prepare the +materials for my fruit-cake, and mix it up." + +"You have said nothing about your Aunt Tomkins, of whom Cousin Pelby +has talked to me, and of the different members of her family--they are +to have invitations, of course?" suggested Miss Incledon. + +"No--that is--I shall attend to it myself--I mean you need not mind;" +and Mrs. Smith hurried to the door, beginning to perceive something +she would rather escape in the countenance and interrogatories of +Cousin Sabina. "Bless me!" she exclaimed, turning back, "I almost +forgot--and what a mistake it would have been! put down Miss Debby +Coggins; I should never have been forgiven if I had neglected her. She +has a great many oddities, but she is related to all the first +families, and one must keep on her right side. Have you the +name?--Miss Deborah Coggins." + +We shall not follow Mrs. Smith into the turmoil of her preparations, +which would have been much more wearisome and bewildering, from her +inexperience in getting up a large entertainment, had it not been for +the good judgment and quiet activity of Miss Incledon, and which the +night of fruition at last terminated. + +All was ready, even the lighting of the rooms, when Mrs. Smith, before +commencing her own toilette, entered the apartment of her guest. Miss +Incledon, who considered herself past the time of life for other than +matronly decorations of the person, was laying out a handsome +pelerine, and a tasteful cap, to wear with a rich, dark silk dress. + +"My dear Cousin Sabina," said Mrs. Smith, "do help me out of a +difficulty; I have no one to remain on duty in the supper-room, and +there certainly ought to be some one to sit there and see that nothing +is disturbed--for there is a great quantity of silver there, mostly +borrowed, and with so many strange servants about, I feel uneasy to +leave it a moment." + +"Are you not able to get some one for that service?" asked Miss +Incledon. + +"No, indeed; I thought of Aunt Tomkins, but the truth is, I could not +request her to do it without sending invitations to the whole family, +which I concluded would not be advisable: there are so many of them, +and as they would not be acquainted with the rest of the company, it +seemed best not to have any of them. I thought, too, of old Mrs. +Joyce, who sometimes does quilting and knitting for me, but she has a +large family of grandchildren, some of whom she always drags with her +when she goes to where there is any thing good to eat; and it would +never do to have them poking their fingers into the refreshments. So +it struck me that perhaps you might oblige me. You don't appear to +care for parties, and as you would be a stranger in the room, it is +not likely you would have much enjoyment. Of course, if I believed you +would prefer the trouble of dressing, and taking your chance among the +company, I would not ask it of you." + +Nothing daunted by the glow of indignation which followed a look of +astonishment on the face of Cousin Sabina, she paused for a reply. +After a moment's reflection, Miss Incledon answered calmly, "I am your +guest, Sarah--dispose of me as you please;" and returning her cap and +white gloves to their boxes, she refastened her wrapper to enter upon +the office assigned to her. + +The party passed off with the crowding, crushing, talking and eating +common to parties. The supper was a handsome one--for Mr. Smith wisely +decided that if the thing must be done at all, it should be done +well--and therefore he had hinted no restrictions to his wife as to +the expense. Many "regrets" had been sent in, but still Mrs. Smith was +at the post she had coveted for years--that of receiving a fashionable +assemblage in her own house; and if her choicest guests courted her +notice as little as they would have done any where else, she was too +much elated and flustered, and overheated to think about it. One of +her principal concerns was to keep her eye on her husband, who, being +a shy, timid man, with very little tact, was not much calculated for +playing the host on such an occasion. He had, however, been doing +better than she expected, when, a little before supper, he wandered +through the crowd to where she was standing, for the moment, alone, +and asked, "Where is Cousin Sabina?" + +"In the supper-room. It is necessary at such times to have some one +behind the scenes, and I had to get her to remain in the supper-room, +to watch that things went on properly; and, in particular, to see that +none of the silver was carried off, nor the refreshments wasted after +supper." + +Mr. Smith looked disturbed, and exclaimed, rather too loudly, "Is it +possible that you could ask a woman like Sabina Incledon to do such a +thing! one of my most respectable relations, and a visiter in my +house?" + +"Don't speak so loudly. I left out all my own relations, and I dare +say they would, any of them, have looked as creditably as Sabina +Incledon. When we have established our own standing, Mr. Smith, it +will be time enough for us to bring out such people as your Cousin +Sabina. To be sure, if I had had any one to trust in her place, I +should not have objected at all to her coming in." + +Mrs. Smith was turning away, when she saw, at her elbow, Mrs. +Goldsborough and Miss Pendleton, who must have overheard the +conversation. To her it was the mortification of the evening. + +The next morning at the breakfast-table Mrs. Smith was too much +occupied in descanting upon the events of the night, describing the +dresses, and detailing the commendations on different viands of the +supper, to notice that Miss Incledon spoke but little, and when she +did, with more dignity and gravity than usual. On rising from the +table, she unlocked the sideboard, and taking from it a basket of +silver, she said, "I would thank you, Cousin Sabina, to assort these +forks and spoons for me. It will be something of a task, as they have +to go to half a dozen different places. When you have got through I +will look over them to see that all is right;" and she was hurrying +off to commence some of the multifarious duties of the day. + +"Excuse me, Sarah," said Miss Incledon; "I'll expect that a carriage +will be here in a few minutes to take me into the country." + +"Dear me!" exclaimed Mrs. Smith, looking disappointed and somewhat +displeased; "I thought I should have your assistance in putting away +things--I had no idea of your leaving us to-day." + +"You may remember my telling you, Cousin Pelby," said Miss Incledon, +addressing Mr. Smith, "that I would be but a few days with you. I took +advantage of traveling in this direction to renew our old family +intercourse; but the principal object of my journey was to visit a +very particular friend, Mrs. Morgan Silsbee." + +"Mrs. Morgan Silsbee!" said Mrs. Smith--"are you not mistaken, Cousin +Sabina? I presume you mean Mrs. Edward Silsbee. Mrs. Morgan Silsbee +lives ten or twelve miles out; their place is said to be magnificent, +and I know that she and her husband drives a coach-and-four on state +occasions. Mrs. Goldsborough made a splendid dinner for them a short +time ago. Mrs. Edward Silsbee I have met often; I didn't know that you +were acquainted with her." + +"I am _not_ acquainted with Mrs. Edward Silsbee," said Miss Incledon, +with dignity; "I mean her sister-in-law, Mrs. Morgan Silsbee. She is +an old friend of mine, and I have been under engagement to her since I +met her last summer, at the Springs, to make this visit. I had a note +from her last night, written from one of the hotels, saying that she +would stop for me this morning at nine or ten o'clock--your party +preventing her from calling in person." + +Had a halo suddenly appeared around the head of Cousin Sabina, Mrs. +Smith could hardly have changed her countenance and manner more +markedly. "If I had only known it," she exclaimed, "how gratified I +should have been to have had an invitation, with my card, sent to her, +and to have had her at my party. But, surely, Cousin Sabina, you will +soon return to us?" + +"I shall certainly pass through town on my way homeward, but will stop +at a boarding-house," said Miss Incledon. + +The conscious Mrs. Smith reddened violently, but was relieved by the +interruption of a handsome carriage, though not the coach-and-four, +stopping before her house. Miss Incledon stepped to the parlor-door, +to answer the footman, who inquired for her. + +"Mrs. Morgan Silsbee's compliments, ma'am," said the man, "and the +carriage is at your service whenever you are ready. We are to take her +up at Mrs. Goldsborough's, where she got out to wait for you." + +It took but a moment for Cousin Sabina to reappear bonneted and +shawled, and to have her baggage put on the carriage. Then kindly +bidding Mr. Smith farewell, she gave her hand to his wife, escaping +the embrace in preparation for her, and was rapidly driven away. + +"You see there are some persons who can appreciate Cousin Sabina," +said Mr. Smith; and afraid to wait for a reply, he hastened to his +place of business. + +"And so Cousin Sabina is the friend of Mrs. Morgan Silsbee, the friend +of Mrs. Goldsborough!" said Mrs. Smith to herself, while a series of +not very satisfactory reflections ran through her mind. But her +attention was claimed by other things. What with putting away and +distributing the fragments of the feast, washing and sending home +table-furniture, gathering up candle ends, and other onerous duties, +the day wore on. At last, late in the afternoon, with aching head and +wearied limbs, she sat down in her rocking-chair in the dining-room to +rest. A ring at the door-bell soon disturbed her. "Say I'm engaged, +unless it is some person very particular," said she to the servant. + +"It is Miss Debby Coggins, ma'am," said the colored girl, returning, +with a grin; "I let her in, because she's very partic'lar." + +Miss Deborah Coggins, from being connected in some way or other with +each of the great families of the town, and having money enough not to +be dependent on any of them, was what is called a privileged +character--a class of individuals hard to be endured, unless they +possess the specific virtue of good-nature, to which Miss Debby had no +claim. She talked without ceasing, and her motto was to speak "the +truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth." She was of a thin +figure, always dressed in rusty black silk, which must sometimes have +been renewed or changed, though no one could ever tell when, and a +velvet bonnet, of the same hue, with a peculiar lateral flare, which, +however, was really made to look something like new once every three +or four years. She wore a demi-wreath of frizzly, flaxen curls close +above her shaggy eyebrows, which were of the same color; and her very +long, distended nose was always filled with snuff, which assisted in +giving a trombone sound to as harsh a voice as ever passed through the +lips of a woman. + +She had drawn up the blinds, and opened the sash of the windows when +Mrs. Smith entered the front parlor. "How're you this evening, Mrs. +Smith?" said she, in answer to the bland welcome she received; "I was +just telling your black girl that if you ever should happen to have a +party again, she should open the rooms and have the air changed better +the next day; and as you are not used to such things yourself, I +thought I might as well let you know it, too. I raised the windows +myself. Now," she added, "the room is too cold to sit in, and I would +prefer going to your dining-room, or wherever you were when I came +in." + +"Certainly, certainly, Miss Debby," said Mrs. Smith, marshaling the +way. + +"Stop!" said Miss Debby, "I want to take a look at your wall paper--I +never noticed it before. I can't say I like your taste; though, no +doubt, you took it for the sake of economy--ugly papers sometimes go +very cheap." + +"You are quite mistaken, I assure you, Miss Debby," began Mrs. Smith, +eagerly. + +"Well, it's of no consequence," interrupted Miss Debby, "only I heard +Matilda Shipley say yesterday, that there would be no use in dressing +much for Mrs. Pelby Smith's party, as her low rooms, with their dingy, +dirt-colored paper, could never be lighted up to make any one look +well." + +Mrs. Smith cleared her throat, but said nothing, recollecting by this +time that all retort or explanation was lost upon Miss Deborah +Coggins. To change the subject she remarked, "How disappointed I was +at your not coming last night, my dear Miss Debby--one of the friends +I most wished to see." + +"I have been rather sorry myself that I did not come, since I heard +that the party turned out better than could have been expected. I +supposed that there would have been a great many here that I did not +know, and that my own set, mostly, would have stayed away, like +myself, not caring much to meet them." + +"What an idea, Miss Debby! there was scarcely one in the room that you +did not know. My company was very select." + +"So I was told to-day. Mrs. William Van Pelt said that you had invited +every body that would not thank you, and, as she had been told, had +left out those that had the best right to expect invitations. I should +like to have had a share of the supper," continued Miss Debby. "I +heard that you had worried yourself nearly to death preparing it, and +that it was really good, considering that you were not used to such +things. Young John Pendleton said that it made him some little amends +for being forced to go to a place where he made a mistake every time +he addressed his entertainers and called them Joneses." + +Sorely wincing as Mrs. Smith was, she did not forget Miss Debby's +notoriety for following close upon the heels of a party for a share of +the good things left. Accordingly, she opened her sideboard, and +produced a choice variety of her store. + +"I suppose it is too late to get some of the ice cream?" said Miss +Debby, losing no time in attacking what was set before her; "you have +used it, or let the ice run out, I dare say?--though, now that I think +of it, I made up my mind that I would not care to have any of it, for +old Mrs. Longacre told me that what she got was bitter, from being +made partly of milk, she supposed, that had been burnt in boiling." + +This was more than Mrs. Smith could stand. "It is totally erroneous!" +she exclaimed; "I used none but the purest cream, and that without +boiling; I don't know how the old lady could have made such a mistake, +unless it was that she got some of the almond, which, perhaps, had too +much of the bitter-almond flavor for her taste." + +"Perhaps so; and she said that she did not venture to taste the +Charlotte-Russe, fearing it might turn out to be nothing but +sponge-cake and custard, without jelly or whipped cream. But if it was +all like this, nobody could complain of it;" and, absorbed in the +gratification of her palate, Miss Debby gave her auditor a few minutes +respite. + +"Your party, on the whole, made something of a talk, Mrs. Smith," she +resumed. + +Mrs. Smith bowed and smiled, taking the observation for a compliment. + +"I was out making calls the day the invitations went round. You know +making calls is a business with me, when I undertake it. I commence +directly after breakfast, and keep on till night, eating my dinner +wherever I suppose dinner chances to be ready. Well, the first I heard +of your intentions was from Mrs. Harvey, who said she wondered you +could think yourself under obligations to give a party to Julia +Goldsborough, though, to be sure, like some other of your devices, she +supposed that was only a _ruse_; and she was surprised that the +Goldsboroughs were willing to be cat's paws to help you along in +'society.'" + +Mrs. Smith's face grew as red as the _bon bon_ paper she was nervously +twisting. + +"That was to Mrs. Nicolas and me," pursued Miss Debby; "and Mrs. +Nicolas wondered how upon earth the Pelby Smiths could afford to give +a party at all. She concluded that you would have to live on bacon and +potatoes for the remainder of the season, to retrieve the cost, and +would have to turn that changeable silk of yours the third time." + +"Oh, I don't mind what people say," observed Mrs. Smith, with a +distorted smile. + +"I know you don't, or, at least, that you don't resent any thing +toward persons of such standing as those two, or I would not have +repeated the conversation. But, is it true, that you had some trouble +to get the party out of your husband?" + +"Mr. Smith and I always act in concert," said Mrs. Smith, looking +dutiful. + +"Do you? well, that's a happy thing. I understood quite the contrary, +though, that you always carried the day, from what Mrs. Joe Culpepper +said. I was at her house when your invitation came in, and after she +had opened it, she exclaimed, with her sly laugh, 'Only think, Miss +Debby, that manoeuvring, pushing Mrs. Pelby Smith has at last worried +her poor husband into giving a party!' and from the way she pitied Mr. +Smith, I inferred she must have some reason to believe that if you did +not wield a pretty high hand, he would not be quite such a man of wax +as he seems." + +Had Miss Debby been any thing less than a relation in common to the +"Goldsboroughs, the Pendletons, the Longacres, and the Van Pelts," +Mrs. Smith would have been tempted to request her to leave the house; +but as it was, her policy taught her to endure whatever Miss Debby +might choose to inflict. So she leaned back hopelessly in her chair, +while the old lady snapped and cracked a plate of candied fruits with +a vigor of which her teeth looked incapable. + +"Had you any of your borrowed things broken?--for I heard that you had +to borrow nearly every thing," resumed her torturer. + +"Not any thing at all but two or three plates, which can easily be +replaced," replied Mrs. Smith, not knowing what next to expect on that +point. But Miss Debby tacked about. + +"I believe," said she, "you had a visiter staying with you for a few +days?" + +"Yes--a cousin of Mr. Smith's--Miss Sabina Incledon--" + +"That's the name," interrupted Miss Debby, nodding; "the person that +went out home with Mrs. Morgan Silsbee, this morning, I presume?" + +"The same," replied Mrs. Smith, feeling her consequence looking up; +"Cousin Sabina is a very particular friend of Mrs. Morgan Silsbee, who +for a long time had been soliciting the visit." + +"Then, surely, she could not have been the person you set to watching +the kitchen and supper-room! Susan Goldsborough and Lydia Pendleton +were talking about it, and repeating to each other what they overheard +of a conversation between yourself and your husband, who seemed +greatly shocked that you had done it. Susan Goldsborough remarked that +if she had known that you had so little sense as to undervalue such a +woman in that way, or so little feeling and good-breeding as to +violate the laws of common hospitality and politeness so grossly, she +would assuredly have declined the party for Julia when you proposed it +to her." + +Mrs. Smith had grown quite pale, and could only answer tremulously, +"What a misconstruction!--dear me--it was Cousin Sabina's wish--how +strange a mistake." + +"It certainly is strange if they were so mistaken, and stranger still +that a woman of so much dignity, and so accustomed to society as Miss +Incledon, should have preferred watching your servants to taking her +proper place among your guests. I thought to myself whilst they were +talking, that it seemed hardly consistent with your usual way of doing +things, to put upon such duty a person who in all probability would +soon be Mrs. Colonel Raynor, and the aunt of Mrs. Morgan Silsbee. I +shouldn't wonder if the match came off in a month." + +"Cousin Sabina likely to be married in a month!--and to Colonel +Raynor!" exclaimed Mrs. Smith, startled out of her usual tact, and her +lips growing yet bluer. + +"Bless me! didn't you know the story?" said Miss Debby, in her turn +looking surprised; "they met last summer at the Springs, and the +colonel was so pleased with her unpretending good sense, excellent +principles, and superior mental cultivation, that he proposed to her +before she went away. She deferred her answer until she and his +children should have become acquainted. You know he is a widower with +three daughters--two of them married. She has been in correspondence +ever since with Mrs. Morgan Silsbee, the colonel's niece, who has been +trying to make the match, and who, that her cousins may meet her, has +insisted upon the present visit. They are lovely young women, the +daughters, whom she cannot fail to like, and as they know how to +appreciate such a woman as Miss Incledon, there is no doubt of the +marriage taking place. It will be a great thing for you, Mrs. Smith; +the connection will do more for you than a dozen parties. And such a +charming place as you will have to visit! The colonel lives like a +prince, and at only a few hours' drive from here. You can go there in +the summer with your children, and meet a constant run of company more +choice than at a watering-place, and all without any expense. When +your cousin comes back to town, be sure to let me know, that I may +call upon her. Susan Goldsborough is fretted enough that she was not +apprised of her being here, and so are some of the Longacres; they +blame you with it all." + +Mrs. Smith did not attempt to reply, and Miss Debby rose to go. + +"It is getting late," said she, "and I must walk. If you have no +objection I will take those slices of fruit and almond cake, and a +paper of candied fruit and _bon bons_ with me--and perhaps you can +spare some more Malaga grapes--or could you send them home for me by +one of your servants? I should like to stop at Susan Goldsborough's to +tell her that you knew nothing about the good fortune in prospect for +your cousin, and it is probable she will wish me to stay for tea." + +Mrs. Smith restrained herself until she had escorted her visiter to +the door, and then returning to her rocking-chair, she indulged in a +fit of weeping that looked very much like hysterics. Her most +prominent thought was, "If I had only given the party to Cousin +Sabina!" + +This she had ample opportunity to reiterate--for time proved to her +that the prime object of her grand effort had failed--those who +comprised her select party never including her in any of theirs. More +particularly did it recur to her, when, some months afterward, Mrs. +Colonel Raynor, though she sometimes stopped to exchange a few kindly +words with Mr. Smith at his place of business, evaded every invitation +to his dwelling, while she went the rounds of sumptuous fêting among +the Goldsboroughs, Pendletons, Longacres & Co. + + + + +SPIRIT-VOICES. + +BY CHARLES W. BAIRD. + + +"Hast thou heard ever a spirit-voice, + As in morning's hour it stole +Speaking to thee from the home of its choice, + Deep in the unfathomed soul: +Telling of things that the ear hath not heard, + Neither the mind conceived; +Bringing a balm in each gentle word + Unto the heart bereaved?" + +O, I have heard it in days of the spring, + When gladness and joy were rife. +'Twas a voice of hope, that came whispering + Its story of strength and life. +It told me that seasons of vigor and mirth + Follow the night of pain; +And the heaven-born soul, like the flowers of earth, + Withers, to live again! + +"Hast thou heard ever a spirit-voice, + At the sunny hour of noon; +Bidding the soul in its light rejoice, + For the darkness cometh soon; +Telling of blossoms that early bloom + And as early pine and fade; +And the bright hopes that must find a tomb + In the dark, approaching shade?" + +Yes, I have heard it in summer's hour, + When the year was in its strength: +'T was a voice of faith, and it spoke with power + Of joys that shall come at length. +It told how the holy and beautiful gain + Fruition of peace and love; +And the blest ones, freed from this world of pain, + Flourish and ripen above. + +"Hast thou heard ever a spirit-voice, + At the solemn noon of night, +When the fair visions of memory rise + Robed in their fancied light. +When the loved forms that are cold and dead + Pass in their train sad and slow; +And the waking soul, from its pleasures fled, + Turns to its present wo?" + +Oft have I heard it when day was o'er; + And the welcome tones I knew: +Like the voices of those who have gone before, + The Beautiful and the True. +And it turned my thoughts to that blissful time + When ceaseth cold winter's breath; +When the free spirit shall seek that clime + Where there is no more death. + + + + +THE ISLETS OF THE GULF; + +OR, ROSE BUDD. + + Ay, now I am in Arden; the more fool + I; when I was at home I was in a better place; but + Travelers must be content. AS YOU LIKE IT. + +BY THE AUTHOR OF "PILOT," "RED ROVER," "TWO ADMIRALS," "WING-AND-WING," +"MILES WALLINGFORD," ETC + + +[Entered, according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1846, by J. +Fenimore Cooper, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the +United States, for the Northern District of New York.] + +(_Concluded from page 98_.) + + +PART XVII. + + The trusting heart's repose, the paradise + Of home, with all its loves, doth fate allow + The crown of glory unto woman's brow. + MRS. HEMANS. + + +It has again become necessary to advance the time; and we shall take +the occasion thus offered to make a few explanations touching certain +events which have been passed over without notice. + +The reason why Capt. Mull did not chase the yawl of the brig in the +Poughkeepsie herself, was the necessity of waiting for his own boats +that were endeavoring to regain the sloop-of-war. It would not have +done to abandon them, inasmuch as the men were so much exhausted by +the pull to windward, that when they reached the vessel all were +relieved from duty for the rest of the day. As soon, however, as the +other boats were hoisted in, or run up, the ship filled away, stood +out of the passage and ran down to join the cutter of Wallace, which +was endeavoring to keep its position, as much as possible, by making +short tacks under close-reefed luggs. + +Spike had been received on board the sloop-of-war, sent into her sick +bay, and put under the care of the surgeon and his assistants. From +the first, these gentlemen pronounced the hurt mortal. The wounded man +was insensible most of the time, until the ship had beat up and gone +into Key West, where he was transferred to the regular hospital, as +has already been mentioned. + +The wreckers went out the moment the news of the calamity of the Swash +reached their ears. Some went in quest of the doubloons of the +schooner, and others to pick up any thing valuable that might be +discovered in the neighborhood of the stranded brig. It may be +mentioned here, that not much was ever obtained from the brigantine, +with the exception of a few spars, the sails, and a little rigging; +but, in the end, the schooner was raised, by means of the chain Spike +had placed around her, the cabin was ransacked, and the doubloons were +recovered. As there was no one to claim the money, it was quietly +divided among the conscientious citizens present at its revisiting +"the glimpses of the moon," making gold plenty. + +The doubloons in the yawl would have been lost but for the sagacity of +Mulford. He too well knew the character of Spike to believe he would +quit the brig without taking the doubloons with him. Acquainted with +the boat, he examined the little locker in the stern-sheets, and found +the two bags, one of which was probably the lawful property of Capt. +Spike, while the other, in truth, belonged to the Mexican government. +The last contained the most gold, but the first amounted to a sum that +our young mate knew to be very considerable. Rose had made him +acquainted with the sex of Jack Tier since their own marriage; and he +at once saw that the claims to the gold in question, of this uncouth +wife, who was so soon to be a widow, might prove to be as good in law, +as they unquestionably were in morals. On representing the facts of +the case to Capt. Mull and the legal functionaries at Key West, it was +determined to relinquish this money to the heirs of Spike, as, indeed, +they must have done under process, there being no other claimant. +These doubloons, however, did not amount to the full price of the +flour and powder that composed the cargo of the Swash. The cargo had +been purchased with Mexican funds; and all that Spike or his heirs +could claim, was the high freight for which he had undertaken the +delicate office of transporting those forbidden articles, contraband +of war, to the Dry Tortugas. + +Mulford by this time was high in the confidence and esteem of all on +board the Poughkeepsie. He had frankly explained his whole connection +with Spike, not even attempting to conceal the reluctance he had felt +to betray the brig after he had fully ascertained the fact of his +commander's treason. The manly gentlemen with whom he was now brought +in contact entered into his feelings, and admitted that it was an +office no one could desire, to turn against the craft in which he +sailed. It is true, they could not and would not be traitors, but +Mulford had stopped far short of this; and the distinction between +such a character and that of an informer was wide enough to satisfy +all their scruples. + +Then Rose had the greatest success with the gentlemen of the +Poughkeepsie. Her youth, beauty, and modesty, told largely in her +favor; and the simple, womanly affection she unconsciously betrayed +in behalf of Harry, touched the heart of every observer. When the +intelligence of her aunt's fate reached her, the sorrow she manifested +was so profound and natural, that every one sympathized with her +grief. Nor would she be satisfied unless Mulford would consent to go +in search of the bodies. The latter knew the hopelessness of such an +excursion, but he could not refuse to comply. He was absent on that +melancholy duty, therefore, at the moment of the scene related in our +last chapter, and did not return until after that which we are now +about to lay before the reader. Mrs. Budd, Biddy, and all of those who +perished after the yawl got clear of the reef, were drowned in deep +water, and no more was ever seen of any of them; or, if wreckers did +pass them, they did not stop to bury the dead. It was different, +however, with those who were first sacrificed to Spike's selfishness. +They were drowned on the reef, and Harry did actually recover the +bodies of the Señor Montefalderon, and of Josh, the steward. They had +washed upon a rock that is bare at low water. He took them both to the +Dry Tortugas, and had them interred along with the other dead at that +place. Don Juan was placed side by side with his unfortunate +country-man, the master of his equally unfortunate schooner. + +While Harry was absent and thus employed, Rose wept much and prayed +more. She would have felt herself almost alone in the world, but for +the youth to whom she had so recently, less than a week before, +plighted her faith in wedlock. That new tie, it is true, was of +sufficient importance to counteract many of the ordinary feelings of +her situation; and she now turned to it as the one which absorbed most +of the future duties of her life. Still she missed the kindness, the +solicitude, even the weaknesses of her aunt; and the terrible manner +in which Mrs. Budd had perished, made her shudder with horror whenever +she thought of it. Poor Biddy, too, came in for her share of the +regrets. This faithful creature, who had been in the relict's service +ever since Rose's infancy, had become endeared to her, in spite of her +uncouth manners and confused ideas, by the warmth of her heart, and +the singular truth of her feelings. Biddy, of all her family, had come +alone to America, leaving behind her not only brothers and sisters, +but parents living. Each year did she remit to the last a moiety of +her earnings, and many a half-dollar that had come from Rose's pretty +little hand, had been converted into gold, and forwarded on the same +pious errand to the green island of her nativity. Ireland, unhappy +country! at this moment what are not the dire necessities of thy poor! +Here, from the midst of abundance, in a land that God has blessed in +its productions far beyond the limits of human wants, a land in which +famine was never known, do we at this moment hear thy groans, and +listen to tales of suffering that to us seem almost incredible. In the +midst of these chilling narratives, our eyes fall on an appeal to the +English nation, that appears in what it is the fashion of some to term +the first journal of Europe(!) in behalf of thy suffering people. A +worthy appeal to the charity of England seldom fails; but it seems to +us that one sentiment of this might have been altered, if not spared. +The English are asked to be "_forgetful_ of the past," and to come +forward to the relief of their suffering fellow-subjects. We should +have written "_mindful_ of the past," in its stead. We say this in +charity, as well as in truth. We come of English blood, and if we +claim to share in all the ancient renown of that warlike and +enlightened people, we are equally bound to share in the reproaches +that original misgovernment has inflicted on thee. In this latter +sense, then, thou hast a right to our sympathies, and they are not +withheld. + +As has been already said, we now advance the time eight-and-forty +hours, and again transfer the scene to that room in the hospital which +was occupied by Spike. The approaches of death, during the interval +just named, had been slow but certain. The surgeons had announced that +the wounded man could not possibly survive the coming night; and he +himself had been made sensible that his end was near. It is scarcely +necessary to add that Stephen Spike, conscious of his vigor and +strength, in command of his brig, and bent on the pursuits of worldly +gains, or of personal gratification, was a very different person from +him who now lay stretched on his pallet in the hospital of Key West, a +dying man. By the side of his bed still sat his strange nurse, less +peculiar in appearance, however, than when last seen by the reader. + +Rose Budd had been ministering to the ungainly externals of Jack Tier. +She now wore a cap, thus concealing the short, gray bristles of hair, +and lending to her countenance a little of that softness which is a +requisite of female character. Some attention had also been paid to +the rest of her attire; and Jack was, altogether, less repulsive in +her exterior than when, unaided, she had attempted to resume the +proper garb of her sex. Use and association, too, had contributed a +little to revive her woman's nature, if we may so express it, and she +had begun, in particular, to feel the sort of interest in her patient +which we all come in time to entertain toward any object of our +especial care. We do not mean that Jack had absolutely ever ceased to +love her husband; strange as it may seem, such had not literally been +the case; on the contrary, her interest in him and in his welfare had +never ceased, even while she saw his vices and detested his crimes; +but all we wish to say here is, that she was getting, in addition to +the long-enduring feelings of a wife, some of the interest of a nurse. + +During the whole time which had elapsed between Jack's revealing her +true character, and the moment of which we are now writing, Spike had +not once spoken to his wife. Often had she caught his eyes intently +riveted on her, when he would turn them away, as she feared, in +distaste; and once or twice he groaned deeply, more like a man who +suffered mental than bodily pain. Still the patient did not speak once +in all the time mentioned. We should be representing poor Jack as +possessing more philosophy, or less feeling, than the truth would +warrant, were we to say she was not hurt at this conduct in her +husband. On the contrary, she felt it deeply; and more than once it +had so far subdued her pride, as to cause her bitterly to weep. This +shedding of tears, however, was of service to Jack in one sense, for +it had the effect of renewing old impressions, and in a certain way, +of reviving the nature of her sex within her--a nature which had been +sadly weakened by her past life. + +But the hour had at length come when this long and painful silence was +to be broken. Jack and Rose were alone with the patient, when the last +again spoke to his wife. + +"Molly--poor Molly!" said the dying man, his voice continuing full and +deep to the last, "what a sad time you must have had of it after I did +you that wrong!" + +"It is hard upon a woman, Stephen, to turn her out, helpless, on a +cold and selfish world," answered Jack, simply, much too honest to +affect reserve she did not feel. + +"It was hard, indeed; may God forgive me for it, as I hope _you_ do, +Molly." + +No answer was made to this appeal; and the invalid looked anxiously at +his wife. The last sat at her work, which had now got to be less +awkward to her, with her eyes bent on her needle, and her countenance +rigid, and, so far as the eye could discern, her feelings unmoved. + +"Your husband speaks to you, Jack Tier," said Rose, pointedly. + +"May _yours_ never have occasion to speak to you, Rose Budd, in the +same way," was the solemn answer. "I do not flatter myself that I ever +was as comely as you, or that yonder poor dying wretch was a Harry +Mulford in his youth; but we were young and happy, and respected once, +and loved each other; yet you see what its all come to!" + +Rose was silenced, though she had too much tenderness in behalf of her +own youthful and manly bridegroom to dread a fate similar to that +which had overtaken poor Jack. Spike now seemed disposed to say +something, and she went to the side of his bed, followed by her +companion, who kept a little in the back-ground, as if unwilling to +let the emotion she really felt be seen, and, perhaps, conscious that +her ungainly appearance did not aid her in recovering the lost +affections of her husband. + +"I have been a very wicked man, I fear," said Spike, earnestly. + +"There are none without sin," answered Rose. "Place your reliance on +the mediation of the Son of God, and sins even far deeper than yours +may be pardoned." + +The captain stared at the beautiful speaker, but self-indulgence, the +incessant pursuit of worldly and selfish objects for forty years, and +the habits of a life into which the thought of God and the dread +hereafter never entered, had encased his spiritual being in a sort of +brazen armor, through which no ordinary blow of conscience could +penetrate. Still he had fearful glimpses of recent events, and his +soul, hanging as it was over the abyss of eternity, was troubled. + +"What has become of your aunt?" half whispered Spike--"my old +captain's widow. She ought to be here; and Don Wan Montezuma--where is +he?" + +Rose turned aside to conceal her tears--but no one answered the +questions of the dying man. Then a gleaming of childhood shot into the +recollection of Spike, and, clasping his hands, he tried to pray. But, +like others who have lived without any communication with their +Creator through long lives of apathy to his existence and laws, +thinking only of the present time, and daily, hourly sacrificing +principles and duty to the narrow interests of the moment, he now +found how hard it is to renew communications with a being who has been +so long neglected. The fault lay in himself, however, for a gracious +ear was open, even over the death-bed of Stephen Spike, could that +rude spirit only bring itself to ask for mercy in earnestness and +truth. As his companions saw his struggles, they left him for a few +minutes to his own thoughts. + +"Molly," Spike at length uttered, in a faint tone, the voice of one +conscious of being very near his end, "I hope you will forgive me, +Molly. I know you must have had a hard, hard time of it." + +"It is hard for a woman to unsex herself, Stephen; to throw off her +very natur', as it might be, and to turn man." + +"It has changed you sadly--even your speech is altered. Once your +voice was soft and womanish--more like that of Rose Budd's than it is +now." + +"I speak as them speak among whom I've been forced to live. The +forecastle and steward's pantry, Stephen Spike, are poor schools to +send women to l'arn language in." + +"Try and forget it all, poor Molly! Say to me, so that I can hear you, +'I forget and forgive, Stephen.' I am afraid God will not pardon my +sins, which begin to seem dreadful to me, if my own wife refuse to +forget and forgive, on my dying bed." + +Jack was much mollified by this appeal. Her interest in her offending +husband had never been entirely extinguished. She had remembered him, +and often with woman's kindness, in all her wanderings and sufferings, +as the preceding parts of our narrative must show; and though +resentment had been mingled with the grief and mortification she felt +at finding how much he still submitted to Rose's superior charms, in a +breast as really generous and humane as that of Jack Tier's, such a +feeling was not likely to endure in the midst of a scene like that she +was now called to witness. The muscles of her countenance twitched, +the hard-looking, tanned face began to lose its sternness, and every +way she appeared like one profoundly disturbed. + +"Turn to Him whose goodness and marcy may sarve you, Stephen," she +said, in a milder and more feminine tone than she had used now for +years, making her more like herself than either her husband or Rose +had seen her since the commencement of the late voyage; "my sayin' +that I forget and forgive cannot help a man on his death-bed." + +"It will settle my mind, Molly, and leave me freer to turn my thoughts +to God." + +Jack was much affected; more by the countenance and manner of the +sufferer, perhaps, than by his words. She drew nearer to the side of +her husband's pallet, knelt, took his hands, and said solemnly, + +"Stephen Spike, from the bottom of my heart, I _do_ forgive you; and I +shall pray to God that he will pardon your sins as freely and more +marcifully than I now pardon all, and try to forget all that you have +done to me." + +Spike clasped his hands, and again he tried to pray; but the habits of +a whole life are not to be thrown off at will; and he who endeavors to +regain, in his extremity, the moments that have been lost, will find, +in bitter reality, that he has been heaping mountains on his own soul, +by the mere practice of sin, which were never laid there by the +original fall of his race. Jack, however, had disburthened her spirit +of a load that had long oppressed it, and, burying her face in the +rug, she wept. + +"I wish, Molly," said the dying man, several minutes later, "I wish I +had never seen the brig. Until I got that craft, no thought of +wronging human being ever crossed my mind." + +"It was the Father of Lies that tempts all to do evil, Stephen, and +not the brig which caused the sins." + +"I wish I could live a year longer--_only_ one year; that is not much +to ask for a man who is not yet sixty." + +"It is hopeless, poor Stephen. The surgeons say you cannot live one +day." + +Spike groaned; for the past, blended fearfully with the future, +gleamed on his conscience with a brightness that appalled him. And +what is that future, which is to make us happy or miserable through an +endless vista of time? Is it not composed of an existence, in which +conscience, released from the delusions and weaknesses of the body, +sees all in its true colors, appreciates all, and punishes all? Such +an existence would make every man the keeper of the record of his own +transgressions, even to the most minute exactness. It would of itself +mete out perfect justice, since the sin would be seen amid its +accompanying facts, every aggravating or extenuating circumstance. +Each man would be strictly punished according to his talents. As no +one is without sin, it makes the necessity of an atonement +indispensable, and, in its most rigid interpretation, it exhibits the +truth of the scheme of salvation in the clearest colors. The soul, or +conscience, that can admit the necessary degree of faith in that +atonement, and in admitting, _feels_ its efficacy, throws the burthen +of its own transgressions away, and remains forever in the condition +of its original existence, pure, and consequently happy. + +We do not presume to lay down a creed on this mighty and mysterious +matter, in which all have so deep an interest, and concerning which so +very small a portion of the human race think much, or think with any +clearness when it does become the subject of their passing thoughts at +all. We too well know our own ignorance to venture on dogmas which it +has probably been intended that the mind of man should not yet +grapple with and comprehend. To return to our subject. + +Stephen Spike was now made to feel the incubus-load, which +perseverance in sin heaps on the breast of the reckless offender. What +was the most grievous of all, his power to shake off this dead weight +was diminished in precisely the same proportion as the burthen was +increased, the moral force of every man lessening in a very just ratio +to the magnitude of his delinquencies. Bitterly did this deep offender +struggle with his conscience, and little did his half-unsexed wife +know how to console or aid him. Jack had been superficially instructed +in the dogmas of her faith, in childhood and youth, as most persons +are instructed in what are termed Christian communities--had been made +to learn the Catechism, the Lord's Prayer, and the Creed--and had been +left to set up for herself on this small capital, in the great concern +of human existence, on her marriage and entrance on the active +business of life. When the manner in which she had passed the last +twenty years is remembered, no one can be surprised to learn that Jack +was of little assistance to her husband in his extremity. Rose made an +effort to administer hope and consolation, but the terrible nature of +the struggle she witnessed, induced her to send for the chaplain of +the Poughkeepsie. This divine prayed with the dying man; but even he, +in the last moments of the sufferer, was little more than a passive +but shocked witness of remorse, suspended over the abyss of eternity +in hopeless dread. We shall not enter into the details of the +revolting scene, but simply add that curses, blasphemy, tremulous +cries for mercy, agonized entreaties to be advised, and sullen +defiance, were all strangely and fearfully blended. In the midst of +one of these revolting paroxysms Spike breathed his last. A few hours +later his body was interred in the sands of the shore. It may be well +to say in this place, that the hurricane of 1846, which is known to +have occurred only a few months later, swept off the frail covering +and that the body was washed away to leave its bones among the wrecks +and relics of the Florida Reef. + +Mulford did not return from his fruitless expedition in quest of the +remains of Mrs. Budd, until after the death and interment of Spike. As +nothing remained to be done at Key West, he and Rose accompanied by +Jack Tier, took passage for Charleston in the first convenient vessel +that offered. Two days before they sailed, the Poughkeepsie went out +to cruise in the gulf, agreeably to her general orders. The evening +previously Capt. Mull, Wallace, and the chaplain, passed with the +bridegroom and bride, when the matter of the doubloons found in the +boat was discussed. It was agreed that Jack Tier should have them; and +into her hands the bag was now placed. On this occasion, to oblige the +officers, Jack went into a narrative of all she had seen and suffered, +from the moment when abandoned by her late husband down to that when +she found him again. It was a strange account, and one filled with +surprising adventures. In most of the vessels in which she had +served, Jack had acted in the steward's department, though she had +frequently done duty as a fore-mast hand. In strength and skill she +admitted that she had often failed; but in courage, never. Having been +given reason to think her husband was reduced to serving in a vessel +of war, she had shipped on board a frigate bound to the Mediterranean, +and had actually made a whole cruise as a ward-room boy on that +station. While thus employed she had met with two of the gentlemen +present; Capt. Mull and Mr. Wallace. The former was then first +lieutenant of the frigate, and the latter a passed-midshipman; and in +these capacities both had been well known to her. As the name she then +bore was the same as that under which she now "hailed," these officers +were soon made to recollect her, though Jack was no longer the light, +trim-built lad he had then appeared to be. Neither of the gentlemen +named had made the whole cruise in the ship, but each had been +promoted and transferred to another craft, after being Jack's shipmate +rather more than a year. This information greatly facilitated the +affair of the doubloons. + +From Charleston the travelers came north by railroad. Harry made +several stops by the way, in order to divert the thoughts of his +beautiful young bride from dwelling too much on the fate of her aunt. +He knew that home would revive all these recollections painfully, and +wished to put off the hour of their return, until time had a little +weakened Rose's regrets. For this reason, he passed a whole week in +Washington, though it was a season of the year that the place is not +in much request. Still, Washington is scarce a town, at any season. It +is much the fashion to deride the American capital, and to treat it as +a place of very humble performance with very sounding pretensions. +Certainly, Washington has very few of the peculiarities of a great +European capital, but few as these are, they are more than belong to +any other place in this country. We now allude to the _distinctive_ +characteristics of a capital, and not to a mere concentration of +houses and shops within a given space. In this last respect, +Washington is much behind fifty other American towns, even while it is +the only place in the whole republic which possesses specimens of +architecture, on a scale approaching that of the higher classes of the +edifices of the old world. It is totally deficient in churches, and +theatres, and markets; or those it does possess are, in an +architectural sense, not at all above the level of village or +country-town pretensions, but one or two of its national edifices do +approach the magnificence and grandeur of the old world. The new +Treasury Buildings are unquestionably, on the score of size, +embellishments and finish, _the_ American edifice that comes nearest +to first class architecture on the other side of the Atlantic. The +Capitol comes next, though it can scarce be ranked, relatively, as +high. As for the White House, it is every way sufficient for its +purposes and the institutions; and now that its grounds are finished, +and the shrubbery and trees begin to tell, one sees about it something +that is not unworthy of its high uses and origin. Those grounds, +which so long lay a reproach to the national taste and liberality, are +now fast becoming beautiful, are already exceedingly pretty, and give +to a structure that is destined to become historical, having already +associated with it the names of Jefferson, Madison, Jackson, and +Quincy Adams, together with the _ci polloi_ of the later Presidents, +an _entourage_ that is suitable to its past recollections and its +present purposes. They are not quite on a level with the parks of +London, it is true; or even with the Tuileries, or Luxembourg, or the +Boboli, or the Villa Reale, or fifty more grounds and gardens, of a +similar nature, that might be mentioned; but, seen in the spring and +early summer, they adorn the building they surround, and lend to the +whole neighborhood a character of high civilization, that no other +place in America can show, in precisely the same form, or to the same +extent. + +This much have we said on the subject of the White House and its +precincts, because we took occasion, in a former work, to berate the +narrow-minded parsimony which left the grounds of the White House in a +condition that was discreditable to the republic. How far our +philippic may have hastened the improvements which have been made, is +more than we shall pretend to say, but having made the former +strictures, we are happy to have an occasion to say (though nearly +twenty years have intervened between the expressions of the two +opinions) that they are no longer merited. + +And here we will add another word, and that on a subject that is not +sufficiently pressed on the attention of a people, who, by position, +are unavoidably provincial. We invite those whose gorges rise at any +stricture on any thing American, and who fancy it is enough to belong +to the great republic to be great in itself, to place themselves in +front of the State Department, as it now stands, and to examine its +dimensions, material and form with critical eyes; then to look along +the adjacent Treasury Buildings, to fancy them completed, by a +junction with new edifices of a similar construction to contain the +department of state; next to fancy similar works completed for the two +opposite departments; after which, to compare the past and present +with the future as thus finished, and remember how recent has been the +partial improvement which even now exists. If this examination and +comparison do not show, directly to the sense of sight, how much there +was and is to criticise, as put in contrast with other countries, we +shall give up the individuals in question, as too deeply dyed in the +provincial wool ever to be whitened. The present Trinity church, New +York, certainly not more than a third class European church, if as +much, compared with its village-like predecessor, may supply a +practical homily of the same degree of usefulness. There may be those +among us, however, who fancy it patriotism to maintain that the old +Treasury Buildings were quite equal to the new, and of these intense +Americans we cry their mercy! + +Rose felt keenly on reaching her late aunt's very neat dwelling in +Fourteenth Street, New York. But the manly tenderness of Mulford was +a great support to her, and a little time brought her to think of that +weak-minded, but well-meaning and affectionate relative, with gentle +regret, rather than with grief. Among the connections of her young +husband, she found several females of a class in life certainly equal +to her own, and somewhat superior to the latter in education and +habits. As for Harry, he very gladly passed the season with his +beautiful bride, though a fine ship was laid down for him, by means of +Rose's fortune, now much increased by her aunt's death, and he was +absent in Europe when his son was born; an event that occurred only +two months since. + +The Swash, and the shipment of gunpowder, were thought of no more in +the good town of Manhattan. This great emporium--we beg pardon, this +great _commercial_ emporium--has a trick of forgetting; condensing all +interests into those of the present moment. It is much addicted to +believing that which never had an existence, and of overlooking that +which is occurring directly _under its nose_. So marked is this +tendency to forgetfulness, we should not be surprised to hear some of +the Manhattanese pretend that our legend is nothing but a fiction, and +deny the existence of the Molly, Capt. Spike, and even of Biddy Noon. +But we know them too well to mind what they say, and shall go on and +finish our narrative in our own way, just as if there were no such +raven-throated commentators at all. + +Jack Tier, still known by that name, lives in the family of Capt. +Mulford. She is fast losing the tan on her face and hands, and every +day is improving in appearance. She now habitually wears her proper +attire, and is dropping gradually into the feelings and habits of her +sex. She never can become what she once was, any more than the +blackamoor can become white, or the leopard change his spots; but she +is no longer revolting. She has left off chewing and smoking, having +found a refuge in snuff. Her hair is permitted to grow, and is already +turned up with a comb, though constantly concealed beneath a cap. The +heart of Jack, alone, seems unaltered. The strange, tiger-like +affection that she bore for Spike, during twenty years of abandonment, +has disappeared in regrets for his end. It is succeeded by a most +sincere attachment for Rose, in which the little boy, since his +appearance on the scene, is becoming a large participator. This child +Jack is beginning to love intensely; and the doubloons, well invested, +placing her above the feeling of dependence, she is likely to end her +life, once so errant and disturbed, in tranquillity and a home-like +happiness. + + + + +THE BELLE. + +BY MARY L. LAWSON. + + +She stands before the mirror--she is fair, + And soft the light within her beaming eyes, +But unshed tears are slowly gathering there, + Like passing clouds that float o'er summer skies; +Her cheek is wan, as blanched by thoughts of pain, + And on her snowy brow a shadow sleeps: +Are such surpassing gifts bestowed in vain?-- + The pale, sad beauty turns aside and weeps! + +Long, long in anguish flows the burning tide-- + Dark storms of feeling sweep across her breast-- +In loneliness there needs no mask of pride-- + To nerve the soul, and veil the heart's unrest, +Amid the crowd her glances brightly beam, + Her smiles with undimmed lustre sweetly shine: +The haunting visions of life's fevered dream + The cold and careless seek not to divine. + +Night after night unheeded glides away + 'Mid mirth and music, flattery's whispered tone, +Her dreary penance--ever to be gay, + Yet longing, oh! how oft--to be alone; +But when all other hearts seek needful rest, + And heavy sleep the saddest eyelids close, +Her dreams are those the wretched only know, + As memory o'er her soul its shadow's throw. + +Friends that had shared her girlhood's happier day, + And forms now mingling with the dust arise, +The early loved recalled with pensive tears, + Though once in pride half scorned and lightly prized; +Fair pictured scenes long vanished from her sight, + Soft tones of songs and voices loved of yore. +And words of tenderness and looks of light, + And fresh young hopes that bloom for her no more. + +But this one hour has crowned in deep despair + The many sorrows of life's galling chain, +Yet mid those sighs that rend her aching soul + The heart's wild struggle is not felt in vain, +For she has turned to Him whose smile can cheer + The darkened mind and hopes lost light reveal, +And learns to feel 'mid trembling doubt and fear-- + That HE whose power can wound is strong to heal. + +While loftier thoughts to nobler purpose given + Than those long wasted amid fashion's glare, +And deep resolves the future shall be fraught + With holy deeds, her earnest musings share-- +Though in the dance her step no more may glide, + The glittering circle miss its chosen queen, +Around the vacant place a closing tide + Will leave no record where her form was seen. + +But where the widow's tear-drop may be dried, + And where the orphan wanders sad and lone, +Where poverty its grieving head may hide, + Will breathe the music of her voice's tone; +And if her face was blest with beauty rare + 'Mid gilded sighs and worldly vanity, +When heavenly peace has left its impress there + Its loveliness from earthly stain is free. + + + + +LE PETIT SOULIER. + +A STORY: IN TWO PARTS. + +BY IK. MARVEL. + + +PART I. + +I have said that the Abbé G---- had a room in some dark corner of a +hotel in the Rue de Seine, or Rue de la Harpe--which of the two it was +I really forget. At any rate, the hotel was very old, and the street +out of which I used to step into its ill-paved, triangular court, was +very narrow, and very dirty. + +At the end of the court, farthest from the heavy gateway, was the box +of the _concierge_, who was a brisk little shoemaker, forever +bethwacking his lap-stone. If I remember right, the hammer of the +little _cordonnier_ made the only sound I used to hear in the court; +for though the house was full of lodgers, I never saw two of them +together, and never heard them talking across the court from the upper +windows, even in mid-summer. + +At this distance of time, I do not think it would be possible for me +to describe accurately all the windings of the corridor which led to +the abbé's door. I remember that the first part was damp and low, and +after it I used to mount a crazy stone staircase, and at the top +passed through a passage that opened on one side upon a narrow court; +then there was a little wicket of iron, which, when it turned, tinkled +a bell. Sometimes the abbé would hear the bell, and open his door down +at the end of the corridor; and sometimes a lodger, who occupied a +room looking into the last-mentioned court, would draw, slyly, a +corner of his curtain, and peep out, to see who was passing. Sometimes +I would loiter myself to look down upon the lower windows in the +court, or to glance up at story resting above story, and at the peaked +roof, and dot of a loop-hole at the top. + +A single small door opened into the court, and occasionally an old +woman, or bustling, shabbily-dressed man would shuffle across the +pavement; the faces at the windows seemed altogether sordid and +every-day faces, so that I came to regard the quarters of the abbé, +notwithstanding the quaint-fashioned windows and dim stairway, and +suspicious quiet, a very matter of fact, and so, very uninteresting +neighborhood. + +As the abbé and myself passed out sometimes together through the +open-sided corridor, I would point into the court, and ask who lived +in the little room at the top. + +"Ah, _mon cher_, I do not know," the abbé would say. + +Or, "who lives in the corner, with the queer narrow window and the +striped curtain?" + +"I cannot tell you, _mon cher_." + +Or, "whose is the little window with so many broken panes, and an old +placard pinned against the frame?" + +"Ah, who knows! perhaps a _chiffonier_, or a shopman, or perhaps--" +and the abbé lifted his finger, and shook his head expressively, and +continued, + +"It is a strange world we live in, _mon ami_." + +What could the abbé mean? I looked up at the window again; it was +small, and the panes were set in rough metal casing; it was high up on +the fourth or fifth floor. I could see nothing through but the dirty +yellow placard. + +"Is it in the same hotel with you?" said I. + +"_Ma foi_, I do not know." + +I tried to picture satisfactorily to my own mind the appearance of the +chamber to which the little window belonged. Small it must be, I knew, +for in that quarter few were large even upon the first floor, and +looking upon the street. Dirty, too, it should surely be, and +comfortless, and tenanted by misery, or poverty, or sin, or, very +likely, all together. Possibly some miserly old wretch lived there, +needing only a little light to count up his hoard, and caring little +for any intrusive wind, if it did not blow away his treasure. I +fancied I could see him running over the tale of his coin by a feeble +rushlight--squat, perhaps, on the dirty tile-floor--then locking his +box, and placing it carefully under the pillow of his straw pallet, +then tip-toeing to the door to examine again the fastening, then +carefully extinguishing the taper, and after, dropping into an +anxious, fevered sleep. + +I even lingered very late at the abbé's room, to see if I could detect +the old man; but there was never any light to be seen. + +Perhaps it was the home of some poor gentleman who had seen better +days, and whom necessity obliged to deny himself the poor luxury of a +centime light. Possibly it was a little shopman, as the abbé had +suggested, struggling with fortune--not scrupulous in honesty, and +shunning observation; or it might be (who could tell) a sleek-faced +villain, stealing about in the dusk, and far into the night, making +the dim chamber his home only when more honest lodgers were astir in +the city. + +All sorts of conjectures came thronging on me, and I cast my eyes up, +day after day, at the little window, hoping some change of appearance +might give plausibility to some one of my fancies. + +Week after week, however, the corridor wore its old quietude; the +striped curtain in the wing window, and the yellow placard in the +suspicious window at the top, still kept their places with provoking +tenacity; and I could never, with all my art, seduce the good-natured +abbé into any bugbear story about the occupant of the dim chamber on +the court. + +I dare say I might soon have neglected to look up at all, had I not +observed one day, after my glances had grown very careless, and almost +involuntary, a rich lace veil hanging against the same little window +where had hung the placard. There was no mistaking it--the veil was of +the richest Mechlin lace. I knew very well that no lady of elegance +could occupy such apartment, or, indeed, was to be found (I mean no +disrespect to the abbé) in that quarter of Paris. The window plainly +belonged to some thievish den, and the lace formed a portion of the +spoils. I began to be distrustful of late visits to the abbé's +quarters, and full of the notion of thievish eyes looking out from the +strange window--I used half to tremble as I passed along the corridor. +I told the abbé of the veil, and hinted my suspicions. + +"It is nothing," said he, "princes have lived in worse corners." + +"And yet you are not curious to know more?" + +"_Mon cher_, it is dangerous to be too curious, _je suis un prêtre_." + +Some days after--it was on a winter's morning, when a little snow had +fallen--I chanced to glance over into the court on which the +mysterious window looked, and saw the beautiful foot-mark of a lady's +slipper. It was scarce longer than my hand--too narrow and delicately +formed for a child's foot, least of all the foot of such children as +belonged to the Rue de Seine. I could not but associate the +foot-track--so small, so beautiful, and so unlocked for in such +scene--with the veil I had seen at the window. + +Through all of my morning's lesson--I was then reading _La Grammaire +des Grammaires_--I could think of nothing but the pretty foot-track in +the snow. No such foot, I was quite sure, could be seen in the dirty +Rue de Seine--not even the shop-girls of the Rue de la Paix, or the +tidiest Llorettes could boast of one so pretty. + +I asked the abbé to walk with me; and as we passed the corridor, I +threw my eye carelessly into the court, as if it were only my first +observation, and said as quietly as possible, "_Mon cher abbé_, the +snow tells tales this morning." + +The abbé looked curiously down upon the foot-marks, ran his eye +rapidly over the windows, turned to me, shook his head expressively, +and said, as he glanced down again, "_O'etait un fort joli petit +soulier._" (It was a very pretty little shoe.) + +"Whose was it?" said I. + +"_Mon cher_, I do not know." + +I still kept up, day after day, my watch upon the window. It shortly +supplied me with an important link in the chain of observations. I saw +lying within the glass, against which the veil yet hung, nothing more +nor less than the same little shoe, I thoroughly believed, which had +made the delicate foot-marks on the snow in the court. Not a prettier +shoe could be seen on the Boulevards, and scarce one so small. It +would have been very strange to see such delicate articles of dress at +any hotels of the neighborhood, and stranger still to find them in +the humblest window of so dismal a court. + +There was a mystery about the matter that perplexed me. Every one +knows, who knows any thing about Paris, that that part of the city +along the Rue de Seine, between the Rues Jacob and Bussy, and though +very reputable in its way, is yet no place for delicate ladies, not +even as a promenade, and much less as a residence. It is assigned +over, as well by common consent as custom, to medical students, +shop-men, attorneys, physicians, priests, lodging-house keepers, +market-men, sub-officials, shop-women, second-class milliners, and +grisettes. + +Indeed a delicate lady--and such only, I was sure, could have left the +foot-print in the court, and be the owner of the shoe I had +seen--could hardly pass through the Rue de Seine without drawing the +eyes of all the lodgers on the street. Dried up hag faces would have +met the apparition with a leer; the porters would have turned to +stare, and she would have had very suspicious followers. + +I loitered about the outer court of the hotel, under pretence of +waiting for the abbé, in hope of seeing something which would throw +light upon the mysterious occupant of the chamber. But the comers and +goers were all of the most unobtrusive and ordinary cast. I ventured +to question the concierge concerning his lodgers. They were all _bons +gens_. + +"Were there any ladies?" + +The little shoemaker lifted his hammer a moment while he eyed me--"But +one, monsieur; the wife of the old tobacconist at the corner." + +I asked about the windows in the little court, beside which I +passed--did they belong to his hotel? + +He did not think it. + +I prevailed on him to step with me a moment into the corridor, and +pointed out to him the window which had drawn so much of my attention. +I asked if he knew the hotel to which it belonged? + +He did not. It might be the next, or the next after, or down the +little alley branching out of the Rue de Seine. I asked him of the +character of the neighborhood. + +It was a good neighborhood, he said--a very reputable neighborhood. He +believed the lodgers of the quarter to be all _honnêtes gens_. + +I took occasion to loiter about the courts of the adjoining houses, +frequently passing the opposite side of the way, with my eye all the +time upon the entrance gates. The lodgers seemed to be even inferior +to those who passed in at the court where the abbé resided. + +One individual alone had attracted my attention. He was a tall, pale +man, in the decline of life, dressed in a sort of half-uniform; he +walked with a stooping gait, and seemed to me (perhaps it was a mere +fancy) as much weighed down by care as years. Several times I had seen +him going in or coming out of the court that opened two doors above +the abbé's. He was unlike most inhabitants of the neighborhood in both +dress and air. + +I ventured to step up to the brisk little concierge in the court one +day, and ask who was the tall gentleman with the tarnished lace who +had just entered? + +"It is _un Monsieur Very_," said the concierge. + +"And poor Monsieur Very lives alone?" said I. + +"How should I know, monsieur?" + +"He always walks alone," said I. + +"It is true," said the concierge. + +"He has children, perhaps?" said I. + +"_Très probable_," said the concierge. + +He was little disposed to be communicative, yet I determined to make +another trial. + +"You have very pretty lodgers," said I. + +"Pardon, monsieur," said he, "I do not understand you." + +"Pretty--very pretty lodgers," said I. + +"You are facetious, monsieur," said the concierge, smiling. + +"Not at all," said I; "have I not seen (a sad lie) a very pretty face +at one of the windows on the back court?" + +"I do not think it, monsieur." + +"And then there are no female lodgers?" + +"_Pardon, monsieur_--there are several." + +Here the little concierge was interrupted by a lodger, and I could ask +no more. + +I still, however, kept up my scrutiny of the attic window--observed +closely every female foot that glanced about the neighboring courts, +and remitted sadly my attention to the _Grammaire des Grammaires_, in +the quiet room of my demure friend the abbé. + +Sometimes, in my fancies, the object of wonder was a young maiden of +the _noblesse_, who, for imputed family crimes, had hid herself in so +humble a quarter. Sometimes I pictured the occupant of the chamber as +the suffering daughter of some miserly parent, with trace of noble +blood--filial, yet dependent in her degradation. Sometimes I imagined +her the daughter of shame--the beloved of a doating, and too late +repentant mother--shunning the face of a world that had seduced her +with its smiles, and that now made smiles the executioners of its +punishment. + +In short, form what fancies I would, I could not but feel a most +extraordinary interest in clearing the mystery that seemed to me to +hang about the little window in the court. Unconnected with the +foot-track and the slipper, the window on the court would have been +nothing more than half the courts to be seen in the old quarters of +Paris. Or, indeed, the delicate foot-prints, and articles of female +luxury would have hardly caught attention, much less sustained it with +so feverish curiosity, in any one of the courts opening upon the Rue +de Rivoli, or Rue Lafitte. + +The concierge next door, I was persuaded, knew more of his inmates +than he cared to say. I still, as I have said, glanced my eye, each +morning, along the upper angles of the court, and sidled now and then +by the gate of the neighboring hotel; but the window wore its usual +look--there was the veil, and the placard, and the disjointed, +rattling sash; and in the neighboring court was, sometimes, the tall +gentleman picking his way carefully over the stones, and sometimes the +stumpy figure of a waiting woman. + +Some ten days after my chat with the neighbor concierge, I reached +the hotel of the abbé an hour earlier than my usual morning visit, and +took the occasion to reconnoitre the adjoining courts. The concierge, +my acquaintance of the week before, was busy with a bowl of coffee and +a huge roll; and, just as I had sidled up to his box for a word with +him, who should brush past in great apparent haste, but the pale, thin +gentleman who had before attracted my observation. + +I determined to step around at once into the open corridor of the +abbé's hotel, and see if I could detect any movement--so slight even +as the opening or shutting of a door in the chamber of the narrow +window. + +It was earlier by a half hour at the least than I had ever been in the +corridor before. The court was quiet; my eye ran to the little +window--at a glance I saw it had not its usual appearance. A light +cambric handkerchief, with lace border, was pinned across it from side +to side; and just at the moment that I began to scrutinize what seemed +to me like a coronet stitched on the corner, a couple of delicate +fingers reached over the hem, removed the fastening, first on one +side, then on the other--the handkerchief was gone. + +It was the work of an instant, and evidently done in haste; but I +still caught a glimpse of a delicate female figure--sleeve hanging +loose about the arm a short way below the elbow, hair sweeping, half +curled and half carelessly over a cheek white as her dress, and an +expression, so far as I could judge, of deep sadness. + +I shrunk back into a shadow of the corridor, and waited; but there was +no more stir at the window. The yellow placard dangled by one +fastening; a bit of the veil was visible, nothing else, to tell me of +the character of the inmate. + +I told the abbé what I had seen. + +The abbé closed his grammar, (keeping his thumb at the place,) shook +his head slowly from side to side, smiled, lifted his finger in +playful menace, and--went on with his lesson. + +"Who can it be?" said I. + +"Indeed, I cannot tell you, _mon ami_," said the abbé, laying down his +book with a look of despair. + +The morning after I was again in the corridor a full half hour before +my usual time, but the window wore its usual air. The next day, again +I was an hour beforehand, and the abbé had not put off his priest +robe, in which he goes to morning mass; still there was no +handkerchief at the little window--no wavy mesh of hair--no taper +arm--no shadowy form moving in the dim chamber. + +I had arranged to leave for the south in a few days, and was more than +ever anxious for some explication of the mystery. A single further +mode only occurred to me; I would go to the concierge next door, and +under pretence of looking for rooms, would have him conduct me through +his hotel. + +It had dismal corridors, and steeper stairways than even the abbé's. I +was careless about the second and the third floors; and it was not +till we had mounted a half dozen crazy pair of stairs, that I began to +scrutinize narrowly the doors, and sometimes to ask if this or that +chamber was occupied. I made my way always to the windows of the rooms +shown me, in hope of seeing the little court I knew so well, and the +abbé's half-open corridor, and yet in half fear, that I might, after +all, be looking from the very window about which hung so perplexing +mystery. + +It was long before I caught sight of my old point of observation in +the neighboring corridor. The room was small, and was covered with +singular ancient hangings, with a concealed door, which the concierge +opened into a charming little cabinet. How many more concealed doors +there might have been I do not know. I put my head out the window, and +looked down in search of the strange casement; it was not below. Then +I looked to one side--there was the long window with a striped +curtain. I looked to the other side--another long window. I looked +up--there at length it was, over my left shoulder. I could see plainly +the yellow placard, and heard it flapping the casement. + +I asked the concierge if he had no rooms above. + +"_Oui, monsieur_--a single one; but it is too high for monsieur." + +"Let me see," said I--and we mounted a miserably dim staircase. There +were three doors; the concierge opened the nearest to the landing. + +"_La voici, monsieur._" It was a sad little affair, and looked out by +just such a loop-hole as was the object of my curiosity, upon a court +I did not know. + +"It will never do," said I, as I came out of the room. "But what is +here?" continued I, brushing up to the next door. + +The concierge caught me by the arm, and drew me back. Then he raised +himself forward on tip-toe, and whispered, "_C'nt le Monsieur Very._" + +I knew from its position it must have been the little casement which +looked upon the corridor. There was another door opposite; I brushed +up to this, and was again drawn back by the concierge. + +"Who is here?" said I. + +"_La Mademoiselle Marie_," said the concierge, and put his finger on +his lip. + +"Is she young?" said I, following the concierge down the stairway. + +"_Oui, monsieur._" + +"And pretty?" + +"_Oui, monsieur._" + +"I have never seen her," said I. + +"_Ma foi_, that is not strange, monsieur." + +"And she has been here--?" + +"A month." + +"Perhaps she is rich," said I. + +"_Mon Dieu!_" said the concierge, turning round to look at me, "and +live in such a chamber?" + +"But she dresses richly," said I. + +"_Eh bien!_ you have seen her, then!" exclaimed briskly the little +concierge. + +By this time we were in the court again. My search had only stimulated +my curiosity tenfold more. I half fancied the concierge began to +suspect my inquiries. Yet I determined to venture a single further +one. It was just as I was carelessly leaving the court--"_Mais_, _la +mademoiselle_, is, perhaps, the daughter of Monsieur Very, eh, +monsieur?" + +"_Ma foi_, I cannot tell you, monsieur," said the little +concierge--and he closed his door. + +I told the abbé of my search. He smiled, and shook his head. + +I described to him the person of Monsieur Very, and told him he must +keep his eye upon him, and, if possible, clear up the strange mystery +of the window in the court. + +The abbé shook his finger doubtingly, yet gave me a half promise. + +Three days only were left to me; I cast up anxious glances each +morning of my stay, but there was nothing but the placard and a bit of +the veil to be seen--the little shoe was gone. My last evening I +passed with the abbé, and came away late. I stopped five minutes on +the corridor, just outside the wicket; the moon was shining bright, +and the stars were out, but the window at the top of the court was +dark--all dark. + + +PART II. + +Poor Clerie! but I have told his story,[A] so I will not tell it +again. It made a sad greeting for me on the lips of the abbé, when I +first came back to the city after a half year's absence; and it will +not, I am sure, seem strange that seeing the abbé in his priest-robes, +and hearing his sad tale of poor Clerie, I should forget entirely to +ask about the little shoe, or the tall gentleman of the attic. +Nevertheless I did, as I went out, throw a glance up to the window of +the court--alas! there were more panes broken, the placard was gone, +the veil was gone--there was nothing but a flimsy web which a bold +spider had stretched across one of the comers. I felt sure that the +last six months had brought its changes to other houses, as well as +the house of Clerie. + +I thought I would just step round to the conciergerie of the +neighboring hotel, and ask after Monsieur Very; but before I had got +fairly into the court I turned directly about, and walked away--I was +afraid to ask about Monsieur Very. I felt saddened by the tale I had +already heard; it had given, as such things will, a soft tinge of +sadness to all my own thoughts, and fancies, and hopes. Everybody +knows there are times in life when things joyful seem harsh; and there +are times, too--Heaven knows!--when a saddened soul shrinks, fearful +as a child, from any added sadness. God be blessed that they pass, +like clouds over the bright sky of His Providence, and are gone! + +I was afraid to ask that day about Monsieur Very; so I walked +home--one while perplexing myself with strange conjectures; and +another while the current of my thought would disengage itself from +these hindering eddies, and go glowing quick, and strong, and +sad--pushed along by the memory of poor Clerie's fate. + +I knew the abbé would tell me all next day--and so he did. + +We dined together in the Palais Royal, at a snug +restaurant up-stairs, near the Theatre Français. We look a little +cabinet to ourselves, and I ordered up a bottle of Chambertin. + +[Footnote A: Fresh Gleanings, pp. 132, 133.] + +The soup was gone, a nice dish of _filet de veau_, _aux epinards_, was +before us, and we had drank each a couple of glasses, before I +ventured to ask one word about Monsieur Very. + +"_Ah, mon cher,_" said the abbé--at the same time laying down his +fork--"_il est mort!_" + +"And mademoiselle--" + +"_Attendez_," said the abbé, "and you shall hear it all." + +The abbé resumed his fork; I filled up the glasses, and he commenced: + +"You will remember, _mon cher_, having described to me the person of +the tall pale gentleman who was our neighbor. The description was a +very good one, for I recognized him the moment I saw him. + +"It was a week or more after you had left for the south, and I had +half forgotten--excuse me, _mon ami_--the curiosity you had felt in +the little window in the court; I happened to be a half hour later +than usual in returning from mass, and as I passed the hotel at the +corner, I saw coming out a tall gentleman, in a cloak trimmed with a +little tawny lace, and with an air so different from that of most +lodgers in the neighborhood, that I was sure it must be Monsieur +Very." + +"The very same," said I. + +"Indeed," continued the abbé, "I was so struck with his +appearance--added to your interest in him--(here the abbé bowed and +sipped his wine) that I determined to follow him a short way down the +street. He kept through the Rue de Seine, and passing under the +colonnade of the Institute, crossed the Pont de Fer, continued along +the quay as far as the gates of the garden--into the Rue de Rivoli, +and though I thought he would have stopped at some of the _cafés_ in +the neighborhood, he did not, but kept steadily on, nor did I give up +pursuit until he had taken his place in one of the omnibuses which +pass the head of the Rue de la Paix. + +"A week after, happening to see him, as I came home from Martin's, +under the Odeon, I followed him again: I took a place in the same +omnibus at the head of the Rue de la Paix. Opposite the Rue de Lancry +he stopped. I stopped a short way above, and stepping back, soon found +the poor gentleman picking his feeble paces along the dirty sideway. + +"You remember, _mon cher_, wandering with me in the Rue de Lancry; you +remember that it is crooked and long. The poor gentleman found it so; +for before he had reached the end he leaned against the wall, +apparently overcome with fatigue. I offered him assistance; at first +he declined; he told me he was going only to the Hôpital St. Louis, +which was now near by. I told him I was going the same way, upon which +he took my arm, and we walked together to the gates. The poor +gentleman seemed unable or unwilling to talk with me, and at the gates +he merely pulled a slip of paper from his pocket to show the +concierge, and passed in. I attended him as far as the middle hall in +the court, when he kindly thanked me, and turned into one of the male +wards. I took occasion presently to look in, and saw my companion half +way down the hall, at the bed-side of a very feeble-looking patient of +perhaps seven or eight-and-twenty. + +"There seemed a degree of familiarity between them, more than would +belong to patient and physician. I noticed too that the attendants +treated the old gentleman with marked respect; this was, I fancy, +however, owing to the old gentleman's air, for not one of them could +tell me who he was. + +"I left him in the hospital, more puzzled than ever as to who could be +the occupant of your little chamber. He seemed to me to have seen +better days; and as for your lady of the slipper, it was so long +before I saw any female with Monsieur Very, that I began to think she +had no existence, save in your lively imagination." + +Here the abbé sipped his wine. + +"You saw her at length, then?" said I. + +"_Attendez._ One evening I caught a glimpse of the tall gentleman +going into the court of his hotel, with a lady closely muffled in +black upon his arm." + +"And she had a pretty foot?" + +"Ah, _mon ami_, it was too dark to see." + +"And did you see her again?" + +"_Attendez._ (The abbé sipped his wine.) For a month I saw neither +monsieur nor mademoiselle. I passed the court early and late; I even +went up to St. Louis, but the sick man was gone. The whole matter had +nearly dropped from my mind, when one night--it was late, and very +dark--the little bell at the wicket rung, and presently there was a +loud rap at my door. It was the concierge of the next court; a man he +said was dying, and a priest was wanted. + +"I hurried over, and followed the concierge up, I know not how many +stairs, into a miserable little chamber. There was a yellow placard at +the window--" + +I filled the abbé's glass and my own. + +"Poor Monsieur Very," continued the abbé, "was on the couch before me, +dying! The concierge had left the chamber, but there was still a third +person present, who scarce seemed to belong to such a place." + +The abbé saw my earnestness, and provokingly sipped his wine. + +"This is very good wine, monsieur," said the abbé. + +"Was she pretty?" said I. + +"Beautiful," said the abbé, earnestly. + +I filled the abbé's glass. The garçon had taken away the _fricandeau_, +and served us with _poulet roti_. + +"Had she a light dress, and long, wavy ringlets?" said I. + +"She was beautiful," said the abbé, "and her expression was so sweet, +so gentle, so sad--ah, _mon ami_--_ah, pauvre_--_pauvre fille!_" + +The abbé had laid down his fork; he held his napkin to his face. + +"And so poor Very died?" said I. + +"It was a sad sight," said the abbé. + +"And he confessed to you?" + +"I was too late, _mon ami_; he murmured a word or two in my ear I +could not understand. He confessed to God." + +"And mademoiselle--" + +"She sat at the foot of the couch when I went in, with her hands +clasped in her lap, and her eyes fixed on the poor gentleman's face; +now and then a tear rolled off her cheeks--but she did not know it. + +"Presently the dying man beckoned to her. She stole softly to the head +of the couch, and laid her little white hand in his withered fingers. + +"'Marie,' said he, 'dear Marie, I shall be gone--soon.' + +"The poor girl burst into tears, and gathered up the palsied hand of +the old man in both hers, as if she would not let him go. + +"'Marie,' continued he, very feebly, 'you will want a friend.' + +"Again the poor girl answered by a burst of tears. She could say +nothing. + +"'I have seen Remy,' continued the old man, still addressing the girl, +who seemed startled at the name, notwithstanding her grief. 'He has +suffered like us; he has been ill, too--very ill; you may trust him +now, Marie; he has promised to be kind. Marie, my child, will you +trust him?' + +"'Dear father, I will do what you wish,' said the girl, weeping. + +"'Thank you, Marie,' said the old man, and he tried to carry the white +hand to his lips, but he could not. 'And now, Marie--the little +locket?' + +"Marie stepped softly across the chamber, and brought a small gold +locket, very richly wrought, and put it in the old man's hand; the old +man raised it toward his face. + +"'A little more light, dear Marie,' said he. + +"Marie stepped to the window and removed the yellow placard. + +"'A little more--light, Marie,' said the old man, feebly. He was +getting lower and lower. + +"Marie set the door ajar, and, stepping to the window, she pulled a +little handkerchief from her pocket, and tried to rub some of the dust +from the glass. + +"'Light, Marie; dear Marie--more light!' He said it scarce above his +breath, but she heard it, and looked at me. I shook my head. She saw +how it was, and caught the stiffening hand of the old man. + +"'Dear, dear father!' and her tears streamed over it. Her sobs roused +the old man for a moment. + +"'Marie,' said he, and he raised his hand with a last effort, till it +rested on her head, 'Marie--God bless you!' + +"I could hear nothing now but the poor girl's sobs. The hand of the +old man grew heavier and heavier on her head. She sunk down till her +knees touched the rough floor of the chamber, and her face rested on +the couch. Gradually the hand of the old man slipped down and lay upon +her white, smooth neck. + +"Presently she lifted her eyes timidly till they looked on the eyes of +the old man--they must have looked strangely to her. + +"'Father, dear father!' said she. There was a little clock at the +foot of the couch, and it ticked very--very loud. + +"The poor girl gave a quick, frightened glance at me, and another +hurried look into the fixed eyes of the old man. She thought how it +must be; ah, _mon ami_, if you had heard her cry, '_Mon Dieu! il est +mort!_--_il est mort!_'" + +For a moment the abbé could not go on. + +"She was right," continued he, presently, "the old man was dead!" + +The garçon removed the chicken, and served us with a dozen or two of +oysters, in the shell. For ten minutes the abbé had not touched his +wine--nor had I. + +"He was buried," resumed the abbé, "just within the gates of Pere la +Chaise, a little to the right of the carriage way. A cypress is +growing by the grave, and there is at the head a small marble tablet, +very plain, inscribed simply, '_à mon pere_, 1845.' + +"I was at the burial. There were very few to mourn." + +"You saw mademoiselle?" + +"Yes, I saw her; she was in deep black. Her face was covered with a +thick black veil--not so thick, though, but I could see a white +handkerchief all the time beneath; and I saw her slight figure +tremble. I was not near enough to hear her sobs, when they commenced +throwing down the earth upon the coffin. + +"_Oui_, _mon ami_, I saw her walk away--not able to support herself, +but clinging for very weakness to the arm of the man whose face I had +seen at St. Louis. They passed slowly out of the gates; they entered a +carriage together, and drove away." + +"It was Remy, I suppose?" said I. + +"I do not know," said the abbé. + +"And when did you see her again?" + +"Not for months," said the abbé; and he sipped his wine. + +"Shall I go on, _mon cher_?--it is a sad story." + +I nodded affirmatively, and filled the abbé's glass, and took a nut or +two from the dish before us. + +"I called at the hotel where monsieur had died; mademoiselle had gone, +the concierge could not tell where. I went to the hospital, and made +inquiries for a Monsieur Remy--no such name had been entered within a +year. I sometimes threw a glance up at the little window of the court; +it was bare and desolate, as you see it now. Once I went to the grave +of the old man--it was after the tablet had been raised; a rose-tree +had been put at the foot of the grave. I did not know, but thought who +must have set it there. I gave up all hope of seeing the beautiful +_Marie_ again. + +"You remember, _mon ami_, the pretty little houses along the Rue de +Paris, at Passy, with the linden trees in front of them, and the clear +marble door-steps?" + +"_Très bien, mon cher abbé._" + +"It is not many months since I was passing by them, and saw at the +window of one, the same sad face which I saw last at the grave. I went +in, _mon ami_. I made myself known as the attendant on her father's +death. She took my hand at this--ah, the soft white hand." + +The abbé sipped his wine. + +"She seemed sadly in want of friends, though there were luxuries +around her. She was dressed in white, her hair twisted back, and +fastened with a simple gold pin. Her sleeves were loose, and reached +but a little way below the elbow; and she wore a rose on her bosom, +and about her neck, by a little gold chain, a coral crucifix. + +"I told her I had made numerous inquiries for her. She smiled her +thanks. + +"I told her I had ventured to inquire, too, for the friend, Remy, of +whom her father had spoken; at this she put both hands to her face, +and burst into tears. + +"I begged pardon; I feared she had not found her friend. + +"'_Mon Dieu!_' said she, looking at me earnestly, '_il est_--_il etait +mon mari!_' + +"She burst into tears. What could I say? He is dead, too, then?" + +"'_Ah, non, non, monsieur_--worse--_Mon Dieu! quel mariage!_' and she +buried her face in her hands. + +"What could I do, _mon cher_? The _friend_ had betrayed her. They told +me as much at Passy." + +Again the abbé stopped. + +"She talked with a strange smile of her father; she wanted to visit +his grave again. She took the rose from her bosom--it was from his +grave--and kissed it, and then--crushed it in her hand--'Oh, God! +what should I do now with flowers?' said she. + +"I never saw her again. She went to her father's grave--but not to +pick roses. + +"_She is there now_," said the abbé. + +There was a long pause. The abbé did not want to speak--nor did I. + +At length I asked if he knew any thing of Remy. + +"You may see him any day up the Champs Elysiens," said the abbé. "Ah, +_mon ami_, there are many such. Poverty and shame may not come on him +again; wealth may pamper him, and he may fatten on the world's smiles; +but there is a time coming--it is coming, _mon cher_, when he will go +away--where God judgeth, and not man." + +Our dinner was ended. The abbé and myself took a _voiture_ to go to +Pere la Chaise. Just within the gateway, a little to the right of the +carriage-track, were two tablets, side by side--one was older than the +other. The lesser one was quite new; it was inscribed simply--"Marie, +1846." There were no flowers; even the grass was hardly yet rooted +about the smaller grave--but I picked a rose-bud from the grave of the +old man. I have it now. + +Before I left Paris, I went down into the old corridor again, in the +Rue de Seine. I looked up in the court at the little window at the +top. + +A new occupant had gone in; the broken glass was re-set, and a dirty +printed curtain was hanging over the lower half. I had rather have +seen it empty. + +I half wished I had never seen _Le Petit Soulier_. + + + + +EARLY ENGLISH POETS. + +BY ELIZABETH J. EAMES. + + + MILTON. +Learned and illustrious of all Poets thou, + Whose Titan intellect sublimely bore +The weight of years unbent; thou, on whose brow + Flourish'd the blossom of all human lore-- +How dost thou take us back, as 't were by vision, + To the grave learning of the Sanhedrim; +And we behold in visitings Elysian, + Where waved the white wings of the Cherubim; +But, through thy "Paradise Lost," and "Regained," + We might, enchanted, wander evermore. +Of all the genius-gifted thou hast reigned + King of our hearts; and, till upon the shore +Of the Eternal dies the voice of Time, + Thy name shall mightiest stand--pure, brilliant, and sublime. + + + DRYDEN. +Not dearer to the scholar's eye than mine, + (Albeit unlearned in ancient classic lore,) + The daintie Poesie of days of yore-- +The choice old English rhyme--and over thine, + Oh! "glorious John," delightedly I pore-- +Keen, vigorous, chaste, and full of harmony, + Deep in the soil of our humanity + It taketh root, until the goodly tree +Of Poesy puts forth green branch and bough, + With bud and blossom sweet. Through the rich gloom +Of one embowered haunt I see thee now, + Where 'neath thy hand the "Flower and Leaflet" bloom. +That hand to dust hath mouldered long ago, +Yet its creations with immortal life still glow. + + + ADDISON. +Thou, too, art worthy of all praise, whose pen, + "In thoughts that breathe, and words that burn," did shed, + A noontide glory over Milton's head-- +He, "Prince of Poets"--thou, the prince of men-- + Blessings on thee, and on the honored dead. +How dost thou charm for us the touching story + Of the lost children in the gloomy wood; +Haunting dim memory with the early glory, + That in youth's golden years our hearts imbued. +From the fine world of olden Poetry, + Life-like and fresh, thou bringest forth again + The gallant heroes of an earlier reign, +And blend them in our minds with thoughts of thee, +Whose name is ever shrined in old-world memory. + + + + +DISSOLVING VIEWS. + +OR, A BELLE IN A NEW LIGHT. + +BY F. E. F., AUTHOR OF "AARON'S ROD," "TELLING SECRETS," ETC. + + +CHAPTER I. + + +"You had better leave Harry alone about that girl," said Tom Leveredge +to his sisters, who were talking very fast, and sometimes both +together, in the heat and excitement of the subject under discussion. +"You only make Harry angry, and you do no good. Take my advice, and +say no more to him about her." + +"And let him engage himself without one word of remonstrance," +exclaimed Miss Leveredge, despairingly. + +"You don't know that he means to engage himself," argued Tom; "and if +he does, opposition wont prevent him. On the contrary, it may settle a +passing fancy into a serious feeling; and if he does not mean it now, +you are enough to put it into his head, with all the talk you make +about it." + +"_She'll_ put it into his head," ejaculated Miss Leveredge, +scornfully. "Leave her alone for that. She'll get him--I know she +will," she continued, almost in tears at the thought. "It's too bad!" + +"What do you think about it, Tom?" inquired Mrs. Castleton, earnestly. +"Do you think with Emma, that it will end in his having her?" + +"I should not be surprised," replied Tom, coolly. + +"Then you think he is in love with her?" continued his sister, +mournfully. + +"There's no telling," replied Tom. "He's a good deal with her; and if +he is thwarted at home, and flattered by her, I think it very possible +he may fancy himself so, whether he is or not." + +"Oh!" exclaimed Mrs. Castleton, "that would be melancholy, indeed--to +be taken in without even being attached to her!" + +"Don't be in such a hurry," said Tom. "I don't know that he is not in +love with her, or that he is going to be taken in; but I do say, that +Emma's course is very injudicious." + +"What is that?" inquired Mrs. Castleton. + +"Oh, abusing the girl so--saying she is vulgar, and--" + +"I am sure I did not say any thing that is not true," said Emma, with +some spirit. | + +"Perhaps not," replied Tom; "but it is not always wise to be forcing +the truth upon people at all times, and in all tempers." + +"Where on earth did Harry become acquainted with her?" asked Mrs. +Castleton. + +"That's more than I can tell you," replied Tom. "He told me that +Jewiston introduced him." + +"I never could bear that Jewiston," remarked Miss Leveredge; "I always +thought him very under-bred and vulgar. Why will Harry have any thing +to do with him?" + +"Who--Jewiston? He's a clever fellow enough," said Tom. + +"Oh, Tom! how can you say so!" + +"So he is," persisted the young man. "He's not very refined or +elegant, I grant you--but still a very good fellow." + +"And so you think, Tom," continued Mrs. Castleton, still intent on the +main theme, "that in all probability Miss Dawson will be our +sister-in-law?" + +Emma shivered. + +"I don't think it probable, but very possible," replied the young man, +"particularly under the present system of family politics." + +"And it would be very bad." pursued Mrs. Castleton, inquiringly. + +"Oh, dreadful!" ejaculated Emma. + +"There's nothing very _dreadful_ about it," remonstrated Tom; "it +would not be pleasant, certainly--but that's all. There's no use in +making the matter worse than it is." + +Emma looked as if that were impossible, but said nothing, while Mrs. +Castleton continued with-- + +"What kind of a set is she in--and what are the family?" + +"Very low, vulgar people," said Emma. + +"Now, Emma, there again you are exaggerating," rejoined Tom. "They are +_not_ a low set--vulgar, I admit." + +"The same thing," persisted Emma. + +"It's not the same thing, Emma," said the young man, decidedly. "They +are very far from being _low_ people. Her father is a highly +respectable man, and, indeed, so are all the family--not fashionable, +I grant you." + +"Fashionable!" ejaculated Emma, with a smile full of scornful meaning. + +"But I admit," continued Tom, "that it is not a connection that would +altogether suit us. I should be as sorry, perhaps, as any of you to +see the thing take place." + +"And what is the girl in herself," pursued Mrs. Castleton. + +"A vulgar, forward, ugly thing," said Emma, speaking quickly, as if +she could not help herself--the words must out, let Tom say what he +would. + +Tom said nothing, however. + +"Is she?" said Mrs. Castleton, looking very much distressed, and +turning to her brother. + +"Emma will have it that she is," he replied. + +"Now, Tom, you know she is," expostulated Emma. + +"No, Emma," said Tom, "if you will permit me, I know no such thing." + +"You surely don't admire her, too," said Emma, with a look of mingled +alarm and disgust. + +"No," said Tom, "she is as you say, vulgar, and somewhat forward--but +not ugly. On the contrary, she is decidedly handsome." + +"Handsome!" repeated Miss Leveredge. "Do you call her handsome, with +all those hanging curls, and that _feronière_, and her hat on the very +back of her head; with her short petticoats and big feet--and such +bright colors, and quantity of tawdry jewelry as she wears, too." + +"You women never can separate a girl from her dress," said Tom, +laughing. "Miss Dawson dresses execrably, I grant you; but give her +one half of the advantages of the girls that you see around you in +society, and she would be not only pretty, but beautiful." + +"Then she may be improved," said Mrs. Castleton, hopefully. + +"Not much of that," said Tom. "She is very well satisfied with +herself, I imagine." + +"Oh, it's evident she's a public belle and beauty in her own set," +said Emma. "She's full of airs and graces." + +Mrs. Castleton sighed. + +"It's a bad business, I am afraid," she said, mournfully. + +"No," said Tom, stoutly, "it's not pleasant, and that's all. The girl +may make a very good wife, though she does dress badly. She looks +amiable, and I dare say has sense enough." + +"It's not her dress only," persisted Emma, "but her manners are so +bad." + +"Well, many a flirty girl has settled into a very respectable married +woman," continued Tom. + +"Where have you seen her, Emma?" asked Mrs. Castleton. + +"Tom pointed her out to me one night at the theatre; and I have since +seen her in the street frequently." + +"Then you do not know her at all?" continued Mrs. Castleton, with some +surprise in her tone. "How, then, do you know any thing about her +manners, Emma?" + +"It's not necessary to know her to know what her manners are," replied +Emma. "One glance across the theatre is enough for that. She had two +or three beaux with her--indeed, I believe she was there only with +them--" + +"Her mother was with her, Emma," interposed Tom, decidedly. + +"Well," continued Emma, a little provoked at being set right, "she +ought to have made her behave herself, then." + +"But how did she behave, Emma?" pursued Mrs. Castleton, who had been +absent from the city during the rise and progress of this flirtation, +and was now anxious for as much information as could be obtained on +the subject. + +"Oh, laughing, and flirting, and shaking her long curls back, and +looking up to their faces--perfectly disgusting!" + +Mrs. Castleton looked at her brother in the hopes of some amendment +here on his part; but he only smiled, and shook his head, and said, + +"Pretty much so, Emma." + +"And then, dressed--oh, you never saw a girl so bedizzened!" + +"Strange!" said Mrs. Castleton. "that Harry should admire such a girl. +He is generally rather critical--hates particularly to see you at all +over-dressed, Emma. He never would admire Fanny Lewis, you know, +because she had something of that manner. I wonder he should admire +this girl." + +"Oh, it all depends very much upon the _clique_ in which a man sees a +girl how she strikes him," said Tom. "Miss Dawson's manners are very +much those of the girls around her, quite as good, if not better; then +she is really handsome--moreover, very much admired, the belle of the +set; and Harry's vanity is rather flattered, I suppose, by the +preference she shows him." + +"You think, then, she likes him?" said Mrs. Castleton. + +"I know nothing more about it than you do," replied Tom. "I suppose +she must, for she certainly could marry richer men than Harry if she +wanted to. She has the merit, at least, of disinterestedness." + +"Harry would be a great match for her," said Emma, indignantly--"and +she knows it. She might get more money, perhaps, but think of the +difference of position." + +"Yes, I suppose that has something to do with it," replied Tom. "You +women all think so much of such things." + +"Strange!" repeated Mrs. Castleton, "I don't know how Harry can fancy +such a girl." + +"Don't you know all objects vary according to the light they are in," +said Tom. "If Harry saw Miss Dawson among young ladies of a different +style and stamp, the changes of the 'dissolving views' would not be +greater. The present picture would fade away, and a new, and in all +probability a very different one, would take its place." + +"That's a good idea!" exclaimed Mrs. Castleton, suddenly, and clapping +her hands joyfully. "I'll call and ask her to my party for the bride." + +Emma looked at her for a moment aghast, as if she thought she had +suddenly gone crazy. + +"What do you mean, Laura?" she exclaimed. + +"Why, to follow out Tom's idea," she said. "It's excellent! I'm going +to give Mrs. Flemming a party. I'll make it very select, and not +large; invite all the prettiest and most elegant girls, and then play +amiable to Harry, by telling him I'll call upon his Miss Dawson and +invite her." + +Emma looked very dubious, and said, + +"I don't like our countenancing the thing in this way." + +"You need have nothing to do with it," returned her sister. "As it +seems you and Harry have had words about it, you had better not; but +_I_'ll call--I'll have her. And it shall be such an elegant, select +little affair that it will show her off to charming advantage," she +continued, with much animation, delighted with her own cleverness in +the scheme. "He can't help but be ashamed of her. Don't you think so, +Tom?" + +The young man laughed. + +"Now, Tom," said she, a little disappointed, "don't you think so?" + +"There's a good chance of it, certainly," he replied. "You can but try +it." + +"Then why do you laugh," she continued, still dissatisfied. + +"Only to see what spiteful creatures you women are," he continued, +smiling. "To see the pains you'll take to put down a girl you don't +happen to fancy." + +"Surely, you yourself, Tom," commenced Mrs. Castleton, seriously, and +"I am sure, Tom," chimed in Emma, in the same breath, "you have always +said--" and then they both poured forth such a torrent of reminiscences +and good reasons for wishing to prevent the match, that he was glad to +cry for mercy, and ended by saying seriously, + +"I am sure I hope you may succeed." + + +CHAPTER II. + + +"Harry," said Mrs. Castleton, in her prettiest and most winning +manner, "I am going to call on your friend, Miss Dawson, and invite +her for Thursday evening." + +Harry looked up very much astonished, hardly knowing whether to be +pleased or not, and said, + +"What put that in your head?" + +"I want to know her," continued Mrs. Castleton. "They tell me you +admire her, Harry; and if she is to be my future sister, as people +say--" + +"People say a great deal more than they know," said Harry, hastily. + +"Well," rejoined his sister, playfully, "be that as it may, Harry, I +should like to see the young lady; and beside, I want as many pretty +girls as I can get, they always make a party brilliant--and you say +she is pretty, don't you, Harry?" + +"Beautiful," he replied, with an earnestness that startled Mrs. +Castleton. "You'll have no prettier girl here, I promise you that, +Laura," he added, presently, more quietly. "But what will Emma say," +he continued, bitterly. "She'll never give her consent, depend upon +it, to your calling." + +"It's not necessary that she should," said Mrs. Castleton, good +humoredly; "so perhaps I had better not ask her." + +"Emma gives herself airs," continued Harry, angrily. "She thinks that +all the world are just confined to her one little _clique_; that +there's neither beauty, nor sense, nor any thing else out of her +particular set. Now I can tell her that there's more beauty among +those who don't give themselves half the airs, and who she looks down +upon, than there is to be found among her 'fashionables.' But Emma is +perfectly ridiculous with her 'exclusive' nonsense," he continued, +with much feeling, evidently showing how deeply he resented his +sister's reflections upon the style and stamp of his present +admiration, Miss Dawson. + +"Oh," said Mrs. Castleton, soothingly, "it's a mistake all very young +girls make, Harry. They know nothing out of one circle. Of course, +they disparage all others." + +But Harry was not to be quieted so easily. He was not satisfied until +he had poured forth all his complaints against Emma; and Mrs. +Castleton found it best not to take her part, but trust to the result +of her experiment of the next week with putting him in good humor with +her again. + +"Will you call with me?" she continued, presently. "I have ordered the +carriage at one." + +He looked pleased, and said he would. But after a little while he +seemed to grow nervous and fidgetty--walked about the room--asked a +good many questions, without seeming to attend much to the answers, +and at last said, hurriedly, + +"Well, Laura, it's rather late, and I have an engagement down town--do +you care about my calling with you? You know it's only necessary for +you to leave your card. You need not go in even, if you don't care +about it." + +"Oh, certainly," she replied. "No, don't wait for me." + +And he took his hat and darted off like light, as if he had made an +escape from he hardly knew what. + +Mrs. Castleton could not but laugh as she heard him shut the +hall-door, almost before she was aware he had left the room, well +pleased with this indication of susceptibility on his part, which she +took as a good omen of the future, fully believing that "future events +cast their shadows before." "If Harry were nervous already, what would +he be on Thursday evening." + +The call was made. Miss Dawson was out. A card was left, with an +invitation, which, in due time, was accepted. + +"Are you going to ask the Hazletons," inquired Emma. + +"No," said Mrs. Castleton; "I don't want to have too large a party. I +want just enough to fill my rooms prettily, so that you can see +everybody, and how they are dressed--just one of those small, select, +pretty parties, where everybody is noticed. I have hardly asked a +person--I don't know one--who is not in some way distinguished for +either dress, manner, air, or beauty. I have taken pains to cull the +most choice of my acquaintance. The rooms will be beautifully +lighted--and I expect it to be a brilliant affair." + +"If it were not for that Miss Dawson to spoil all," said Emma, +dejectedly--for she had never liked the scheme, though she did not +oppose it. "I declare, Laura, I wonder at your moral courage in having +her. I don't think _I_ could introduce her among such a set, even to +be sure of breaking it off. You will be terribly ashamed of her. You +don't know, I think, what you have undertaken." + +Mrs. Castleton could not but laugh at the earnestness, not to say +solemnity, of Emma's manner. + +"Not I, Emma--why should I be ashamed of her. If she were Harry's +wife, or if even he were engaged to her, the case would be +different--I should blush for her then, if she is vulgar. But merely +as a guest, how can her dress or manners affect _me_. My position is +not to be altered by my happening to visit a girl who dresses vilely, +and flirts _à discretion_." + +But still Emma looked very dubious, and only said, "Well, don't +introduce me." + +"Don't be alarmed," replied her sister. "I don't mean to. Come, come, +Emma," she continued, laughing, "I see you are nervous about it, but I +think you may trust me for carrying it off well," to which her sister +replied, + +"Well, Laura, if any one _can_ get out of such a scrape gracefully, +you will." + +Mrs. Castleton laughed, and the subject dropped. + +What Emma had said was true. There was an airy grace, a high-bred ease +about Mrs. Castlelon, that could carry her through any thing she chose +to undertake. + +Thursday evening arrived at last. Mrs. Castleton's rooms were lighted +to perfection, and she herself dressed with exquisite taste, looking +the fitting priestess of the elegant shrine over which she presided. +Emma, with her brothers, came early--and one glance satisfied Mrs. +Castleton. The simplicity and elegance of Emma's _toilette_ were not +to be out-done even by her own. Tom looked at them both with great +pride; and, certainly, two prettier or more elegant specimens of +humanity are not often to be met with. + +He made some playful observation to his sister, expressive of his +admiration of her taste, and looking about, said, + +"Your rooms are very well lighted. There's nothing like wax, after +all." + +"They are too hot," said Harry, pettishly. + +"Bless you, man," replied Tom, "how can you say so. I am downright +chilly; but as there is to be dancing, it is better it should be so." + +"If you find this room warm, Harry," said Mrs. Castleton, "you had +better go in the dancing-room--there is not a spark of fire there." + +Harry walked off, and Emma said, + +"I don't know what is the matter with him--he's so cross. He has been +so irritable all day that I have hardly dared to speak to him." + +Tom only laughed. + +Mrs. Castleton gave him a quick look of intelligence, but before she +had time to speak, she was called upon to receive her guests, who +began to come. + +At every fresh arrival Harry's face was to be seen peeping in +anxiously from the dancing-room, and it wore something of a look of +relief as he turned off each time to resume his restless wanderings in +the still empty apartment. + +Miss Dawson, meaning to be very fashionable, came late. The bride for +whom the party was ostensibly given had arrived; and Mrs. Castleton +was about giving orders to have the dancing-room thrown open, and just +at the pause that frequently precedes such a movement in a small +party, the door was thrown open, and Miss Dawson entered, leaning on +the arm of a gentleman whom she introduced as Mr. Hardwicks. Now this +Mr. Hardwicks was something more than Mrs. Castleton had bargained +for; and Harry hastened forward with a look of some embarrassment and +vexation as he perceived the mistake his fair friend had made in +taking such a liberty with his high-bred sister. Miss Dawson had often +taken _him_ to parties with her, and somehow it had not struck him +then as strange. Perhaps it was because he saw it was the style among +those around him. But these were not the "customs of Branksome Hall;" +and Harry was evidently annoyed. Moreover, this Mr. Hardwicks was a +forward, under-bred looking individual, with a quantity of black +whisker, and brass buttons to his claret-colored coat, altogether a +very different looking person from the black-coated, gentlemanly-looking +set that Mrs. Castleton had invited. She received him with a graceful +but distant bow, somewhat annoyed, it is true; but as she never +allowed trifles to disturb her, she turned calmly away, and never gave +him a second thought during the evening. + +Miss Dawson she received with _empressement_. She was dressed to her +heart's delight, with a profusion of mock pearl and tinsel; her hair +in a shower of long curls in front, with any quantity of bows and +braids behind, and a wreath!--that required all Mrs. Castleton's +self-possession to look at without laughing. Her entrance excited no +little sensation--for she was a striking-looking girl, being tall, and +full formed, with a very brilliant complexion. Simply and quietly +dressed, and she would have been decidedly handsome; but as it was, +she was intensely _showy_ and vulgar. + +"Harry, the music is just beginning; you will find a place for Miss +Dawson in the dancing-room," and so, whether he would or no, he had to +ask her to dance. Probably he would have done so if his sister had let +him alone; but as it was, he felt as if he _had_ to. + +She danced very badly. Harry had not been aware of it before; but she +jumped up and down--and if the truth must be told, with an air and +spirit of enjoyment not just then the fashionable style. + +"How in earnest your fair friend dances," said a young man, with a +smile, to Harry, as they passed in the dance. + +Harry colored. + +"Who on earth have you there, Harry?" asked another, with rather a +quizzical look. "Introduce me, wont you?" But Harry affected not to +hear the request. + +"Who is the young lady your brother is dancing with, Mrs. Castleton?" +he heard asked several times; to which his sister answered in her +sweetest and most winning manner, "Miss Dawson--a friend of Harry's;" +and to some of her brother's particular friends, he heard her say, +"Oh, that's Harry's _belle_. Don't you know Miss Dawson--let me +introduce you." + +Harry felt quite provoked, he did not know why, at hearing his sister +couple _him_ always with Miss Dawson; and if he thought the room hot +at the beginning of the dance, he did not feel it any cooler before it +was over. + +Mrs. Castleton introduced a gentleman just as the dance finished, who +asked her for the next, when Harry said quickly, + +"You are fatigued, are you not? Perhaps you had better go with me and +get an ice." + +"Do you go and bring Miss Dawson one," said his sister. "I hope," she +continued, "you are not fatigued already?" + +"Oh, no," replied the young lady, with an animation and energy that +proclaimed she had a dancing power within not to be readily exhausted. +"Oh, no, indeed; I could dance all night." + +"I am glad to hear it," said Mrs. Castleton, graciously, as if she +felt her dancing a personal compliment. And before the dance was over +she had introduced half a dozen young men to her. + +Feeling herself a decided belle, Miss Dawson was in high spirits (that +trying test to an unrefined woman.) She considered Mrs. Castleton's +visit and invitation as a marked compliment, (as she had every right +to do,) and her attentions now, and the admiration she received, +excited her to even more than her ordinary animation, which was +always, to say the least of it, sufficient. She laughed, and she +talked, and shook her long curls about, and flirted in a style that +made the ladies look, and the gentlemen smile. Moreover, Mr. +Hardwicks, who knew no one else, (for Mrs. Castleton had no idea of +forcing _him_ on any of her friends,) never left her side; and the +easy manner in which he spoke to her, and took her fan from her hand +while she was talking, and even touched her sleeve to call her +attention when her head was turned away, all of which she seemed to +think quite natural, made Harry color, and bite his lip more than once +with mortification and vexation. + +"You are not going to waltz?" he said, justly distrusting the waltzing +of a lady who danced so. + +"Yes," she said, "with Mr. Hardwicks;" and in a moment they were +whirling round in a style quite peculiar, and altogether new to the +accomplished waltzers then and there assembled. + +People looked, and some smiled--and then couple after couple paused in +the dance to gaze on the strangers who had just taken the floor--and +soon they had it all to themselves, and on they whirled like mad ones. +Harry could not stand it--he left the room. + +Presently some of his young friends followed him, who seemed +excessively amused, and one of them exclaimed, + +"Harry, where on earth did you pick up those extraordinary waltzers. +Mrs. Castleton tells me they are friends of yours?" + +Harry muttered something, and said, + +"Hardwicks should not ask any woman to waltz. He did not know how; no +man should, if he could not waltz himself." + +"Are you dancing, Francis?" asked another, of a fashionable looking +young man standing near. + +"No," he replied, languidly, "I am exhausted. I danced with Harry's +fair friend the last dance, and it requires no small degree of +physical power to keep pace with her efforts." + +Harry was excessively annoyed. He heartily wished he had never seen +her; and was quite angry with Mrs. Castleton for having invited her. +And just then, irritated and cross as he was, Mrs. Castleton met him +with, + +"Harry, Miss Dawson says you have carried off her bouquet." + +"I have not got her bouquet," he answered, angrily. + +"Well, go and make your own apology," and before he had time to know +what she was about, she had her arm in his, and had taken him up to +Miss Dawson, saying, + +"Here is the culprit, Miss Dawson--but he pleads not guilty;" +whereupon the young lady tapped him with her fan, and declared he was +a "sad fellow," and shook her curls back, and looked up in his face, +and flirted, as she thought, bewitchingly, while he with pleasure +could have boxed her ears. + +"Your carriage is at the door," Mrs. Castlelon heard him say soon +after. + +"Why, Harry!" exclaimed his sister, looking almost shocked at his +evident desire to hurry away her guest. "You surely don't think of +going yet. Miss Dawson?" said she, in her most persuasive manner. "You +will dance this polka." + +A polka! Harry was in despair. He would have preferred dancing on hot +ploughshares himself. + +"The scheme works to admiration," said Mrs. Castleton to Emma, as they +met for a moment in the crowd. + +"But it has spoiled your party," replied the other. + +"Not at all," she answered, laughing, "what it has withdrawn in +elegance, it has made up in spirit. The joke seems to take +wonderfully." + +But Emma did not like such "jokes." Mrs. Castleton's _hauteur_ was of +a more flexible kind. To spoil a match she was willing to spoil her +party. + +"Was I right?" she said to Tom, toward the close of the evening. + +He nodded and laughed, and said, "I congratulate you." + +Harry had in vain attempted to persuade Miss Dawson that she was +heated and tired, and had better not polka; but the young lady thought +him over-careful, and chose to dance. + +"A willful thing!" muttered Harry, as he turned off. "Trifles show the +temper--preserve me from an unamiable woman." + +Now Miss Dawson was not unamiable, but Harry was cross. If he were +ashamed of her, she was hardly to be expected to know that. At any +rate he walked off and left her to take care of herself. Mr. Hardwicks +took her home as he had brought her--and Harry hardly looked at her +again. + +He was thoroughly out of humor. Mrs. Castleton had discretion enough +not to follow up her victory. She saw she was successful, and so left +things to their own course. + +Never was a "dissolving view" more perfect. Harry had really imagined +Miss Dawson not only very beautiful, but thought she would grace any +drawing-room in Europe. He now saw her hoydenish, flirty, and +ungraceful, with beauty of a very unrefined style--in fact, a +different person. Such is the power of contrast, and the effect of a +"new light." + +The spell was broken--for when a lover is mortified, ashamed of his +choice, the danger is over. + +Fortunately, his honor was no deeper pledged than his heart. Miss +Dawson had not flirted more with him than with two or three others; +and though she would have preferred him, one of the others would do. + + * * * * * + +"What did Harry say of my party last night?" asked Mrs. Castleton of +her sister. + +"He merely said 'it was a great bore, this going out,' and seemed +quite cross, and took his light and walked off to his room +immediately; and, in fact, it seemed such a delicate point with him, +that I did not dare to make any allusion to it this morning." + +"Poor fellow! I don't wonder," said Mrs. Castleton, laughing. "How she +did look beside the Claverings and Lesters." + +"Like a peony among moss rose-buds," said Emma. + + * * * * * + +"Laura," said Harry, a few days after, "I am going to New Orleans for +the rest of the winter." + +"Are you?" she said, in surprise. + +"Yes. My father is anxious about that business of his, and I am going +for him." + +"I thought you had declined, and that he was going to send Tom," she +said. + +"I've changed my mind," he replied. "In fact it is very dull here, and +as Tom don't want to go, I think I shall like the trip." + +"I've no doubt you will find it very pleasant," she said, cheerfully, +amused at his proposing himself the very thing they had all been so +anxious to have him do, and which he had negatived so decidedly some +weeks back. + + * * * * * + +"Ah, Tom," said Mrs. Castleton, laughing, "that was a bright idea of +yours. There's nothing like a new light for bringing out new colors. I +think that party of mine finished Miss Dawson." + +"You need not crow too much, Laura," replied Tom, "for, in all +probability, if you had left Harry alone in the beginning, the party +never would have been required. You women never learn not to thwart +and oppose a man until it is too late. _Then_, you'll move heaven and +earth to undo your own work. If you would only govern that 'unruly +member' in the beginning, you would have required no 'dissolving +views, in the end." + + + + +THE VOICE OF THE FIRE. + +BY J. BAYARD TAYLOR. + + +They sat by the hearth-stone, broad and bright, +Whose burning brands threw a cheerful light +On the frosty calm of the winter's night. + +Her radiant features wore the gleam +Which childhood learns from an angel-dream, +And her bright hair stirred in the flickering beam. + +Those tresses soft to his lips were pressed, +Her head was leaned on his happy breast, +And the throb of the bosom his soul expressed; + +And ever a gentle murmur came +From the clear, bright heart of the wavering flame, +Like the faltering thrill of a worshiped name. + +He kissed her on the warm, white brow, +And told her in fonder words, the vow +He whispered under the moonlit bough; + +And o'er them a steady radiance came +From the shining heart of the mounting flame, +Like a love that burns through life the same. + +The maiden smiled through her joy-dimmed eyes, +As he led her spirit to sunnier skies, +Whose cloudless light on the future lies-- + +And a moment paused the laughing flame, +And it listened awhile, and then there came +A cheery burst from its sparkling frame. + +He visioned a home by pure love blest, +Clasping their souls in a calmer rest, +Like woodland birds in their leafy nest. + +There slept, foreshadowed, the bliss to be, +When a tenderer life that home should see, +In the wingless cherub that climbed his knee. + +And the flame went on with its flickering song, +And beckoned and laughed to the lovers long, +Who sat in its radiance, red and strong. + +Then broke and fell a glimmering brand +To the cold, dead ashes it fed and fanned, +And its last gleam leaped like an infant's hand. + +A sudden dread to the maiden stole, +For the gloom of a sorrow seemed to roll +O'er the sunny landscape within her soul. + +But, hovering over its smouldering bed, +Its ruddy pinions the flame outspread, +And again through the chamber its glory shed; + +And ever its chorus seemed to be +The mingled voices of household glee, +Like a gush of winds in a mountain tree. + +The night went on in its silent flow, +While through the waving and wreathèd glow +They watched the years of the Future go. + +Their happy spirits learned the chime +Of its laughing voice and murmured rhyme-- +A joyous music for aftertime. + +They felt a flame as glorious start, +Where, side by side, they dwelt apart, +In the quiet homestead of the heart. + + + + +MARGINALIA. + +BY EDGAR A. POE. + + +One of the happiest examples, in a small way, of the +carrying-one's-self-in-a-hand-basket logic, is to be found in a London +weekly paper called "The Popular Record of Modern Science; a Journal +of Philosophy and General Information." This work has a vast +circulation, and is respected by eminent men. Sometime in November, +1845, it copied from the "Columbian Magazine" of New York, a rather +adventurous article of mine, called "Mesmeric Revelation." It had the +impudence, also, to spoil the title by improving it to "The Last +Conversation of a Somnambule"--a phrase that is nothing at all to the +purpose, since the person who "converses" is _not_ a somnambule. He is +a sleep-waker--_not_ a sleep-walker; but I presume that "The Record" +thought it was only the difference of an _l_. What I chiefly complain +of, however, is that the London editor prefaced my paper with these +words:--"The following is an article communicated to the Columbian +Magazine, a journal of respectability and influence in the United +States, by Mr. Edgar A. Poe. _It bears internal evidence of +authenticity._"! + +There is no subject under heaven about which funnier ideas are, in +general, entertained than about this subject of internal evidence. It +is by "internal evidence," observe, that we decide upon the mind. + +But to "The Record:"--On the issue of my "Valdemar Case," this journal +copies it, as a matter of course, and (also as a matter of course) +improves the title, as in the previous instance. But the editorial +comments may as well be called profound. Here they are: + + "The following narrative appears in a recent number of + _The American Magazine_, a respectable periodical in + the United States. It comes, it will be observed, from + the narrator of the 'Last Conversation of a + Somnambule,' published in The Record of the 29th of + November. In extracting this case the _Morning Post_ of + Monday last, takes what it considers the safe side, by + remarking--'For our own parts we do not believe it; and + there are several statements made, more especially with + regard to the disease of which the patient died, which + at once prove the case to be either a fabrication, or + the work of one little acquainted with consumption. The + story, however, is wonderful, and we therefore give + it.' The editor, however, does not point out the + especial statements which are inconsistent with what we + know of the progress of consumption, and as few + scientific persons would be willing to take their + pathology any more than their logic from the _Morning + Post_, his caution, it is to be feared, will not have + much weight. The reason assigned by the Post for + publishing the account is quaint, and would apply + equally to an adventure from Baron Munchausen:--'it is + wonderful and we therefore give it.'...The above case + is obviously one that cannot be received except on the + strongest testimony, and it is equally clear that the + testimony by which it is at present accompanied, is not + of that character. The most favorable circumstances in + support of it, consist in the fact that credence is + understood to be given to it at New York, within a few + miles of which city the affair took place, and where + consequently the most ready means must be found for its + authentication or disproval. The initials of the + medical men and of the young medical student must be + sufficient in the immediate locality, to establish + their identity, especially as M. Valdemar was well + known, and had been so long ill as to render it out of + the question that there should be any difficulty in + ascertaining the names of the physicians by whom he had + been attended. In the same way the nurses and servants + under whose cognizance the case must have come during + the seven months which it occupied, are of course + accessible to all sorts of inquiries. It will, + therefore, appear that there must have been too many + parties concerned to render prolonged deception + practicable. The angry excitement and various rumors + which have at length rendered a public statement + necessary, are also sufficient to show that _something_ + extraordinary must have taken place. On the other hand + there is no strong point for disbelief. The + circumstances are, as the Post says, 'wonderful;' but + so are all circumstances that come to our knowledge for + the first time--and in Mesmerism every thing is new. An + objection may be made that the article has rather a + Magazinish air; Mr. Poe having evidently written with a + view to effect, and so as to excite rather than to + subdue the vague appetite for the mysterious and the + horrible which such a case, under any circumstances, is + sure to awaken--but apart from this there is nothing to + deter a philosophic mind from further inquiries + regarding it. It is a matter entirely for testimony. + [So it is.] Under this view we shall take steps to + procure from some of the most intelligent and + influential citizens of New York all the evidence that + can be had upon the subject. No steamer will leave + England for America till the 3d of February, but within + a few weeks of that time we doubt not it will be + possible to lay before the readers of the _Record_ + information which will enable them to come to a pretty + accurate conclusion." + +Yes; and no doubt they came to one accurate enough, in the end. But +all this rigmarole is what people call testing a thing by "internal +evidence." The _Record_ insists upon the truth of the story because of +certain facts--because "the initials of the young men _must_ be +sufficient to establish their identity"--because "the nurses _must_ be +accessible to all sorts of inquiries"--and because the "angry +excitement and various rumors which at length rendered a public +statement necessary, are sufficient to show that _something_ +extraordinary _must_ have taken place." + +To be sure! The story is proved by these facts--the facts about the +students, the nurses, the excitement, the credence given the tale at +New York. And now all we have to do is to prove these facts. +Ah!--_they_ are proved _by the story_. + +As for the _Morning Post_, it evinces more weakness in its disbelief +than the _Record_ in its credulity. What the former says about +doubting on account of inaccuracy in the detail of the phthisical +symptoms, is a mere _fetch_, as the Cockneys have it, in order to make +a very few little children believe that it, the Post, is not quite so +stupid as a post proverbially is. It knows nearly as much about +pathology as it does about English grammar--and I really hope it will +not feel called upon to blush at the compliment. I represented the +symptoms of M. Valdemar as "severe," to be sure. I put an extreme +case; for it was necessary that I should leave on the reader's mind no +doubt as to the certainty of death without the aid of the +Mesmerist--but such symptoms _might_ have appeared--the identical +symptoms _have appeared_, and will be presented again and again. Had +the Post been only half as honest as ignorant, it would have owned +that it disbelieved for no reason more profound than that which +influences all dunces in disbelieving--it would have owned that it +doubted the thing merely because the thing was a "wonderful" thing, +and had never yet been printed in a book. + + + + +LETHE. + +BY HENRY B. HIRST. + + _Agressi sunt mare tenebrarum id in eo exploraturi esset._ + NUBIAN GEOGRAPHER. + + _Looking like Lethe, see! the lake_ + A conscious slumber seems to take, + And would not for the world awake. "_The Sleepers_." POE. + + +There is a lake whose lilies lie + Like maidens in the lap of death, + So pale, so cold, so motionless + Its Stygian breast they press; +They breathe, and toward the purple sky + The pallid perfumes of their breath +Ascend in spiral shapes, for there +No wind disturbs the voiceless air-- +No murmur breaks the oblivious mood +Of that tenebrean solitude-- +No Djinn, no Ghoul, no Afrit laves +His giant limbs within its waves +Beneath the wan Saturnian light +That swoons in the omnipresent night; +But only funeral forms arise, +With arms uplifted to the skies, +And gaze, with blank, cavernous eyes +In whose dull glare no Future lies,-- +The shadows of the dead--the Dead +Of whom no mortal soul hath read, +No record come, in prose or rhyme, +Down from the dim Primeval Time! +A moment gazing--they are gone-- +Without a sob--without a groan-- +Without a sigh--without a moan-- +And the lake again is left alone-- +Left to that undisturbed repose +Which in an ebon vapor flows +Among the cypresses that stand +A stone-cast from the sombre strand-- +Among the trees whose shadows wake, +But not to life, within the lake, +That stand, like statues of the Past, +And will, while that ebony lake shall last. + +But when the more than Stygian night +Descends with slow and owl-like flight, +Silent as Death (who comes--we know-- +Unheard, unknown of all below;) +Above that dark and desolate wave, +The reflex of the eternal grave-- +Gigantic birds with flaming eyes +Sweep upward, onward through the skies, +Or stalk, without a wish to fly, +Where the reposing lilies lie; +While, stirring neither twig nor grass, +Among the trees, in silence, pass +Titanic animals whose race +Existed, but has left no trace +Of name, or size, or shape, or hue-- +Whom ancient Adam never knew. + +At midnight, still without a sound, +Approaching through the black Profound, +Shadows, in shrouds of pallid hue, +Come slowly, slowly, two by two, +In double line, with funeral march, +Through groves of cypress, yew and larch, +Descending in those waves that part, +Then close, above each silent heart; +While, in the distance, far ahead, +The shadows of the Earlier Dead +Arise, with speculating eyes, +Forgetful of their destinies, +And gaze, and gaze, and gaze again +Upon the long funereal train, +Undreaming their Descendants come +To make that ebony lake their home-- +To vanish, and become at last +A parcel of the awful Past-- +The hideous, unremembered Past +Which Time, in utter scorn, has cast +Behind him, as with unblenched eye, +He travels toward Eternity-- +That Lethe, in whose sunless wave +Even he, himself, must find a grave! + + + + +EPITAPH ON A RESTLESS LADY. + + +The gates were unbarred--the home of the blest + Freely opened to welcome Miss C----; +But hearing the chorus that "Heaven is Rest," + She turned from the angels to flee, +Saying, "Rest is no Heaven to me!" + + + + +MY LADY-HELP. + +OR AUNT LINA'S VISIT. + +BY ENNA DUVAL. + + +"You are in want of an efficient person to assist you in taking charge +of your domestic affairs, Enna," said a maiden aunt of mine to me one +evening. I pulled my little sewing-table toward me with a slight +degree of impatience, and began very earnestly to examine the contents +of my work-box, that I might not express aloud my weariness of my +aunt's favorite subject. I had been in want of just such an article as +an "efficient person" ever since I had taken charge of my father's +_ménage_; and after undergoing almost martyrdom with slip-shod, +thriftless, good-for-nothing "_help_," as we Americans, with such +delicate consideration, term our serving maids, I had come to the +conclusion that indifferent "_help_" was an unavoidable evil, and that +the best must be made of the poor, miserable instruments of assistance +vouchsafed unto the race of tried, vexed housekeepers. + +"I have just thought," continued my aunt, "of a very excellent person +that will suit you in every way. Lizzie Hall, the one I was thinking +of, has never been accustomed to living out. Her father is a farmer in +our place, but having made a second marriage, and with a young family +coming up around him, Lizzie very properly wishes to do something for +herself. I remember having heard her express such a desire; and I have +no doubt I could persuade her to come to you. She is not very +young--about eight-and-twenty, or thereabouts." + +I listened to my Aunt Lina's talk with, it must be confessed, +indifference, mingled with a little sullenness, and quieted my +impatience by inward ejaculations--a vast deal of good do those inward +conversations produce, such mollifiers of the temper are they. "So, +so," said I to myself, "my Aunt Lina's paragon is a '_lady-help_.' Of +all kinds 'of help' the very one I have endeavored most to avoid; it +is such a nondescript kind of creature that lady-help;" and as I +soliloquized, recollections of specimens of the kind I had been +afflicted with, came in sad array before my memory--maids with +slip-shod French kid slippers, that had never been large enough for +their feet--love-locks on either side of their cheeks, twirled up +during the day in brown curl-papers--faded lawn dresses, with dangling +flounces and tattered edging; then such sentimental entreaties that I +should not make them answer the door-bell if Ike, the black boy, might +happen to be away on some errand, or expose them to the rude gaze of +the multitude in the market-house; and I groaned in spirit as I +thought what a troublesome creature the "lady-help" was to manage. +During this sympathizing colloquy with myself, my aunt went on +expatiating most eloquently on the merits of her _protégé_, Lizzie +Hall. Some pause occurring--for want of breath, I really believe, on +my aunt's side--good-breeding seemed to require a remark from me, and +I faltered out some objection as to the accommodations a city +household afforded for a person of Lizzie Hall's condition. + +"Of course," said my aunt, "she will not wish to sit at the same table +with the black servants you may happen to have; but Lizzie will not +cause you any trouble on the score of accommodations, I'll answer for +it, Enna; she is too sensible a person not to fully understand the +difference between town and country habits--and if you say so, I will +engage her for you when I return to Rockland." + +My father, who had been dozing over his paper, gradually aroused +himself as this conversation progressed, and as my aunt made the last +proposition, he entered into it most cordially, and begged she would +endeavor to procure the young woman, and send her by the earliest +opportunity. I remained quiet--for I could not say any thing heartily, +seeing nothing but vexation and annoyance in the whole affair for me. +The young woman was evidently a favorite with my Aunt Lina; and should +she not prove a very useful or agreeable maid to me, I would receive +but little sympathy from my immediate family. My father is as ignorant +as a child of what we poor housekeepers require in a domestic; and my +Aunt Lina, though kind-hearted and well-wishing, is in equally as +blissful a state. A very indifferent servant, who happened to please +her fancy, she would magnify into a very excellent one; then, being +rather opinionative and "_set_," as maiden ladies are apt to be when +they pass the fatal threshold of forty, I despaired of ever convincing +her to the contrary. "However," said I to myself, "I will not +anticipate trouble." + +I had just recovered from a dangerous fit of illness, through which my +kind, well-meaning aunt had patiently nursed me. At the first news of +my sickness she had, unsummoned, left her comfortable home in +Rockland, in mid-winter, and had crossed the mountains to watch beside +the feverish pillow of her motherless niece. Careful and kind was her +nursing; and even the physicians owned that to her patient +watchfulness I owed my life. How grateful was I; and with what looks +of love did I gaze on her trim, spinster figure, as she moved +earnestly and pains-taking around my chamber; but, alas! the kitchen +told a different story when I was well enough to make my appearance +there. Biddy, a raw, bewildered-looking Irish girl, with huge red arms +and stamping feet, had quite lost her confused, stupid expression of +countenance, and was most eloquent in telling me, with all the +volubility of our sex, of the "quare ways of the ould maid." + +"Sure, and if the ould sowl could only have had a husband and a parcel +of childthers to mind, she wouldn't have been half so stiff and +concated," exclaimed Biddy. + +Even poor little roguish Ike, with mischief enough in his composition +to derange a dozen well-ordered houses, looked wise and quiet when my +prim, demure aunt came in sight. Complaints met me on all sides, +however, for my Aunt Lina was quite as dissatisfied as the rest. + +"I found them all wrong, my dear," she said, "no order, no regulation, +every thing at sixes and sevens; and as for the woman Biddy, she is +quite, quite incorrigible. I showed her a new way of preparing her +clothes for the wash, by which she could save a deal of labor; but all +in vain, she persisted most obstinately to follow the old troublesome +way. Then she confuses her work altogether in such a manner that I +never can tell at which stage of labor she has arrived; and when I put +them all _en traine_, and leave them a few instants, I find on my +return every thing as tangled as ever. Method is the soul of +housekeeping, Enna. You will never succeed without order. I fear you +are too easy and indulgent; although I have never kept a house, I know +exactly how it should be done. A place for every thing--every thing in +its place, as your grandpapa used to say. If you insist upon your +servants doing every thing at a certain hour, and in a certain way, +your affairs will go on like clock-work." + +I could not but assent to all these truisms--for I felt +conscience-stricken. I knew I had always depended in all my +housekeeping emergencies too much on my "talent for improvising," as +Kate Wilson merrily entitles my readiness in a domestic tangle and +stand-still. I had been in the habit of letting things go on as easily +as possible, scrupulously avoiding domestic tempests, because they +deranged my nervous system; and if I found a servant would not do a +thing in my way, I would let her accomplish it in her own manner, and +at her own time--so that it was done, that was all I required. I felt +almost disheartened as the remarks of my precise aunt proved to me how +remiss I had been, and resolved in a very humble mood to reform. Bat +when Aunt Lina continued her conversations about the mismanagement +before my father, then I felt the "old Adam" stir within me. There she +surely was wrong. I could not bear he should have his eyes opened; he +had always fancied me a little queen in my domestic arrangements--why +should he think differently--what good did it do? If he found his +dinner nicely cooked and served, his tea and toast snugly arranged in +the library, in the evening, when he returned wearied from his office, +with his dressing-gown and slippers most temptingly spread out; then +awakened in the morning in a clean, well-ordered bed-room, with Ike at +his elbow to wait his orders, and a warm, cozy breakfast to strengthen +him ere he started out on his daily labors--if all this was carefully +and quietly provided for him, what need of his knowing how it was +done, or what straits I might be driven to sometimes, from my own +thoughtlessness or forgetfulness to accomplish these comforts for him. +I had always scrupulously avoided talking of my household affairs +before him; but when Aunt Lina discoursed so eloquently and learnedly +in his presence, slipping in once in a while such high-sounding words +as "domestic economy," "well-ordered household," "proper distribution +of time and labor," &c., &c., he began to prick up his ears, and fancy +his thrifty little daughter Enna was not quite so excellent in her +management as he had blindly dreamed. Poor man! his former ignorance +had surely been bliss, for his unfortunate knowledge only made him +look vexed and full of care whenever he entered the house. He even +noted the door-handles, as to their brightness, rated poor Ike about +the table appointments, and pointed out when and how work should be +done--told how he managed in his business, and how we should manage in +ours. I was almost distraught with annoyance; and, kind as my aunt had +been, I wished for the time of her departure silently, but as +earnestly as did my servants. Heaven pardon me for my inhospitality +and ingratitude. + +"Now, Lina," said my father, the morning she left, "don't forget the +woman you were speaking of. Enna needs some experienced person to keep +things in order. We shall have to break up housekeeping if affairs go +on in this disordered state. I do not know how we have stood it thus +long." + +I opened my eyes but said not a word. Three months before and my +father had been the happiest, free-from-care man in the city; now the +little insight he had gained into domestic affairs--the peep behind +the curtain given him by my mistaken maiden aunt, had served to +embitter his existence, surrounding his path with those nettles of +life, household trifles, vulgar cares and petty annoyances. I almost +echoed Biddy's ejaculation as the carriage drove from the door with my +aunt and her numberless boxes, each one arranged on a new, orderly, +time-saving plan. + +"Sure, and it's glad I am, that the ould craythur is fairly off--for +divil a bit of comfort did she give the laste of us with her +time-saving orderly ways. And it's not an owld maid ye must ever be, +darlint Miss Enna, or ye'll favor the troublesome aunty with her tabby +notions." + +Ike shouted with glee, and turned somersets all the way through the +hall into the back entry, regardless of all I could say; and the +merriment and light heartedness that pervaded the whole house was most +cheering. Biddy stamped and put her work in a greater confusion than +ever; and Ike dusted the blinds from the top to the bottom in a +"wholesale way," as he called it, and cleaned the knives on the wrong +side of the Bath-brick to his heart's content. Every one, even the +dumb animals, seemed conscious of Aunt Lina's departure. My little pet +kitten, Norah, resumed her place by the side of the heater in the +library, starting once in a while in her dreams and springing up as +though she heard the rustle of Aunt Lina's gown, or the sharp, clear +notes of her voice--but coiled herself down with a consoling "pur," as +she saw only "little me" laughing at her fears--and my little darling +spaniel Flirt laid in my lap, nestled on the foot of my bed, and +romped all over the house to his perfect satisfaction. I should have +been as happy as the rest also, if it had not been for the +anticipation that weighed down on me, of the expected pattern-card--my +lady-help. + +Soon after my aunt's return home I received a letter from her, +announcing with great gratification her success. The letter was filled +with a long _preachment_ on household management, which my father read +very seriously, pronouncing his sister Lina a most excellent, sensible +woman, possessing more mind and judgment than did most of her sex. My +aunt wound up her letter, saying-- + +"But you will have little order and regulation about your house so +long as you keep that thriftless Biddy in it. Take my advice and tramp +her off bag and baggage before Lizzie comes, for, from my account of +her, Lizzie is not very favorably disposed toward her." + +Here was a pretty state of affairs to be sure, not very agreeable to a +young housekeeper who had hitherto been her own mistress--my new maid +was to dictate to me even my own domestic arrangements. My father was +earnest in wishing to dispose of Biddy--but on that point, though +quiet, I was resolute in opposition. Poor warm-hearted Biddy, with all +her stupid thriftless ways, I could not find in my heart to turn away, +and as my chambermaid wanted to go to her relations in the "back +states," as she called the great West, I proposed to Biddy to take her +place, so soon as the new woman should make her appearance. + +"If she's like the aunty of ye," said Biddy when we concluded this +arrangement and were talking of the expected new comer, "I'll wish her +all the bad luck in the world, for it's hot wather she'll kape us in +all the time with her painstakings." + +Not in a very pleasant frame of mind I awaited the arrival of my new +domestic. Poor girl, there was no one to welcome her when she at last +came, and she stepped into the kitchen without one kind feeling +advancing to greet her. Biddy's warm Irish heart was completely closed +against her, and Ike, the saucy rogue, pursed up his thick lips in a +most comical manner when she appeared. But how my heart smote me when +I first looked at the pale, care-worn, sad-looking creature. She was +not pretty--her face bore the marks of early care and trial. She might +have been well-favored in girlhood, but if so, those good looks had +completely vanished. Her eyes were dim, her cheek hollow, and her brow +was marked with lines stamped by endurance; her whole person thin and +spare, with hard, toil-worn hands, and large feet, showed that labor +and sorrow had been her constant companions. And how unjust had been +our hasty judgment of her--for so far from proving to be the +troublesome, fault-finding, airs-taking, lady-help I had fearfully +anticipated, I found her amiable, yielding and patiently industrious. +She had no regular set ways about her, but worked unceasingly from +morning till night in every department in the house. Not a week passed +before I heard Biddy, with her Irish enthusiasm, calling on Heaven to +bless the "darlint." She was always ready to excuse Biddy's +thriftlessness and Ike's mischief, helping them on in their duties +constantly. Good Lizzie Hall! every one in the house loved her. Yes, +indeed, my dear housekeeping reader, all doubtful as you look, I had +at last obtained that paragon, so seldom met with--a good, efficient +servant. Lizzie lived with me many years, and when I parted with her, +as I had to at last, I felt certain, I had had my share of good +"help"--that her place would never be supplied. + +Lizzie grew very fond of me, and ere she had lived with us many months +told me her whole history. Poor girl, without beauty, without mental +attractions, of an humble station, and slender abilities, her +life-woof had in it the glittering thread of romance--humble romance, +but romance still it was. Lizzie's father was a farmer, owning a small +farm in the part of the country where my Aunt Lina resided. His first +wife, Lizzie's mother, was an heiress according to her station, +bringing her husband on her marriage some hundreds of dollars, which +enabled him to purchase his little farm, and stock it. They labored +morning, noon, and night, unceasingly. Lizzie's mother was a thrifty, +careful body; but, unfortunately, she had more industry than +constitution; and when Lizzie was seventeen, her mother was fast +sinking into the grave, a worn-out creature, borne down by hard labor +and sickness. Nine children had she, and of them Lizzie was the eldest +and only girl. What sorrow for a dying mother! Before her mother's +last sickness, Lizzie was "wooed and won" by the best match in the +place. James Foster, her lover, was a young farmer, an orphan, but +well off in life. He owned a handsome, well-stocked farm, and was a +good-looking, excellent young man. Both father and mother cheerfully +gave their consent, but insisted that their engagement should last a +year or so, until Lizzie might be older. As Mrs. Hall felt death +approaching, she looked around on the little family she was to leave +motherless behind her; and with moving, heart-rending entreaties, +besought of Lizzie not to leave them. + +"Stay with your father, my child," she urged; "James, if he loves you, +will wait for you. Don't marry until the boys are all old enough to be +out of trouble. Think, Lizzie, of the misery a step-mother might cause +with your brother Jack's impetuous temper, and Sam's hopeless, +despairing disposition--each one would be hard for a step-mother to +guide. Be a mother to them, my girl; down on your knees, and to make +your mother's heart easy, promise before God that you will guide them, +and watch over them as long as you are needed. Stay with your father, +and Heaven will bless you, as does your dying mother." + +Willingly did the almost heart-broken girl give the required +promise--and James Foster loved her all the better for it. She wept +bitter, heart-aching tears over her dear mother's grave, but turned +steadily to the hard path traced out before her; but she was young and +beloved, and a bright star beamed before her--the star of love--to +gild her toilsome path; and a mother's smile seemed blended with its +bright rays. A year or two rolled around--years of hard labor, which +made Lizzie, who toiled untiringly, as her mother had done, old before +her time. She was noted, however, all over the village for a thrifty, +industrious, excellent girl. James Foster was a pattern for lovers; +every spare moment he gave to her. What few amusements she had time to +enjoy he procured for her; and as the village people said, they went +as steadily together as old married people. + +Lizzie's father was a narrow-minded, selfish man, caring very little +for any one's comfort but his own, and at times was exceedingly cross +and testy. Unfortunately, he took great interest in politics, and was +quite an oracle in the village bar-room. He was bigoted and "set" in +his opinions, considering all who differed from him as enemies to +their country, and called them rascals and hypocrites freely. His wife +had been dead about two years, when a presidential election came on. +James Foster, unluckily, had been brought up with different political +opinions from Mr. Hall; but, being very quiet and retiring in his +disposition, he never had rendered himself obnoxious. Of course, Mr. +Hall took great interest in the approaching election. He became very +ambitious of his township giving a large vote on the side to which he +belonged--and he used every means to obtain votes. Elated with fancied +success, he swore one day in the tavern bar-room, that he would make +James Foster abandon his party, and vote to please him. Some, who knew +Foster's quiet but resolute disposition, bantered and teased Hall, +which wrought him to such a pitch of excitement that, on meeting James +Foster a little while after in front of the tavern, he made the demand +of him. Foster at first treated it as a jest; then, when he found Hall +was in earnest, decidedly, but civilly, refused; and in such a manner +as to put at rest all further conversation. Enraged, Hall instantly +turned, swearing to the laughing politicians that surrounded the +tavern steps, and who had witnessed his discomfiture, that he would +punish Foster's impudent obstinacy. Accordingly, full of ill, +revengeful feelings, he returned home, and forbade his daughter ever +permitting Foster to step over the threshold of the door--commanding +her instantly to break the engagement. She used every entreaty, +expostulated, temporized--all was of no avail; indeed, her entreaties +seemed but to heighten her father's anger; and at last, with a fearful +oath, he declared, if she did not break the engagement with the +purse-proud, hypocritical rascal, she should leave his house +instantly. She looked on the terrified children, the youngest only +five years old, and who clung weeping to her knees, as her father +threatened to turn her out of doors, never to see them again; and she +thought of her mother's last words--her decision was made; and with a +heavy heart she performed the self-sacrifice. + +"Don't say you will never marry me, Lizzie," urged her lover; "I can +wait ten years for you, darling." + +But Lizzie was conscientious; her father had expressly stipulated +there should be no "half-way work--no putting off;" all hope must be +given up, she never could be his--and forever she bid him farewell. +James tried to argue with and persuade her father; but the selfish, +obstinate old man would listen to nothing from him. Poor James, +finding both immovable, at last sold off his farm, and all his +property, and moved away into a distant state; he could not, he said, +live near Lizzie, and feel that she never would be his wife. Men are +so soon despairing in love affairs, while women hope on, even to +death. Poor Lizzie, how her heart sunk when the sight of her lover was +denied to her; and she felt even more wretched than she did at the +moment of her mother's death. Nothing now remained to her in life but +the performance of stern, rigid duty. Two or three years passed by, +and one by one her charges departed from her. One brother was placed +with a farmer, and the others were apprenticed to good trades. The +little white-headed Willie, who at his mother's death was a tiny, +roly-poly prattler, only two years old, was becoming a slender, tall +youth. Lizzie felt proud as she looked at her crowd of tall boys, when +once or twice a year they would assemble at home; and on a Sunday's +afternoon, at twilight, on her way to the evening meeting, she would +steal down into the quiet church-yard, and kneeling beside her +mother's grave, ask, with streaming eyes, if she had not done well. +Such moments were fraught with bitter anguish; but a heavenly peace +would descend on her, and she said her trials, after the agony was +over, seemed lighter to bear. + +"But I was blessed in one thing, dear Miss Enna," she would exclaim, +"not one of those darling boys was taken from me, and all bid fair to +turn out well. God surely smiled on the motherless, and gave me +strength to perform my labor of love." + +At last there moved to the village a woman of the name of Pierce; she +opened a little milliner's shop, and soon made herself busy with the +affairs of others, as well as her own, becoming quite a considerable +person amongst the villagers. She was a widow with two or three +children--a girl or two, and a boy--little things. She was a stout, +healthy, good-looking woman, "rising forty," with a clear, shrill +voice, and good, bright black eyes in her head. She soon steadied +these bonnie eyes at the widower, Lizzie's father, and not in vain; +for after hailing him industriously, as he passed the door of her +shop, with questions about the weather, or the crops, he at last +managed to stop without the hailing; and after a short courtship +brought her and her children to his own home. How Lizzie rejoiced that +her brothers were now all out of the way. Her last pet, Willie, had, a +few months previous to the new marriage, been sent to a printer in the +neighboring city. She never thought of herself, but commenced with +redoubled industry to assist in taking care of the new family. But her +constant industry and thrifty habits were a silent reproach to the +step-mother, I fancy, for she left no stone unturned to rid herself +of the troublesome grown up daughter. She tried every means, threw out +hints, until at last Lizzie perceived her drift. Even her father +seemed restrained and annoyed by her presence; and when she proposed +to him that she should do something now for herself, in the way of +support, he made no opposition; on the contrary, seemed relieved, +saying the times were hard, and he had always had an expensive family. +At this time my dear Aunt Lina obtained her for me. Blessed Aunt Lina! +how we all loved her for this good act; even Biddy said, + +"Well, the owld toad wasn't so bad, afther all. She had some good in +her, for she sent the angel to our door--good luck to her forever." + +And what parted Lizzie from us? Ah, there is the romance of my +story--the darling little bit of sentiment so dear to my woman's +heart. Lizzie lived with me five years. In the meantime her father had +died; the thriftless wife had broken his heart by her extravagant +habits, and Lizzie and her brothers never received a penny of their +mother's little fortune. One evening, my father, on handing me the +letters and papers, said, "Amongst those, Enna, you will find a letter +for Lizzie, which has come from the far West, clear beyond St. +Louis--what relations has she there?" + +I could not tell him, but gave the letter to Ike, now grown into quite +a dandy waiter, to take to her. I did not feel much curiosity about +the letter, thinking it might be from some cousin of hers; but when I +retired to bed that evening, she came into my room, and throwing +herself down on the soft rug beside my bed, by the dim light of my +night-lamp, told me all her happiness. The letter was from James +Foster--he still loved her as dearly as ever. He had heard by chance +of her father's death, and her situation, and said if she was ready to +marry him, he was still waiting. He wrote of his handsome farm he had +cleared with his own hands, and the beautiful wild country he lived +in, telling her he hoped her future life would be free from all care. +All this, and even more, dear reader, he told her--in plain, homely +words, it is true; but love's language is always sweet, be it in +courtly tongue or homely phrase. + +And James Foster came for her; and in our house was she married. My +father presented the soft mull dress to the bride, which Kate Wilson +and I made, and assisted in dressing her, and stood as her +bride-maids. Aunt Lina, Biddy, the stamping, good-hearted Biddy, and +dandy Ike, were all there, rejoicing in her happiness. Her husband was +a stout, strong, hard-featured, but kind-hearted man, and looked upon +his poor, care-worn, slender Lizzie as if she were an angel. We all +liked him; and her whole troop of brothers, who were present at the +ceremony, greeted him with hearty words of friendship. Three he +persuaded to accompany them out to the "new home"--the farmer, the +shoemaker, and the little white-headed Willie, Lizzie's pet--declaring +all the time that his house and heart, like the wide western valley +where he lived, was large enough to hold them all. They all went out +one after another; and when I last heard from Lizzie, she was very +happy, surrounded by all her brothers; and she told me of a little +darling girl, whom she had named after her dear Miss Enna. My father +and I often talk during the winter evenings, when sitting very cozily +together in the warm library, of taking a summer's jaunt to Lizzie's +western home. I wish we could, that I might see my lady-help as +mistress of her own household; and what is still better, a happy wife, +mother, and sister. + + + + +LINES + + _Addressed to a friend who asked "How would you be remembered + when you die?"_ + + +How would I be remembered?--not forever, + As those of yore. +Not as the warrior, whose bright glories quiver + O'er fields of gore; +Nor e'en as they whose song down life's dark river + Is heard no more. + +No! in my veins a gentler stream is flowing + In silent bliss. +No! in my breast a woman's heart is glowing, + It asks not this. +I would not, as down life's dark vale I'm going + My true path miss. + +I do not hope to lay a wreath undying + On glory's shrine, +Where coronets from mighty brows are lying + In dazzling shine: +Only let love, among the tomb-stones sighing, + Weep over mine. + +Oh! when the green grass softly waves above me + In some low glen, +Say, will the hearts that now so truly love me + Think of me then; +And, with fond tones that never more can move me, + Call me again? + +Say, when the fond smiles in our happy home + Their soft light shed, +When round the hearth at quiet eve they come, + And mine has fled, +Will any gentle voice then ask for room-- + _Room for the dead?_ + +Oh! will they say, as rosy day is dying, + And shadows fall, +"Come, let us speak of her now lowly lying, + She loved us all!" +And will a gentle tear-drop, then replying, + From some eye fall? + +Give me, oh! give me not the echo ringing + From trump of fame; +Be mine, be mine the pearls from fond eyes springing, + _This_, would I claim. +Oh! may I think such memories _will_ be clinging +Around my name. + GRETTA. + + + + +GAME-BIRDS OF AMERICA.--NO. IX. + +[Illustration: PASSENGER PIGEON.] + + +This bird, the marvel of the whole Pigeon race, is beautiful in its +colors, graceful in its form, and far more a child of wild nature than +any other of the pigeons. The chief wonder, however, is in its +multitudes; multitudes which no man can number; and when Alexander +Wilson lays the mighty wand of the enchanter upon the Valley of the +Mississippi, and conjures it up to the understanding and the feeling +of the reader, with far more certain and more concentrated and +striking effect than if it were painted on canvas, or modeled in wax, +these pigeons form a feature in it which no one who knows can by +possibility forget. It is probable that the multitudes may not be more +numerous than those of the petrels in Bass's Strait, of which Captain +Flinders--who also was a kind of Wilson in his way--gives a graphic +description. But vast as the multitude of these was, it was only as a +passing cloud to the captain; he was unable to follow it up; and even +though he had, the flight of birds over the surface of the sea is tame +and storyless, as compared with the movements of the unnumbered +myriads of these pigeons in the great central valley of our continent. +None of the names which have been bestowed upon this species are +sufficiently, or at all, descriptive of it. Passenger, the English +expression, and _Migratoria_, the Latin name, fall equally short, +inasmuch as every known pigeon is to a greater or less extent +migratory as well as this one. The "swarm" pigeon, the "flood" pigeon, +or even the "deluge" pigeon would be a more appropriate appellation; +for the weight of their numbers breaks down the forest with scarcely +less havoc than if the stream of the Mississippi were poured upon it. + +Birds so numerous demand both a wide pasture and powerful means of +migration, and the Passengers are not stinted in either of those +respects. In latitude, their pasture extends from the thirtieth to the +sixtieth degree, which is upward of two thousand miles; and the +extensive breadth in longitude cannot be estimated at less than +fifteen hundred. Three millions of square miles is thus the extent of +territory of which the Passenger pigeon has command; and that +territory has its dimensions so situated as that the largest one is +the line upon which the birds migrate. + +In Canada their numbers are so great, and the ravages which they +commit upon the cultivated ground so extensive, that instances are +recorded in which the bishop has been seriously and earnestly implored +to exorcise them "by bell, book, and candle"--to cast them out of the +land by the same means used in days of yore against spirits +troublesome to other individuals, men and women. But as the Passengers +were material and not spiritual, the bishop had the good sense not to +try the experiment upon them. At least, La Houton, who records the +matter, is perfectly silent as to the success or failure of the +proposition. + +Both sexes are beautiful birds; but their value, in an economical +point of view, is not, however, in any way equal to their numbers or +their beauty. The flesh of the old ones is dark, dry, hard and +unpalatable, as is very generally the case with birds which are much +on the wing; but the young, or _squabs_, as they are called, are +remarkably fat; and as in the places where the birds congregate, they +may be obtained without much difficulty, this fat is obtained by +melting them, and is used instead of lard. As they nestle in vast +multitudes at the same place, their resting-places have many +attractions for the birds of prey, which indiscriminately seize upon +both the old and the young. The eggs, like those of most of the +pigeon tribe, are usually two in number; but the number of birds at +one nesting-place is so great that the young, when they begin to +branch and feed, literally drive along the woods like a torrent. They +feed upon the fruits which at this time they procure at the middle +heights of the forests, and do not venture upon the open grounds. The +nests are far more closely packed together than in any rookery, and +are built one above another, from the height of twenty feet to the top +of the tallest trees. + +Wilson says that as soon as the young were fully grown, and before +they left the nests, numerous parties of the inhabitants from all +parts of the adjacent country came with wagons, axes, beds, cooking +utensils, many of them accompanied by the greater part of their +families, and encamped for several days at this immense nursery, near +Shelbyville, Kentucky, forty miles long, and several miles in breadth. +The noise in the woods was so great as to terrify their horses, and it +was difficult for one person to hear another speak without bawling in +his ear. The ground was strewed with broken limbs of trees, eggs, and +young squab pigeons, which had been precipitated from above, and on +which herds of hogs were fattening. Hawks, buzzards and eagles were +sailing about in great numbers, and seizing the squabs from their +nests at pleasure, while from twenty feet upward to the tops of the +trees, the view through the woods presented a perpetual tumult of +crowding and fluttering multitudes of pigeons, their wings roaring +like thunder, mingled with the frequent crash of falling timber, for +now the axe-men were at work cutting down those trees which seemed to +be most crowded with nests, and seemed to fell them in such a manner +that, in their descent, they might bring down several others, by which +means the falling of one large tree sometimes produced two hundred +squabs, little inferior in size to the old ones, and almost one mass +of fat. On some single trees upward of one hundred nests were found. +It was dangerous to walk under these flying and fluttering millions, +from the frequent fall of large branches, broken down by the weight of +the multitudes above, and which in their descent often destroyed +numbers of the birds themselves. This is a scene to which we are aware +of no parallel in the nesting-places of the feathered tribes. In the +select places where the birds only roost for the night, the +congregating, though not permanent, is often as great and destructive +to the forest. The native Indians rejoice in a breeding or a +roosting-place of the migratory pigeon, as one which shall supply them +with an unbounded quantity of provisions, in the quality of which they +are not particularly chary. Nor are these roosting-places attractive +to the Indians only, for the settlers near them also pay them +nocturnal visits. They come with guns, clubs, pots of suffocating +materials, and every other means of destruction that can well be +imagined to be within their command, and procure immense quantities of +the birds in a very short time. These they stuff into sacks and carry +home on their horses. + +The flocks being less abundant in the Atlantic States, the gun, decoy +and net are brought into operation against them, and very considerable +numbers of them are taken. In some seasons they may be purchased in +our markets for one dollar a hundred, and flocks have been known to +occupy two hours in passing, in New Jersey and the adjoining States. +Many thousands are drowned on the edges of the ponds to which they +descend to drink while on their aerial passage; those in the rear +alighting on the backs of those who touched the ground first, in the +same manner as the domestic pigeon, and pressing them beneath the +surface of the water. Nuttall estimates the rapidity of their flight +at about a mile a minute, and states among other data for this result, +that there have been wild pigeons shot near New York, whose crops were +filled with rice that must have been collected in the plantations of +Georgia, and to digest which would not require more than twelve hours. + +[Illustration: SHORE LARK.] + +Usually fat, much esteemed as food, and not uncommon in our markets, +this beautiful bird may be seen in different seasons ranging from +Hudson's Bay to Mexico, and from New England to the Rocky Mountains. +They arrive in the Northern and Middle States late in the fall, and +many remain through-out the winter. As the weather grows colder in +the north, however, they become quite common in South Carolina and +Georgia, frequenting the plains, commons and dry ground, keeping +constantly upon the ground, and roving about in families under the +guidance of the old birds, whose patriarchal care extends over all, to +warn them by a plaintive call of the approach of danger, and instruct +them by example how to avoid it. They roost somewhat in the same +manner as partridges, in a close ring or circle, keeping each other +warm, and abiding with indifference the frost and the storm. They +migrate only when driven by want of food; this appears to consist of +small round compressed black seeds, oats, buckwheat, &c., with a large +proportion of gravel. Shore Lark and Sky Lark are the names by which +they are usually known. They are said to sing well, rising in the air +and warbling as they ascend, after the manner of the sky-lark of +Europe. + + + + +TRIUMPHS OF PEACE. + +BY WILLIAM H. C. HOSMER. + + + From palace, cot and cave + Streamed forth a nation, in the olden time, + To crown with flowers the brave, + Flushed with the conquest of some far-off clime, + And, louder than the roar of meeting seas, + Applauding thunder rolled upon the breeze. + Memorial columns rose + Decked with the spoils of conquered foes, +And bards of high renown their stormy pæans sung, + While Sculpture touched the marble white, + And, woke by his transforming might, + To life the statue sprung. + The vassal to his task was chained-- + The coffers of the state were drained + In rearing arches, bright with wasted gold, + That after generations might be told + A thing of dust once reigned. + + Tombs, hallowed by long years of toil, + Were built to shrine heroic clay, + Too proud to rest in vulgar soil, + And moulder silently way; + Though treasure lavished on the dead + The wretched might have clothed and fed-- + Dragged merit from obscuring shade, + And debts of gratitude have paid; + From want relieved neglected sage, + Or veteran in battle tried; + Smoothed the rough path of weary age, + And the sad tears of orphanage have dried. + + Though green the laurel round the brow + Of wasting and triumphant War, + Peace, with her sacred olive bough, + Can boast of conquests nobler far: + Beneath her gentle sway + Earth blossoms like a rose-- + The wide old woods recede away, + Through realms, unknown but yesterday, + The tide of Empire flows. + Woke by her voice rise battlement and tower, + Art builds a home, and Learning finds a bower-- + Triumphant Labor for the conflict girds, + Speaks in great works instead of empty words; + Bends stubborn matter to his iron will, + Drains the foul marsh, and rends in twain the hill-- + A hanging bridge across the torrent flings, + And gives the car of fire resistless wings. + Light kindles up the forest to its heart, + And happy thousands throng the new-born mart; + Fleet ships of steam, deriding tide and blast, + On the blue bounding waters hurry past; + Adventure, eager for the task, explores + Primeval wilds, and lone, sequestered shores-- + Braves every peril, and a beacon lights + To guide the nations on untrodden heights. + + +[Illustration: EXPECTATION J. Addison +Engraved expressly for Graham's Magazine] + + +EXPECTATION. + +BY LOUISA M. GREEN. + +[SEE ENGRAVING.] + + +Why comes he not? He should have come ere this: + The promised hour is past: he is not here! +I love him--yes, my maiden heart is his; + I sigh--I languish when he is not near. +The truant! Wherefore tarries he? His love, + Were it like mine, would woo him to my side-- +Or does he--dares he--merely seek to prove + The doubted passion of his promised bride? +Do I not love him? But does he love me? + He swore so yester-eve, when last we met +Down in the dell by our old trysting-tree: + Can he be false? If so, my sun is set! +No; he will come--I feel--I know he will; + And he shall never dream that once I sighed; +I hear his step--behold his form: be still, + Warm heart; he comes--to clasp his bride. + + + + +WOMAN'S LOVE. + +POETRY BY ANON. + +MUSIC BY MATHIAS KELLER. + +COPYRIGHTED BY J. C. SMITH, NO. 215 CHESNUT STREET, PHILADELPHIA. + +[Music/Illustration: + +Allegretto. + +Fine. + +A Wo-man's love, deep in the heart, Is like the vio-let + +flow'r, That lifts its mo-dest head a-part, In + +some se-ques-ter'd bow'r. And blest is he who + +Ritardando. A tempo. + +finds that bloom, Who sips its gen-tle sweets; He + +heeds not life's op-pres-sive gloom, Nor all the care he meets + + D. C.] + + +SECOND VERSE. + +A woman's love is like the spring + Amid the wild alone; +A burning wild o'er which the wing + Of cloud is seldom thrown; +And blest is he who meets that fount, + Beneath the sultry day; +How gladly should his spirit mount, + How pleasant be his way. + + +THIRD VERSE. + +A woman's love is like the rock, + That every tempest braves, +And stands secure amid the shock + Of ocean's wildest waves; +And blest is he to whom repose + Within its shade is given-- +The world, with all its cares and woes, + Seems less like earth than heaven. + + + + +YEARS AGO.--A BALLAD. + +WRITTEN EXPRESSLY FOR MRS. C. E. HORN. + +BY GEORGE P. MORRIS. + + +On the banks of that sweet river + Where the water-lilies grow, +Breathed the fairest flower that ever + Bloomed and faded years ago. + +How we met and loved and parted, + None on earth can ever know, +Nor how pure and gentle-hearted + Beamed the mourned one years ago. + +Like the stream with lilies laden, + Will life's future current flow, +Till in heaven I meet the maiden + Fondly cherished years ago. + +Hearts that truly love forget not-- + They're the same in weal or wo-- +And that star of memory set not + In the grave of years ago. + + + + +TO MY WIFE. + +BY ROBT. T. CONRAD. + + +When that chaste blush suffused thy cheek and brow, + Whitened anon with a pale maiden fear, + Thou shrank'st in uttering what I burned to hear: +And yet I loved thee, love, not then as now. +Years and their snows have come and gone, and graves, + Of thine and mine, have opened; and the sod + Is thick above the wealth we gave to God: +Over my brightest hopes the nightshade waves; +And wrongs and wrestlings with a wretched world, + Gray hairs, and saddened hours, and thoughts of gloom, + Troop upon troop, dark-browed, have been my doom; +And to the earth each hope-reared turret hurled! +And yet that blush, suffusing cheek and brow, +'Twas dear, how dear! then--but 'tis dearer now. + + + + + +ISOLA. + +BY JOHN TOMLIN. + + +I dreamed that thou a lily wast, + Within a lowly valley blest; +A wingèd cherub flying past, + Plucked thee, and placed within his breast, +And there by guardian angel nurst, + Thou took'st a shape of human grace, +Until, a lowly flower at first, + Thou grew'st the first of mortal race. +Alas! if I who still was blessed + When thou wast but a lowly flower-- +To pluck thy image from my breast, + Though thus thou will'st it, have no power; +Thou still to me, though lifted high + In hope and heart above the glen, +Where first thou won my idol eye, + Must spell my worship just as then. + + + + +CONTEMPLATION. + +BY JANE R. DANA. + +[ILLUSTRATING AN ENGRAVING.] + + +Strange! that a tear-drop should o'erfill the eye +Of loveliness that looks on all it loves! +Yet are there moods, when the soul's wells are high +With crystal waters which a strange fear moves, +To doubt if what it joys in, be a joy; +Fear not, thou fond and gentle one! though life +Be but a checkered scene, where wrong and right, +Struggle forever; there is not a strife +Can reach thy bower: the future, purely bright, +Is round about thee, like a summer sky. +And there are those, brave hearts and true, to guard +Thy walks forever; and to make each hour +Of coming time, by fond and faithful ward, +Happy as happiest known within thy bridal bower. + + +[Illustration: J. W. Wright J. Addison + +CONTEMPLATION + +Engraved expressly for Graham's Magazine] + + + + +REVIEW OF NEW BOOKS. + + + _Practical Physiology: for the use of Schools and + Families. By Edward Jarvis. Philadelphia: Thomas, + Cowperthwaite & Co._ + + +The popular and practical study of physiology is too much neglected in +this country, and we rejoice to see this effort to commend its +important truths to public attention. Perhaps no people existing are +in greater need of a heedful regard to the lessons of this work than +the over-fed, over-worked, and over-anxious people of the United +States. The pursuit of wealth, honor, and power, the absorbing and +health-sacrificing devotion to advancement, impels our people from the +moment they first enter the school-house until they are snatched from +the scene of their over-wrought strugglings. At the school, the child +is treated as a man. The fresh air, the blue sky, the bright and happy +hilarity of boyhood are too often proscribed indulgences. And this is +called, not murder, but education. Those who survive it, having been +taught that an American youth should never be satisfied with the +present, that _excelsior_ should be the only motto, and that all +pleasure should be denied, health sacrificed, and time unremittingly +devoted to win the eminence struggled for, rush into the business of +life before their time. They win wrinkles before they attain manhood, +and graves before the wild ambition thus kindled and inflamed can +receive its first chaplet. All our literature teaches this unquiet and +discontented spirit as to the present, and this rash and impatient +determination to achieve immediate success. Now, this is a peculiarity +of our country, the land of all others which should cherish a +disposition to be gratefully contented with the unequaled blessings +with which it is endowed. There is no necessity for this forcing +system to expand properly and in due time the real energies of our +people. The truly great in every walk of science and literature have +been generally patient students, and have lived, in tranquillity, to a +good old age. The impatient ambition which scourges our people on to +the farthest stretch of their energies in any adopted pursuit, is +inconsistent with the permanent and healthful character of a race. It +made Rome great; but it left her people, as a race, so physically +exhausted that the weakest tribes of the North dictated to her the +terms of her degradation. The physical character of a nation moulds +its intellectual nature, and shapes its destinies. The study of health +is therefore the great study, and it will be found in all things +accordant with those loftier truths taught by the Great Physician. +Strangers of intelligence often remark that, with unbounded means of +happiness, affluence for every reasonable want, security against every +danger, and the high prerogatives of conscious and elevated freedom, +we are still the most unhappy of the sons of Adam. They assert that we +grow old before our time; are restless, excitable, and ever worrying +for an attainment, in reference to some ruling passion beyond our +reach. Comfort, health, calmness, and content, are sacrificed to grasp +at something more. Our cheeks grow pale, our brows wrinkled, our +hearts clouded, from a settled, taught, established habit of +discontent with any position that is not the highest. There is much of +truth in all this, as every one who treads our crowded marts and finds +each man, however prosperous, cankered with the thought that he is not +prosperous enough, will admit. All this constitutes American energy; +all this renders our country great in the world's eye; but does it +constitute happiness? It may be gravely doubted. The study of health +is essentially the study of happiness. Life is with our people, as a +general rule, a thing of little value. Those who think, in a better +spirit, and remember its duties and its ends, will come to a different +conclusion, and regard the conservation of the even and steady +physical energies of the body as superior in importance to any result +to be gained by the forced and unnatural efforts from which more is +attained than nature sanctions. + +A work like the one before us is calculated to be of great service, +and especially so if it be placed in the hands of children. It claims, +and certainly deserves, no praise as an original work of science; but +it has this merit--no ordinary one--that it communicates the most +important truths of physiology in language which any intelligent child +can understand; and does so in a manner that every moralist will +commend. + + + _The Fruits and Fruit Trees of America. By A. J. + Downing. Published by Wiley & Putnam, New York._ + + +This work has been known to every scientific horticulturist and +pomologist for many years. Its author has devoted a vigorous and +enlightened intellect to this purest and noblest of pursuits; and has +won a reputation of which this work will form the coronal wreath. The +past editions of this work, and they have been many, have elicited the +strongest praise here and abroad. The classic poets of every land have +valued the praise which rewarded their dedication of the first +triumphs of the muse to subjects connected with the cultivation of the +soil, to the arts that rendered the breast of our common mother +lovely, and wedded the labors which sustain life with the arts that +render it happy. The work before us has an established reputation. It +is written by one whose labors upon this subject are known as well +abroad as here, and who has won the applause of all who regard +pomology as worthy of an earnest support. He is the Prose Virgil of +our country. This work contains eighty-four colored engravings of +apples, pears, cherries, apricots, peaches, plums, raspberries, and +strawberries. These plates have been, at great expense, executed at +Paris, and are worthy of all commendation. Among those that seem to us +worthy of especial commendation are, in the plums, the Columbia, the +Coe's Golden Drop, and the Jefferson; among the pears, the Bartlett, +the Bosc, the Flemish Beauty, the Frederick of Wurtemburg; among the +apples, the Gravenstein, the Yellow Belle Fleur, the Dutch Mignonne, +Ladies' Sweet, and Red Astrochan. All the plates are, however, good; +and the work is, to all who love nature, invaluable. + +The leading horticultural societies of this country have recently +endeavored to counteract the confusion which has heretofore prevailed +in pomological nomenclature, by adopting this work as the American +standard; and we learn that it has been so recognized and adopted, in +reference to this country, in London. Horticulture is greatly indebted +for the advances it has made within the last few years to the author +of this work. He is well known to all those who cherish the science of +the soil, as the popular editor of the Horticulturist, and as one of +the ablest, most scientific and enthusiastic horticulturists and +pomologists in the country. + + +_Tristram Shandy._--Original or not, Sterne gave to the literature of +this language that which must last and should last. This edition, +published by Grigg, Elliott & Co., is cheap, and should be cheap, for +it is got up for universal distribution. It is well illustrated by +Darley. + + + _The Medical Companion, or Family Physician, Treating + of the Diseases of the United States, &c. By James + Ewell._ + + +This is a work long and well known to the nation; and the edition +before us, being the tenth, is an enlargement and improvement on those +which have heretofore appeared. Dr. Chapman has pronounced it to be +indisputably the most useful popular treatise on medicine with which +he is acquainted; and a large number of the most celebrated professors +of the country, as Caldwell, Shippen, Barton, Woodhouse, and others, +have very emphatically commended it to the confidence of the public. +The edition before us is a great improvement upon those which have +preceded it, having, in addition to corrections resulting from the +advance of the science, a treatise on Hydropathy, Homoepathy, and the +Chronothermal system. It is published by Thomas, Cowperthwaite & Co., +Philadelphia, and does, in general appearance and character, great +credit to those enterprizing publishers. + + + _General Scott and his Staff. Comprising Memoirs of + Generals Twiggs, Smith, Quitman, Shields, Pillow, Lane, + Cadwallader, Patterson, and Pierce, and Colonels + Childs, Riley, Harney and Butler, and Other + Distinguished Officers Attached to General Scott's + Army; Together with Notices of Gen. Kearney, Col. + Doniphan, Fremont, and Others. Philadelphia: Grigg, + Elliot & Co._ + + +This work embodies the floating intelligence which has reached us in +relation to the present Mexican war, and is illustrated by wood-cuts +worthy of the text. We can say no more. This book is not inferior to +others which the curiosity of the community has invited, and will +doubtless sell, as they have sold, well. + + + _General Taylor and his Staff. Comprising Memoirs of + Generals Taylor, Worth, Wool, and Butler, Cols. May, + Cross, Clay, Hardin, Yell, Hays, and Other + Distinguished Officers Attached to Gen. Taylor's Army. + Philadelphia: Grigg, Elliot & Co._ + + +This volume seems to be as picturesque and as veritable as other works +of a like character, and is as well written and as well printed as the +best. Perhaps this is not saying much; but can we say more? + + + _Lectures on the Physical Phenomena of Living Beings. + By Carlo Matteuci, Professor in the University of Pisa. + Translated by Jonathan Pereira, M. D., F. R. S. Phila.: + Lea & Blanchard._ + + +This work has passed through two editions in Italy, and one in France. +A hasty examination of the volume has excited a degree of curiosity +and admiration which a more careful perusal than we can now give it +will enable us hereafter to do justice to. + + + _Three Hours, or the Vigil of Love, and Other Poems. By + Mrs. S. J. Hale. Carey & Hart, Philadelphia._ + + +This beautiful volume is dedicated to the readers of the Lady's Book, +(why not to its amiable proprietor?) of which she has long been an +able and successful editor. We have not found time to examine the +volume page by page--that is a happiness reserved to us, and we feel, +in so much, the richer in our capital of future enjoyment; but we know +that Mrs. Hale is one of the purest, most powerful, truthful, and +tasteful of our writers; and we are certain that the volume before us +is worthy of more than praise. + + +_Evangeline._--This beautiful poem has been beautifully complimented +by an artist-poet whose contributions enrich our pages, Thomas +Buchanan Read, or, as he has been aptly characterized by a +contemporary, "the Doric Read." The painting is worthy the subject, +the artist, and the poet; and is one of the richest productions of +American art. + + + _A Campaign in Mexico, or a Glimpse at Life in Camp. By + one who has seen the Elephant. Phila.: Grigg & + Elliott._ + + +This work, though, perhaps, beneath the dignity of a formal review, is +still good reading, and we have gone through its pages with pleasure. + + + _Principles of Physics and Meteorology. By J. Müller. + First American edition, Revised and Illustrated with + 538 engravings on wood, and two colored plates. Phila.: + Lea & Blanchard._ + + +This treatise on Physics, by Professor Müller, is the first of a +series of works, on the different branches of science, now passing +through the press of Bailliére, in London. The American editor has +made many additions and improvements; and the work, as presented to +the public, is worthy of all praise and all patronage. + + + _The Primary School Reader--Parts First, Second, and + Third. By Wm. D. Swan, Principal of the Mayhew Grammar + School, Boston. Philadelphia: Thomas, Cowperthwaite & + Co._ + + +These volumes have been prepared to supply the want of a system for +teaching reading in Primary Schools. The task has been well performed, +and the series will be found of value both to the teacher and the +taught. + + + _Greene's Analysis. A Treatise on the Structure of the + English Language, or the Analysis and Classification of + Sentences and their Component Parts. With Illustrations + and Exercises adapted to the use of schools. By Samuel + J. Greene, A. M., Principal of the Phillip's Grammar + School, Boston. Published by Thomas, Cowperthwaite & + Co._ + + +The title of this volume sufficiently indicates its purposes and +character. It is a work calculated to contribute, in a considerable +degree, to improve the methods of teaching the English language. + + + _The Grammar School Reader, consisting of Selections in + Prose and Poetry, with Exercises in Articulation. By + William D. Swan. Thomas, Cowperthwaite & Co., + Philadelphia._ + + +This work is well designed to correct prevailing vices of +articulation. There is much room for reform in this branch of +education, even our best public speakers being guilty of provincial +errors, and faulty enunciation. The rules are lucidly explained, and +the selections made with taste. + + + _Swan's District School Reader. Same Publishers._ + + +This is a more advanced and more valuable branch of the same series of +class books, and is designed for the highest classes of public and +private schools. + + +THE HOME JOURNAL.--This admirable periodical maintains and advances +its enviable reputation. With Morris & Willis as its editors, it needs +no endorsement from its contemporaries. It must be, with such genius, +tact and experience, all that a weekly periodical can be. We invite +attention to the advertisement upon the cover of this number of the +Magazine. Those who know the Journal will complain that the +advertisers have not told half its merits. + + +Transcriber's Note: + +1. page 133--corrected typo 'mizzen-rroyal' to 'mizzen-royal' + +2. page 135--corrected typo 'them erchant' to 'the merchant' + +3. page 137--punctuation mark at end of paragraph '...not gone the + voyage.,' corrected to " + +4. page 139--period in sentence '...of a Kentucky rifleman. I + brought...' corrected to a comma + +5. page 139--typo in '...I get acquaiuted with her?' corrected to + 'acquainted' + +6. page 139--typo in '...I beg you wont get out' corrected to 'won't' + +7. page 140--typo in sentence "'Sartainly, sartainly," said he... + changed to "'Sartainly, sartainly,' said he... + +8. page 140--typos in sentence '...expect you early, gentlemem. + Adieu--and with...' corrected to '...expect you early, gentlemen. + Adieu'--corrected spelling mistake and added single quote mark + +9. page 140--comma at end of sentence '...Is she so handsome, Ben,' + changed to period + +10. page 140--single quotes added in sentence "Egad! you don't say so!", + so resulting sentence reads "'Egad! you don't say so!'" + +11. page 140--later same sentence, corrected typo 'thonght' to 'thought' + +12. page 142--added missing single quote at start of sentence + "Mr. Stewart,' said Don Pedro... + +13. page 143--removed extraneous single quote in sentence ...and answer + me frankly. 'Do you really love... sentence is part of a continuing + quotation + +14. page 144--typo '...make love à la modé?...' corrected to 'à la + mode...' + +15. page 144--typo 'wont' corrected to 'won't' + +16. page 145--single quote added at start of sentence "What!' cried + Clara... + +17. page 145--double quotes changed to single in sentence "'Oh + Pedro!" continued his sister... + +18. page 146--corrected typo 'an' in sentence '...but to cut an + run, and favored...' to 'and' + +19. page 148--typo 'Giacoma' corrected to 'Giacomo' + +20. page 158--typo 'hour's' in sentence '...only a few hour's drive + from...' corrected to 'hours'' + +21. page 158--colon at end of line 'At the sunny hour of noon:' + changed to semi-colon + +22. page 162--typo 'interpretaion' corrected to 'interpretation' + +23. page 163--typo 'wtth' in sentence '...much, compared wtth its + village-like...' corrected to 'with' + +24. page 166--typos in sentence '...je sins un pr[=e]tre.' corrected + to '...je suis un prêtre.' + +25. page 167--typo in sentence '..."How should I know, monsieur?,' + corrected to '"How should I know, monsieur?"' + +26. page 167, later--double quote added to sentence "Pretty--very + pretty lodgers, said I. + +27. page 168--extraneous double quote removed from sentence 'I knew + from its position...' + +28. page 168--missing initial double quote added to sentence Oui, + monsieur." + +29. page 169--period substituted for comma at end of sentence '...at + length, then?" said I, + +30. page 169--same error at end of '...black upon his arm," + +31. page 169--extraneous double quote removed from sentence '...before + me, dying!" The concierge...' + +32. page 170--added missing quote at end of sentence '...cher?--it is + a sad story.' + +33. page 171--extraneous " removed at end of sentence '...had not found + her friend.' + +34. page 171--extraneous " removed at end of sentence '...He is dead, + too, then?' + +35. page 171--changed comma to period at end of line '..enchanted, + wander evermore,' + +36. page 172--added quote at start of sentence 'Emma will have it that...' + +37. page 173--removed extra 's' from 'disinterestednesss' + +38. page 175--added missing quote at end of '...flirts à discretion.' + +39. page 180--added 't' to word 'eloquenly' + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Graham's Magazine Vol XXXII. No. 3. +March 1848, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GRAHAM'S MAGAZINE, MARCH 1848 *** + +***** This file should be named 29236-8.txt or 29236-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/9/2/3/29236/ + +Produced by David T. Jones, Juliet Sutherland and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Canada Team at +http://www.pgdpcanada.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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No. 3. March +1848, 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: Graham's Magazine Vol XXXII. No. 3. March 1848 + +Author: Various + +Editor: George R. Graham + Robert T. Conrad + +Release Date: June 25, 2009 [EBook #29236] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GRAHAM'S MAGAZINE, MARCH 1848 *** + + + + +Produced by David T. Jones, Juliet Sutherland and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Canada Team at +http://www.pgdpcanada.net + + + + + + +</pre> + +<br /><br /><br /><br /> + + +<h1>GRAHAM'S MAGAZINE.</h1> +<br /> +<hr class="full" /> +<h4><span class="smcap">Vol</span>. XXXII. + PHILADELPHIA, MARCH, 1848. + No. 3.</h4> +<hr class="full" /> +<br /> +<br /> + +<h3>TABLE OF CONTENTS</h3><br /> +<table summary="TOC" width="80%"> +<tr> +<td><a href="#cruise"><b>THE CRUISE OF THE GENTILE.</b></a></td> +<td class="tdr">133</td> +</tr> +<tr><td> </td><td> </td></tr> +<tr> +<td><a href="#WHITE_CREEK"><b>WHITE CREEK.</b></a></td> +<td class="tdr">148</td> +</tr> +<tr><td> </td><td> </td></tr> +<tr> +<td><a href="#THE_ALCHEMISTS_DAUGHTER"><b>THE ALCHEMIST'S DAUGHTER.</b></a></td> +<td class="tdr">148</td> +</tr> +<tr><td> </td><td> </td></tr> +<tr> +<td><a href="#LINES_TO_AN_IDEAL"><b>LINES TO AN IDEAL.</b></a></td> +<td class="tdr">151</td> +</tr> +<tr><td> </td><td> </td></tr> +<tr> +<td><a href="#MRS_PELBY_SMITHS_SELECT_PARTY"><b>MRS. PELBY SMITH'S SELECT PARTY.</b></a></td> +<td class="tdr">152</td> +</tr> +<tr><td> </td><td> </td></tr> +<tr> +<td><a href="#SPIRIT-VOICES"><b>SPIRIT-VOICES.</b></a></td> +<td class="tdr">158</td> +</tr> +<tr><td> </td><td> </td></tr> +<tr> +<td><a href="#THE_ISLETS_OF_THE_GULF"><b>THE ISLETS OF THE GULF.</b></a></td> +<td class="tdr">159</td> +</tr> +<tr><td> </td><td> </td></tr> +<tr> +<td><a href="#THE_BELLE"><b>THE BELLE.</b></a></td> +<td class="tdr">164</td> +</tr> +<tr><td> </td><td> </td></tr> +<tr> +<td><a href="#LE_PETIT_SOULIER"><b>LE PETIT SOULIER.</b></a></td> +<td class="tdr">165</td> +</tr> +<tr><td> </td><td> </td></tr> +<tr> +<td><a href="#EARLY_ENGLISH_POETS"><b>EARLY ENGLISH POETS.</b></a></td> +<td class="tdr">171</td> +</tr> +<tr><td> </td><td> </td></tr> +<tr> +<td><a href="#DISSOLVING_VIEWS"><b>DISSOLVING VIEWS.</b></a></td> +<td class="tdr">172</td> +</tr> +<tr><td> </td><td> </td></tr> +<tr> +<td><a href="#THE_VOICE_OF_THE_FIRE"><b>THE VOICE OF THE FIRE.</b></a></td> +<td class="tdr">177</td> +</tr> +<tr><td> </td><td> </td></tr> +<tr> +<td><a href="#MARGINALIA"><b>MARGINALIA.</b></a></td> +<td class="tdr">178</td> +</tr> +<tr><td> </td><td> </td></tr> +<tr> +<td><a href="#LETHE"><b>LETHE.</b></a></td> +<td class="tdr">179</td> +</tr> +<tr><td> </td><td> </td></tr> +<tr> +<td><a href="#EPITAPH_ON_A_RESTLESS_LADY"><b>EPITAPH ON A RESTLESS LADY.</b></a></td> +<td class="tdr">179</td> +</tr> +<tr><td> </td><td> </td></tr> +<tr> +<td><a href="#MY_LADY_HELP"><b>MY LADY HELP.</b></a></td> +<td class="tdr">180</td> +</tr> +<tr><td> </td><td> </td></tr> +<tr> +<td><a href="#LINES"><b>LINES</b></a></td> +<td class="tdr">184</td> +</tr> +<tr><td> </td><td> </td></tr> +<tr> +<td><a href="#GAME-BIRDS_OF_AMERICA_NO_IX"><b>GAME-BIRDS OF AMERICA.—NO. IX.</b></a></td> +<td class="tdr">185</td> +</tr> +<tr><td> </td><td> </td></tr> +<tr> +<td><a href="#TRIUMPHS_OF_PEACE"><b>TRIUMPHS OF PEACE.</b></a></td> +<td class="tdr">187</td> +</tr> +<tr><td> </td><td> </td></tr> +<tr> +<td><a href="#EXPECTATION"><b>EXPECTATION.</b></a></td> +<td class="tdr">187</td> +</tr> +<tr><td> </td><td> </td></tr> +<tr> +<td><a href="#WOMANS_LOVE"><b>WOMAN'S LOVE.</b></a></td> +<td class="tdr">188</td> +</tr> +<tr><td> </td><td> </td></tr> +<tr> +<td><a href="#YEARS_AGO_A_BALLAD"><b>YEARS AGO.—A BALLAD.</b></a></td> +<td class="tdr">190</td> +</tr> +<tr><td> </td><td> </td></tr> +<tr> +<td><a href="#TO_MY_WIFE"><b>TO MY WIFE.</b></a></td> +<td class="tdr">190</td> +</tr> +<tr><td> </td><td> </td></tr> +<tr> +<td><a href="#ISOLA"><b>ISOLA.</b></a></td> +<td class="tdr">190</td> +</tr> +<tr><td> </td><td> </td></tr> +<tr> +<td><a href="#CONTEMPLATION"><b>CONTEMPLATION.</b></a></td> +<td class="tdr">190</td> +</tr> +<tr><td> </td><td> </td></tr> +<tr> +<td><a href="#REVIEW_OF_NEW_BOOKS"><b>REVIEW OF NEW BOOKS.</b></a></td> +<td class="tdr">191</td> +</tr> +<tr><td> </td><td> </td></tr> +</table> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> + + + +<h2><a name="cruise" id="cruise"></a>THE CRUISE OF THE GENTILE.</h2> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> + +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> +<h5>BY FRANK BYRNE.</h5> +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> +<br /><br /><br /> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I.</h3> + +<h4><i>In which the reader is introduced to several of the dramatis +personæ.</i></h4> + +<p>On the evening of the 25th of March, in the year of our Lord one +thousand eight hundred and thirty-nine, the ship Gentile, of Boston, +lay at anchor in the harbor of Valetta.</p> + +<p>It is quite proper, gentle reader, that, as it is with this ship and +her crew that you will chiefly have to do in the following yarn, they +should be severally and particularly introduced to your notice.</p> + +<p>To begin, then. Imagine yourself standing on the parapet of St. Elmo, +about thirty minutes past five o'clock on the evening above mentioned; +the Gentile lies but little more than a cable's length from the shore, +so that you can almost look down upon her decks. You perceive that she +is a handsome craft of some six or seven hundred tons burthen, +standing high out of water, in ballast trim, with a black hull, bright +waist, and wales painted white. Her bows flare very much, and are +sharp and symmetrical; the cut-water stretches, with a graceful curve, +far out beyond them toward the long sweeping martingal, and is +surmounted by a gilt scroll, or, as the sailors call it, a +fiddle-head. The black stern is ornamented by a group of white figures +in bas relief, which give a lively air to the otherwise sombre and +vacant expression, and beneath the cabin-windows is painted the name +of the ship, and her port of register. The lower masts of this vessel +are short and stout, the top-masts are of great height, the extreme +points of the fore and mizzen-royal poles, are adorned with gilt +balls, and over all, at the truck of the main sky-sail pole, floats a +handsome red burgee, upon which a large G is visible. There are no +yards across but the lower and topsail-yards, which are very long and +heavy, precisely squared, and to which the sails are furled in an +exceeding neat and seaman-like manner. The rigging is universally taut +and trim; and it is easy to perceive that the officers of the Gentile +understand their business. The swinging-boom is rigged out, and +fastened thereto, by their painters, a pair of boats, a yawl and gig, +float lovingly side by side; and instead of the usual ladder at the +side, a handy flight of accommodation steps lead from the water-line +to the gangway.</p> + +<p>Now, dear reader, leaving the battlements of St. Elmo, you alight upon +the deck of our ship, which you find to be white and clean, and, as +seamen say, sheer—that is to say, without break, poop, or +hurricane-house—forming on each side of the line of masts a +smooth, unencumbered plane the entire length of the deck, inclining +with a gentle curve from the bow and stern toward the waist. The +bulwarks are high, and are surmounted by a paneled monkey-rail; the +belaying-pins in the plank-shear are of lignum-vitæ and +mahogany, and upon them the rigging is laid up in accurate and +graceful coils. The balustrade around the cabin companion-way and +sky-light is made of polished brass, the wheel is inlaid with brass, +and the capstan-head, the gangway-stanchions, and bucket-hoops are of +the same glittering metal. Forward of the main hatchway the long-boat +stands in its chocks, covered over with a roof, and a good-natured +looking cow, whose stable is thus contrived, protrudes her head from a +window, chews her cud with as much composure as if standing under the +lee of a Yankee barn-yard wall, and watches, apparently, a group of +sailors, who, seated in the forward waist around their kids and pans, +are enjoying their coarse but plentiful and wholesome evening meal. A +huge Newfoundland dog sits upon his haunches near this circle, his +eyes eagerly watching for a morsel to be thrown him, the which, when +happening, his jaws close with a sudden snap, and are instantly agape +for more. A green and gold parrot also wanders about this knot of men, +sometimes nibbling the crumbs offered it, and anon breaking forth into +expressions which, from their tone, evince no great respect for some +of the commandments in the Decalogue. Between the long-boat and the +fore-hatch is the galley, where the "Doctor" (as the cook is +universally called in the merchant service) is busily employed in +dishing up a steaming supper, prepared for the cabin mess; the +steward, a genteel-looking mulatto, dressed in a white apron, stands +waiting at the galley-door, ready to receive the aforementioned +supper, whensoever it may be ready, and to convey it to the +cabin.</p> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> + +<p>Turning aft, you perceive a young man pacing the quarter-deck, and +whistling, as he walks, a lively air from La Bayadere. He is dressed +neatly in a blue pilot-cloth pea-jacket, well-shaped trowsers, +neat-fitting boots, and a Mahon cap, with gilt buttons. This gentleman +is Mr. Langley. His father is a messenger in the Atlas Bank, of +Boston, and Mr. Langley, jr. invariably directs his communications to +his parent with the name of that corporation somewhere very legibly +inscribed on the back of the letter. He is an apprentice to the ship, +but being a smart, handy fellow, and a tolerable seaman, he was deemed +worthy of promotion, and as his owner could find no second mate's +berth vacant in any of his vessels, the Gentile has rejoiced for the +last twelve months in the possession of a third mate in the person of +Mr. Langley. He is about twenty years of age, and would be a sensible +fellow, were it not for a great taste for mischief, romance, theatres, +cheap jewelry, and tight boots. He quotes poetry on the weather +yard-arm, to the great dissatisfaction of Mr. Brewster, (to whom you +will shortly be introduced,) who often confidentially assures the +skipper that the third mate would have turned out a natural fool if +his parents had not providentially sent him to sea.</p> + +<p>But while you have been making the acquaintance of Mr. Langley, the +steward has brought aft the dishes containing the cabin supper. A +savory smell issues from the open sky-light, through which also +ascends a ruddy gleam of light, the sound of cheerful voices, and the +clatter of dishes. After the lapse of a few minutes the turns of Mr. +Langley in pacing the deck grow shorter, and at last, ceasing to +whistle and beginning to mutter, he walks up to the sky-light and +looks down into the cabin below. Gentle reader, place yourself by his +side, and now attend as closely as the favored student did to +Asmodeus.</p> + +<p>The fine-looking seaman reclining upon the cushioned transom, picking +his teeth while he scans the columns of a late number of the Liverpool +Mercury, is Captain Smith, the skipper, a regular-built, true-blue, +Yankee ship-master. Though his short black curls are thickly sprinkled +with gray, he has not yet seen forty years; but the winds and suns of +every zone have left their indelible traces upon him. He is an +intelligent, well-informed man, though self-taught, well versed in the +science of trade, and is a very energetic and efficient officer.</p> + +<p>The tall gentleman, just folding his doily, is the mate of the ship, +Mr. Stewart. You would hardly suppose him to be a sailor at the first +glance; and yet he is a perfect specimen of what an officer in the +merchant service should be, notwithstanding his fashionably-cut +broadcloth coat, white vest, black gaiter-pants, and jeweled fingers. +He is dressed for the theatre. Mr. Stewart is a graduate of Harvard, +and at first went to sea to recover the health which had been somewhat +impaired by hard study; but becoming charmed with the profession, he +has followed it ever since, and says that it is the most manly +vocation in the world. He is a great favorite with the owner of the +ship; and when he is at Boston, always resides with him. He will +command a ship himself after this voyage. His age is twenty-eight. Mr. +Stewart is a handsome man, a polite gentleman, an accomplished +scholar, a thorough seamen, a strict but kind officer, a most +companionable shipmate, and, in one word—a fine fellow.</p> + +<p>Next comes Mr. Brewster, the second mate. That is he devouring those +huge slices of cold beef with so much gusto, while Langley mutters, +"Will he never have done!" He with the blue jacket, bedizzened so +plentifully with small pearl buttons, the calico shirt, and +fancifully-knotted black silk cravat around his brawny neck.</p> + +<p>Mr. Micah Brewster hails from Truro, Cape Cod, and, like all Capemen, +is a Yankee sailor, every inch of him. He commenced going to sea when +only twelve years old, by shipping for a four months' trip in a +banker; and in the space of fourteen years, which have since elapsed, +he has not been on shore as many months. He is complete in every +particular of seamanship, and is, besides, a tolerably scientific +navigator. He knows the color and taste of the water all along shore +from Cape Farewell to the Horn, and can tell the latitude and +longitude of any place on the chart without consulting it. Bowditch's +Epitome, and Blunt's Coast Pilot, seem to him the only books in the +world worth consulting, though I should, perhaps, except Marryatt's +novels and Tom Cringle's Log. But of matters connected with the shore +Mr. Brewster is as ignorant as a child unborn. He holds all landsmen +but ship-builders, owners, and riggers, in supreme contempt, and can +hardly conceive of the existence of happiness, in places so far inland +that the sea breeze does not blow. A severe and exacting officer is +he, but yet a favorite with the men—for he is always first in +any emergency or danger, his lion-like voice sounding loud above the +roar of the elements, cheering the crew to their duty, and setting the +example with his own hands. He is rather inclined to be irritable +toward those who have gained the quarter-deck by the way of the +cabin-windows, but, on the whole, I shall set him down in the list of +good fellows.</p> + +<p>That swarthy, curl-pated youngster, in full gala dress for the +theatre, drawing on his gloves, and hurrying Mr. Stewart, is, dear +reader, your most humble, devoted, and obedient servant, Frank Byrne, +<i>alias</i>, myself, <i>alias</i>, the ship's cousin, <i>alias</i>, the son of the +ship's owner. Supposing, of course, that you believe in Mesmerism and +clairvoyance, I shall not stop to explain how I have been able to +point out the Gentile to you, while you were standing on the bastion +of St. Elmo, and I all the while in the cabin of the good ship, +dressing for the theatre, and eating my supper, but shall immediately +proceed to inform you how I came there, to welcome you on board, and +to wish you a pleasant cruise with us.</p> + +<p>About two years ago, (I am speaking of the 25th of March, A. D. 1839, +in the present tense,) I succeeded in persuading my father to gratify +my predilection for the sea, by putting me on board of the Gentile, +under the particular care of Captain Smith, to try one voyage—so +I became the ship's cousin. Contrary to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> the predictions of my +friends, I returned determined to go again, and to become a sailor. +Now a ship's cousin's berth is not always an enviable one, +notwithstanding the consanguinity of its occupant to the planks +beneath him, for he, usually feeling the importance of the +relationship, is hated by officers and men, who annoy him in every +possible way. But my case was an exception to the general rule. +Although at the first I was intimately acquainted with each of the +officers, I never presumed upon it, but always did my duty cheerfully +and respectfully, and tried hard to learn to be a good seaman. As my +father allowed me plenty of spending money, I could well afford to be +open-handed and generous to my shipmates, fore and aft; and this good +quality, in a seaman's estimation, will cover a multitude of faults, +and endears its possessor to his heart. In fine, I became an immense +favorite with all hands; and even Mr. Brewster, who at first looked +upon my advent on board with an unfavorable eye, was forced to +acknowledge that I no more resembled a ship's cousin than a Methodist +class-leader does a midshipman.</p> + +<p>Mr. Stewart and myself had always been great friends before I went to +sea. When I first came on board, Mr. Langley, who had been my +school-mate and crony, was, though one of the cabin mess, only an +apprentice, and had not yet received his brevet rank as third +mate—Mr. Stewart, of course, stood his own watch, and chose +Langley and myself as part of it. The mate generally kept us upon the +quarter-deck with him, and many were the cozy confabs we used to hold, +many the choice cigars we used to smoke upon that handy loafing-place, +the booby-hatch, many the pleasant yarns we used to spin while pacing +up and down the deck, or leaning against the rail of the companion. As +I have said, Mr. Stewart was a delightful watch-mate—and Bill +Langley and I used to love him dearly, and none the worse that he made +us toe the line of our duty. He always, however, appeared to prefer me +to Langley, and to admit me to more of his confidence. Since Bill's +promotion we had not seen so much of the mate, but still, during our +late tedious voyage from Calcutta, he had often come upon deck in our +watch, and hundreds of long miles of the Indian Ocean had been +shortened in the old way.</p> + +<p>Gentle reader, you are as much acquainted with the Gentile, and the +quint who compose her cabin mess, as you could hope to be at one +interview.</p> +<br /><br /> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER II.</h3> + +<h4><i>News from Home.</i></h4> + +<p>Mr. Langley had just commenced his supper with a ravenous appetite, +stimulated by the tantalizing view of our previous gastronomic +performances, which he had had through the sky-light, the mate and +myself were on the point of going on deck to go ashore, the captain +had just lighted a second cigar, when Mr. Brewster, who had relieved +poor Langley in the charge of the deck, made his appearance at the +cabin door, bearing in his hands a large packet.</p> + +<p>"She's in, sir!" he shouted, "she came to anchor in front of the +Lazaretto while we were at supper, and Bill here didn't see her. The +quarantine fellows brought this along. Bill, you must be a bloody +fool, to let a ship come right under our stern, and sail across the +bay, and not know nothing about it."</p> + +<p>Langley, whose regards for the supper-table had drawn his attention +from the arrival of a ship which had been expected by us for more than +a week, and by whom we had anticipated the receipt of the packet the +skipper now held in his hands, Langley, I say, blushed, but said +nothing, and turned toward the captain, who, with trembling hands, was +cutting the twine which bound the precious bundle together.</p> + +<p>Now our last letters from Boston had been written more than a year +before, had been read at Calcutta, since then we had sailed fifteen +thousand miles from Calcutta to Trieste, and from Trieste to Valetta, +and here we had been pulling at our anchor for three weeks, waiting +orders from my father by the ship which had just arrived; it is not +wonderful, therefore, that the group which surrounded Capt. Smith were +very pale, eager, anxious-looking men. How much we were to learn in +ten minutes time; what bitter tidings might be in store for us in that +little packet.</p> + +<p>At last it is open, and newspapers and letters in rich profusion meet +our gaze; with a quick sleight the captain distributes them, sends a +half dozen to their owners in the forecastle by the steward, and then +ensues a silence broken only by the snapping of seals, and the +rattling of paper. Suddenly Mr. Stewart uttered an exclamation of +surprise, and looking up from my letter, I noticed the quick exchange +of significant glances between the captain and mate.</p> + +<p>"You've found it out, then," said the skipper.</p> + +<p>The mate nodded in reply, and gathering up his letters, retired +precipitately to his state-room.</p> + +<p>At this juncture, Mr. Brewster, who had just finished the perusal of a +very square, stiff-looking epistle, gave vent to a prolonged whistle.</p> + +<p>"Beats thunder, I swear!" said he, "if the old woman haint got spliced +again—and she's every month of fifty-six years old."</p> + +<p>"That's nothing," cried Langley, "only think, father has left the +Atlas Bank, and is now Mr. Byrnes' book-keeper; and they talk of +shutting up the Tremont theatre, and Bob here says that Fanny Ellsler +is—"</p> + +<p>"Avast there!" interrupted the skipper, "clap a stopper over all that, +and stand by to hear where we are bound to-morrow, or next day. Have +any of you found out yet?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir," cried Langley and I in a breath, "Home, I hope."</p> + +<p>"Not so soon," replied Captain Smith, "as soon as maybe we sail for +Matanzas de Cuba, to take aboard a sugar freight for the +Baltic—either Stockholm or Cronstadt; so that when we make +Boston-light it will be November, certain. How does that suit ye, +gentlemen?"</p> + +<p>I was forced to muster all my stoicism to refrain from whimpering; Mr. +Langley gave utterance to a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> wish, which, if ever fulfilled, +will consign the cities of Cronstadt, Stockholm, and Matanzas to the +same fate which has rendered Sodom, Gomorrah, and Euphemia so +celebrated. Mr. Brewster alone seemed indifferent. That worthy +gentleman snapped his fingers, and averred that he didn't care a +d—n where he went to.</p> + +<p>"Besides," said he, "a trip up the Baltic is a beautiful summer's +work, and we shall get home in time for thanksgiving, if the governor +don't have it earlier than common."</p> + +<p>"Matanzas!" inquired Langley; "isn't there where Mr. Stowe moved to, +captain?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," replied the skipper, "he is Mr. Byrnes' correspondent +there—"</p> + +<p>"Egad, then, Frank, we shall see the girls, eh, old fellow!" and Mr. +Langley began to recover his serenity of mind.</p> + +<p>"Beside all this," added the skipper, "Frank has a cousin in +Matanzas—a nun in the Ursuline Convent."</p> + +<p>"So I have just found out," said I; "father bids me to be sure and see +her, if possible, and says that I must ask you about it. It is very +odd I never have heard of this before. By the bye, Bill, my boy, look +at this here!" and I displayed a draft on Mr. Stowe for $200.</p> + +<p>At this moment Mr. Stewart's state-room door opened, and he appeared. +It was evident that he had heard bad news. His face was very grave, +and his manner forced.</p> + +<p>"Frank," said he, "you must excuse my company to-night. Langley will +be glad to go with you; and as we sail so soon, I have a good deal to +do—"</p> + +<p>"But," said I, hesitating, "may I inquire whether you have received +bad news from home?"</p> + +<p>"On the contrary, very good—but don't ask any questions, Frank; +be off, it is very late to go now."</p> + +<p>"Langley," said I, as we were supping at a <i>café</i>, after the +closing of the theatre, "isn't it odd about that new cousin of mine?"</p> + +<p>"Ay,", replied my companion, "and it is odd about Stewart's actions +to-night; and it will be odd if I don't kiss Mary Stowe; and it will +be odd if you don't kiss Ellen; and it will be odd if I arn't made +second mate after we get home from this thundering long voyage; and, +finally, it will be most especially odd if we find all our boat's crew +sober when we get down to the quay."</p> + +<p>Nothing so odd as that was the case; but after some little difficulty +we got on board, and Langley and myself retired to the state-room +which we held as tenants in common.</p> +<br /><br /> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER III.</h3> + +<h4><i>In which four thousand miles are gained.</i></h4> + +<p>We laid almost a week longer wind-bound. At last the skipper waxed +impatient, and one fine morning we got out our boats, and with the +help of the Pharsalia's boats and crew, we were slowly towed to sea. +Here we took a fine southwesterly breeze, and squared away before it. +Toward night we had the coast of Sicily close under our lee, and as +far away as the eye could reach, the snow-capped summit of +Ætna, ruddy in the light of the setting sun, rose against the +clear blue of the northern sky.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>We had as fine a run to Gibralter as any seaman could wish; but after +passing the pillars of Hercules there was no more good weather beyond +for us until we crossed the tropic, which we did the 10th of May, in +longitude about sixty degrees, having experienced a constant +succession of strong southerly and westerly gales. But having passed +the tropic, we took a gentle breeze from the eastward, and with the +finest weather in the world, glided slowly along toward our destined +port.</p> + +<p>I shall never forget the evening and night after the 15th of May. We +were then in the neighborhood of Turks Island, heading for the Caycos +Pass, and keeping a bright look-out for land. It was a most lovely +night, one, as Willis says, astray from Paradise; the moon was shining +down as it only does shine between the tropics, the sky clear and +cloudless, the mild breeze, just enough to fill our sails, pushing us +gently through the water, the sea as glassy as a mountain-lake, and +motionless, save the long, slight swell, scarcely perceptible to those +who for long weeks have been tossed by the tempestuous waves of the +stormy Atlantic. The sails of a distant ship were seen, far away to +the north, making the lovely scene less solitary; the only sounds +heard were the rippling at the bows, the low sough of the zephyr +through the rigging, the cheeping of blocks, as the sleepy helmsman +allowed the ship to vary in her course, the occasional splash of a +dolphin, and the flutter of a flying-fish in the air, as he winged his +short and glittering flight. The air was warm, fragrant, and +delicious, and the larboard watch of the tired crew of the Gentile, +after a boisterous passage of forty days from Gibralter, yielded to +its somnolent influence, and lay stretched about the forecastle and +waists, enjoying the voluptuous languor which overcomes men suddenly +emerging from a cold into a tropical climate.</p> + +<p>Mr. Langley, myself, and the skipper's dog, reclined upon the +booby-hatch. The first having the responsibility of the deck contrived +to maintain a half upright position, and to keep one eye open, but the +other two, prostrate by each others' side, slumbered outright.</p> + +<p>"What's the time, Bill?" I asked, at length, rousing myself, and +shaking off the embrace of Rover, who was loth to lose his bedfellow.</p> + +<p>"'We take no note of time,'" spouted the third mate, drawing his watch +from his pocket. "For'ard, there! strike four bells, and relieve the +wheel. Keep your eye peeled, look-out; and mind, no caulking."</p> + +<p>"Ay ay, sir," was the lazy response, and in a moment more the +<i>ting-ting</i>, <i>ting-ting</i>, of the ship's bell rang out on the silent +air, and proclaimed that the middle watch was half over, or, in +landsmen's lingo, that it was two o'clock, A. M.</p> + +<p>"Lay along, Rover," I muttered, preparing for another snooze.</p> + +<p>"Oh! avast that Frank; come, keep awake, and let's talk."<span class='pagenum'><a +name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Talk!" said I, "about what, pray?"</p> + +<p>"Oh! I don't know," replied Bill. "I tell you what, Frank, if it +wasn't for being cock of the roost myself, I should wish that Stewart +headed this watch now. What fine times we used to have, eh?—but +he has altered as well as the times—how odd he has acted by +spells ever since we got that packet at Malta. I'm d—d if I +don't believe he got news of the loss of his sweetheart."</p> + +<p>"He never had any that I know of," I rejoined, "but he certainly did +hear something, for he has changed in his manner, and the skipper and +he have long talks by themselves, and I heard Stewart tell him one day +that after all it would have been better to have left the ship at +Gibralter, and not gone the voyage."</p> + +<p>"Did he, though!" cried Langley; "in that case I should have been +second mate—however, I'm glad he didn't quit."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Bill," said a voice behind us; and turning in some +confusion we beheld Mr. Stewart standing in the companion. "How is her +head?" he continued, asking the usual question, to allow us to recover +from our embarrassment.</p> + +<p>"About west, sir," replied Langley.</p> + +<p>"Well, as the wind freshens a little and is getting rather to the +nor'ard, you'd better give your larboard braces a pull or two, and +then put your course rather north of west to hit the Pass."</p> + +<p>"Ay ay, sir," said the third mate. "For'ard, there, come aft here, and +round in on the larboard braces. Keep her up, Jack, about west +nor'west."</p> + +<p>After the crew had complied with the orders of the officer they +retired forward, and we of the quarter-deck seated ourselves on the +booby-hatch.</p> + +<p>"We were talking about you when you came on deck, sir," said I, after +a short silence.</p> + +<p>"Ah! indeed," replied the mate smiling.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Langley, "we thought it was rather odd you hadn't been on +deck lately, to see whether we boys were not running away with the +ship in your watch. It has been deuced lonesome these dark blowy +nights along back. If you had been on deck to spin us a yarn it would +have been capital."</p> + +<p>"Boys," said the mate, taking out his cigar-case, "I've a great mind +to spin you a yarn now."</p> + +<p>"Oh! do, by all means," cried the third mate and the ship's cousin +together.</p> + +<p>We lighted our cigars; the mate took a few puffs to get fairly under +way, and then began.</p> +<br /><br /> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER IV.</h3> + +<h4><i>The Mate's Yarn.</i></h4> + +<p>"I've told you about a great many days' works, boys, but there is one +leaf in my log-book of which you as yet know nothing. It is now about +six years since I was in this part of the world, for the first and +only time. I was then twenty-two, and was second mate, Frank, of your +father's ship, the John Cabot. Old Captain Hopkin's was master, and +our present skipper was mate. One fine July afternoon we let go our +anchor alongside of the Castle of San Severino, in Matanzas harbor. A +few days after our arrival I was in a billiard-room ashore, quietly +reading a newspaper, when one of the losing players, a Spaniard of a +most peculiarly unpleasant physiognomy, turned suddenly around with an +oath, and declared the rustling of the paper disturbed him. As several +gentlemen were reading in different parts of the room I did not +appropriate the remark to myself, though I thought he had intended it +for me. I paid no attention to him, however, until, just as I was +turning the sheet inside out, the Spaniard, irritated by another +stroke of ill luck, advanced to me, and demanded that I should either +lay the newspaper aside or quit the room. I very promptly declined to +do either, when he snatched the paper from my hands, and instantly +drew his sword. I was unarmed, with the exception of a good sized +whalebone cane, but my anger was so great that I at once sprung at the +scamp, who at the instant made a pass at me. I warded the thrust as +well as I could, but did not avoid getting nicely pricked in the left +shoulder; but, before my antagonist could recover himself, I gave him +such a wipe with my cane on his sword-arm that his wrist snapped, and +his sword dropped to the ground. Enraged at the sight of my own blood, +which now covered my clothes in front, I was not satisfied with this, +but applying my foot to his counter, two or three vigorous kicks +sufficed to send him sprawling into the street. Captain Hopkins +arrived just as the fracas was over, and instantly sent for a surgeon, +and in the meantime I received the congratulations of all present on +my victory. I learned that my man was a certain Don Carlos Alvarez, a +broken down hidalgo, who had formerly been the master of a piratical +schooner, at the time when Matanzas was the head-quarters of pirates, +before Commodore Porter in the Enterprise broke up the haunt. When the +surgeon arrived he pronounced my wound very slight, and a slip of +sticking-plaster and my arm in a sling was thought to be all that was +necessary. After Captain Hopkins and myself got on board that night, +he told me a story, the repetition of which may somewhat surprise you, +Frank. Do you remember of ever hearing that a sister of your father +married a Cubanos merchant, some thirty odd years ago?"</p> + +<p>"I remember hearing of it when a child," I replied, "and father in his +last letter says that I have a cousin now in the nunnery at Matanzas. +I suppose she is a daughter of that sister."</p> + +<p>"You are right," resumed the mate, sighing slightly. "Your grandfather +had only two children. When your father was but a small boy, the whole +family spent the winter in Havana, to recruit your grandmother's +health, while your grandfather collected some debts which were due +him. While there, a young Creole merchant, heavily concerned in the +slave-trade, became deeply enamored with your aunt, and solicited her +hand. The young lady herself was nothing loth, but the elders disliked +and opposed the match; the consequence was an elopement and private +marriage, at which your grandfather was so exceedingly incensed that +he disowned his daugh<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span>ter, and never afterward held any +communication with her. Your aunt had two children, and died some +fifteen years ago. Your father shortly after received this +intelligence by means of a letter from the son, and the correspondence +thus begun was continued in a very friendly manner. Señor +Garcia, your uncle by marriage, became concerned, in a private way, +like many other Cubanos merchants, in fitting out piratical craft, and +one of his confidential captains was this same Alvarez whom I so +summarily ejected from the billiard-room. Garcia died in 1830, leaving +a large property to his children, and consigning the guardianship of +the younger, a girl, to his friend Don Carlos Alvarez. The will +provided that in case she should marry any person, but an American, +without her guardian's consent, her fortune should revert to her +guardian; and in the choice of an American husband her brother's +wishes were not to be contravened. The reservation in favor of +Americans was made at the entreaty of the brother, who urged the +memory of his mother as an inducement. Now it so turned out that Don +Carlos, though forty years old, and as ugly as a sculpin, became +enamored with the beauty and fortune of his ward, and, hoping to win +her, kept her rigidly secluded from the society of every gentleman, +but especially that of the American residents. Pedro Garcia, the +brother, whom Captain Hopkins represented to be a fine, manly fellow, +was, however, much opposed to such a plan, and ardently desired that +his sister should marry an American, being convinced that this was the +only way for her to get a husband and save her fortune. 'If,' said +Captain Hopkins, in conclusion, 'some smart young Yankee could carry +the girl off, it would be no bad speculation. Ben, you had better try +yourself, you couldn't please Mr. Byrne better.'</p> + +<p>"'Much obliged,' I replied, 'but Yankee girls suit my taste tolerably +well, much better than pirates' daughters, and I hope that I can +please my owner well enough by doing my duty aboard ship.'</p> + +<p>"'Pshaw! she is not a pirate's daughter exactly; she's Mr. Byrne's +niece.'</p> + +<p>"'For all that,' I answered, 'I should expect to find my throat cut +some fine morning.'</p> + +<p>"'Well, well,' said the old skipper, 'I only wish that I was a young +man, for the girl is said to be as handsome as a mermaid, and as for +money, I s'pose she's worth devilish nigh upon two hundred thousand +dollars.'</p> + +<p>"The next day but one was Sunday, so after dressing myself in my +go-ashore toggery, I went with the skipper to take another stroll in +the city. We dined at a <i>café</i>, and then hearing the cathedral +bells tolling for vespers, I concluded to leave the skipper to smoke +and snooze alone, and go and hear the performances. It was rather a +warm walk up the hill, and, upon arriving at the cathedral, I stopped +awhile in the cool airy porch to rest, brush the dust from my boots, +arrange my hair and neckcloth, and adjust my wounded arm in its sling +in the most interesting manner. Just as I had finished these nice +little preliminaries, a volante drove up to the door, which contained, +why, to be sure, only a woman, but yet the loveliest woman I have +ever seen in any part of the world. Yes, Bill, your little dancer at +Valetta ought not to be thought of the same day.</p> + +<p>"Well, boys, I fell in love incontinently at first sight, and was +taken all aback, but inspired by a stiff glass of eau-de-vie which I +had taken with my pineapple after dinner, I forged alongside, before +the negro postillion, cased to his hips in jack-boots, could dismount, +and offered my hand to assist the lady to alight from the carriage. +She at first gave me a haughty stare, but finally putting one of the +two fairest hands in the world into my brown paw, she reached terra +firma safely.</p> + +<p>"'Thank you, señor,' said she, with a low courtesy, after I had +led her into the church.</p> + +<p>"'Entirely welcome, ma'am,' I replied, as my mother had taught me to +do upon like occasions, 'and the more welcome, as I perceive you speak +English so fluently, that you must be either an English woman or my +own countrywoman.'</p> + +<p>"'I am a Cubanos, señor,' said the lady, with a smile, 'but my +mother was an American, and I learned the language in the +nursery—but, señor, again I thank you for your gallantry, +and so <i>adios</i>.' She dipped her finger in the holy-water vase, crossed +herself, and then looking at me from under her dark fringed eyelids +with a most bewildering glance, and a smile which displayed two +dazzling rows of pearls between her ruby lips, she glided into the +church.</p> + +<p>"'Who is your mistress?' cried I, turning to the negro postillion, but +that sable worthy could not understand my question. The most +expressive pantomimes were as unavailable as words, and so in despair +I turned again into the porch, and stood in a reverie. I was clearly a +fathom deep in love, and as my extreme height is but five feet eleven +and a half, that is equivalent to saying that I was over head and ears +in love with the strange lady. I began to talk to myself. 'By Venus!' +said I, aloud, 'but she is an angel, regular built, and if I only +could find out her name and—'</p> + +<p>"A smothered laugh behind me reminded me that so public a place was +hardly appropriate for soliloquizing about angels. I turned in some +vexation and encountered the laughing glance of a well dressed young +man, apparently about twenty-five, who had probably been edified by my +unconscious enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>"'You are mistaken, señor,' said he in English, and looking +quizzical; 'those images in the niches are said to represent saints +and not angels, though I must own they are admirably calculated to +deceive strangers. As you said you wished to know their names, I will +tell them to you—that is San Pablo, and that is San Pedro, and +that is—'</p> + +<p>"'You are kind, sir,' said I, interrupting him angrily, 'but I've +heard of the twelve apostles before.'</p> + +<p>"'I want to know, as your countrymen say,' retorted the stranger, with +a good-natured mocking laugh.</p> + +<p>"I fired up on this. 'Señor,' said I, 'if my countrymen are not +so polished in their speech as the Castilians and their descendants, +they never insult<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> strangers needlessly. I have been insulted +once before in your city within a few days, and allow me to add for +your consideration, that the rascal got well kicked—'</p> + +<p>"'You are very kind to give me such fair warning,' replied the +stranger, bowing, 'but allow me to ask whether the name of this person +you punished is Alvarez?'</p> + +<p>"'I have heard so, and if he is a connection of yours I am—'</p> + +<p>"'Stay, señor, don't get into a passion; believe me, that I +thank you most heartily for the good service you performed on the +occasion to which we allude. I only wish that I can be of use to you +in return.'</p> + +<p>"'Well, then, señor,' I replied, much mollified, and intent +upon finding out my fair incognito, 'a lady just now passed through +into the church, and if you can only tell me who she is, I will +promise to flog you all the bullies in Cuba.'</p> + +<p>"'Ah, that would be a long job, dear señor, but if you will +accept my arm into the church, and point out the angel who has +attracted your notice, I will tell you her name and the part of heaven +in which she resides. She was very beautiful I suppose?'</p> + +<p>"'Oh! exquisitely beautiful.'</p> + +<p>"'Come, then, I am dying to find out which of our Matanzas belles has +had the good fortune to fascinate you—this way—do you use +the holy water?'</p> + +<p>"'In we went and found the organ piping like a northeast snow squall, +and the whole assembly on their knees. The stranger and myself +ensconced ourselves near a large pillar, and I stood by to keep a +bright look out for the lady.</p> + +<p>"At last I discovered her among a group of other women, kneeling at +the foot of an opposite pillar.</p> + +<p>"'There she is,' I whispered to my companion, who had knelt upon his +pocket-handkerchief.</p> + +<p>"'Well, in a moment,' he replied. 'I'm in the middle of a crooked +Latin prayer just now, and have to tell you so in a parenthesis.'</p> + +<p>"A turn came to the ceremonies, and all hands arose.</p> + +<p>"'<i>Sæcula sæculorum</i>,' muttered my companion, rising, +'Amen! now where's your lady?'</p> + +<p>"'Yonder, by the pillar,' I whispered, in a fit of ecstasy, for my +beautiful unknown in rising had recognized me, and given me another +thrilling glance from her dark eyes.</p> + +<p>"'But there are a score of pillars all around us,' urged the stranger, +'point her out, señor.'</p> + +<p>"'Well, then,' said I, extending my arm, 'there she is; you can't see +her face to be sure, but there can be only one such form in the world. +Isn't it splendid?'</p> + +<p>"'There are so many ladies by the pillar that I cannot tell to a +certainty which one you mean,' whispered my would-be informant. +Stooping and glancing along my arm with the precision of a Kentucky +rifleman, I brought my finger to bear directly upon the head of the +unknown, who, as the devil would have it, at this critical juncture +turned her head and encountered the deadly aim which we were taking +at her.</p> + +<p>"'That's she,' said I, dropping my arm, which had been sticking out +like a pump brake, 'that's she that just now turned about and blushed +so like the deuce—do you know her?'</p> + +<p>"'Yes, but I can't tell you here,' was the laconic reply of my +companion; 'come, let's go. You are sure that is the lady,' he +continued, when we had gained the street.</p> + +<p>"'Sure! most certainly; can there be any mistake about that face; +besides, didn't you notice how she blushed when she recognized me?'</p> + +<p>"'Maybe,' suggested my new friend, 'she blushed to see me.'</p> + +<p>"'Well,' said I, 'I don't know to be sure, but I think that the +emotion was on my account; but don't keep me in suspense any longer, +tell me who she is; can I get acquainted with her?'</p> + +<p>"'Softly, softly, my friend, one question at a time. Step aboard my +volante, and as we drive down the street I'll give you the information +you so much desire. Will you get in?'</p> + +<p>"I climbed aboard without hesitation, and was followed by my strange +friend; the postillion whipped up and we were soon under weigh.</p> + +<p>"'Now,' resumed my companion, 'in reply to your first and oft-repeated +inquiry, I have the honor to inform you that the lady is my only +sister. As to your second question—I beg you won't get +out—sit still, my dear sir, I will drive you to the +<i>café</i>—your second question I cannot so well answer. It +would seem that my sister herself is nothing loth—sit easy, sir, +the carriage is perfectly safe—but unfortunately it happens that +the gentleman who has the control of her actions, her guardian, +dislikes Americans extremely; and I have reason to believe that he has +taken a particularly strong antipathy to you. Indeed, I have heard him +swear that he'll cut your throat—pardon me, Mr. Stewart, for the +expression, it is not my own.'</p> + +<p>"Surprise overcame my confusion. 'Señor,' cried I, interrupting +him, 'it seems you know my name, and—'</p> + +<p>"'Certainly I do—Mr. Benjamin Stewart, of the ship John Cabot.'</p> + +<p>"'Señor,' I cried, half angrily, 'since you know my address so +well, will you not be so kind as to favor me with yours?'</p> + +<p>"'Mine! oh yes, with pleasure, though I now recollect that I have +omitted to state my sister's name—hers first, if you please; it +is Donna Clara Garcia.'</p> + +<p>"'And yours is Pedro Garcia.'</p> + +<p>"'Exactly, with a <i>Don</i> before it, which my poor father left me. You +perceive, Mr. Stewart, by what means I knew you after your warning +about the kicking, eh? I suspected it was yourself, when I saw an +American gentleman with his arm in a sling, and so I made bold to +accost you in the midst of your rhapsody about angels—'</p> + +<p>"'Ah! Don Pedro,' I stammered in confusion, when I recalled the +ludicrous scene, 'how foolish I must appear to you.'<span class='pagenum'><a +name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span></p> + +<p>"'For what, señor—for thinking my sister handsome? You do +my taste injustice. I think so myself.'</p> + +<p>"We rode on in silence a few minutes. I recalled all that Captain +Hopkins had told me about my new acquaintance, his sister, and her +guardian. I took heart of grace, and determined to know more of the +beautiful creature whom I had now identified; but when I turned toward +my companion, his stern expression, so different from the one his +features had hitherto borne, almost disheartened me.</p> + +<p>"'Don Pedro,' said I, with hesitation, 'may I ask if you are angry at +the trifling manner with which I have spoken of your sister before I +knew her to be such?'</p> + +<p>"'Is it necessary for me to assure you to the contrary?' he asked, +with a smile again lighting up his face.</p> + +<p>"'But if,' I continued, 'I should say that the admiration I have +manifested is sincere, that even in the short time I have seen her +to-day, I have been deeply interested, and that I ardently desire her +acquaintance.'</p> + +<p>"'Why, señor, in that case, I should reply, that my sister is +very highly honored by your favorable notice, and that I should do my +possible to make you know each other better. If,' he continued, 'the +case you have supposed be the fact, I think I can manage this matter, +her old janitor to the contrary notwithstanding.'</p> + +<p>"'I do say, then,' I replied, with enthusiasm, 'that the sight of +Donna Clara has excited emotions in my bosom I have never felt before. +I shall be the happiest man in the world to have the privilege of +knowing her.'</p> + +<p>"'Attend, then. Don Carlos is absent at Havana, and will probably +remain so for a few days, until his wrist gets well; in the meantime, +his sister acts as duenna over Donna Clara. She is quite a nice old +lady, however, and allows my sister far greater liberty in her +brother's absence than ordinarily, as, for instance, to-day. I will +get her to permit Clara to spend a few days at my villa down the +bay—Alvarez himself would not dare to refuse this request, +if—' my companion stopped short, and his brow clouded. 'But I +forget the best of the matter,' he continued a moment after, in a +lively tone. 'Señor, you will dine with me to-morrow, and spend +a day or two with me. I keep bachelor's hall, but I have an excellent +cook, and some of the oldest wine in Cuba. Beside, you will see my +sister. Will you honor me, Mr. Stewart?'</p> + +<p>"I was transported, 'Senior,' I cried, 'if Capt. Hopkins—'</p> + +<p>"'Oh! a fig for Hopkins,' shouted my volatile friend, 'he shall dine +with me too. He is an ancient of mine—he dare not refuse to let +you go. But there is the fine old sinner himself in the verandah of +the <i>café</i>; now we can ask him.'</p> + +<p>"We rattled up to the door, to the infinite astonishment of my worthy +skipper, who was greatly surprised to see Don Pedro and his second +mate on such excellent terms, and all without his intervention.</p> + +<p>"'Hillo!' he shouted, 'how came you two sailing in company?'</p> + +<p>"The worthy old seaman was briefly informed of my afternoon's +adventures over a bowl of iced sangaree; and when Pedro made his +proposition about the morrow's dinner, and a little extra liberty for +me, the reply was very satisfactory.</p> + +<p>"'Sartainly, sartainly,' said he, 'and I hope good will come of it.'</p> + +<p>"'Well, then,' said Pedro, 'as this matter is settled, I must take my +leave. I shall expect you early, gentlemen. <i>Adieu</i>'—and, with a +graceful bow, my new friend entered his carriage, and was driven away.</p> + +<p>"'Now,' said the skipper, after our boat's crew had cleared their +craft from the crowd at the stairs, 'now, Stewart, what do you think +of the pirate's daughter, my boy? D'ye see, I never happened to sight +her, though her brother and I have been fast friends these five years. +Is she so handsome, Ben.'</p> + +<p>"'Full as good-looking as the figure-head of the Cleopatra,' replied +I.</p> + +<p>"'Egad! you don't say so!' exclaimed the skipper, who thought that the +aforesaid graven image on the cut-water of his old ship, far excelled +the Venus de Medici in beauty of feature and form. 'She must be +almighty beautiful; and then, my son, she is as rich as the Rajah of +Rangoon, who owns a diamond as big as our viol-block. Did you fall in +love pretty bad, Ben?'</p> + +<p>"'Considerable,' I replied, grinning at the old gentleman's +simplicity.</p> + +<p>"'By the laws, then, if you don't cut out that sweet little craft from +under that old pirate's guns, you're no seaman, that's a fact! Egad! I +should like to do it, and wouldn't ask only one kiss for salvage, and +you'll be for having the whole concern.'</p> + +<p>"The next morning I packed my portmanteau and dressed myself with +unusual care. About ten the skipper and myself got aboard the gig, and +pushed off for Don Pedro's villa, which lay on the eastern shore of +the bay, two miles from the city, and nearly opposite the barracks and +hospital.</p> + +<p>"We landed at a little pier at the foot of the garden; the house, +embowered in a grove of orange and magnolia trees, was close at hand. +Don Pedro met us on the verandah.</p> + +<p>"'Welcome! welcome!' he cried; 'how do you like the appearance of my +bachelor's hall? But come, let's go in; my sister has arrived, and +knows that I expect Captain Hopkins and Mr. Stewart, of the Cabot, +and,' he added, with a significant smile, 'nothing more, though she +has been very curious to find who the gentlemen is with whom I entered +the church yesterday.'</p> + +<p>"We entered the drawing-room, and there, sure enough, was my angel of +the cathedral-porch. Her eye fell upon me as I passed the doorway, +and, by the half start and blush, I saw that I was plainly recognized, +and with pleasure. We were formally presented by Don Pedro, and, after +the old skipper had been flattered into an ecstasy of mingled +admira<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span>tion and self-complacency, Donna Clara turned again to +me.</p> + +<p>"'I do not know that I ought to have bid you welcome, Mr. Stewart,' +she said, with an arch smile, 'you treated my poor guardian +shamefully, I am told.'</p> + +<p>"'Yes,' cried Pedro, 'and just to let you know what a truculent person +he is, know that yesterday he more than insinuated that he would serve +me in the same way that he did Don Carlos.'"</p> + +<p>"Land ho!" sung out the man on the look-out.</p> + +<p>"Where away?" shouted Langley, walking forward.</p> + +<p>"Pretty near ahead, sir; perhaps a point on our starboard bow, sir."</p> + +<p>"Land ho!' bellowed the man at the wheel, "just abeam, sir, to +loo-ard."</p> + +<p>"What had I better do, sir?" inquired Langley, of the mate.</p> + +<p>"I was looking at the chart just at night, and I should reckon the +land ahead might be Mayaguana, and the Little Caycos under our lee."</p> + +<p>"Head her about west, then; but we shall have the lead going soon."</p> + +<p>We filled away before the wind, which had now veered again to the +eastward, and in a few moments were dashing bravely on, sailing right +up the moon's wake toward the Pass, the land lying on each side of us +like blue clouds resting on the horizon. We settled ourselves again on +the hatch, lighted fresh cigars, and the mate resumed his broken yarn.</p> + +<p>"It is getting late, boys, almost six bells, and I must cut my story a +little short. I will pass over the dinner, the invitation to stay +longer, Captain Hopkins' consent, the undisguised pleasure and the +repressed delight of Clara at this arrangement, and I will pass over +the next two days, only saying that the memory of them haunts me yet; +and that though at the time they seemed short enough, yet when I look +back upon them, it is hard to realize they were not months instead of +days, so much of heart experience did I acquire in the time. I found +Clara to be every thing which the most exacting wife-hunter could +wish—beautiful as a dream. Believe me, boys, I do not now speak +with the enthusiasm of a lover, but such beauty is seldom seen on the +earth. Added to this, she was intellectual, refined, accomplished, and +highly educated. I went back four years in life, and with all the +enthusiasm of a college student I raved of poetry and romance. We read +German together, and we talked of love in French; and the musical +tongue of Italy, it seemed to me, befitted her mouth better than her +own sonorous native language, and when in conversation she would look +me one of those dreamy glances which had at the first set my heart in +agitation, it perfectly bewildered me. You needn't smile, Langley, +(poor Bill's face was guilty of no such distortion,) but if your +little <i>danseuse</i> should practice for years, she couldn't attain to +the delicious glance which my handsome creole girl can give you. The +heavily-fringed eyelid is just raised, so that you can look as if for +an interminable distance into the beautiful orb beneath, and at the +end of the vista, see the fiery soul which lies so far from the +voluptuous exterior.</p> + +<p>"But, though I was madly in love, I had not yet dared with my lips to +say so to the lady, whatever my eyes might have revealed; but Pedro +was my confident, and encouraged me to hope.</p> + +<p>"The third day of my sojourn on shore was spent in a visit to Don +Pedro's plantation in the vale, and it was dark when we arrived home. +After the light refreshment which constitutes the evening meal of +Cuba, Don Pedro pleaded business, and left the apartment—and for +the first time that day I was alone with Clara.</p> + +<p>"'Now,' thought I, 'now or never.'</p> + +<p>"If upon the impulse of the moment a man proceeds to make love, he +generally does it up ship-shape; but if he, with malice aforethought, +lays deliberate plans, he finds it the most awkward traverse to work +in the world to follow them—but I did not know this. I sat by +the table, and in my embarrassment kept pushing the solitary taper +farther and farther from me, until at last over it went, and was +extinguished upon the floor.</p> + +<p>"'I beg ten thousand pardons!' cried I apologizing.</p> + +<p>"'<i>N'importe</i>,' replied Clara, 'there is a fine moon, which will give +us light enough.'</p> + +<p>"She rose and drew the curtain of the large bow-window, so common in +the West Indian houses, and the rich moonlight, now unvexed by the +dull glare of the taper, flowed into the apartment, bathing every +object it touched with silvery radiance. Clara sat in the window, in +the full glow of the light, leaning forward toward the open air, and +I, with a beating heart, gazed upon her superb beauty. Shall I ever +forget it? Her head leaned upon a hand and arm which Venus herself +might envy; the jetty curls which shaded her face fell in graceful +profusion, Madonna-like, upon shoulders faultless in shape, and white +as that crest of foam on yonder sea. Her face was the Spanish oval, +with a low, broad feminine forehead, eyebrows exquisitely penciled, +and arching over eyes that I shall not attempt to describe. Her lovely +bosom, half exposed as she leaned over, reminded me, as it heaved +against the chemiset, of the bows of a beautiful ship, rising and +sinking with the swell of the sea, now high in sight, and anon buried +in a cloud of snowy spray. One hand, buried in curls, I have said, +supported her head, the other, by her side, grasped the folds of her +robe, beneath which peeped out a tiny foot in a way that was rather +dangerous to my sane state of mind to observe.</p> + +<p>"We had sat a few moments in silence, when Clara suddenly spoke.</p> + +<p>"'Come hither, señor,' said she, 'look out upon this beautiful +landscape, and tell me whether in your boasted land there can be found +one as lovely. Have you such a sky, such a moon, such waters, and +graceful trees, such blue mountains—and, hark! have you such +music?'</p> + +<p>"I approached to her side and looked out. The band at the barracks had +just begun their nightly serenade, and the music traveled across the +bay to strike upon our ears so softly, that it sounded like strains +from fairy land.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span></p> + +<p>"'They are playing an ancient march of the days of Ferdinand and +Isabel,' whispered Clara; 'could you not guess its stately measures +were pure old Castilian? Now mark the change—that is a Moorish +serenade; is it not like the fitful breathings of an Eolian harp?'</p> + +<p>"The music ceased, but it died in cadences so soft that I stood with +lips apart, half in doubt whether the spirit-sound I yet heard were +the effect of imagination or not. Reluctantly I was compelled to +believe myself deceived, and then turned to look upon the landscape. I +never remember of seeing a lovelier night. It was now nine o'clock, +and the sounds of business were hushed on the harbor, but boats, +filled with gay revelers, glided ever the sparkling surface of the +water, whose laugh and song added interest and life to the scene. +Nearly opposite to us, upon the other side of the bay, were the +extensive barracks, hospital, and the long line of the Marino, their +white stuccoed walls glowing in the moonlight. On our left the +beautiful city rose like an amphitheatre around the head of the bay; +the hum of the populace, and the rumbling of wheels sounding faintly +in the distance. Behind the town the blue conical peaks of the +mountains melted into the sky. On our right was the roadstead and open +sea, the moon's wake thereon glittering like a street in heaven, and +reaching far away to other lands. All around us grew a wilderness of +palm, orange, cocoa, and magnolia trees, vocal with the thousand +strange noises of a tropical night. Directly below us, but a cable +length from the overhanging palms which fringed the shore, lay a heavy +English corvette in the deep shade of the land; but the arms of the +sentry on her forecastle glinted in the moonbeams as he paced his +lonely watch, and sung out, as the bell struck twice, his accustomed +long-drawn cry of 'All's well!' Just beyond her, in saucy propinquity, +lay a slaver, bound for the coast of Africa—a beautiful, +graceful craft. Still farther out the crew of a clumsy French brig +were chanting the evening hymn to the Virgin. Ships from every +civilized country lay anchored, in picturesque groups, in all +directions, and far down, her tall white spars standing in bold and +graceful relief against the dark, gray walls of San Severino, I +recognized my own beautiful craft, sitting like a swan in the water; +and still farther, in the deep water of the roadstead, lay an American +line-of-battle ship, her lofty sides flashing brightly in the +moonlight, and her frowning batteries turned menacingly toward the old +castle, telling a plain bold tale of our country's power and glory, +and making my heart proud within me that I was an American sailor.</p> + +<p>"'Say,' again asked Clara, in a low, hushed voice, 'saw you ever aught +so lovely in your own land?'</p> + +<p>"To tell the truth, I had forgotten my sweet companion for a moment. +'I am sorry,' said I, taking her hand, 'very sorry, that you think the +United States so unenviable a place of residence. I hope, dear lady, +to persuade you to make it your home.'</p> + +<p>"The small hand I clasped trembled in mine.</p> + +<p>"'Señora,' said I, taking a long breath, and beginning a +little speech which I had composed for the occasion, while sitting at +the table pushing the candle-stick, 'Señora, I have your +brother's permission to address you. I am—a—sure, indeed, +convinced, that I love you—ahem—considerably. I have known +you, to be sure, but a few days, but, as I said before—at +least—at all events—I could be quite happy if you were my +wife—you know. Señora, and if you could—a—'</p> + +<p>"I had proceeded thus far swimmingly, except that a few of the words I +had previously selected seemed, when I came to pronounce them, as +extravagant, and so I had substituted others in their place, not so +liable to be censured for that fault; beside, a lapse of memory had +once or twice occasioned temporary delay and embarrassment; but I had +got along thus far, I say, as I presumed, exceedingly well, when, oh, +thunder! Donna Clara disengaged her hand, curtseyed deeply, bade me +good-night, and swept haughtily out of the room. Egad! I felt as if +roused out of my berth by a cold sea filling it full in the middle of +my watch below. 'Lord!' thought I, aloud, 'what can I have done? There +I was, making love according to the chart, and before I knew it, I'm +high and dry ashore. One thing is clear as a bell, she is a +regular-built coquette, and all her fine looks to me are nothing but +man-traps, decoys, and false lights. Yet how beautiful she is, how she +has deceived me, and how much I might have loved her. Shall I try +again? No, I'm d—d if I do! once is enough for me. Egad! I can +take a hint without being kicked. To-morrow I'll go aboard again, and +to work like a second mate as I am; that's decided. But—'</p> + +<p>"Absorbed in very disagreeable reflections, I sat by the window, +insensible to the charms without, which had before been so +fascinating, when I was suddenly aroused by the opening of the door. I +looked around, and saw Don Pedro. 'Where's Donna Clara?' he asked.</p> + +<p>"'Gone,' I replied, in an exceeding bad humor.</p> + +<p>"'What! so early? I made sure to find her here as usual.'</p> + +<p>"'Well,' said I, 'you perceive that you were mistaken, I +presume'—I was <i>very</i> cross.</p> + +<p>"'Why, señor, something has gone wrong; you appear chagrined.'</p> + +<p>"'Oh! no, sir; never was so good-natured in my life—ha! ha! +beautiful evening, Don Pedro! remarkably fine night! How pleasant the +moon shines, don't it?'</p> + +<p>"'Mr. Stewart,' said Don Pedro, gravely, 'I do not wish to press you, +but you will greatly oblige me by telling me what has passed between +yourself and Donna Clara this night?'</p> + +<p>"So, rather ashamed of my petulence, I recounted my essay at +love-making.</p> + +<p>"'Carramba!' ejaculated Don Pedro, 'how d—d foolish—in +her, I mean. She is a wayward girl, sir, but yet I think she loves +you. I tell you frankly that I ardently desire her to marry you; +pardon me, then, when I say, that if you love her, do not be +discouraged, but try again.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span></p> + +<p>"'I think not,' said I, decidedly, 'I go on board to-morrow.'</p> + +<p>"My usually lively and mercurial friend sighed heavily, and then +drawing a chair, sat down opposite me. 'Listen to me a moment, sir,' +said he. 'Cast aside your mortified pride, and answer me frankly. Do +you really love my sister? Would you wish to see her subjected to the +alternative, either to become the wife of Don Carlos Alvarez, or else +to be confined in a convent, perhaps be constrained or influenced to +take the hateful veil? You alone can save her from this dreadful +dilemma.'</p> + +<p>"My Yankee cautiousness was awakened, but I replied, 'I do love your +sister, sir, and would do any thing but marry a woman who does not +love me to save her from such a fate as you represent; but still, sir, +I cannot perceive how that I, till lately unknown to you, can have +such an influence over you and yours. Is not your own power sufficient +to prevent such undesirable results?'</p> + +<p>"I saw by the moonlight that my companion's eyes flashed with anger, +but he made a strong effort to control himself.</p> + +<p>"'I do not wonder,' he said, a moment after, 'that you are angry, Mr. +Stewart, after the conduct of my madcap sister, or indeed that you +deem it strange to find yourself of so much importance suddenly,' he +added, a little maliciously, 'but I will explain the last matter to +you, relying upon your honor. About two years ago, I accompanied +Alvarez to Havana, upon some business relative to Clara's estate. +While returning late one evening to our hotel, we heard in a retired +street the cries of a woman in distress. Midnight outrages were then +very common in the city, and usually the inhabitants, if they were not +themselves interested in the issue, paid very little attention to +calls for assistance, and Alvarez, upon my suggesting to him to go +with me to the aid of the lady making the outcry, advised me to +consult my own safety by keeping clear of the <i>fracas</i>, but when a +louder cry for help reached my ears, I could restrain myself no +longer, but started for the scene of action. I soon perceived a +carriage drawn up before a house which had been broken open. Two of +the professional bravos were forcing a lady into this carriage, whom, +by the light of the lanterns, I recognized to be an actress at the San +Carlos. A gentleman in a mask stood by, apparently the commander of +the expedition. I called to the ruffians to desist, but was hindered +from attacking them by the gentleman, who drew his sword and kept me +off, while the robbers forced the lady into the carriage and drove +rapidly away. My antagonist seemed also disposed to retreat, but I was +very angry and kept him engaged, until, growing angry in his turn, he +seriously prepared himself to fight. He was a very expert swordsman, +nevertheless in a few minutes I ran him through the body, and he +instantly fell and expired. At this juncture Don Carlos stepped up, +and when we removed the mask from the face of the corpse, I found to +my consternation that I had killed the Count ——, an +aid-de-camp of the captain-general, and a son of one of the most +powerful noblemen in the mother country. Horror-struck, we fled. The +next day the whole city resounded with the fame of the so-called +assassination. The government offered immense rewards for the +discovery of the murderer. Since that time I hold my life, fortune and +honor by the feeble tenure of Don Carlo's silence. His power over me +is very great. I distrust him much. Unknown to but very few, I have a +yacht lying at a little estate in a rocky nook at Point Yerikos, in +complete order to sail at any moment. On board of her is a large +amount of property in money and jewels, but still, alas! I should, in +case of flight, be forced to leave behind the greater part of my +patrimony, which is in real estate, which I dare not sell for fear of +exciting Alvarez' suspicion. I live on red-hot coals. Clara alone +detains me. It is true that she might fly with me, but she would leave +her large fortune behind in the hands of her devil of a guardian. Now, +with what knowledge you already have of my father's will, you can +easily guess the rest. You are no stranger to me. I know your history, +your family, your education, and, under the most felicitous +circumstances, would be proud and happy to call you brother. Now, +then, decide to try again. Clara shall not refuse you; she does not +wish to do so; on the contrary, she loves you; but some of her oddness +was in the ascendant to-night, and so it happened as it did. At any +rate I can no longer trifle with my own safety, and have no authority +or means to prevent Don Carlos from exercising unlimited power over my +sister's actions. Good-night, señor, you can strike the gong +when you wish for a servant and a light. I shall have your answer in +the morning.'</p> + +<p>"Don Pedro left the room in great agitation, and soon after I retired +to bed. I lay a long time thinking over the events and revelations of +the evening; love and pride alternately held the mastery of my +determinations. I loved Clara well and truly, and sympathized with her +and her brother in their unfortunate situation, but I had been +virtually refused once, and my pride revolted from accepting the hand +thus forced into mine by the misfortunes of its owner. At last, as the +clock struck three, I fell asleep, still undecided. The sun had first +risen in the morning when I started from an uneasy slumber. I dressed +myself, passed through my window to the verandah, and down to the +water, where I bathed, and returning through the garden entered an +arbor and stretched myself on a settee, the better to collect my +thoughts.</p> + +<p>"I had been here but a very short time when I heard voices approaching +me, and upon their drawing nearer, I perceived Don Pedro and his +sister engaged in earnest conversation. It was now too late to +retreat, for they were approaching me by the only way I could effect +it, and I was upon the point of going forth to meet them, when they +paused in front of the arbor, and I heard Clara pronounce my name so +musically, that I hope you will not think I did wrong, when told that +I drew back, determined to listen, and thereby to obtain a hint +whereupon to act. Clara leaned upon her brother's arm, who had +evidently been expostulating with her, for his voice was<span class='pagenum'><a +name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> earnest and reproachful, and +Clara's eyes looked as if she had been crying.</p> + +<p>"'And yet you say,' continued Pedro, 'that you can love this +gentleman.'</p> + +<p>"'Can love him!' cried Clara passionately, 'oh! Pedro, if you only +knew how I do love him!'</p> + +<p>"'Why, then, in the name of all that is consistent, did you act so +strangely last night? In your situation an offer from any American +gentleman deserved consideration, to say the least; but Mr. Stewart, a +friend and <i>protégé</i> of our uncle's, a refined, educated +man, a man whom you say you love. Clara, I wonder at you! What could +have been the reason?'</p> + +<p>"'This, Pedro,' said Clara, looking at the toe of her slipper, which +was drawing figures in the gravel-walk. 'You must know that I did it +to punish him for making love so awkwardly. Now, instead of going down +on his knees, as the saints know I could have done to him, the +cold-blooded fellow went on as frigidly as if he had been buying a +negro, and that too with a moon shining over him which should have +crazed him, and talking to a girl whose heart was full of fiery love +for him. Pedro, my heart was chilled, and so, to punish him, I—'</p> + +<p>"'Diablo!' swore Pedro, dropping his sister's arm, and striding off in +a great rage.</p> + +<p>"'Oh! stay, brother!' sobbed poor Clara; 'indeed, I could not help it. +Oh, dear!' she continued, as Pedro vanished from her sight, 'now +<i>he's</i> angry. What have I done?' She buried her face in her hands, +entered the arbor, threw herself on the settee, and began sobbing with +convulsive grief. Here was a situation for an unsophisticated youth +like myself. Egad! my heart bounced about in my breast like a shot +adrift in the cook's biggest copper. I approached the lady softly, +and, grown wiser by experience, knelt before I took her hand. She +started, screamed faintly, and endeavored to escape.</p> + +<p>"'Stay, stay, dearest Clara!' cried I, detaining her, 'I should not +dare to again address you after the repulse of last night, had I not +just now been an inadvertent, but delighted listener to your own sweet +confession that you loved me. Let me say in return that I love you as +wildly, tenderly, passionately, as if I, like you, had been born under +a southern sun; that I cannot be happy without you. Forgive me for +last night. It was not that my heart was cold, but I was fearful that +unless I constrained myself I should be wild and extravagant. Dearest +Clara, will you say to me that which you just now told Pedro?'</p> + +<p>"Her head sunk upon my shoulder. 'Señor,' she murmured, 'I do +love you, and with my whole heart.'</p> + +<p>"'And will be my wife?' I asked.</p> + +<p>"'Whenever you please.'"</p> + +<p>Here the mate paused, and gave several very energetic puffs, and +lighted a new cigar.</p> + +<p>"I clasped the dear girl to my heart," he resumed, "and kissed her +cheeks, her lips and eyes, a thousand times, and was just beginning on +the eleventh hundred, when, lo, there stood mine host in the doorway, +evidently very much amused, and, considering that it was his sister +with whom these liberties had been taken, extremely satisfied.</p> + +<p>"I came immediately to the conclusion, in my own mind, to defer any +farther labial demonstrations, and felt rather foolish; but Clara +arranged her dress and looked defiance.</p> + +<p>"'I beg ten thousand pardons,' said Don Pedro, entering, hat in hand, +and bowing low, 'but really the scene was so exquisitely fine, so much +to my taste, that I could not forbear looking on awhile. Clara, dear, +has Mr. Stewart discovered the way to make love <i>à la mode</i>? I +understood you to say he did it oddly and coldly; but, by Venus! I +think he does it in the most natural manner possible, and with some +warmth and vigor, or else I'm no judge of kissing—and I make +some pretensions to being a connoisseur.'</p> + +<p>"'And an amateur also,' retorted Clara.</p> + +<p>"'I won't deny the soft impeachment—but, my friends, breakfast +is waiting for you, if Mr. Stewart can bring his appetite to relish +coffee after sipping nectar from my sweet sister's lips.'</p> + +<p>"We made a very happy trio that morning around the well-spread board +of my friend Pedro. Just as we were rising, however, a servant brought +in a note for his master. Don Pedro's brow darkened as he read it. 'It +is from Carlos,' said he, folding it up, 'and informs me that he will +be at home to-night, and will call for you, Clara—for it seems +he has been informed of your visit here, and is determined that it +shall be as short as possible. We must work quick then.'</p> + +<p>"'But what is to be done?' I inquired.</p> + +<p>"'You need do nothing at present but keep Clara company, while I go to +town to see Capt. Hopkins. We will arrange some plan.'</p> + +<p>"Clara and I passed the morning as you may imagine; it seemed but a +few minutes from Pedro's departure for the city, till his return in +company with my skipper.</p> + +<p>"'Ben,' shouted the latter, seizing my hand, 'may I be d—d but +you're a jewel—begging your pardon, Donna Clara, for swearing in +your presence, which I did not notice before.'</p> + +<p>"When Clara retired to dress for dinner, Capt. Hopkins divulged to me +the plans which had been formed by him and Pedro. 'D'ye see, Ben, my +child, Don Pedro and I have arranged the matter in A No. 1 style; and +if we can only work the traverse, it'll be magnificent—and I +don't very well see why we can't. To day is Thursday, you know. Well, +I shall hoist my last box of sugar aboard to-morrow night, and, after +dark, Don Pedro is going to run a boat alongside with his plunder and +valuables. Your sweetheart must go home, it appears, but before she +goes you must make an arrangement with her to be at a certain window +of Alvarez' house, Pedro will tell her which, at twelve o'clock +Saturday night. You and her brother will be under it ready to receive +her; and when you have got the lady, you will bring her aboard the +ship, which shall be ready to cut and run, I tell you; up killock, +sheet home, and I'll defy all the cutters in Havana to overhaul us +with an<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> hour's start! Those chaps in Stockholm are almighty +particular about your health, if your papers show that you left Havana +after the first of June, and so, to pull the wool over their eyes, and +save myself a long quarantine, I was intending to stop at Boston and +get a new clearance, so it'll be no trouble at all to set you all +ashore, for Don Pedro and his sister will not wish to go to Sweden; +and my second mate, I suppose, will want to get married and leave me. +Now, Ben, my boy, that's what I call a XX plan; no scratch brand about +that; superfine, and no mistake, and entitled to debenture.'</p> + +<p>"'Excellent, indeed!' replied I.</p> + +<p>"'Well, after dinner, we'll give you time to tell your girl all about +it, and to kiss her once or twice; but you must bear a hand about it, +now I tell you, because we must be out of that bloody pirate's way +when he comes, and there's a sight of work to do aboard.'</p> + +<p>"After dinner the whole matter was again talked over and approved by +all, and then the skipper and myself took our leave and went aboard.</p> + +<p>"As Captain Hopkins had arranged, we finished our freight on Friday +evening, and in the night Pedro came off to us with a boat-load of +baggage, pictures, heirlooms, and money. The next day we cleared at +the custom-house, and in the afternoon hove short on our anchor, +loosed our sails, and made every preparation for putting to sea in a +hurry. A lieutenant from the castle came off with our blacks after +dark, and while he was drinking a glass of wine in the cabin, Don +Pedro, most unfortunately, came on board. I heard his voice and +started to intercept him; but he met me in the companion, and seizing +me by the hand, exclaimed, 'Well, Stewart, you are all ready to cut +and run, I see; by this time to-morrow I hope we will be far beyond +reach—'</p> + +<p>"'Hush! hush! for God's sake!' I whispered, pointing to the companion; +'there is an officer from the castle below.'</p> + +<p>"We walked to the sky-light and looked down.</p> + +<p>"'Diablo!' muttered Pedro, with a start, 'do you think he heard me?'</p> + +<p>"'No, I think not; the skipper and he did not cease conversation. The +steward is so glad to get back amongst his crockery, that he was +kicking up a devil of a row in the pantry; that may have drowned your +voice.'</p> + +<p>"'If he did hear me I'm ruined. He is Don Sebastian Alvarez, a nephew +of Carlos', and dependent on him; he has watched me closely for three +months. What is his errand?'</p> + +<p>"'He brought off our cook and steward, who have been confined in the +castle.'</p> + +<p>"'Well, I dare say all is right; he is a lieutenant in the castle, and +there is nothing strange in his being here on such business; but I'll +keep out of sight.'</p> + +<p>"The officer soon came on deck, shook hands with Captain Hopkins, +wished him a pleasant voyage, and then went down into his boat, +ordering the men to pull for the castle.</p> + +<p>"'All right, I trust,' cried Pedro, emerging from the round-house, +'if he had started for the city, it would have been suspicious.'</p> + +<p>"The skipper called the crew, who were principally Yankees, upon the +quarter-deck, and in a brief speech stated the case in hand to them. +'Now, my men,' said he, 'which of you will volunteer to go with Don +Pedro Garcia and Mr. Stewart?'</p> + +<p>"Every man offered his services. We chose six lusty fellows, and +supplied them with pistols and cutlasses. Don Pedro gave them a +doubloon a-piece, and to each of the rest of the crew a smaller sum. +At eleven o'clock we descended into the boat and pushed off for the +shore. The night had set in dark and rainy, with a strong breeze, +almost a gale, from the south. The men rowed in silence and with +vigor, but the wind was ahead for us, and when we landed at the end of +the mole, behind a row of molasses-hogsheads, it wanted but a few +moments of twelve. Leaving two men for boat-keepers, Don Pedro and +myself, with the other four, traversed the silent streets until we +stopped in a dark lane, in the rear of a large house, which appeared +to front upon a more frequented street, for even at that late hour a +carriage occasionally was heard.</p> + +<p>"'Now, hist!' whispered Pedro, 'listen for footsteps.'</p> + +<p>"We strained our ears, but heard nothing but the clang of the +deep-toned cathedral bell, striking the hour of twelve. A moment after +a window above us opened, and a female form stepped out upon the +balcony.</p> + +<p>"'Pedro, whispered the musical voice of Clara, 'is that you?'</p> + +<p>"'Yes, yes—hush! Mr. Stewart is here, and some of his men. Are +you all ready?'</p> + +<p>"'Yes,' replied Clara; 'but how am I going to descend?'</p> + +<p>"'Catch this line, which I will throw to you,' said I, making a coil.</p> + +<p>"The fair girl caught the line as handily as—as—a monkey, +I suppose I must say.</p> + +<p>"'Now, haul away,' I said; 'there is a ladder bent on to the other +end, which you must make fast to the balustrade.'</p> + +<p>"'What!' cried Clara, quite aloud, 'a ladder!—a real, live +rope-ladder! how delightfully romantic!'</p> + +<p>"'Hush! hush! you lunatic!' said Pedro, in a hoarse whisper.</p> + +<p>"'Oh, Pedro!' continued his sister, 'just think how droll it is to run +away with one's lover, and one's brother standing by aiding and +abetting! Oh, fie! I'm ashamed of you! There, now, I've fastened this +delightful ladder—what next?'</p> + +<p>"I ascended, and taking her in my arms, prepared to assist her to the +ground.</p> + +<p>"'Am I not heavy?' she asked, as she put her arms about my neck.</p> + +<p>"My God! boys, I could have lifted twenty of her as I felt then.</p> + +<p>"'This is the second time, señor, that you have helped me to +the ground within a week; now get me on the water, and I will thank +you for all at once.'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span></p> + +<p>"'In a few moments more all danger will be behind us, dearest.'</p> + +<p>"Clara leaned upon my arm, enveloped in a boat-cloak, while we rapidly +retraced our steps to the boat, which we reached in safety, but, +behold, the men whom we had left were missing. Hardly had we made +ourselves sure of this unwelcome fact when a file of men, headed by +the same officer who had boarded us in the evening, sprang out from +behind the molasses-hogsheads. In a moment more a fierce fight had +begun. I seized Clara by the waist with one arm, and drew my cutlas +just in time to save my head from the sabre of Carlos Alvarez, who +aimed a blow at me, crying, 'Now, dog of a Yankee, it is my turn!'</p> + +<p>"'In the name of the king! in the name of the king!' shouted the +officer—but it made no difference, we fought like seamen. Clara +had fainted, but I still kept my hold of her, when suddenly a ton +weight seemed to have fallen on my head; my eyes seemed filled with +red-hot sparks of intense brilliancy and heat; the wild scene around +vanished from their sight as I sunk down stunned and insensible.</p> + +<p>"When I came to myself, I was lying in my own berth aboard the ship. I +felt weak, faint, and dizzy, and strove in vain to collect my thoughts +sufficiently to remember what had happened. My state-room door was +open, and I perceived that the sun's rays were shining brightly +through the sky-light upon the cabin-table, at which sat Capt. +Hopkins, overhauling the medicine-chest, which was open before him. I +knew by the sharp heel of the vessel, her uneasy pitching, and the +cool breeze which fanned my fevered cheek, that the ship was close +hauled on a wind, and probably far at sea. I looked at my arms; they +were wasted to half their usual size, and my head was bandaged and +very sore and painful. Slowly and with difficulty I recalled the +events of the few hours preceding that in which I had lost my +senses—then I remembered the <i>mélée</i> on the mole. +Evidently I had been severely wounded, and while senseless been +brought off to the ship. Then came the inquiry, what had been the fate +of Clara and her brother. Were they safe on board, or were they +captured or killed in the <i>fracas</i>? I hardly dared to ask the skipper +who still sat at the table, with a most dolorous face, arranging the +vials and gallipots. At last the suspense became intolerable.</p> + +<p>"'Captain Hopkins,' said I, but in a voice so weak that it startled +me. Faint as it was, however, the worthy skipper started to his feet, +and was by my side in an instant.</p> + +<p>"'Glory to God!' he shouted, snapping his fingers. 'I know by your +eyes that reason has hold of your helm again. You'll get well now! +Hurrah! D—n, though I mus'n't make so much noise.'</p> + +<p>"'But, Captain Hopkins—'</p> + +<p>"'Can't tell you any thing now, you're too weak to bear it; that +is—you know, Ben, good news is—ahem! dreadful apt to kill +sick people; and you've been horrid sick, that's a fact. I thought +four days ago that you had shipped on a voyage to kingdom come, and +was outward bound; but you'll do well enough now, if you only keep +quiet, and if you don't you'll slip your wind yet. Shut up your head, +take a drink of this stuff, and go to sleep.'</p> + +<p>"Capt. Hopkins left me, and, anxious as I was, I soon fell sound +asleep. When I awoke I felt much better and stronger, and teazed the +skipper so much, that he at last ventured to tell me that after I had +been struck down by a sabre-cut over the head, Don Pedro, also badly +wounded, and Donna Clara, had been captured by the soldiers. The two +boat-keepers also were missing, and one of the others left, either +dead or badly wounded, on the mole. Our other three men, finding +themselves overpowered, succeeded barely in gaining the boat with my +insensible form, and pushed off for the ship. Capt Hopkins, upon +hearing their story, had no other alternative but to cut and run, and +favored by the strong southerly gale, he managed to make good his +escape, though fired on by the castle before he had got out of range. +In the hurry and confusion my wound was not properly attended to, and +a brain fever set in, under which I had been suffering for a week; but +the kind care of Capt. Hopkins and Mr. Smith, and the strength of my +constitution, at last prevailed over the disease. Dismal as was this +story, and the prospects it unfolded, my spirits, naturally buoyant, +supported me, and I determined that when the ship should arrive in +Boston I would leave her and return immediately to Cuba, to make an +effort for the release of my friends. Wild as was this resolve, I grew +better upon the hope of accomplishing it; and when we anchored off +Long Wharf, after a tedious passage, I was nearly well.</p> + +<p>"Notwithstanding the advice of my friends I made arrangements for an +immediate return to Matanzas, but the day before my intended departure +the Paragon arrived from that port; and I learned from her officers +that Don Pedro was closely confined, awaiting his trial for the murder +of Count ——, the result of which would be, without doubt, +against him. Clara, believing the general report of my death, had +entered the Ursuline Convent to begin her novitiate; and I was told +that if I was to be seen in Matanzas, the <i>garrote</i>, or chain-gang, +was all that I could expect. Your father then told me that if I would +consent to accompany Captain Hopkins, he would sail in my place to +Matanzas, and do his utmost for his nephew and niece. I could not help +but see the wisdom of this arrangement, and acceded to it. We sailed +from Boston to Stockholm, from thence to Rotterdam, and from thence to +Batavia. A freight offering for Canton, we went to that port, and from +thence came home, after an absence of two years and a half. In the +meantime Don Pedro had been tried, and sentenced to death; but by the +exertions of your father, who wrought faithfully in his behalf, his +sentence was commuted, first to twenty, and then to twelve years in +the gallies, or, as it is in Cuba, the chain-gang. His efforts to see +Clara, in order to disabuse her mind of the belief of my death, was +abortive; and she, after finishing her year as a novice, took the +veil—and she is now a nun in the Ursuline Convent at Matanzas, +while her noble brother is a slave,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span> with felons, laboring +with the cursed chain-gang in the same city to which we are bound. +Now, boys, do you wonder that when I found myself under orders to go +again to the scene of all this misery I was affected, and that a +melancholy has possessed me which has increased as the voyage has +progressed? I did determine at first that I would leave the ship at +Gibralter and go home, but I dreaded to part with my shipmates. I +shall not go ashore while we lay at Matanzas for many reasons, though +I should incur no risk, I think. Everybody who knew me in Matanzas +believes me dead long since; and six years of seafaring life in every +climate, changes one strangely. But the wind has veered again and +freshened considerably since I began my yarn. It looks some as if we +might catch a norther by way of variety. Brewster will have to shorten +sail in his watch, I reckon, and maybe keep the lead going if we make +much leeway. Come, Bill, it is 4 o'clock, and a little past."</p> + +<p>"Eight bells, there, for'ard!" shouted the third mate. "Call the +watch! Rouse Brewster, Frank, will you?"</p> + +<p>The sleepy, yawning starboard watch were soon on deck, half-dressed, +and snuffing the morning air very discontentedly. We of the larboard +division went below to our berths.</p> + +<p>"Langley," said I to the third mate, while we were undressing, "I've +got a plan in my head to get my cousins clear from their bad fix. Will +you help me work it?"</p> + +<p>"Marry, that I will," answered Langley, throwing himself into a +theatrical attitude. "Look here, Frank, this is the way I'll run that +bloody Alvarez through the gizzard!"</p> + +<p>The last sounds I heard that night were the hurried trampling of feet +over my head on deck, and the shouts of the watch shortening sail. I +fell asleep and dreamed that I was in the <i>fracas</i> at the end of the +mole.</p> + +<p class="rt">[<i>Conclusion in our next.</i></p> +<br /><br /> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="WHITE_CREEK" id="WHITE_CREEK"></a>WHITE CREEK.</h2> + +<h5>BY ALFRED B. STREET.</h5> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>[This is a picturesque little stream in Washington county, State of +New York. It flows through the broad and beautiful meadows of the Hon. +John Savage, late Chief Justice of the State.]</p> +</div> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Over the stirless surface of the ground</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The hot air trembles. In pale glittering haze</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Wavers the sky. Along the horizon's rim,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Breaking its mist, are peaks of coppery clouds.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Keen darts of light are shot from every leaf,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And the whole landscape droops in sultriness.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With languid tread, I drag myself along</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Across the wilting fields. Around my steps</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Spring myriad grasshoppers, their cheerful notes</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Loud in my ear. The ground bird whirs away,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Then drops again, and groups of butterflies</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Spotting the path, upflicker as I come.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">At length I catch the sparkles of the brook</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In its deep thickets, whose refreshing green</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Soothes my strained eyesight. The cool shadows fall</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Like balm upon me from the boughs o'erhead.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">My coming strikes a terror on the scene.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">All the sweet sylvan sounds are hushed; I catch</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Glimpses of vanishing wings. An azure shape</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Quick darting down the vista of the brook,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Proclaims the scared kingfisher, and a plash</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And turbid streak upon the streamlet's face,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Betray the water-rat's swift dive and path</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Across the bottom to his burrow deep.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The moss is plump and soft, the tawny leaves</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Are crisp beneath my tread, and scaly twigs</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Startle my wandering eye like basking snakes.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Where this thick brush displays its emerald tent,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I stretch my wearied frame, for solitude</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To steal within my heart. How hushed the scene</span><br /> +<span class="i0">At first, and then, to the accustomed ear,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">How full of sounds, so tuned to harmony</span><br /> +<span class="i0">They seemed but silence; the monotonous purl</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of yon small water-break—the transient hum</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Swung past me by the bee—the low meek burst</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of bubbles, as the trout leaps up to seize</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The skipping spider—the light lashing sound</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of cattle, mid-leg in the shady pool,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Whisking the flies away—the ceaseless chirp</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of crickets, and the tree-frog's quavering note.</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now, from the shadow where I lie concealed,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I see the birds, late banished by my form,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Appearing once more in their usual haunts</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Along the stream; the silver-breasted snipe</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Twitters and seesaws on the pebbly spots</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Bare in the channel—the brown swallow dips</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Its wings, swift darting round on every side;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And from yon nook of clustered water-plants,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The wood-duck, slaking its rich purple neck,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Skims out, displaying through the liquid glass</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Its yellow feet, as if upborne in air.</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Musing upon my couch, this lovely stream</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I liken to the truly good man's life,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Amid the heat of passions, and the glare</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of wordly objects, flowing pure and bright,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Shunning the gaze, yet showing where it glides</span><br /> +<span class="i0">By its green blessings; cheered by happy thoughts,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Contentment, and the peace that comes from Heaven.</span><br /> +</div> +</div> +<br /><br /> + + +<h2><a name="THE_ALCHEMISTS_DAUGHTER" id="THE_ALCHEMISTS_DAUGHTER"> +</a>THE ALCHEMIST'S DAUGHTER.</h2> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> +<h3>A DRAMATIC SKETCH.</h3> + +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> +<h5>BY THOMAS BUCHANAN READ.</h5> +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> + +<h4>PERSONS REPRESENTED.</h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">Giacomo</span>, <i>the Alchemist</i>,</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Bernardo</span>, <i>his son-in-law</i>,</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Rosalia</span>, <i>his daughter, and Bernardo's wife,</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Lorenzo</span>, <i>his servant</i>.</p> +<br /> +<br /> + +<h3>SCENE I. FERRARA.</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<i>The interior of Giacomo's house. Giacomo and Lorenzo +discovered together. Time, a little before daybreak.</i> +</div> + +<p><i>Gia.</i> Art sure of this?</p> + +<p><i>Lor.</i> <span style="margin-left: 8em;">Ay, signor, very sure.</span><br /> +'T is but a moment since I saw the thing—<br /> +Bernardo, who last night was sworn thy son,<br /> +Hath made a villainous barter of thine honor.<br /> +Thou may'st rely the duke is where I said.</p> + +<p><i>Gia.</i> If so—no matter—give me here the light.</p> + +<p class="rt">[<i>Exit Giacomo.</i></p> + +<p><i>Lor.</i> (<i>Alone.</i>) Oh, what a night! It must be all a dream!<br /> +For twenty years, since that I wore a beard,<br /> +I've served my melancholy master here,<br /> +And never until now saw such a night!<br /> +A wedding in this silent house, forsooth,—<br /> +A festival! The very walls in mute<br /> +Amazement stared through the unnatural light!<br /> +And poor Rosalia, bless her tender heart,<br /> +Looked like her mother's sainted ghost! Ah me,<br /> +Her mother died long years ago, and took<br /> +One half the blessed sunshine from our house—<br /> +The other half was married off last night.<br /> +My master, solemn soul, he walked the halls<br /> +As if in search of something which was lost;<br /> +The groom, I liked not him, nor ever did,<br /> +Spoke such perpetual sweetness, till I thought<br /> +He wore some sugared villany within:—<br /> +But then he is my master's ancient friend,<br /> +And always known the favorite of the duke,<br /> +And, as I know, our lady's treacherous lord!<br /> +Oh, Holy Mother, that to villain hawks<br /> +Our dove should fall a prey! poor gentle dear!<br /> +Now if I had their throats within my grasp—<br /> +No matter—if my master be himself,<br /> +Nor time nor place shall bind up his revenge.<br /> +He's not a man to spend his wrath in noise,<br /> +But when his mind is made, with even pace<br /> +He walks up to the deed and does his will.<br /> +In fancy I can see him to the end—<br /> +The duke, perchance, already breathes his last,<br /> +And for Bernardo—he will join him soon;<br /> +And for Rosalia, she will take the veil,<br /> +To which she hath been heretofore inclined;<br /> +And for my master, he will take again<br /> +To alchemy—a pastime well enough,<br /> +For aught I know, and honest Christian work.<br /> +Still it was strange how my poor mistress died,<br /> +Found, as she was, within her husband's study.<br /> +The rumor went she died of suffocation;<br /> +Some cursed crucible which had been left,<br /> +By Giacomo, aburning, filled the room,<br /> +And when the lady entered took her breath.<br /> +He found her there, and since that day the place<br /> +Has been a home for darkness and for dust.<br /> +I hear him coming; by his hurried step<br /> +There's something done, or will be very soon.</p> + +<p>(<i>Enter Giacomo. He sets the light upon the table and confronts<br /> +Lorenzo with a stern look.</i>)</p> + +<p><i>Gia.</i> Lorenzo, thou hast served me twenty years,<br /> +And faithfully; now answer me, how was't<br /> +That thou wert in the street at such an hour?</p> + +<p><i>Lor.</i> When that the festival was o'er last night,<br /> +I went to join some comrades in their wine<br /> +To pass the time in memory of the event.</p> + +<p><i>Gia.</i> And doubtless thou wert blinded soon with drink?</p> + +<p><i>Lor.</i> Indeed, good signor, though the wine flowed free,<br /> +I could not touch it, though much urged by all—<br /> +Too great a sadness sat upon my heart—<br /> +I could do naught but sit and sigh and think<br /> +Of our Rosalia in her bridal dress.</p> + +<p><i>Gia.</i> And sober too! so much the more at fault.<br /> +But, as I said, thou'st served me long and well,<br /> +Perchance too long—too long by just a day.<br /> +Here, take this purse, and find another master.</p> + +<p><i>Lor.</i> Oh, signor, do not drive me thus away!<br /> +If I have made mistake—</p> + +<p><i>Gia.</i> <span style="margin-left: 8em;">No, sirrah, no!</span><br /> +Thou hast not made mistake, but something worse.</p> + +<p><i>Lor.</i> Oh, pray you, what is that then I have made?</p> + +<p><i>Gia.</i> A lie!</p> + +<p><i>Lor.</i> Indeed, good master, on my knees<br /> +I swear that what I said is sainted truth.</p> + +<p><i>Gia.</i> Pshaw, pshaw, no more of this. Did I not go<br /> +Upon the instant to my daughter's room<br /> +And find Bernardo sleeping at her side?<br /> +Some villain's gold hath bribed thee unto this.<br /> +Go, go.</p> + +<p><i>Lor.</i> Well, if it must be, then it must.<br /> +But I would swear that what I said is truth,<br /> +Though all the devils from the deepest pit<br /> +Should rise to contradict me!</p> + +<p><i>Gia.</i> <span style="margin-left: 8em;">Prating still?</span></p> + +<p><i>Lor.</i> No, signor—I am going—stay—see here—</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 8em;">(<i>He draws a paper from his bosom.</i>)</span><br /> +Oh, blessed Virgin, grant some proof in this!<br /> +This paper as they changed their mantles dropt<br /> +Between them to the ground, and when they passed<br /> +I picked it up and placed it safely here.</p> + +<p><i>Gia.</i> (<i>Examining it.</i>)<br /> +Who forged the lie could fabricate this too:—<br /> +But hold, it is ingeniously done.<br /> +Get to thy duties, sir, and mark me well,<br /> +Let no word pass thy lips about the matter—</p> + +<p class="rt">[<i>Exit Lorenzo.</i></p><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> +<p>Bernardo's very hand indeed is here!<br /> +Oh, compact villainous and black! conditions,<br /> +The means, the hour, the signal—every thing<br /> +To rob my honor of its holiest pearl!<br /> +Lorenzo, shallow fool—he does not guess<br /> +The mischief was all done, and that it was<br /> +The duke he saw departing—oh, brain—brain!<br /> +How shall I hold this river of my wrath!<br /> +It must not burst—no, rather it shall sweep<br /> +A noiseless maelstrom, whirling to its center<br /> +All thoughts and plans to further my revenge<br /> +And rid me of this most accursed blot!</p> + +<p>(<i>He rests his forehead on his hand a few minutes, and exclaims,</i>)</p> + +<p>The past returns to me again—the lore<br /> +I gladly had forgot comes like a ghost,<br /> +And points with shadowy finger to the means<br /> +Which best shall consummate my just design.<br /> +The laboratory hath been closed too long;<br /> +The door smiles welcome to me once again,<br /> +The dusky latch invites my hand—I come!</p> + +<p><span class="i1">(<i>He unlocks the door and stands upon the threshold.</i>)</span></p> + +<p>Oh, thou whose life was stolen from me here,<br /> +Stand not to thwart me in this great revenge;<br /> +But rather come with large propitious eyes<br /> +Smiling encouragement with ancient looks!<br /> +Ye sages whose pale, melancholy orbs<br /> +Gaze through the darkness of a thousand years,<br /> +Oh, pierce the solid blackness of to-day,<br /> +And fire anew this crucible of thought<br /> +Until my soul flames up to the result!</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 6em;">(<i>He enters and the door closes.</i>)</span></p> +<br /><br /> + +<h3><span class="smcap">Scene</span> II. <i>Another apartment +in the alchemist's house.<br /> +Enter Rosalia and Bernardo.</i></h3> + +<p><i>Ros.</i> You tell me he has not been seen to-day?</p> + +<p><i>Ber.</i> Save by your trusty servant here, who says<br /> +He saw his master, from without, unclose<br /> +The shutters of his laboratory while<br /> +The sun was yet unrisen. It is well;<br /> +This turning to the past pursuits of youth<br /> +Argues how much the aspect of to-day<br /> +Hath driven the ancient darkness from his brain.<br /> +And now, my dear Rosalia, let thy face<br /> +And thoughts and speech be drest in summer smiles,<br /> +And naught shall make a winter in our house.</p> + +<p><i>Ros.</i> Ah, sir, I think that I am happy.</p> + +<p><i>Ber.</i><span style="margin-left: 12em;"> Happy?</span><br /> +Why so, indeed, dear love, I trust thou art!<br /> +But thou dost sigh and contemplate the floor<br /> +So deeply, that thy happiness seems rather<br /> +The constant sense of duty than true joy.</p> + +<p><i>Ros.</i> Nay, chide me not, good sir; the world to me<br /> +A riddle is at best—my heart has had<br /> +No tutor. From my childhood until now<br /> +My thoughts have been on simple honest things.</p> + +<p><i>Ber.</i> On honest things? Then let them dwell henceforth<br /> +On love, for nothing is more honest than<br /> +True love.</p> + +<p><i>Ros.</i> <span style="margin-left: 4em;">I hope so, sir—it must be so!</span><br /> +And if to wear thy happiness at heart<br /> +With constant watchfulness, and if to breathe<br /> +Thy welfare in my orisons, be love,<br /> +Thou never shalt have cause to question mine.<br /> +To-day I feel, and yet I know not why,<br /> +A sadness which I never knew before;<br /> +A puzzling shadow swims upon my brain,<br /> +Of something which has been or is to be.<br /> +My mother coming to me in my dream,<br /> +My father taking to that room again<br /> +Have somehow thrilled me with mysterious awe.</p> + +<p><i>Ber.</i> Nay, let not that o'ercast thy gentle mind,<br /> +For dreams are but as floating gossamer,<br /> +And should not blind or bar the steady reason.<br /> +And alchemy is innocent enough,<br /> +Save when it feeds too steadily on gold,<br /> +A crime the world not easily forgives.<br /> +But if Rosalia likes not the pursuit<br /> +Her sire engages in, my plan shall be<br /> +To lead him quietly to other things.<br /> +But see, the door uncloses and he comes.</p> + +<p>(<i>Enter Giacomo in loose gown and dishevelled hair.</i>)</p> + +<p><i>Gia.</i> (<i>Not perceiving them.</i>)<br /> +Ha, precious villains, ye are caught at last!</p> + +<p><i>Both.</i> Good-morrow, father.</p> + +<p><i>Gia.</i> <span style="margin-left: 10em;">Ah, my pretty doves!</span></p> + +<p><i>Ber.</i> Come, father, we are jealous of the art<br /> +Which hath deprived us all the day of thee.</p> + +<p><i>Gia.</i> Are ye indeed? (<i>Aside.</i>) How smoothly to the air<br /> +Slides that word <i>father</i> from his slippery tongue.<br /> +Come hither, daughter, let me gaze on thee,<br /> +For I have dreamed that thou wert beautiful,<br /> +So beautiful our very duke did stop<br /> +To smile upon thy brightness! What say'st thou,<br /> +Bernardo, didst thou ever dream such things?</p> + +<p><i>Ber.</i> That she is beautiful I had no cause to dream,<br /> +Mine eyes have known the fact for many a day.<br /> +What villains didst thou speak of even now?</p> + +<p><i>Gia.</i> Two precious villains—Carbon and Azote—<br /> +They have perplexed me heretofore; but now<br /> +The thing is plain enough. This morning, ere<br /> +I left my chamber, all the mystery stood<br /> +Asudden in an awful revelation!</p> + +<p><i>Ber.</i> I'm glad success has crowned thy task to-day,<br /> +But do not overtoil thy brain. These themes<br /> +Are dangerous things, and they who mastered most<br /> +Have fallen at last but victims to their slaves.</p> + +<p><i>Gia.</i> It is a glorious thing to fall and die<br /> +The victim of a noble cause.</p> + +<p><i>Ber.</i> <span style="margin-left: 12em;">Ay, true—</span><br /> +The man who battles for his country's right<br /> +Hath compensation in the world's applause.<br /> +The victor when returning from the field<br /> +Is crowned with laurel, and his shining way<br /> +Is full of shouts and roses. If he fall,<br /> +His nation builds his monument of glory.<br /> +But mark the alchemist who walks the streets,<br /> +His look is down, his step infirm, his hair<br /> +And cheeks are burned to ashes by his thought;<br /> +The volumes he consumes, consume in turn;<br /> +They are but fuel to his fiery brain,<br /> +Which being fed requires the more to feed on.<br /> +The people gaze on him with curious looks,<br /> +And step aside to let him pass untouched,<br /> +Believing Satan hath him arm in arm.</p> + +<p><i>Gia.</i> Are there no wrongs but what a nation feels?<br /> +No heroes but among the martial throng?<br /> +Nay, there are patriot souls who never grasped<br /> +A sword, or heard the crowd applaud their names,<br /> +Who lived and labored, died and were forgot,<br /> +And after whom the world came out and reapt<br /> +The field, and never questioned who had sown.</p> + +<p><i>Ber.</i> I did not think of that.</p> + +<p><i>Gia.</i> <span style="margin-left: 8em;">Now mark ye well,</span><br /> +I am not one to follow phantom themes,<br /> +To waste my time in seeking for the stone,<br /> +Or chrystalizing carbon to o'erflood<br /> +The world with riches which would keep it poor;<br /> +Nor do I seek the elixir that would make<br /> +Not life alone, but misery immortal;<br /> +But something far more glorious than these.</p> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span><br /> +<p><i>Ber.</i> Pray what is that?</p> + +<p><i>Gia.</i> <span style="margin-left: 6em;">A cure, sir, for the heart-ache.</span><br /> +Come, thou shalt see. The day is on the wane—<br /> +Mark how the moon, as by some unseen arm,<br /> +Is thrusted upward, like a bloody shield!<br /> +On such an hour the experiment must begin.<br /> +Come, thou shalt be the first to witness this<br /> +Most marvelous discovery. And thou,<br /> +My pretty one, betake thee to thy bower,<br /> +And I will dream thou'rt lovelier than ever.<br /> +Come, follow me. (<i>To Bernardo.</i>)</p> + +<p><i>Ros.</i> <span style="margin-left: 6em;">Nay, father, stay; I'm sure</span><br /> +Thou art not well—thine eyes are strangely lit,<br /> +The task, I fear, has over-worked thy brain.</p> + +<p><i>Gia.</i> Dearest Rosalia, what were eyes or brain<br /> +Compared with banishment of sorrow? Come.</p> + +<p><i>Ber.</i> (<i>Aside to Rosalia.</i>)<br /> +I will indulge awhile this curious humor;<br /> +Adieu; I shall be with thee soon again.</p> + +<p><i>Gia.</i> (<i>Overhearing him.</i>)<br /> +When Satan shall regain his wings, and sit<br /> +Approved in heaven, perchance, but not till then.</p> + +<p><i>Ber.</i> What, not till then?</p> + +<p><i>Gia.</i> <span style="margin-left: 6em;">Shall he be worthy deemed</span><br /> +To walk, as thou hast said the people thought,<br /> +Arm in arm with the high-souled philosopher:—<br /> +And yet the people sometimes are quite right,<br /> +The devil's at our elbow oftener than<br /> +We know.</p> + +<p>(<i>He gives Bernardo his arm, and they enter the laboratory.</i>)</p> + +<p><i>Ros.</i> (<i>Alone.</i>) He never looked so strange before;<br /> +His cheeks, asudden, are grown pale and thin;<br /> +His very hair seems whiter than it did.<br /> +Oh, surely, 'tis a fearful trade that crowds<br /> +The work of years into a single day.<br /> +It may be that the sadness which I wear<br /> +Hath clothed him in its own peculiar hue.<br /> +The very sunshine of this cloudless day<br /> +Seemed but a world of broad, white desolation—<br /> +While in my ears small melancholy bells<br /> +Knolled their long, solemn and prophetic chime;—<br /> +But hark! a louder and a holier toll,<br /> +Shedding its benediction on the air,<br /> +Proclaims the vesper hour—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Ave Maria!</span></p> + +<p class="rt">[<i>Exit Rosalia.</i></p> +<br /><br /> + + +<h3><span class="smcap">Scene III.</span> <i>Giacomo and Bernardo +discovered in the laboratory.</i></h3> + +<p><i>Gia.</i> What say'st thou now, Bernardo?</p> + +<p><i>Ber.</i> <span style="margin-left: 8em;">Let me live</span><br /> +Or die in drawing this delicious breath,<br /> +I ask no more.</p> + +<p><i>Gia.</i> (<i>Aside.</i>) Mark, how with wondering eyes<br /> +He gazes on the burning crucibles,<br /> +As if to drink the rising vapor with<br /> +His every sense.</p> + +<p><i>Ber.</i> <span style="margin-left: 8em;">Is this the balm thou spak'st of?</span></p> + +<p><i>Gia.</i> Ay, sir, the same.</p> + +<p><i>Ber.</i> <span style="margin-left: 8em;">Oh, would that now my heart</span><br /> +Were torn with every grief the earth has known,<br /> +Then would this sense be sweeter by tenfold!<br /> +Where didst thou learn the secret, and from whom?</p> + +<p><i>Gia.</i> From Gebber down to Paracelsus, none<br /> +Have mentioned the discovery of this—<br /> +The need of it was parent of the thought.</p> + +<p><i>Ber.</i> How long will these small crucibles hold out?</p> + +<p><i>Gia.</i> A little while, but there are two beside,<br /> +That when thy sense is toned up to the point<br /> +May then be fired; and when thou breathest their fumes,<br /> +Nepenthe deeper it shall seem than that<br /> +Which Helen gave the guests of Menelaus.<br /> +But come, thou'lt weary of this thickening air,<br /> +Let us depart.</p> + +<p><i>Ber.</i> <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Not for the wealth of worlds!</span></p> + +<p><i>Gia.</i> Nay, but thy bride awaits thee—</p> + +<p><i>Ber.</i> <span style="margin-left: 10em;"> Go to her</span><br /> +And say I shall be there anon.</p> + +<p><i>Gia.</i> <span style="margin-left: 10em;">I will.</span><br /> +(<i>Aside.</i>) Now while he stands enchained within the spell<br /> +I'll to Rosalia's room and don his cloak<br /> +And cap, and sally forth to meet the duke.<br /> +'Tis now the hour, and if he come—so be it.</p> + +<p class="rt">[<i>Exit Giacomo.</i></p> + +<p><i>Ber.</i> (<i>Alone.</i>)<br /> +These delicate airs seem wafted from the fields<br /> +Of some celestial world. I am alone—<br /> +Then wherefore not inhale that deeper draught,<br /> +That sweet nepenthe which these other two,<br /> +When burning, shall dispense? 'Twere quickly done,<br /> +And I will do it!</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 4em;">(<i>He places the two crucibles on the furnace.</i>)</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 6em;">Now, sir alchemist,</span><br /> +Linger as long as it may suit thy pleasure—<br /> +'Tis mine to tarry here. Oh, by San John,<br /> +I'll turn philosopher myself, and do<br /> +Some good at last in this benighted world!<br /> +Now how like demons on the ascending smoke,<br /> +Making grimaces, leaps the laughing flame,<br /> +Filling the room with a mysterious haze,<br /> +Which rolls and writhes along the shadowy air,<br /> +Taking a thousand strange, fantastic forms;<br /> +And every form is lit with burning eyes,<br /> +Which pierce me through and through like fiery arrows!<br /> +The dim walls grow unsteady, and I seem<br /> +To stand upon a reeling deck! Hold, hold!<br /> +A hundred crags are toppling overhead.<br /> +I faint, I sink—now, let me clutch that limb—<br /> +Oh, devil! It breaks to ashes in my grasp!<br /> +What ghost is that which beckons through the mist?<br /> +The duke! the duke! and bleeding at the breast!<br /> +Whose dagger struck the blow? (<i>Enter Giacomo.</i>)</p> + +<p><i>Gia.</i> <span style="margin-left: 8em;">Mine, villain, mine!</span><br /> +What! thou'st set the other two aburning?<br /> +Impatient dog, thou cheat'st me to the last!<br /> +I should have done the deed—and yet 'tis well.<br /> +Thou diest by thine own dull hardihood!</p> + +<p><i>Ber.</i> Ha! is it so? Then follow thou!</p> + +<p><i>Gia.</i> <span style="margin-left: 10em;">My time</span><br /> +Is not quite yet, this antidote shall place<br /> +A bar between us for a little while.<br /> +(<i>He raises a vial to his lips, drinks, and flings it aside.</i>)</p> + +<p><i>Ber.</i> (<i>Rallying.</i>) Come, give it me—</p> + +<p><i>Gia.</i> <span style="margin-left: 8em;">Ha, ha! I drained it all!</span><br /> +There is the broken vial.</p> + +<p><i>Ber.</i> <span style="margin-left: 8em;">Is there no arm</span><br /> +To save me from the abyss?</p> + +<p><i>Gia.</i> <span style="margin-left: 8em;">No, villain, sink!</span><br /> +And take this cursed record of thy plot,<br /> +(<i>He thrusts a paper into Bernardo's hand,</i>)<br /> +And it shall gain thee speedy entrance at<br /> +Th' infernal gate!</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 4em;">(<i>Bernardo reads, reels and falls.</i>)</span></p> + +<p><i>Gia.</i> (<i>Looking on the body.</i>) Poor miserable dust!<br /> +This body now is honest as the best,<br /> +The very best of earth, lie where it may.<br /> +This mantle must conceal the thing from sight,<br /> +For soon Rosalia, as I bade her, shall<br /> +Be here. Oh, Heaven! vouchsafe to me the power<br /> +To do this last stern act of justice. Thou<br /> +Who called the child of Jairus from the dead,<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> +Assist a stricken father now to raise<br /> +His sinless daughter from the bier of shame.<br /> +And may her soul, unconscious of the deed,<br /> +Forever walk the azure fields of heaven.</p> + +<p>(<i>Enter Rosalia, dressed in simple white, bearing a small<br /> +golden crucifix in her hand.</i>)</p> + +<p><i>Ros.</i> Dear father, in obedience, I have come—<br /> +But where's Bernardo?</p> + +<p><i>Gia.</i> <span style="margin-left: 8em;">Gone to watch the stars;</span><br /> +To see old solitary Saturn whirl<br /> +Like poor Ixion on his burning wheel—<br /> +He is our patron orb to-night, my child.</p> + +<p><i>Ros.</i> I do not know what strange experiment<br /> +Thou'dst have me see, but in my heart I feel<br /> +That He, in whose remembrance this was made<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">(<i>looking at the cross</i>)</span><br /> +Should be chief patron of our thoughts and acts.<br /> +Since vesper time—I know not how it was—<br /> +I could do naught but kneel and tell my prayers.</p> + +<p><i>Gia.</i> Ye blessed angels, hymn the word to heaven.<br /> +Come, daughter, let me hold thy hand in mine,<br /> +And gaze upon the emblem which thou bearest.<br /> +(<i>He looks upon the crucifix awhile and presses it to his lips.</i>)</p> + +<p><i>Ros.</i> Pray tell me, father, what is in the air?</p> + +<p><i>Gia.</i> See'st thou the crucibles, my child? Now mark,<br /> +I'll drop a simple essence into each.</p> + +<p><i>Ros.</i> My sense is flooded with perfume!</p> + +<p><i>Gia.</i> <span style="margin-left: 10em;">Again.</span></p> + +<p><i>Ros.</i> My soul, asudden, thrills with such delight<br /> +It seems as it had won a birth of wings!</p> + +<p><i>Gia.</i> Behold, now when I throw these jewels in,<br /> +The glories of our art!</p> + +<p><i>Ros.</i> <span style="margin-left: 8em;">A cloud of hues</span><br /> +As beautiful as morning fills the air;<br /> +And every breath I draw comes freighted with<br /> +Elysian sweets! An iris-tinted mist,<br /> +In perfumed wreaths, is rolling round the room.<br /> +The very walls are melting from my sight,<br /> +And surely, father, there's the sky o'erhead!<br /> +And on that gentle breeze did we not hear<br /> +The song of birds and silvery waterfalls?<br /> +And walk we not on green and flowery ground?<br /> +Ferrara, father, hath no ground like this,<br /> +The ducal gardens are not half so fair!<br /> +Oh, if this be the golden land of dreams,<br /> +Let us forever make our dwelling here.<br /> +Not lovelier in my earliest visions seemed<br /> +The paradise of our first parents, filled<br /> +With countless angels whose celestial light<br /> +Thrilled the sweet foliage like a gush of song.<br /> +Look how the long and level landscape gleams,<br /> +And with a gradual pace goes mellowing up<br /> +Into the blue. The very ground we tread<br /> +Seems flooded with the tender hue of heaven;<br /> +An azure lawn is all about our feet,<br /> +And sprinkled with a thousand gleaming flowers,<br /> +Like lovely lilies on a tranquil lake.</p> + +<p><i>Gia.</i> Nay, dear Rosalia, cast thy angel ken<br /> +Far down the shining pathway we have trod,<br /> +And see behind us those enormous gates<br /> +To which the world has given the name of Death;<br /> +And note the least among yon knot of lights,<br /> +And recognize your native orb, the earth!<br /> +For we are spirits threading fields of space,<br /> +Whose gleaming flowers are but the countless stars!<br /> +But now, dear love, adieu—a flash from heaven—<br /> +A sudden glory in the silent air—<br /> +A rustle as of wings, proclaim the approach<br /> +Of holier guides to take thee into keep.<br /> +Behold them gliding down the azure hill<br /> +Making the blue ambrosial with their light.<br /> +Our paths are here divided. I must go<br /> +Through other ways, by other forms attended.</p> +<br /><br /> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="LINES_TO_AN_IDEAL" id="LINES_TO_AN_IDEAL"></a>LINES TO AN IDEAL.</h2> + + +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> +<h5>BY ELIZABETH LYON LINSLEY.</h5> +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> + + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">I wandered on the lonely strand,</span><br /> +A setting sun shone brightly there,<br /> +<span class="i1">And bathed in glory sea and land,</span><br /> +And streamed in beauty through the air!<br /> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">A playful breeze the waters curled,</span><br /> +Touched their light waves and passed them by,<br /> +<span class="i1">Then fanned a bird whose wings unfurled</span><br /> +Were waving on the sunset sky!<br /> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">The bird had gone. The sun had set.</span><br /> +His beams still tipped the hills and trees,<br /> +<span class="i1">And flung a rainbow radiance yet</span><br /> +On clouds reflected in the seas!<br /> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">A distant boatman plied the oar,</span><br /> +All sparkling with its golden spray,<br /> +<span class="i1">His voice came softened to the shore,</span><br /> +Then melted with the dying day!<br /> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">And when the last bright lines on high</span><br /> +Departed as the twilight came,<br /> +<span class="i1">A large star showed its lone, sweet eye</span><br /> +All margined with a cloud of flame!<br /> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">The winds were hushed. Their latest breath</span><br /> +In soft, low murmurs died afar—<br /> +<span class="i1">The rippling of the wave beneath</span><br /> +Showed dancing there that one bright star!<br /> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">So fair a scene, so sweet an hour,</span><br /> +Were felt and passed. In stilly calm<br /> +<span class="i1">They shed around me beauty's power,</span><br /> +Yet gave no peace, and brought no balm.<br /> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">I was alone! I saw no eyes</span><br /> +With mine gaze on the twilight sea—<br /> +<span class="i1">No heart returned my lonely sighs—</span><br /> +No lips breathed sympathy with me.<br /> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">I was alone! I looked above.</span><br /> +That star seemed happy thus to lave<br /> +<span class="i1">Its fairy light and glance of love</span><br /> +Deep in the bosom of the wave.<br /> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">I gazed no more! The blinding tear</span><br /> +Rose from my heart, and dimmed my sight.<br /> +<span class="i1">Had one dear voice then whispered near,</span><br /> +That scene how changed!—That heart how light!<br /> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">My soul was swelling like the sea!</span><br /> +Had thine eyes gleamed there with mine own,<br /> +<span class="i1">That soul a mirror true to thee</span><br /> +On ev'ry wave thyself had shown!<br /> +</div> +</div> +<br /><br /> + + + +<h2><a name="MRS_PELBY_SMITHS_SELECT_PARTY" id="MRS_PELBY_SMITHS_SELECT_PARTY"></a> +MRS. PELBY SMITH'S SELECT PARTY.</h2> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span> + +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> +<h5>BY MRS. A. M. F. ANNAN.</h5> +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> + +<p>"Mrs. Goldsborough's party is to-night, is it not?" said Mr. Pelby +Smith to his wife; "are we going my dear?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Apropos</i> of parties," returned she, waiving the question; "I don't +see how we are to get on any longer without giving one ourselves."</p> + +<p>"Why so, my dear? We cannot afford to give a party, and that will be +an apology all-sufficient to a woman of Cousin Sabina's sense."</p> + +<p>"Cousin Sabina!" exclaimed Mrs. Smith; "as if I, or any one else, ever +thought of going to the trouble of a party for a plain old maid, like +cousin Sabina Incledon!"</p> + +<p>"My dear, I wish you would not speak in that way of Cousin Sabina; she +is an excellent woman, of superior mind, and manners to command +respect in any society."</p> + +<p>"That may be <i>your</i> opinion, Mr. Smith," answered the lady tartly; +"mine is that a quiet old maid, from somewhere far off in the country, +and with an income of two or three hundred dollars a year, would not +make much of a figure in <i>our</i> society. At all events, I shan't make a +trial of it."</p> + +<p>"I thought you alluded to her visit as making it incumbent on us to +give a party," said Mr. Smith meekly; "there is no other reason, I +believe."</p> + +<p>"You will allow me to have some judgment in such matters, Mr. Smith. I +think it is absolutely necessary that we should, that is, if we wish +to go to parties for the future. We have been going to them all our +lives without giving any, and people will grow tired of inviting us."</p> + +<p>"Then, my dear, why not make up our minds to stay at home. I would +rather."</p> + +<p>"But <i>I</i> would not, Mr. Smith. I shall go to parties as long as +possible. My duty to my children requires it."</p> + +<p>Mr. Smith opened his eyes as wide as his timidity would let him.</p> + +<p>"My duty to my children, I repeat," pursued she with energy; "they +will have to be introduced to society."</p> + +<p>"Not for seven or eight years yet, any of them," interposed Mr. Smith.</p> + +<p>"Sooner or later," continued the lady; "and how is that to be done +unless I keep the footing which I have attained—with trouble +enough, as I only know, and without any thanks to you, Mr. Smith. If I +give up parties, I may fall at once into the obscurity for which you +have such a taste. People of fortune and distinction can voluntarily +withdraw for a while, and then reappear with as much success as ever, +but that is not the case with persons of our position."</p> + +<p>"It is only the expense that I object to, my dear; my business is so +limited that it is impossible for us to live in any other than a +plain, quiet way. The cost of a party would be a serious inconvenience +to me."</p> + +<p>"The advantages will be of greater consequence than the sacrifices," +returned the lady, softening as she saw her husband yielding; "the +loss will soon be made up to you through an increase of friends. +Party-giving people are always popular."</p> + +<p>Mr. Smith saw that his wife was determined to carry her point, which +was nothing new. He had learned to submit, and to submit in silence, +so, after sitting moodily for a few minutes, he took up his hat to go +to his place of business.</p> + +<p>"I knew, my dear," said Mrs. Smith smoothly, "that you would soon see +the matter in a proper light; and now about Mrs. Goldsborough's party. +I shall lay out your things for you. I can go with some satisfaction +now that I have a prospect of soon being on equal terms with my +entertainers."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Smith walked round her two small and by no means elegant rooms, +reassuring herself as to the capabilities of her lamps, girandoles and +candlesticks, for she had mentally gone through all her arrangements +long before; the act of consulting her husband being, generally, her +last step toward the undertaking of any important project. She was +joined by the object of some of her recent remarks, Miss Sabina +Incledon, a cousin of Mr. Smith's, who, until within a few days, had +been a stranger to her. She was a plainly dressed person of middle +age, with an agreeable though not striking countenance, and +unobtrusive, lady-like manners.</p> + +<p>"I am sorry you are not going to Mrs. Goldsborough's to-night, Cousin +Sabina," said Mrs. Smith; "I have no doubt she would have sent an +invitation had she known I had a friend visiting me."</p> + +<p>"Not improbable. I do not, however, feel much inclination just now to +go to a party. Had it not been for that, I should have sent my card to +Mrs. Goldsborough after my arrival. I met her at the springs last +summer, and received much politeness from her."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Goldsborough is a very polite woman—very much disposed to +be civil to every one," said Mrs. Smith; "by the bye," she added, +"Pelby and I have it in contemplation to give a large party +ourselves."</p> + +<p>"Indeed? I thought you were not party-giving people; Cousin Pelby +assured me so."</p> + +<p>"And never would be if Pelby Smith had his own way. To be sure, we are +not in circumstances to entertain much, conveniently, but for the sake +of a firmer place in society, I am always willing to strain a point. +As to Pelby, he has so little spirit that he would as soon be at the +bottom of the social ladder as at the top. I can speak of it without +impropriety<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> to you, as you are his relation, not mine. He has +been a perpetual drag and drawback upon me, but, notwithstanding, I +have accomplished a great deal. Five or six years ago we were merely +on speaking terms with the Goldsboroughs, and the Pendletons, and the +Longacres, and the Van Pelts and that set, and now I visit most of +them, and receive invitations to all their general parties. I have +always felt ashamed of not having entertained them in return, and now +I am resolved to do so, as a favorable opportunity offers of doing it +advantageously. I mean the coming out of Julia Goldsborough, Mrs. +Goldsborough's only daughter. It will be something to say that I have +given her a party."</p> + +<p>"Do the family expect the compliment of you?" asked Miss Incledon, +looking at her in surprise; "I did not know that you were on such +intimate terms."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Smith smiled in conscious superiority. "Ah, Cousin Sabina!" said +she, "you are very unsophisticated. Don't you know that a party goes +off with much more <i>eclât</i> for being associated with some name +of importance. Now Julia Goldsborough, from her beauty and vivacity, +and the fashion and fortune of her family, is to be the belle of the +season, and a party got up for her must necessarily make a sensation. +All her friends, and they are at the head of society, will attend on +her account, if for nothing else, and everybody else will be glad to +go where they do. Then the Pendletons and the Longacres and the Van +Pelts, several of them, will give her parties—so it is +understood—and it will be worth an effort to make mine one of +the series."</p> + +<p>A faint expression of sarcastic humor passed over the placid +countenance of Miss Incledon, but she made no comment.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Pelby Smith entered the brilliant rooms of Mrs. Goldsborough that +night with an elated spirit, seeing in herself the future hostess of +the fashionable throng there assembled. Instead of standing in a +corner, listening with unctuous deference or sympathy to any who +chanced to come against her, as was her wont, proffering her fan, or +her essence-bottle, or in some quiet way ministering to their egotism, +she now stepped freely forth upon the field of action, nodding and +smiling at the young men to whom she might have been at some time +introduced; whispering and jesting with some marked young lady, while +she made an occasion to arrange her <i>berthe</i> or her ringlets, and +adding herself, as if by accident, to any trio or quartette of +pre-eminent distinction. She had at length the anxiously desired +opportunity to put out her feelers at Mrs. Goldsborough.</p> + +<p>"What a lovely creature Julia has become, Mrs. Goldsborough!" she +exclaimed; "it seems but a few months since she was a little fairy +only <i>so</i> high, and now she is so well grown and so commanding in her +figure! and her manners, they are as pronounced and <i>distingué</i> +as if she were twenty-five; they appear the more remarkable for her +sweet, youthful face. I have been watching her the whole evening, and +seeing every one offering her their tribute, I have gotten quite into +the spirit of it myself. I'm sure you will smile at me, for you well +know that I am not at all in the habit of such things, but I really +must give her a party. I have known her so long, almost since she +could first run about, and I always loved the little creature so much! +I feel as if I have almost a right to be proud of her myself. Have you +any engagements for the beginning of next week? If not, unless you +positively forbid it, I shall send out invitations at once."</p> + +<p>"You are very kind, indeed, Mrs. Smith," said Mrs. Goldsborough, +smiling cordially, for she was a fond mother, and also was full of +courtesy and amiability; "it will be an unexpected compliment to +Julia. She will be flattered that your partiality for her is as warm +as ever. We have no engagements for the first of next week. The +parties with which my friends will try to spoil Julia do not come on +so soon."</p> + +<p>Her scheme having been not unfavorably received, Mrs. Smith whispered +it to one and another, until it was known to half the company before +they dispersed that Miss Goldsborough was to be <i>fêted</i> next by +Mrs. Pelby Smith.</p> + +<p>Our heroine ought to have overheard the conversation which took place +at the late breakfast of Mrs. Goldsborough the following morning.</p> + +<p>"You could hardly guess whom you have charmed into party intentions +toward you, Julia," said Mrs. Goldsborough; "I suppose you have not +heard? Mrs. Pelby Smith."</p> + +<p>"Defend me from Mrs. Pelby Smith!" laughed Julia; "but are you in +earnest, mamma?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly, my dear; she told me last night that she intended to give +you a party in the beginning of next week."</p> + +<p>"That intolerable, toadying Mrs. Pelby Smith!" exclaimed young Frank +Goldsborough; "I would not allow her to cover the iniquities of her +ambition with my name, Julia, if I were you. Depend upon it, she has +some sinister design in this thing."</p> + +<p>"I agree with Frank," rejoined Miss Pendleton, Mrs. Goldsborough's +sister; "such as elevating herself in society on your shoulders, +Julia, or rather those of your family."</p> + +<p>"Charity, charity! you know I don't like such remarks," interposed +Mrs. Goldsborough, but with little show of severity; "we have no +reason to decide that Mrs. Smith does not really mean a kindness. She +always seemed very fond of Julia when a child."</p> + +<p>"And so she would have appeared, mamma, of any other that might have +happened to be a grandchild of General Pendleton and Judge +Goldsborough. I had sense enough to understand her even then. She used +to call me in on my way to school, to warm my hands, when they did not +need it, and inquire after the health of my mother and grandmothers +and grandfathers and aunts and uncles, and admire my clothes, and wish +her little Jane was old enough to run to school with me, and flatter +me on the beauty of my hair and eyes and complexion, in such a way +that very few children would have been so stupid as not to have seen +through it. Could you not have said something to discourage the new +idea, ma'ma?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Not without rudeness, Julia, though, I confess, I would rather it +could have been done. Even presuming that she is sincere in her +professions of regard, I do not like the thought of a person in her +circumstances going to what to her must be serious trouble and expense +on our account. The easiest way to reconcile myself to it would be by +believing with you all, that she has some personal motive in it."</p> + +<p>At that same hour Mrs. Smith was immersed in her preliminary +arrangements.</p> + +<p>"I shall have to ask you to write some of the invitations, Cousin +Sabina," said she to Miss Incledon; "I am not much in the habit of +writing, even notes; and Pelby, who has not time to attend to it, says +that you write a very pretty hand. Here are pen and paper to make out +the list—I will give you the names. In the first place, there +are all the Goldsboroughs and Pendletons, and Longacres, and Van +Pelts—"</p> + +<p>"You forget," interrupted Miss Incledon, "that it is necessary to name +them individually."</p> + +<p>"True, I had forgotten—I have so many things to think about. +Beginning with the Goldsboroughs—Mrs., Miss, and Mr.; then +General and Mrs. Pendleton, Miss Pendleton, Mr. and Mrs. John, Mr. and +Mrs. Henry, and Mr. and Mrs. James Pendleton;" and so Mrs. Smith kept +on in continuous nomenclature for a considerable time. It was only as +she came down into the lower ranks of fashion, after a regular +gradation, that she hesitated for a moment—and then her pauses +grew longer and longer.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I can assist your memory, Cousin Sarah," said Miss Incledon; +"I have seen several of your acquaintances, and have heard of a good +many more; there is Mrs. Wills, with whom you were taking tea the +evening of my arrival."</p> + +<p>"I have reflected upon that, and conclude that I shall not ask Mrs. +Wills," replied Mrs. Smith; "she is a plain person, and seldom goes to +parties, which I can make a sufficient excuse for leaving her out, +though, to be sure, she would come to mine, if I invited her; and to +prevent her from being offended, I shall send for her a few days after +to come socially to tea, with a few others of the same set. There +will, of course, be plenty of refreshments left, and it will, +therefore, be no additional expense."</p> + +<p>"Then Mrs. Salisbury and her two daughters, who called yesterday."</p> + +<p>"I believe not; they are not decidedly and exclusively of the first +circle, though, as you seemed to consider them, quite superior +women—very accomplished and agreeable. They have not much +fortune, however, and have no connections here. On the whole, I do not +see that any thing could be gained by inviting the Salisburys."</p> + +<p>"I have not your neighbor, Mrs. Streeter down," observed Cousin +Sabina.</p> + +<p>"No; I don't see the necessity for having Mrs. Streeter; she is a good +creature—very obliging when one needs a neighbor, in cases of +sickness, or the like, but would be far from ornamental. I can have an +excuse for omitting her in never having received an invitation from +her—she does not give parties. She will be very well satisfied, +I dare say, if I send her a basket of fragments afterward. You must +understand, Cousin Sabina, that as this is my first party, I mean it +to be very select."</p> + +<p>"Then you will also, I presume, leave out Mrs. Brownell."</p> + +<p>"By no means; I calculate a great deal on Mrs. Brownell. She has the +greatest quantity of elegant china and cut-glass, which it will be +necessary for me to borrow. My own supply is rather limited, and I +must depend chiefly on my acquaintances. It was on that account that I +set down the Greelys. They have the largest lot of silver forks and +spoons of any family I know—owing, it is whispered, to their +having, where they came from, kept a fashionable boarding-house. Also, +you may put down Mrs. Crabbe."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Crabbe?—did I not hear you describe her as a very low +person?"</p> + +<p>"Peculiarly so in her manners—but what am I to do? I must have +persons to assist me; and Mrs. Crabbe makes the most beautiful jellies +and the most delicious Charlotte-Russe I ever tasted. She has a +natural talent for all sorts of nice cookery, and with my little +experience in it, she will be of the greatest service to me. It saves +a great deal to make every thing except the confectionary at home; and +I shall go at once and ask Mrs. Crabbe if she will prepare the +materials for my fruit-cake, and mix it up."</p> + +<p>"You have said nothing about your Aunt Tomkins, of whom Cousin Pelby +has talked to me, and of the different members of her +family—they are to have invitations, of course?" suggested Miss +Incledon.</p> + +<p>"No—that is—I shall attend to it myself—I mean you +need not mind;" and Mrs. Smith hurried to the door, beginning to +perceive something she would rather escape in the countenance and +interrogatories of Cousin Sabina. "Bless me!" she exclaimed, turning +back, "I almost forgot—and what a mistake it would have been! +put down Miss Debby Coggins; I should never have been forgiven if I +had neglected her. She has a great many oddities, but she is related +to all the first families, and one must keep on her right side. Have +you the name?—Miss Deborah Coggins."</p> + +<p>We shall not follow Mrs. Smith into the turmoil of her preparations, +which would have been much more wearisome and bewildering, from her +inexperience in getting up a large entertainment, had it not been for +the good judgment and quiet activity of Miss Incledon, and which the +night of fruition at last terminated.</p> + +<p>All was ready, even the lighting of the rooms, when Mrs. Smith, before +commencing her own toilette, entered the apartment of her guest. Miss +Incledon, who considered herself past the time of life for other than +matronly decorations of the person, was laying out a handsome +pelerine, and a tasteful cap, to wear with a rich, dark silk dress.</p> + +<p>"My dear Cousin Sabina," said Mrs. Smith, "do help me out of a +difficulty; I have no one to remain on duty in the supper-room, and +there certainly ought to be some one to sit there and see that nothing +is disturbed—for there is a great quantity of silver<span class='pagenum'><a +name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> there, mostly borrowed, and +with so many strange servants about, I feel uneasy to leave it a +moment."</p> + +<p>"Are you not able to get some one for that service?" asked Miss +Incledon.</p> + +<p>"No, indeed; I thought of Aunt Tomkins, but the truth is, I could not +request her to do it without sending invitations to the whole family, +which I concluded would not be advisable: there are so many of them, +and as they would not be acquainted with the rest of the company, it +seemed best not to have any of them. I thought, too, of old Mrs. +Joyce, who sometimes does quilting and knitting for me, but she has a +large family of grandchildren, some of whom she always drags with her +when she goes to where there is any thing good to eat; and it would +never do to have them poking their fingers into the refreshments. So +it struck me that perhaps you might oblige me. You don't appear to +care for parties, and as you would be a stranger in the room, it is +not likely you would have much enjoyment. Of course, if I believed you +would prefer the trouble of dressing, and taking your chance among the +company, I would not ask it of you."</p> + +<p>Nothing daunted by the glow of indignation which followed a look of +astonishment on the face of Cousin Sabina, she paused for a reply. +After a moment's reflection, Miss Incledon answered calmly, "I am your +guest, Sarah—dispose of me as you please;" and returning her cap +and white gloves to their boxes, she refastened her wrapper to enter +upon the office assigned to her.</p> + +<p>The party passed off with the crowding, crushing, talking and eating +common to parties. The supper was a handsome one—for Mr. Smith +wisely decided that if the thing must be done at all, it should be +done well—and therefore he had hinted no restrictions to his +wife as to the expense. Many "regrets" had been sent in, but still +Mrs. Smith was at the post she had coveted for years—that of +receiving a fashionable assemblage in her own house; and if her +choicest guests courted her notice as little as they would have done +any where else, she was too much elated and flustered, and overheated +to think about it. One of her principal concerns was to keep her eye +on her husband, who, being a shy, timid man, with very little tact, +was not much calculated for playing the host on such an occasion. He +had, however, been doing better than she expected, when, a little +before supper, he wandered through the crowd to where she was +standing, for the moment, alone, and asked, "Where is Cousin Sabina?"</p> + +<p>"In the supper-room. It is necessary at such times to have some one +behind the scenes, and I had to get her to remain in the supper-room, +to watch that things went on properly; and, in particular, to see that +none of the silver was carried off, nor the refreshments wasted after +supper."</p> + +<p>Mr. Smith looked disturbed, and exclaimed, rather too loudly, "Is it +possible that you could ask a woman like Sabina Incledon to do such a +thing! one of my most respectable relations, and a visiter in my +house?"</p> + +<p>"Don't speak so loudly. I left out all my own relations, and I dare +say they would, any of them, have looked as creditably as Sabina +Incledon. When we have established our own standing, Mr. Smith, it +will be time enough for us to bring out such people as your Cousin +Sabina. To be sure, if I had had any one to trust in her place, I +should not have objected at all to her coming in."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Smith was turning away, when she saw, at her elbow, Mrs. +Goldsborough and Miss Pendleton, who must have overheard the +conversation. To her it was the mortification of the evening.</p> + +<p>The next morning at the breakfast-table Mrs. Smith was too much +occupied in descanting upon the events of the night, describing the +dresses, and detailing the commendations on different viands of the +supper, to notice that Miss Incledon spoke but little, and when she +did, with more dignity and gravity than usual. On rising from the +table, she unlocked the sideboard, and taking from it a basket of +silver, she said, "I would thank you, Cousin Sabina, to assort these +forks and spoons for me. It will be something of a task, as they have +to go to half a dozen different places. When you have got through I +will look over them to see that all is right;" and she was hurrying +off to commence some of the multifarious duties of the day.</p> + +<p>"Excuse me, Sarah," said Miss Incledon; "I'll expect that a carriage +will be here in a few minutes to take me into the country."</p> + +<p>"Dear me!" exclaimed Mrs. Smith, looking disappointed and somewhat +displeased; "I thought I should have your assistance in putting away +things—I had no idea of your leaving us to-day."</p> + +<p>"You may remember my telling you, Cousin Pelby," said Miss Incledon, +addressing Mr. Smith, "that I would be but a few days with you. I took +advantage of traveling in this direction to renew our old family +intercourse; but the principal object of my journey was to visit a +very particular friend, Mrs. Morgan Silsbee."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Morgan Silsbee!" said Mrs. Smith—"are you not mistaken, +Cousin Sabina? I presume you mean Mrs. Edward Silsbee. Mrs. Morgan +Silsbee lives ten or twelve miles out; their place is said to be +magnificent, and I know that she and her husband drives a +coach-and-four on state occasions. Mrs. Goldsborough made a splendid +dinner for them a short time ago. Mrs. Edward Silsbee I have met +often; I didn't know that you were acquainted with her."</p> + +<p>"I am <i>not</i> acquainted with Mrs. Edward Silsbee," said Miss Incledon, +with dignity; "I mean her sister-in-law, Mrs. Morgan Silsbee. She is +an old friend of mine, and I have been under engagement to her since I +met her last summer, at the Springs, to make this visit. I had a note +from her last night, written from one of the hotels, saying that she +would stop for me this morning at nine or ten o'clock—your party +preventing her from calling in person."</p> + +<p>Had a halo suddenly appeared around the head of Cousin Sabina, Mrs. +Smith could hardly have changed her countenance and manner more +markedly. "If I had only known it," she exclaimed,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> "how +gratified I should have been to have had an invitation, with my card, +sent to her, and to have had her at my party. But, surely, Cousin +Sabina, you will soon return to us?"</p> + +<p>"I shall certainly pass through town on my way homeward, but will stop +at a boarding-house," said Miss Incledon.</p> + +<p>The conscious Mrs. Smith reddened violently, but was relieved by the +interruption of a handsome carriage, though not the coach-and-four, +stopping before her house. Miss Incledon stepped to the parlor-door, +to answer the footman, who inquired for her.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Morgan Silsbee's compliments, ma'am," said the man, "and the +carriage is at your service whenever you are ready. We are to take her +up at Mrs. Goldsborough's, where she got out to wait for you."</p> + +<p>It took but a moment for Cousin Sabina to reappear bonneted and +shawled, and to have her baggage put on the carriage. Then kindly +bidding Mr. Smith farewell, she gave her hand to his wife, escaping +the embrace in preparation for her, and was rapidly driven away.</p> + +<p>"You see there are some persons who can appreciate Cousin Sabina," +said Mr. Smith; and afraid to wait for a reply, he hastened to his +place of business.</p> + +<p>"And so Cousin Sabina is the friend of Mrs. Morgan Silsbee, the friend +of Mrs. Goldsborough!" said Mrs. Smith to herself, while a series of +not very satisfactory reflections ran through her mind. But her +attention was claimed by other things. What with putting away and +distributing the fragments of the feast, washing and sending home +table-furniture, gathering up candle ends, and other onerous duties, +the day wore on. At last, late in the afternoon, with aching head and +wearied limbs, she sat down in her rocking-chair in the dining-room to +rest. A ring at the door-bell soon disturbed her. "Say I'm engaged, +unless it is some person very particular," said she to the servant.</p> + +<p>"It is Miss Debby Coggins, ma'am," said the colored girl, returning, +with a grin; "I let her in, because she's very partic'lar."</p> + +<p>Miss Deborah Coggins, from being connected in some way or other with +each of the great families of the town, and having money enough not to +be dependent on any of them, was what is called a privileged +character—a class of individuals hard to be endured, unless they +possess the specific virtue of good-nature, to which Miss Debby had no +claim. She talked without ceasing, and her motto was to speak "the +truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth." She was of a thin +figure, always dressed in rusty black silk, which must sometimes have +been renewed or changed, though no one could ever tell when, and a +velvet bonnet, of the same hue, with a peculiar lateral flare, which, +however, was really made to look something like new once every three +or four years. She wore a demi-wreath of frizzly, flaxen curls close +above her shaggy eyebrows, which were of the same color; and her very +long, distended nose was always filled with snuff, which assisted in +giving a trombone sound to as harsh a voice as ever passed through the +lips of a woman.</p> + +<p>She had drawn up the blinds, and opened the sash of the windows when +Mrs. Smith entered the front parlor. "How're you this evening, Mrs. +Smith?" said she, in answer to the bland welcome she received; "I was +just telling your black girl that if you ever should happen to have a +party again, she should open the rooms and have the air changed better +the next day; and as you are not used to such things yourself, I +thought I might as well let you know it, too. I raised the windows +myself. Now," she added, "the room is too cold to sit in, and I would +prefer going to your dining-room, or wherever you were when I came +in."</p> + +<p>"Certainly, certainly, Miss Debby," said Mrs. Smith, marshaling the +way.</p> + +<p>"Stop!" said Miss Debby, "I want to take a look at your wall +paper—I never noticed it before. I can't say I like your taste; +though, no doubt, you took it for the sake of economy—ugly +papers sometimes go very cheap."</p> + +<p>"You are quite mistaken, I assure you, Miss Debby," began Mrs. Smith, +eagerly.</p> + +<p>"Well, it's of no consequence," interrupted Miss Debby, "only I heard +Matilda Shipley say yesterday, that there would be no use in dressing +much for Mrs. Pelby Smith's party, as her low rooms, with their dingy, +dirt-colored paper, could never be lighted up to make any one look +well."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Smith cleared her throat, but said nothing, recollecting by this +time that all retort or explanation was lost upon Miss Deborah +Coggins. To change the subject she remarked, "How disappointed I was +at your not coming last night, my dear Miss Debby—one of the +friends I most wished to see."</p> + +<p>"I have been rather sorry myself that I did not come, since I heard +that the party turned out better than could have been expected. I +supposed that there would have been a great many here that I did not +know, and that my own set, mostly, would have stayed away, like +myself, not caring much to meet them."</p> + +<p>"What an idea, Miss Debby! there was scarcely one in the room that you +did not know. My company was very select."</p> + +<p>"So I was told to-day. Mrs. William Van Pelt said that you had invited +every body that would not thank you, and, as she had been told, had +left out those that had the best right to expect invitations. I should +like to have had a share of the supper," continued Miss Debby. "I +heard that you had worried yourself nearly to death preparing it, and +that it was really good, considering that you were not used to such +things. Young John Pendleton said that it made him some little amends +for being forced to go to a place where he made a mistake every time +he addressed his entertainers and called them Joneses."</p> + +<p>Sorely wincing as Mrs. Smith was, she did not forget Miss Debby's +notoriety for following close upon the heels of a party for a share of +the good<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> things left. Accordingly, she opened her sideboard, +and produced a choice variety of her store.</p> + +<p>"I suppose it is too late to get some of the ice cream?" said Miss +Debby, losing no time in attacking what was set before her; "you have +used it, or let the ice run out, I dare say?—though, now that I +think of it, I made up my mind that I would not care to have any of +it, for old Mrs. Longacre told me that what she got was bitter, from +being made partly of milk, she supposed, that had been burnt in +boiling."</p> + +<p>This was more than Mrs. Smith could stand. "It is totally erroneous!" +she exclaimed; "I used none but the purest cream, and that without +boiling; I don't know how the old lady could have made such a mistake, +unless it was that she got some of the almond, which, perhaps, had too +much of the bitter-almond flavor for her taste."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps so; and she said that she did not venture to taste the +Charlotte-Russe, fearing it might turn out to be nothing but +sponge-cake and custard, without jelly or whipped cream. But if it was +all like this, nobody could complain of it;" and, absorbed in the +gratification of her palate, Miss Debby gave her auditor a few minutes +respite.</p> + +<p>"Your party, on the whole, made something of a talk, Mrs. Smith," she +resumed.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Smith bowed and smiled, taking the observation for a compliment.</p> + +<p>"I was out making calls the day the invitations went round. You know +making calls is a business with me, when I undertake it. I commence +directly after breakfast, and keep on till night, eating my dinner +wherever I suppose dinner chances to be ready. Well, the first I heard +of your intentions was from Mrs. Harvey, who said she wondered you +could think yourself under obligations to give a party to Julia +Goldsborough, though, to be sure, like some other of your devices, she +supposed that was only a <i>ruse</i>; and she was surprised that the +Goldsboroughs were willing to be cat's paws to help you along in +'society.'"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Smith's face grew as red as the <i>bon bon</i> paper she was nervously +twisting.</p> + +<p>"That was to Mrs. Nicolas and me," pursued Miss Debby; "and Mrs. +Nicolas wondered how upon earth the Pelby Smiths could afford to give +a party at all. She concluded that you would have to live on bacon and +potatoes for the remainder of the season, to retrieve the cost, and +would have to turn that changeable silk of yours the third time."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't mind what people say," observed Mrs. Smith, with a +distorted smile.</p> + +<p>"I know you don't, or, at least, that you don't resent any thing +toward persons of such standing as those two, or I would not have +repeated the conversation. But, is it true, that you had some trouble +to get the party out of your husband?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Smith and I always act in concert," said Mrs. Smith, looking +dutiful.</p> + +<p>"Do you? well, that's a happy thing. I understood quite the contrary, +though, that you always carried the day, from what Mrs. Joe Culpepper +said. I was at her house when your invitation came in, and after she +had opened it, she exclaimed, with her sly laugh, "Only think, Miss +Debby, that manœuvring, pushing Mrs. Pelby Smith has at last worried +her poor husband into giving a party!" and from the way she pitied Mr. +Smith, I inferred she must have some reason to believe that if you did +not wield a pretty high hand, he would not be quite such a man of wax +as he seems."</p> + +<p>Had Miss Debby been any thing less than a relation in common to the +"Goldsboroughs, the Pendletons, the Longacres, and the Van Pelts," +Mrs. Smith would have been tempted to request her to leave the house; +but as it was, her policy taught her to endure whatever Miss Debby +might choose to inflict. So she leaned back hopelessly in her chair, +while the old lady snapped and cracked a plate of candied fruits with +a vigor of which her teeth looked incapable.</p> + +<p>"Had you any of your borrowed things broken?—for I heard that +you had to borrow nearly every thing," resumed her torturer.</p> + +<p>"Not any thing at all but two or three plates, which can easily be +replaced," replied Mrs. Smith, not knowing what next to expect on that +point. But Miss Debby tacked about.</p> + +<p>"I believe," said she, "you had a visiter staying with you for a few +days?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—a cousin of Mr. Smith's—Miss Sabina Incledon—"</p> + +<p>"That's the name," interrupted Miss Debby, nodding; "the person that +went out home with Mrs. Morgan Silsbee, this morning, I presume?"</p> + +<p>"The same," replied Mrs. Smith, feeling her consequence looking up; +"Cousin Sabina is a very particular friend of Mrs. Morgan Silsbee, who +for a long time had been soliciting the visit."</p> + +<p>"Then, surely, she could not have been the person you set to watching +the kitchen and supper-room! Susan Goldsborough and Lydia Pendleton +were talking about it, and repeating to each other what they overheard +of a conversation between yourself and your husband, who seemed +greatly shocked that you had done it. Susan Goldsborough remarked that +if she had known that you had so little sense as to undervalue such a +woman in that way, or so little feeling and good-breeding as to +violate the laws of common hospitality and politeness so grossly, she +would assuredly have declined the party for Julia when you proposed it +to her."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Smith had grown quite pale, and could only answer tremulously, +"What a misconstruction!—dear me—it was Cousin Sabina's +wish—how strange a mistake."</p> + +<p>"It certainly is strange if they were so mistaken, and stranger still +that a woman of so much dignity, and so accustomed to society as Miss +Incledon, should have preferred watching your servants to taking her +proper place among your guests. I thought to myself whilst they were +talking, that it seemed hardly consistent with your usual way of doing +things, to put upon such duty a person who in all probability would +soon be Mrs. Colonel Raynor, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> the aunt of Mrs. Morgan +Silsbee. I shouldn't wonder if the match came off in a month."</p> + +<p>"Cousin Sabina likely to be married in a month!—and to Colonel +Raynor!" exclaimed Mrs. Smith, startled out of her usual tact, and her +lips growing yet bluer.</p> + +<p>"Bless me! didn't you know the story?" said Miss Debby, in her turn +looking surprised; "they met last summer at the Springs, and the +colonel was so pleased with her unpretending good sense, excellent +principles, and superior mental cultivation, that he proposed to her +before she went away. She deferred her answer until she and his +children should have become acquainted. You know he is a widower with +three daughters—two of them married. She has been in +correspondence ever since with Mrs. Morgan Silsbee, the colonel's +niece, who has been trying to make the match, and who, that her +cousins may meet her, has insisted upon the present visit. They are +lovely young women, the daughters, whom she cannot fail to like, and +as they know how to appreciate such a woman as Miss Incledon, there is +no doubt of the marriage taking place. It will be a great thing for +you, Mrs. Smith; the connection will do more for you than a dozen +parties. And such a charming place as you will have to visit! The +colonel lives like a prince, and at only a few hours' drive from here. +You can go there in the summer with your children, and meet a constant +run of company more choice than at a watering-place, and all without +any expense. When your cousin comes back to town, be sure to let me +know, that I may call upon her. Susan Goldsborough is fretted enough +that she was not apprised of her being here, and so are some of the +Longacres; they blame you with it all."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Smith did not attempt to reply, and Miss Debby rose to go.</p> + +<p>"It is getting late," said she, "and I must walk. If you have no +objection I will take those slices of fruit and almond cake, and a +paper of candied fruit and <i>bon bons</i> with me—and perhaps you +can spare some more Malaga grapes—or could you send them home +for me by one of your servants? I should like to stop at Susan +Goldsborough's to tell her that you knew nothing about the good +fortune in prospect for your cousin, and it is probable she will wish +me to stay for tea."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Smith restrained herself until she had escorted her visiter to +the door, and then returning to her rocking-chair, she indulged in a +fit of weeping that looked very much like hysterics. Her most +prominent thought was, "If I had only given the party to Cousin +Sabina!"</p> + +<p>This she had ample opportunity to reiterate—for time proved to +her that the prime object of her grand effort had failed—those +who comprised her select party never including her in any of theirs. +More particularly did it recur to her, when, some months afterward, +Mrs. Colonel Raynor, though she sometimes stopped to exchange a few +kindly words with Mr. Smith at his place of business, evaded every +invitation to his dwelling, while she went the rounds of sumptuous +fêting among the Goldsboroughs, Pendletons, Longacres & Co.</p> +<br /><br /> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="SPIRIT-VOICES" id="SPIRIT-VOICES"></a>SPIRIT-VOICES.</h2> + +<h5>BY CHARLES W. BAIRD.</h5> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +"Hast thou heard ever a spirit-voice,<br /> +<span class="i1">As in morning's hour it stole</span><br /> +Speaking to thee from the home of its choice,<br /> +<span class="i1">Deep in the unfathomed soul:</span><br /> +Telling of things that the ear hath not heard,<br /> +<span class="i1">Neither the mind conceived;</span><br /> +Bringing a balm in each gentle word<br /> +<span class="i1">Unto the heart bereaved?"</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +O, I have heard it in days of the spring,<br /> +<span class="i1">When gladness and joy were rife.</span><br /> +'Twas a voice of hope, that came whispering<br /> +<span class="i1">Its story of strength and life.</span><br /> +It told me that seasons of vigor and mirth<br /> +<span class="i1">Follow the night of pain;</span><br /> +And the heaven-born soul, like the flowers of earth,<br /> +<span class="i1">Withers, to live again!</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +"Hast thou heard ever a spirit-voice,<br /> +<span class="i1">At the sunny hour of noon;</span><br /> +Bidding the soul in its light rejoice,<br /> +<span class="i1">For the darkness cometh soon;</span><br /> +Telling of blossoms that early bloom<br /> +<span class="i1">And as early pine and fade;</span><br /> +And the bright hopes that must find a tomb<br /> +<span class="i1">In the dark, approaching shade?"</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +Yes, I have heard it in summer's hour,<br /> +<span class="i1">When the year was in its strength:</span><br /> +'T was a voice of faith, and it spoke with power<br /> +<span class="i1">Of joys that shall come at length.</span><br /> +It told how the holy and beautiful gain<br /> +<span class="i1">Fruition of peace and love;</span><br /> +And the blest ones, freed from this world of pain,<br /> +<span class="i1">Flourish and ripen above.</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +"Hast thou heard ever a spirit-voice,<br /> +<span class="i1">At the solemn noon of night,</span><br /> +When the fair visions of memory rise<br /> +<span class="i1">Robed in their fancied light.</span><br /> +When the loved forms that are cold and dead<br /> +<span class="i1">Pass in their train sad and slow;</span><br /> +And the waking soul, from its pleasures fled,<br /> +<span class="i1">Turns to its present wo?"</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +Oft have I heard it when day was o'er;<br /> +<span class="i1">And the welcome tones I knew:</span><br /> +Like the voices of those who have gone before,<br /> +<span class="i1">The Beautiful and the True.</span><br /> +And it turned my thoughts to that blissful time<br /> +<span class="i1">When ceaseth cold winter's breath;</span><br /> +When the free spirit shall seek that clime<br /> +<span class="i1">Where there is no more death.</span><br /> +</div> +</div> +<br /><br /> + + +<h2><a name="THE_ISLETS_OF_THE_GULF" id="THE_ISLETS_OF_THE_GULF"></a> +THE ISLETS OF THE GULF;</h2> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span> +<h3>OR, ROSE BUDD.</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"> +Ay, now I am in Arden; the more fool<br /> +I; when I was at home I was in a better place; but<br /> +Travelers must be content. <span class="smcap">As You Like It</span>.<br /> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> +<h5>BY THE AUTHOR OF "PILOT," "RED ROVER," "TWO ADMIRALS," +"WING-AND-WING," "MILES WALLINGFORD," ETC</h5> +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> + +<p>[Entered, according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1846, by J. +Fenimore Cooper, in the Clerk's Office of the<br /> District Court of the +United States, for the Northern District of New York.]</p> + +<h5>(<i>Concluded from page 98</i>.)</h5> + +<h3>PART XVII.</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"> +The trusting heart's repose, the paradise<br /> +Of home, with all its loves, doth fate allow<br /> +The crown of glory unto woman's brow.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 16em;" class="smcap">Mrs. Hemans.</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>It has again become necessary to advance the time; and we shall take +the occasion thus offered to make a few explanations touching certain +events which have been passed over without notice.</p> + +<p>The reason why Capt. Mull did not chase the yawl of the brig in the +Poughkeepsie herself, was the necessity of waiting for his own boats +that were endeavoring to regain the sloop-of-war. It would not have +done to abandon them, inasmuch as the men were so much exhausted by +the pull to windward, that when they reached the vessel all were +relieved from duty for the rest of the day. As soon, however, as the +other boats were hoisted in, or run up, the ship filled away, stood +out of the passage and ran down to join the cutter of Wallace, which +was endeavoring to keep its position, as much as possible, by making +short tacks under close-reefed luggs.</p> + +<p>Spike had been received on board the sloop-of-war, sent into her sick +bay, and put under the care of the surgeon and his assistants. From +the first, these gentlemen pronounced the hurt mortal. The wounded man +was insensible most of the time, until the ship had beat up and gone +into Key West, where he was transferred to the regular hospital, as +has already been mentioned.</p> + +<p>The wreckers went out the moment the news of the calamity of the Swash +reached their ears. Some went in quest of the doubloons of the +schooner, and others to pick up any thing valuable that might be +discovered in the neighborhood of the stranded brig. It may be +mentioned here, that not much was ever obtained from the brigantine, +with the exception of a few spars, the sails, and a little rigging; +but, in the end, the schooner was raised, by means of the chain Spike +had placed around her, the cabin was ransacked, and the doubloons were +recovered. As there was no one to claim the money, it was quietly +divided among the conscientious citizens present at its revisiting +"the glimpses of the moon," making gold plenty.</p> + +<p>The doubloons in the yawl would have been lost but for the sagacity of +Mulford. He too well knew the character of Spike to believe he would +quit the brig without taking the doubloons with him. Acquainted with +the boat, he examined the little locker in the stern-sheets, and found +the two bags, one of which was probably the lawful property of Capt. +Spike, while the other, in truth, belonged to the Mexican government. +The last contained the most gold, but the first amounted to a sum that +our young mate knew to be very considerable. Rose had made him +acquainted with the sex of Jack Tier since their own marriage; and he +at once saw that the claims to the gold in question, of this uncouth +wife, who was so soon to be a widow, might prove to be as good in law, +as they unquestionably were in morals. On representing the facts of +the case to Capt. Mull and the legal functionaries at Key West, it was +determined to relinquish this money to the heirs of Spike, as, indeed, +they must have done under process, there being no other claimant. +These doubloons, however, did not amount to the full price of the +flour and powder that composed the cargo of the Swash. The cargo had +been purchased with Mexican funds; and all that Spike or his heirs +could claim, was the high freight for which he had undertaken the +delicate office of transporting those forbidden articles, contraband +of war, to the Dry Tortugas.</p> + +<p>Mulford by this time was high in the confidence and esteem of all on +board the Poughkeepsie. He had frankly explained his whole connection +with Spike, not even attempting to conceal the reluctance he had felt +to betray the brig after he had fully ascertained the fact of his +commander's treason. The manly gentlemen with whom he was now brought +in contact entered into his feelings, and admitted that it was an +office no one could desire, to turn against the craft in which he +sailed. It is true, they could not and would not be traitors, but +Mulford had stopped far short of this; and the distinction between +such a character and that of an informer was wide enough to satisfy +all their scruples.</p> + +<p>Then Rose had the greatest success with the gentlemen of the +Poughkeepsie. Her youth, beauty, and modesty, told largely in her +favor; and the simple,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> womanly affection she unconsciously +betrayed in behalf of Harry, touched the heart of every observer. When +the intelligence of her aunt's fate reached her, the sorrow she +manifested was so profound and natural, that every one sympathized +with her grief. Nor would she be satisfied unless Mulford would +consent to go in search of the bodies. The latter knew the +hopelessness of such an excursion, but he could not refuse to comply. +He was absent on that melancholy duty, therefore, at the moment of the +scene related in our last chapter, and did not return until after that +which we are now about to lay before the reader. Mrs. Budd, Biddy, and +all of those who perished after the yawl got clear of the reef, were +drowned in deep water, and no more was ever seen of any of them; or, +if wreckers did pass them, they did not stop to bury the dead. It was +different, however, with those who were first sacrificed to Spike's +selfishness. They were drowned on the reef, and Harry did actually +recover the bodies of the Señor Montefalderon, and of Josh, the +steward. They had washed upon a rock that is bare at low water. He +took them both to the Dry Tortugas, and had them interred along with +the other dead at that place. Don Juan was placed side by side with +his unfortunate country-man, the master of his equally unfortunate +schooner.</p> + +<p>While Harry was absent and thus employed, Rose wept much and prayed +more. She would have felt herself almost alone in the world, but for +the youth to whom she had so recently, less than a week before, +plighted her faith in wedlock. That new tie, it is true, was of +sufficient importance to counteract many of the ordinary feelings of +her situation; and she now turned to it as the one which absorbed most +of the future duties of her life. Still she missed the kindness, the +solicitude, even the weaknesses of her aunt; and the terrible manner +in which Mrs. Budd had perished, made her shudder with horror whenever +she thought of it. Poor Biddy, too, came in for her share of the +regrets. This faithful creature, who had been in the relict's service +ever since Rose's infancy, had become endeared to her, in spite of her +uncouth manners and confused ideas, by the warmth of her heart, and +the singular truth of her feelings. Biddy, of all her family, had come +alone to America, leaving behind her not only brothers and sisters, +but parents living. Each year did she remit to the last a moiety of +her earnings, and many a half-dollar that had come from Rose's pretty +little hand, had been converted into gold, and forwarded on the same +pious errand to the green island of her nativity. Ireland, unhappy +country! at this moment what are not the dire necessities of thy poor! +Here, from the midst of abundance, in a land that God has blessed in +its productions far beyond the limits of human wants, a land in which +famine was never known, do we at this moment hear thy groans, and +listen to tales of suffering that to us seem almost incredible. In the +midst of these chilling narratives, our eyes fall on an appeal to the +English nation, that appears in what it is the fashion of some to term +the first journal of Europe(!) in behalf of thy suffering people. A +worthy appeal to the charity of England seldom fails; but it seems to +us that one sentiment of this might have been altered, if not spared. +The English are asked to be "<i>forgetful</i> of the past," and to come +forward to the relief of their suffering fellow-subjects. We should +have written "<i>mindful</i> of the past," in its stead. We say this in +charity, as well as in truth. We come of English blood, and if we +claim to share in all the ancient renown of that warlike and +enlightened people, we are equally bound to share in the reproaches +that original misgovernment has inflicted on thee. In this latter +sense, then, thou hast a right to our sympathies, and they are not +withheld.</p> + +<p>As has been already said, we now advance the time eight-and-forty +hours, and again transfer the scene to that room in the hospital which +was occupied by Spike. The approaches of death, during the interval +just named, had been slow but certain. The surgeons had announced that +the wounded man could not possibly survive the coming night; and he +himself had been made sensible that his end was near. It is scarcely +necessary to add that Stephen Spike, conscious of his vigor and +strength, in command of his brig, and bent on the pursuits of worldly +gains, or of personal gratification, was a very different person from +him who now lay stretched on his pallet in the hospital of Key West, a +dying man. By the side of his bed still sat his strange nurse, less +peculiar in appearance, however, than when last seen by the reader.</p> + +<p>Rose Budd had been ministering to the ungainly externals of Jack Tier. +She now wore a cap, thus concealing the short, gray bristles of hair, +and lending to her countenance a little of that softness which is a +requisite of female character. Some attention had also been paid to +the rest of her attire; and Jack was, altogether, less repulsive in +her exterior than when, unaided, she had attempted to resume the +proper garb of her sex. Use and association, too, had contributed a +little to revive her woman's nature, if we may so express it, and she +had begun, in particular, to feel the sort of interest in her patient +which we all come in time to entertain toward any object of our +especial care. We do not mean that Jack had absolutely ever ceased to +love her husband; strange as it may seem, such had not literally been +the case; on the contrary, her interest in him and in his welfare had +never ceased, even while she saw his vices and detested his crimes; +but all we wish to say here is, that she was getting, in addition to +the long-enduring feelings of a wife, some of the interest of a nurse.</p> + +<p>During the whole time which had elapsed between Jack's revealing her +true character, and the moment of which we are now writing, Spike had +not once spoken to his wife. Often had she caught his eyes intently +riveted on her, when he would turn them away, as she feared, in +distaste; and once or twice he groaned deeply, more like a man who +suffered mental than bodily pain. Still the patient did not speak once +in all the time mentioned. We should be representing poor Jack as +possessing more philosophy, or less feeling, than the truth would +warrant, were we to say she was not hurt at this conduct in<span class='pagenum'><a +name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> her husband. On the contrary, +she felt it deeply; and more than once it had so far subdued her +pride, as to cause her bitterly to weep. This shedding of tears, +however, was of service to Jack in one sense, for it had the effect of +renewing old impressions, and in a certain way, of reviving the nature +of her sex within her—a nature which had been sadly weakened by +her past life.</p> + +<p>But the hour had at length come when this long and painful silence was +to be broken. Jack and Rose were alone with the patient, when the last +again spoke to his wife.</p> + +<p>"Molly—poor Molly!" said the dying man, his voice continuing +full and deep to the last, "what a sad time you must have had of it +after I did you that wrong!"</p> + +<p>"It is hard upon a woman, Stephen, to turn her out, helpless, on a +cold and selfish world," answered Jack, simply, much too honest to +affect reserve she did not feel.</p> + +<p>"It was hard, indeed; may God forgive me for it, as I hope <i>you</i> do, +Molly."</p> + +<p>No answer was made to this appeal; and the invalid looked anxiously at +his wife. The last sat at her work, which had now got to be less +awkward to her, with her eyes bent on her needle, and her countenance +rigid, and, so far as the eye could discern, her feelings unmoved.</p> + +<p>"Your husband speaks to you, Jack Tier," said Rose, pointedly.</p> + +<p>"May <i>yours</i> never have occasion to speak to you, Rose Budd, in the +same way," was the solemn answer. "I do not flatter myself that I ever +was as comely as you, or that yonder poor dying wretch was a Harry +Mulford in his youth; but we were young and happy, and respected once, +and loved each other; yet you see what its all come to!"</p> + +<p>Rose was silenced, though she had too much tenderness in behalf of her +own youthful and manly bridegroom to dread a fate similar to that +which had overtaken poor Jack. Spike now seemed disposed to say +something, and she went to the side of his bed, followed by her +companion, who kept a little in the back-ground, as if unwilling to +let the emotion she really felt be seen, and, perhaps, conscious that +her ungainly appearance did not aid her in recovering the lost +affections of her husband.</p> + +<p>"I have been a very wicked man, I fear," said Spike, earnestly.</p> + +<p>"There are none without sin," answered Rose. "Place your reliance on +the mediation of the Son of God, and sins even far deeper than yours +may be pardoned."</p> + +<p>The captain stared at the beautiful speaker, but self-indulgence, the +incessant pursuit of worldly and selfish objects for forty years, and +the habits of a life into which the thought of God and the dread +hereafter never entered, had encased his spiritual being in a sort of +brazen armor, through which no ordinary blow of conscience could +penetrate. Still he had fearful glimpses of recent events, and his +soul, hanging as it was over the abyss of eternity, was troubled.</p> + +<p>"What has become of your aunt?" half whispered Spike—"my old +captain's widow. She ought to be here; and Don Wan +Montezuma—where is he?"</p> + +<p>Rose turned aside to conceal her tears—but no one answered the +questions of the dying man. Then a gleaming of childhood shot into the +recollection of Spike, and, clasping his hands, he tried to pray. But, +like others who have lived without any communication with their +Creator through long lives of apathy to his existence and laws, +thinking only of the present time, and daily, hourly sacrificing +principles and duty to the narrow interests of the moment, he now +found how hard it is to renew communications with a being who has been +so long neglected. The fault lay in himself, however, for a gracious +ear was open, even over the death-bed of Stephen Spike, could that +rude spirit only bring itself to ask for mercy in earnestness and +truth. As his companions saw his struggles, they left him for a few +minutes to his own thoughts.</p> + +<p>"Molly," Spike at length uttered, in a faint tone, the voice of one +conscious of being very near his end, "I hope you will forgive me, +Molly. I know you must have had a hard, hard time of it."</p> + +<p>"It is hard for a woman to unsex herself, Stephen; to throw off her +very natur', as it might be, and to turn man."</p> + +<p>"It has changed you sadly—even your speech is altered. Once your +voice was soft and womanish—more like that of Rose Budd's than +it is now."</p> + +<p>"I speak as them speak among whom I've been forced to live. The +forecastle and steward's pantry, Stephen Spike, are poor schools to +send women to l'arn language in."</p> + +<p>"Try and forget it all, poor Molly! Say to me, so that I can hear you, +'I forget and forgive, Stephen.' I am afraid God will not pardon my +sins, which begin to seem dreadful to me, if my own wife refuse to +forget and forgive, on my dying bed."</p> + +<p>Jack was much mollified by this appeal. Her interest in her offending +husband had never been entirely extinguished. She had remembered him, +and often with woman's kindness, in all her wanderings and sufferings, +as the preceding parts of our narrative must show; and though +resentment had been mingled with the grief and mortification she felt +at finding how much he still submitted to Rose's superior charms, in a +breast as really generous and humane as that of Jack Tier's, such a +feeling was not likely to endure in the midst of a scene like that she +was now called to witness. The muscles of her countenance twitched, +the hard-looking, tanned face began to lose its sternness, and every +way she appeared like one profoundly disturbed.</p> + +<p>"Turn to Him whose goodness and marcy may sarve you, Stephen," she +said, in a milder and more feminine tone than she had used now for +years, making her more like herself than either her husband or Rose +had seen her since the commencement of the late voyage; "my sayin' +that I forget and forgive cannot help a man on his death-bed."</p> + +<p>"It will settle my mind, Molly, and leave me freer to turn my thoughts +to God."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span></p> + +<p>Jack was much affected; more by the countenance and manner of the +sufferer, perhaps, than by his words. She drew nearer to the side of +her husband's pallet, knelt, took his hands, and said solemnly,</p> + +<p>"Stephen Spike, from the bottom of my heart, I <i>do</i> forgive you; and I +shall pray to God that he will pardon your sins as freely and more +marcifully than I now pardon all, and try to forget all that you have +done to me."</p> + +<p>Spike clasped his hands, and again he tried to pray; but the habits of +a whole life are not to be thrown off at will; and he who endeavors to +regain, in his extremity, the moments that have been lost, will find, +in bitter reality, that he has been heaping mountains on his own soul, +by the mere practice of sin, which were never laid there by the +original fall of his race. Jack, however, had disburthened her spirit +of a load that had long oppressed it, and, burying her face in the +rug, she wept.</p> + +<p>"I wish, Molly," said the dying man, several minutes later, "I wish I +had never seen the brig. Until I got that craft, no thought of +wronging human being ever crossed my mind."</p> + +<p>"It was the Father of Lies that tempts all to do evil, Stephen, and +not the brig which caused the sins."</p> + +<p>"I wish I could live a year longer—<i>only</i> one year; that is not +much to ask for a man who is not yet sixty."</p> + +<p>"It is hopeless, poor Stephen. The surgeons say you cannot live one +day."</p> + +<p>Spike groaned; for the past, blended fearfully with the future, +gleamed on his conscience with a brightness that appalled him. And +what is that future, which is to make us happy or miserable through an +endless vista of time? Is it not composed of an existence, in which +conscience, released from the delusions and weaknesses of the body, +sees all in its true colors, appreciates all, and punishes all? Such +an existence would make every man the keeper of the record of his own +transgressions, even to the most minute exactness. It would of itself +mete out perfect justice, since the sin would be seen amid its +accompanying facts, every aggravating or extenuating circumstance. +Each man would be strictly punished according to his talents. As no +one is without sin, it makes the necessity of an atonement +indispensable, and, in its most rigid interpretation, it exhibits the +truth of the scheme of salvation in the clearest colors. The soul, or +conscience, that can admit the necessary degree of faith in that +atonement, and in admitting, <i>feels</i> its efficacy, throws the burthen +of its own transgressions away, and remains forever in the condition +of its original existence, pure, and consequently happy.</p> + +<p>We do not presume to lay down a creed on this mighty and mysterious +matter, in which all have so deep an interest, and concerning which so +very small a portion of the human race think much, or think with any +clearness when it does become the subject of their passing thoughts at +all. We too well know our own ignorance to venture on dogmas which it +has probably been intended that the mind of man should not yet +grapple with and comprehend. To return to our subject.</p> + +<p>Stephen Spike was now made to feel the incubus-load, which +perseverance in sin heaps on the breast of the reckless offender. What +was the most grievous of all, his power to shake off this dead weight +was diminished in precisely the same proportion as the burthen was +increased, the moral force of every man lessening in a very just ratio +to the magnitude of his delinquencies. Bitterly did this deep offender +struggle with his conscience, and little did his half-unsexed wife +know how to console or aid him. Jack had been superficially instructed +in the dogmas of her faith, in childhood and youth, as most persons +are instructed in what are termed Christian communities—had been +made to learn the Catechism, the Lord's Prayer, and the +Creed—and had been left to set up for herself on this small +capital, in the great concern of human existence, on her marriage and +entrance on the active business of life. When the manner in which she +had passed the last twenty years is remembered, no one can be +surprised to learn that Jack was of little assistance to her husband +in his extremity. Rose made an effort to administer hope and +consolation, but the terrible nature of the struggle she witnessed, +induced her to send for the chaplain of the Poughkeepsie. This divine +prayed with the dying man; but even he, in the last moments of the +sufferer, was little more than a passive but shocked witness of +remorse, suspended over the abyss of eternity in hopeless dread. We +shall not enter into the details of the revolting scene, but simply +add that curses, blasphemy, tremulous cries for mercy, agonized +entreaties to be advised, and sullen defiance, were all strangely and +fearfully blended. In the midst of one of these revolting paroxysms +Spike breathed his last. A few hours later his body was interred in +the sands of the shore. It may be well to say in this place, that the +hurricane of 1846, which is known to have occurred only a few months +later, swept off the frail covering and that the body was washed away +to leave its bones among the wrecks and relics of the Florida Reef.</p> + +<p>Mulford did not return from his fruitless expedition in quest of the +remains of Mrs. Budd, until after the death and interment of Spike. As +nothing remained to be done at Key West, he and Rose accompanied by +Jack Tier, took passage for Charleston in the first convenient vessel +that offered. Two days before they sailed, the Poughkeepsie went out +to cruise in the gulf, agreeably to her general orders. The evening +previously Capt. Mull, Wallace, and the chaplain, passed with the +bridegroom and bride, when the matter of the doubloons found in the +boat was discussed. It was agreed that Jack Tier should have them; and +into her hands the bag was now placed. On this occasion, to oblige the +officers, Jack went into a narrative of all she had seen and suffered, +from the moment when abandoned by her late husband down to that when +she found him again. It was a strange account, and one filled with +surprising adventures. In most of the vessels in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> which she +had served, Jack had acted in the steward's department, though she had +frequently done duty as a fore-mast hand. In strength and skill she +admitted that she had often failed; but in courage, never. Having been +given reason to think her husband was reduced to serving in a vessel +of war, she had shipped on board a frigate bound to the Mediterranean, +and had actually made a whole cruise as a ward-room boy on that +station. While thus employed she had met with two of the gentlemen +present; Capt. Mull and Mr. Wallace. The former was then first +lieutenant of the frigate, and the latter a passed-midshipman; and in +these capacities both had been well known to her. As the name she then +bore was the same as that under which she now "hailed," these officers +were soon made to recollect her, though Jack was no longer the light, +trim-built lad he had then appeared to be. Neither of the gentlemen +named had made the whole cruise in the ship, but each had been +promoted and transferred to another craft, after being Jack's shipmate +rather more than a year. This information greatly facilitated the +affair of the doubloons.</p> + +<p>From Charleston the travelers came north by railroad. Harry made +several stops by the way, in order to divert the thoughts of his +beautiful young bride from dwelling too much on the fate of her aunt. +He knew that home would revive all these recollections painfully, and +wished to put off the hour of their return, until time had a little +weakened Rose's regrets. For this reason, he passed a whole week in +Washington, though it was a season of the year that the place is not +in much request. Still, Washington is scarce a town, at any season. It +is much the fashion to deride the American capital, and to treat it as +a place of very humble performance with very sounding pretensions. +Certainly, Washington has very few of the peculiarities of a great +European capital, but few as these are, they are more than belong to +any other place in this country. We now allude to the <i>distinctive</i> +characteristics of a capital, and not to a mere concentration of +houses and shops within a given space. In this last respect, +Washington is much behind fifty other American towns, even while it is +the only place in the whole republic which possesses specimens of +architecture, on a scale approaching that of the higher classes of the +edifices of the old world. It is totally deficient in churches, and +theatres, and markets; or those it does possess are, in an +architectural sense, not at all above the level of village or +country-town pretensions, but one or two of its national edifices do +approach the magnificence and grandeur of the old world. The new +Treasury Buildings are unquestionably, on the score of size, +embellishments and finish, <i>the</i> American edifice that comes nearest +to first class architecture on the other side of the Atlantic. The +Capitol comes next, though it can scarce be ranked, relatively, as +high. As for the White House, it is every way sufficient for its +purposes and the institutions; and now that its grounds are finished, +and the shrubbery and trees begin to tell, one sees about it something +that is not unworthy of its high uses and origin. Those grounds, +which so long lay a reproach to the national taste and liberality, are +now fast becoming beautiful, are already exceedingly pretty, and give +to a structure that is destined to become historical, having already +associated with it the names of Jefferson, Madison, Jackson, and +Quincy Adams, together with the <i>ci polloi</i> of the later Presidents, +an <i>entourage</i> that is suitable to its past recollections and its +present purposes. They are not quite on a level with the parks of +London, it is true; or even with the Tuileries, or Luxembourg, or the +Boboli, or the Villa Reale, or fifty more grounds and gardens, of a +similar nature, that might be mentioned; but, seen in the spring and +early summer, they adorn the building they surround, and lend to the +whole neighborhood a character of high civilization, that no other +place in America can show, in precisely the same form, or to the same +extent.</p> + +<p>This much have we said on the subject of the White House and its +precincts, because we took occasion, in a former work, to berate the +narrow-minded parsimony which left the grounds of the White House in a +condition that was discreditable to the republic. How far our +philippic may have hastened the improvements which have been made, is +more than we shall pretend to say, but having made the former +strictures, we are happy to have an occasion to say (though nearly +twenty years have intervened between the expressions of the two +opinions) that they are no longer merited.</p> + +<p>And here we will add another word, and that on a subject that is not +sufficiently pressed on the attention of a people, who, by position, +are unavoidably provincial. We invite those whose gorges rise at any +stricture on any thing American, and who fancy it is enough to belong +to the great republic to be great in itself, to place themselves in +front of the State Department, as it now stands, and to examine its +dimensions, material and form with critical eyes; then to look along +the adjacent Treasury Buildings, to fancy them completed, by a +junction with new edifices of a similar construction to contain the +department of state; next to fancy similar works completed for the two +opposite departments; after which, to compare the past and present +with the future as thus finished, and remember how recent has been the +partial improvement which even now exists. If this examination and +comparison do not show, directly to the sense of sight, how much there +was and is to criticise, as put in contrast with other countries, we +shall give up the individuals in question, as too deeply dyed in the +provincial wool ever to be whitened. The present Trinity church, New +York, certainly not more than a third class European church, if as +much, compared with its village-like predecessor, may supply a +practical homily of the same degree of usefulness. There may be those +among us, however, who fancy it patriotism to maintain that the old +Treasury Buildings were quite equal to the new, and of these intense +Americans we cry their mercy!</p> + +<p>Rose felt keenly on reaching her late aunt's very neat dwelling in +Fourteenth Street, New York. But<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> the manly tenderness of +Mulford was a great support to her, and a little time brought her to +think of that weak-minded, but well-meaning and affectionate relative, +with gentle regret, rather than with grief. Among the connections of +her young husband, she found several females of a class in life +certainly equal to her own, and somewhat superior to the latter in +education and habits. As for Harry, he very gladly passed the season +with his beautiful bride, though a fine ship was laid down for him, by +means of Rose's fortune, now much increased by her aunt's death, and +he was absent in Europe when his son was born; an event that occurred +only two months since.</p> + +<p>The Swash, and the shipment of gunpowder, were thought of no more in +the good town of Manhattan. This great emporium—we beg pardon, +this great <i>commercial</i> emporium—has a trick of forgetting; +condensing all interests into those of the present moment. It is much +addicted to believing that which never had an existence, and of +overlooking that which is occurring directly <i>under its nose</i>. So +marked is this tendency to forgetfulness, we should not be surprised +to hear some of the Manhattanese pretend that our legend is nothing +but a fiction, and deny the existence of the Molly, Capt. Spike, and +even of Biddy Noon. But we know them too well to mind what they say, +and shall go on and finish our narrative in our own way, just as if +there were no such raven-throated commentators at all.</p> + +<p>Jack Tier, still known by that name, lives in the family of Capt. +Mulford. She is fast losing the tan on her face and hands, and every +day is improving in appearance. She now habitually wears her proper +attire, and is dropping gradually into the feelings and habits of her +sex. She never can become what she once was, any more than the +blackamoor can become white, or the leopard change his spots; but she +is no longer revolting. She has left off chewing and smoking, having +found a refuge in snuff. Her hair is permitted to grow, and is already +turned up with a comb, though constantly concealed beneath a cap. The +heart of Jack, alone, seems unaltered. The strange, tiger-like +affection that she bore for Spike, during twenty years of abandonment, +has disappeared in regrets for his end. It is succeeded by a most +sincere attachment for Rose, in which the little boy, since his +appearance on the scene, is becoming a large participator. This child +Jack is beginning to love intensely; and the doubloons, well invested, +placing her above the feeling of dependence, she is likely to end her +life, once so errant and disturbed, in tranquillity and a home-like +happiness.</p> +<br /><br /> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_BELLE" id="THE_BELLE"></a>THE BELLE.</h2> + + +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> +<h5>BY MARY L. LAWSON.</h5> +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +She stands before the mirror—she is fair,<br /> +<span class="i1">And soft the light within her beaming eyes,</span><br /> +But unshed tears are slowly gathering there,<br /> +<span class="i1">Like passing clouds that float o'er summer skies;</span><br /> +Her cheek is wan, as blanched by thoughts of pain,<br /> +<span class="i1">And on her snowy brow a shadow sleeps:</span><br /> +Are such surpassing gifts bestowed in vain?—<br /> +<span class="i1">The pale, sad beauty turns aside and weeps!</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +Long, long in anguish flows the burning tide—<br /> +<span class="i1">Dark storms of feeling sweep across her breast—</span><br /> +In loneliness there needs no mask of pride—<br /> +<span class="i1">To nerve the soul, and veil the heart's unrest,</span><br /> +Amid the crowd her glances brightly beam,<br /> +<span class="i1">Her smiles with undimmed lustre sweetly shine:</span><br /> +The haunting visions of life's fevered dream<br /> +<span class="i1">The cold and careless seek not to divine.</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +Night after night unheeded glides away<br /> +<span class="i1">'Mid mirth and music, flattery's whispered tone,</span><br /> +Her dreary penance—ever to be gay,<br /> +<span class="i1">Yet longing, oh! how oft—to be alone;</span><br /> +But when all other hearts seek needful rest,<br /> +<span class="i1">And heavy sleep the saddest eyelids close,</span><br /> +Her dreams are those the wretched only know,<br /> +<span class="i1">As memory o'er her soul its shadow's throw.</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +Friends that had shared her girlhood's happier day,<br /> +<span class="i1">And forms now mingling with the dust arise,</span><br /> +The early loved recalled with pensive tears,<br /> +<span class="i1">Though once in pride half scorned and lightly prized;</span><br /> +Fair pictured scenes long vanished from her sight,<br /> +<span class="i1">Soft tones of songs and voices loved of yore.</span><br /> +And words of tenderness and looks of light,<br /> +<span class="i1">And fresh young hopes that bloom for her no more.</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +But this one hour has crowned in deep despair<br /> +<span class="i1">The many sorrows of life's galling chain,</span><br /> +Yet mid those sighs that rend her aching soul<br /> +<span class="i1">The heart's wild struggle is not felt in vain,</span><br /> +For she has turned to Him whose smile can cheer<br /> +<span class="i1">The darkened mind and hopes lost light reveal,</span><br /> +And learns to feel 'mid trembling doubt and fear—<br /> +<span class="i1">That HE whose power can wound is strong to heal.</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +While loftier thoughts to nobler purpose given<br /> +<span class="i1">Than those long wasted amid fashion's glare,</span><br /> +And deep resolves the future shall be fraught<br /> +<span class="i1">With holy deeds, her earnest musings share—</span><br /> +Though in the dance her step no more may glide,<br /> +<span class="i1">The glittering circle miss its chosen queen,</span><br /> +Around the vacant place a closing tide<br /> +<span class="i1">Will leave no record where her form was seen.</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +But where the widow's tear-drop may be dried,<br /> +<span class="i1">And where the orphan wanders sad and lone,</span><br /> +Where poverty its grieving head may hide,<br /> +<span class="i1">Will breathe the music of her voice's tone;</span><br /> +And if her face was blest with beauty rare<br /> +<span class="i1">'Mid gilded sighs and worldly vanity,</span><br /> +When heavenly peace has left its impress there<br /> +<span class="i1">Its loveliness from earthly stain is free.</span><br /> +</div> +</div> +<br /><br /> + + +<h2><a name="LE_PETIT_SOULIER" id="LE_PETIT_SOULIER"></a>LE PETIT SOULIER.</h2> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> +<h3>A STORY: IN TWO PARTS.</h3> + +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> +<h5>BY IK. MARVEL.</h5> +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> + +<h3>PART I.</h3> + +<p>I have said that the Abbé G—— had a room in some +dark corner of a hotel in the Rue de Seine, or Rue de la +Harpe—which of the two it was I really forget. At any rate, the +hotel was very old, and the street out of which I used to step into +its ill-paved, triangular court, was very narrow, and very dirty.</p> + +<p>At the end of the court, farthest from the heavy gateway, was the box +of the <i>concierge</i>, who was a brisk little shoemaker, forever +bethwacking his lap-stone. If I remember right, the hammer of the +little <i>cordonnier</i> made the only sound I used to hear in the court; +for though the house was full of lodgers, I never saw two of them +together, and never heard them talking across the court from the upper +windows, even in mid-summer.</p> + +<p>At this distance of time, I do not think it would be possible for me +to describe accurately all the windings of the corridor which led to +the abbé's door. I remember that the first part was damp and +low, and after it I used to mount a crazy stone staircase, and at the +top passed through a passage that opened on one side upon a narrow +court; then there was a little wicket of iron, which, when it turned, +tinkled a bell. Sometimes the abbé would hear the bell, and +open his door down at the end of the corridor; and sometimes a lodger, +who occupied a room looking into the last-mentioned court, would draw, +slyly, a corner of his curtain, and peep out, to see who was passing. +Sometimes I would loiter myself to look down upon the lower windows in +the court, or to glance up at story resting above story, and at the +peaked roof, and dot of a loop-hole at the top.</p> + +<p>A single small door opened into the court, and occasionally an old +woman, or bustling, shabbily-dressed man would shuffle across the +pavement; the faces at the windows seemed altogether sordid and +every-day faces, so that I came to regard the quarters of the +abbé, notwithstanding the quaint-fashioned windows and dim +stairway, and suspicious quiet, a very matter of fact, and so, very +uninteresting neighborhood.</p> + +<p>As the abbé and myself passed out sometimes together through +the open-sided corridor, I would point into the court, and ask who +lived in the little room at the top.</p> + +<p>"Ah, <i>mon cher</i>, I do not know," the abbé would say.</p> + +<p>Or, "who lives in the corner, with the queer narrow window and the +striped curtain?"</p> + +<p>"I cannot tell you, <i>mon cher</i>."</p> + +<p>Or, "whose is the little window with so many broken panes, and an old +placard pinned against the frame?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, who knows! perhaps a <i>chiffonier</i>, or a shopman, or +perhaps—" and the abbé lifted his finger, and shook his +head expressively, and continued,</p> + +<p>"It is a strange world we live in, <i>mon ami</i>."</p> + +<p>What could the abbé mean? I looked up at the window again; it +was small, and the panes were set in rough metal casing; it was high +up on the fourth or fifth floor. I could see nothing through but the +dirty yellow placard.</p> + +<p>"Is it in the same hotel with you?" said I.</p> + +<p>"<i>Ma foi</i>, I do not know."</p> + +<p>I tried to picture satisfactorily to my own mind the appearance of the +chamber to which the little window belonged. Small it must be, I knew, +for in that quarter few were large even upon the first floor, and +looking upon the street. Dirty, too, it should surely be, and +comfortless, and tenanted by misery, or poverty, or sin, or, very +likely, all together. Possibly some miserly old wretch lived there, +needing only a little light to count up his hoard, and caring little +for any intrusive wind, if it did not blow away his treasure. I +fancied I could see him running over the tale of his coin by a feeble +rushlight—squat, perhaps, on the dirty tile-floor—then +locking his box, and placing it carefully under the pillow of his +straw pallet, then tip-toeing to the door to examine again the +fastening, then carefully extinguishing the taper, and after, dropping +into an anxious, fevered sleep.</p> + +<p>I even lingered very late at the abbé's room, to see if I could +detect the old man; but there was never any light to be seen.</p> + +<p>Perhaps it was the home of some poor gentleman who had seen better +days, and whom necessity obliged to deny himself the poor luxury of a +centime light. Possibly it was a little shopman, as the abbé +had suggested, struggling with fortune—not scrupulous in +honesty, and shunning observation; or it might be (who could tell) a +sleek-faced villain, stealing about in the dusk, and far into the +night, making the dim chamber his home only when more honest lodgers +were astir in the city.</p> + +<p>All sorts of conjectures came thronging on me, and I cast my eyes up, +day after day, at the little window, hoping some change of appearance +might give plausibility to some one of my fancies.</p> + +<p>Week after week, however, the corridor wore its old quietude; the +striped curtain in the wing window, and the yellow placard in the +suspicious window at the top, still kept their places with provoking +tenacity; and I could never, with all my art, seduce the good<span class='pagenum'><a +name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span>-natured abbé into any +bugbear story about the occupant of the dim chamber on the court.</p> + +<p>I dare say I might soon have neglected to look up at all, had I not +observed one day, after my glances had grown very careless, and almost +involuntary, a rich lace veil hanging against the same little window +where had hung the placard. There was no mistaking it—the veil +was of the richest Mechlin lace. I knew very well that no lady of +elegance could occupy such apartment, or, indeed, was to be found (I +mean no disrespect to the abbé) in that quarter of Paris. The +window plainly belonged to some thievish den, and the lace formed a +portion of the spoils. I began to be distrustful of late visits to the +abbé's quarters, and full of the notion of thievish eyes +looking out from the strange window—I used half to tremble as I +passed along the corridor. I told the abbé of the veil, and +hinted my suspicions.</p> + +<p>"It is nothing," said he, "princes have lived in worse corners."</p> + +<p>"And yet you are not curious to know more?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Mon cher</i>, it is dangerous to be too curious, <i>je suis un +prêtre</i>."</p> + +<p>Some days after—it was on a winter's morning, when a little snow +had fallen—I chanced to glance over into the court on which the +mysterious window looked, and saw the beautiful foot-mark of a lady's +slipper. It was scarce longer than my hand—too narrow and +delicately formed for a child's foot, least of all the foot of such +children as belonged to the Rue de Seine. I could not but associate +the foot-track—so small, so beautiful, and so unlocked for in +such scene—with the veil I had seen at the window.</p> + +<p>Through all of my morning's lesson—I was then reading <i>La +Grammaire des Grammaires</i>—I could think of nothing but the +pretty foot-track in the snow. No such foot, I was quite sure, could +be seen in the dirty Rue de Seine—not even the shop-girls of the +Rue de la Paix, or the tidiest Llorettes could boast of one so pretty.</p> + +<p>I asked the abbé to walk with me; and as we passed the +corridor, I threw my eye carelessly into the court, as if it were only +my first observation, and said as quietly as possible, "<i>Mon cher +abbé</i>, the snow tells tales this morning."</p> + +<p>The abbé looked curiously down upon the foot-marks, ran his eye +rapidly over the windows, turned to me, shook his head expressively, +and said, as he glanced down again, "<i>O'etait un fort joli petit +soulier.</i>" (It was a very pretty little shoe.)</p> + +<p>"Whose was it?" said I.</p> + +<p>"<i>Mon cher</i>, I do not know."</p> + +<p>I still kept up, day after day, my watch upon the window. It shortly +supplied me with an important link in the chain of observations. I saw +lying within the glass, against which the veil yet hung, nothing more +nor less than the same little shoe, I thoroughly believed, which had +made the delicate foot-marks on the snow in the court. Not a prettier +shoe could be seen on the Boulevards, and scarce one so small. It +would have been very strange to see such delicate articles of dress at +any hotels of the neighborhood, and stranger still to find them in +the humblest window of so dismal a court.</p> + +<p>There was a mystery about the matter that perplexed me. Every one +knows, who knows any thing about Paris, that that part of the city +along the Rue de Seine, between the Rues Jacob and Bussy, and though +very reputable in its way, is yet no place for delicate ladies, not +even as a promenade, and much less as a residence. It is assigned +over, as well by common consent as custom, to medical students, +shop-men, attorneys, physicians, priests, lodging-house keepers, +market-men, sub-officials, shop-women, second-class milliners, and +grisettes.</p> + +<p>Indeed a delicate lady—and such only, I was sure, could have +left the foot-print in the court, and be the owner of the shoe I had +seen—could hardly pass through the Rue de Seine without drawing +the eyes of all the lodgers on the street. Dried up hag faces would +have met the apparition with a leer; the porters would have turned to +stare, and she would have had very suspicious followers.</p> + +<p>I loitered about the outer court of the hotel, under pretence of +waiting for the abbé, in hope of seeing something which would +throw light upon the mysterious occupant of the chamber. But the +comers and goers were all of the most unobtrusive and ordinary cast. I +ventured to question the concierge concerning his lodgers. They were +all <i>bons gens</i>.</p> + +<p>"Were there any ladies?"</p> + +<p>The little shoemaker lifted his hammer a moment while he eyed +me—"But one, monsieur; the wife of the old tobacconist at the +corner."</p> + +<p>I asked about the windows in the little court, beside which I +passed—did they belong to his hotel?</p> + +<p>He did not think it.</p> + +<p>I prevailed on him to step with me a moment into the corridor, and +pointed out to him the window which had drawn so much of my attention. +I asked if he knew the hotel to which it belonged?</p> + +<p>He did not. It might be the next, or the next after, or down the +little alley branching out of the Rue de Seine. I asked him of the +character of the neighborhood.</p> + +<p>It was a good neighborhood, he said—a very reputable +neighborhood. He believed the lodgers of the quarter to be all +<i>honnêtes gens</i>.</p> + +<p>I took occasion to loiter about the courts of the adjoining houses, +frequently passing the opposite side of the way, with my eye all the +time upon the entrance gates. The lodgers seemed to be even inferior +to those who passed in at the court where the abbé resided.</p> + +<p>One individual alone had attracted my attention. He was a tall, pale +man, in the decline of life, dressed in a sort of half-uniform; he +walked with a stooping gait, and seemed to me (perhaps it was a mere +fancy) as much weighed down by care as years. Several times I had seen +him going in or coming out of the court that opened two doors above +the abbé's. He was unlike most inhabitants of the neighborhood +in both dress and air.</p> + +<p>I ventured to step up to the brisk little concierge in the court one +day, and ask who was the tall gentleman with the tarnished lace who +had just entered?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It is <i>un Monsieur Very</i>," said the concierge.</p> + +<p>"And poor Monsieur Very lives alone?" said I.</p> + +<p>"How should I know, monsieur?"</p> + +<p>"He always walks alone," said I.</p> + +<p>"It is true," said the concierge.</p> + +<p>"He has children, perhaps?" said I.</p> + +<p>"<i>Très probable</i>," said the concierge.</p> + +<p>He was little disposed to be communicative, yet I determined to make +another trial.</p> + +<p>"You have very pretty lodgers," said I.</p> + +<p>"Pardon, monsieur," said he, "I do not understand you."</p> + +<p>"Pretty—very pretty lodgers," said I.</p> + +<p>"You are facetious, monsieur," said the concierge, smiling.</p> + +<p>"Not at all," said I; "have I not seen (a sad lie) a very pretty face +at one of the windows on the back court?"</p> + +<p>"I do not think it, monsieur."</p> + +<p>"And then there are no female lodgers?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Pardon, monsieur</i>—there are several."</p> + +<p>Here the little concierge was interrupted by a lodger, and I could ask +no more.</p> + +<p>I still, however, kept up my scrutiny of the attic +window—observed closely every female foot that glanced about the +neighboring courts, and remitted sadly my attention to the <i>Grammaire +des Grammaires</i>, in the quiet room of my demure friend the +abbé.</p> + +<p>Sometimes, in my fancies, the object of wonder was a young maiden of +the <i>noblesse</i>, who, for imputed family crimes, had hid herself in so +humble a quarter. Sometimes I pictured the occupant of the chamber as +the suffering daughter of some miserly parent, with trace of noble +blood—filial, yet dependent in her degradation. Sometimes I +imagined her the daughter of shame—the beloved of a doating, and +too late repentant mother—shunning the face of a world that had +seduced her with its smiles, and that now made smiles the executioners +of its punishment.</p> + +<p>In short, form what fancies I would, I could not but feel a most +extraordinary interest in clearing the mystery that seemed to me to +hang about the little window in the court. Unconnected with the +foot-track and the slipper, the window on the court would have been +nothing more than half the courts to be seen in the old quarters of +Paris. Or, indeed, the delicate foot-prints, and articles of female +luxury would have hardly caught attention, much less sustained it with +so feverish curiosity, in any one of the courts opening upon the Rue +de Rivoli, or Rue Lafitte.</p> + +<p>The concierge next door, I was persuaded, knew more of his inmates +than he cared to say. I still, as I have said, glanced my eye, each +morning, along the upper angles of the court, and sidled now and then +by the gate of the neighboring hotel; but the window wore its usual +look—there was the veil, and the placard, and the disjointed, +rattling sash; and in the neighboring court was, sometimes, the tall +gentleman picking his way carefully over the stones, and sometimes the +stumpy figure of a waiting woman.</p> + +<p>Some ten days after my chat with the neighbor concierge, I reached +the hotel of the abbé an hour earlier than my usual morning +visit, and took the occasion to reconnoitre the adjoining courts. The +concierge, my acquaintance of the week before, was busy with a bowl of +coffee and a huge roll; and, just as I had sidled up to his box for a +word with him, who should brush past in great apparent haste, but the +pale, thin gentleman who had before attracted my observation.</p> + +<p>I determined to step around at once into the open corridor of the +abbé's hotel, and see if I could detect any movement—so +slight even as the opening or shutting of a door in the chamber of the +narrow window.</p> + +<p>It was earlier by a half hour at the least than I had ever been in the +corridor before. The court was quiet; my eye ran to the little +window—at a glance I saw it had not its usual appearance. A +light cambric handkerchief, with lace border, was pinned across it +from side to side; and just at the moment that I began to scrutinize +what seemed to me like a coronet stitched on the corner, a couple of +delicate fingers reached over the hem, removed the fastening, first on +one side, then on the other—the handkerchief was gone.</p> + +<p>It was the work of an instant, and evidently done in haste; but I +still caught a glimpse of a delicate female figure—sleeve +hanging loose about the arm a short way below the elbow, hair +sweeping, half curled and half carelessly over a cheek white as her +dress, and an expression, so far as I could judge, of deep sadness.</p> + +<p>I shrunk back into a shadow of the corridor, and waited; but there was +no more stir at the window. The yellow placard dangled by one +fastening; a bit of the veil was visible, nothing else, to tell me of +the character of the inmate.</p> + +<p>I told the abbé what I had seen.</p> + +<p>The abbé closed his grammar, (keeping his thumb at the place,) +shook his head slowly from side to side, smiled, lifted his finger in +playful menace, and—went on with his lesson.</p> + +<p>"Who can it be?" said I.</p> + +<p>"Indeed, I cannot tell you, <i>mon ami</i>," said the abbé, laying +down his book with a look of despair.</p> + +<p>The morning after I was again in the corridor a full half hour before +my usual time, but the window wore its usual air. The next day, again +I was an hour beforehand, and the abbé had not put off his +priest robe, in which he goes to morning mass; still there was no +handkerchief at the little window—no wavy mesh of hair—no +taper arm—no shadowy form moving in the dim chamber.</p> + +<p>I had arranged to leave for the south in a few days, and was more than +ever anxious for some explication of the mystery. A single further +mode only occurred to me; I would go to the concierge next door, and +under pretence of looking for rooms, would have him conduct me through +his hotel.</p> + +<p>It had dismal corridors, and steeper stairways than even the +abbé's. I was careless about the second and the third floors; +and it was not till we had mounted a half dozen crazy pair of stairs, +that I began to scruti<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span>nize narrowly the doors, and sometimes +to ask if this or that chamber was occupied. I made my way always to +the windows of the rooms shown me, in hope of seeing the little court +I knew so well, and the abbé's half-open corridor, and yet in +half fear, that I might, after all, be looking from the very window +about which hung so perplexing mystery.</p> + +<p>It was long before I caught sight of my old point of observation in +the neighboring corridor. The room was small, and was covered with +singular ancient hangings, with a concealed door, which the concierge +opened into a charming little cabinet. How many more concealed doors +there might have been I do not know. I put my head out the window, and +looked down in search of the strange casement; it was not below. Then +I looked to one side—there was the long window with a striped +curtain. I looked to the other side—another long window. I +looked up—there at length it was, over my left shoulder. I could +see plainly the yellow placard, and heard it flapping the casement.</p> + +<p>I asked the concierge if he had no rooms above.</p> + +<p>"<i>Oui, monsieur</i>—a single one; but it is too high for monsieur."</p> + +<p>"Let me see," said I—and we mounted a miserably dim staircase. +There were three doors; the concierge opened the nearest to the +landing.</p> + +<p>"<i>La voici, monsieur.</i>" It was a sad little affair, and looked out by +just such a loop-hole as was the object of my curiosity, upon a court +I did not know.</p> + +<p>"It will never do," said I, as I came out of the room. "But what is +here?" continued I, brushing up to the next door.</p> + +<p>The concierge caught me by the arm, and drew me back. Then he raised +himself forward on tip-toe, and whispered, "<i>C'nt le Monsieur Very.</i>"</p> + +<p>I knew from its position it must have been the little casement which +looked upon the corridor. There was another door opposite; I brushed +up to this, and was again drawn back by the concierge.</p> + +<p>"Who is here?" said I.</p> + +<p>"<i>La Mademoiselle Marie</i>," said the concierge, and put his finger on +his lip.</p> + +<p>"Is she young?" said I, following the concierge down the stairway.</p> + +<p>"<i>Oui, monsieur.</i>"</p> + +<p>"And pretty?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Oui, monsieur.</i>"</p> + +<p>"I have never seen her," said I.</p> + +<p>"<i>Ma foi</i>, that is not strange, monsieur."</p> + +<p>"And she has been here—?"</p> + +<p>"A month."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps she is rich," said I.</p> + +<p>"<i>Mon Dieu!</i>" said the concierge, turning round to look at me, "and +live in such a chamber?"</p> + +<p>"But she dresses richly," said I.</p> + +<p>"<i>Eh bien!</i> you have seen her, then!" exclaimed briskly the little +concierge.</p> + +<p>By this time we were in the court again. My search had only stimulated +my curiosity tenfold more. I half fancied the concierge began to +suspect my inquiries. Yet I determined to venture a single further +one. It was just as I was carelessly leaving the court—"<i>Mais</i>, +<i>la mademoiselle</i>, is, perhaps, the daughter of Monsieur Very, eh, +monsieur?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Ma foi</i>, I cannot tell you, monsieur," said the little +concierge—and he closed his door.</p> + +<p>I told the abbé of my search. He smiled, and shook his head.</p> + +<p>I described to him the person of Monsieur Very, and told him he must +keep his eye upon him, and, if possible, clear up the strange mystery +of the window in the court.</p> + +<p>The abbé shook his finger doubtingly, yet gave me a half +promise.</p> + +<p>Three days only were left to me; I cast up anxious glances each +morning of my stay, but there was nothing but the placard and a bit of +the veil to be seen—the little shoe was gone. My last evening I +passed with the abbé, and came away late. I stopped five +minutes on the corridor, just outside the wicket; the moon was shining +bright, and the stars were out, but the window at the top of the court +was dark—all dark.</p> +<br /><br /> + +<h3>PART II.</h3> + +<p>Poor Clerie! but I have told his story, +<a name="FNanchor_A_1" id="FNanchor_A_1"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_A_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> so I will not tell it +again. It made a sad greeting for me on the lips of the abbé, +when I first came back to the city after a half year's absence; and it +will not, I am sure, seem strange that seeing the abbé in his +priest-robes, and hearing his sad tale of poor Clerie, I should forget +entirely to ask about the little shoe, or the tall gentleman of the +attic. Nevertheless I did, as I went out, throw a glance up to the +window of the court—alas! there were more panes broken, the +placard was gone, the veil was gone—there was nothing but a +flimsy web which a bold spider had stretched across one of the comers. +I felt sure that the last six months had brought its changes to other +houses, as well as the house of Clerie.</p> + +<p>I thought I would just step round to the conciergerie of the +neighboring hotel, and ask after Monsieur Very; but before I had got +fairly into the court I turned directly about, and walked away—I +was afraid to ask about Monsieur Very. I felt saddened by the tale I +had already heard; it had given, as such things will, a soft tinge of +sadness to all my own thoughts, and fancies, and hopes. Everybody +knows there are times in life when things joyful seem harsh; and there +are times, too—Heaven knows!—when a saddened soul shrinks, +fearful as a child, from any added sadness. God be blessed that they +pass, like clouds over the bright sky of His Providence, and are gone!</p> + +<p>I was afraid to ask that day about Monsieur Very; so I walked +home—one while perplexing myself with strange conjectures; and +another while the current of my thought would disengage itself from +these hindering eddies, and go glowing quick, and strong, and +sad—pushed along by the memory of poor Clerie's fate.</p> + +<p>I knew the abbé would tell me all next day—and so he did.</p> + +<p>We dined together in the Palais Royal, at a snug restaurant +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span> +up-stairs, near the Theatre Français. We look a little cabinet +to ourselves, and I ordered up a bottle of Chambertin.</p> + +<p>The soup was gone, a nice dish of <i>filet de veau</i>, <i>aux epinards</i>, was +before us, and we had drank each a couple of glasses, before I +ventured to ask one word about Monsieur Very.</p> + +<p>"<i>Ah, mon cher,</i>" said the abbé—at the same time laying +down his fork—"<i>il est mort!</i>"</p> + +<p>"And mademoiselle—"</p> + +<p>"<i>Attendez</i>," said the abbé, "and you shall hear it all."</p> + +<p>The abbé resumed his fork; I filled up the glasses, and he +commenced:</p> + +<p>"You will remember, <i>mon cher</i>, having described to me the person of +the tall pale gentleman who was our neighbor. The description was a +very good one, for I recognized him the moment I saw him.</p> + +<p>"It was a week or more after you had left for the south, and I had +half forgotten—excuse me, <i>mon ami</i>—the curiosity you had +felt in the little window in the court; I happened to be a half hour +later than usual in returning from mass, and as I passed the hotel at +the corner, I saw coming out a tall gentleman, in a cloak trimmed with +a little tawny lace, and with an air so different from that of most +lodgers in the neighborhood, that I was sure it must be Monsieur +Very."</p> + +<p>"The very same," said I.</p> + +<p>"Indeed," continued the abbé, "I was so struck with his +appearance—added to your interest in him—(here the +abbé bowed and sipped his wine) that I determined to follow him +a short way down the street. He kept through the Rue de Seine, and +passing under the colonnade of the Institute, crossed the Pont de Fer, +continued along the quay as far as the gates of the garden—into +the Rue de Rivoli, and though I thought he would have stopped at some +of the <i>cafés</i> in the neighborhood, he did not, but kept +steadily on, nor did I give up pursuit until he had taken his place in +one of the omnibuses which pass the head of the Rue de la Paix.</p> + +<p>"A week after, happening to see him, as I came home from Martin's, +under the Odeon, I followed him again: I took a place in the same +omnibus at the head of the Rue de la Paix. Opposite the Rue de Lancry +he stopped. I stopped a short way above, and stepping back, soon found +the poor gentleman picking his feeble paces along the dirty sideway.</p> + +<p>"You remember, <i>mon cher</i>, wandering with me in the Rue de Lancry; you +remember that it is crooked and long. The poor gentleman found it so; +for before he had reached the end he leaned against the wall, +apparently overcome with fatigue. I offered him assistance; at first +he declined; he told me he was going only to the Hôpital St. +Louis, which was now near by. I told him I was going the same way, +upon which he took my arm, and we walked together to the gates. The +poor gentleman seemed unable or unwilling to talk with me, and at the +gates he merely pulled a slip of paper from his pocket to show the +concierge, and passed in. I attended him as far as the middle hall in +the court, when he kindly thanked me, and turned into one of the male +wards. I took occasion presently to look in, and saw my companion half +way down the hall, at the bed-side of a very feeble-looking patient of +perhaps seven or eight-and-twenty.</p> + +<p>"There seemed a degree of familiarity between them, more than would +belong to patient and physician. I noticed too that the attendants +treated the old gentleman with marked respect; this was, I fancy, +however, owing to the old gentleman's air, for not one of them could +tell me who he was.</p> + +<p>"I left him in the hospital, more puzzled than ever as to who could be +the occupant of your little chamber. He seemed to me to have seen +better days; and as for your lady of the slipper, it was so long +before I saw any female with Monsieur Very, that I began to think she +had no existence, save in your lively imagination."</p> + +<p>Here the abbé sipped his wine.</p> + +<p>"You saw her at length, then?" said I.</p> + +<p>"<i>Attendez.</i> One evening I caught a glimpse of the tall gentleman +going into the court of his hotel, with a lady closely muffled in +black upon his arm."</p> + +<p>"And she had a pretty foot?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, <i>mon ami</i>, it was too dark to see."</p> + +<p>"And did you see her again?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Attendez.</i> (The abbé sipped his wine.) For a month I saw +neither monsieur nor mademoiselle. I passed the court early and late; +I even went up to St. Louis, but the sick man was gone. The whole +matter had nearly dropped from my mind, when one night—it was +late, and very dark—the little bell at the wicket rung, and +presently there was a loud rap at my door. It was the concierge of the +next court; a man he said was dying, and a priest was wanted.</p> + +<p>"I hurried over, and followed the concierge up, I know not how many +stairs, into a miserable little chamber. There was a yellow placard at +the window—"</p> + +<p>I filled the abbé's glass and my own.</p> + +<p>"Poor Monsieur Very," continued the abbé, "was on the couch +before me, dying! The concierge had left the chamber, but there was +still a third person present, who scarce seemed to belong to such a +place."</p> + +<p>The abbé saw my earnestness, and provokingly sipped his wine.</p> + +<p>"This is very good wine, monsieur," said the abbé.</p> + +<p>"Was she pretty?" said I.</p> + +<p>"Beautiful," said the abbé, earnestly.</p> + +<p>I filled the abbé's glass. The garçon had taken away the +<i>fricandeau</i>, and served us with <i>poulet roti</i>.</p> + +<p>"Had she a light dress, and long, wavy ringlets?" said I.</p> + +<p>"She was beautiful," said the abbé, "and her expression was so +sweet, so gentle, so sad—ah, <i>mon ami</i>—<i>ah, +pauvre</i>—<i>pauvre fille!</i>"</p> + +<p>The abbé had laid down his fork; he held his napkin to his +face.</p> + +<p>"And so poor Very died?" said I.</p> + +<p>"It was a sad sight," said the abbé.</p> + +<p>"And he confessed to you?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I was too late, <i>mon ami</i>; he murmured a word or two in my ear I +could not understand. He confessed to God."</p> + +<p>"And mademoiselle—"</p> + +<p>"She sat at the foot of the couch when I went in, with her hands +clasped in her lap, and her eyes fixed on the poor gentleman's face; +now and then a tear rolled off her cheeks—but she did not know +it.</p> + +<p>"Presently the dying man beckoned to her. She stole softly to the head +of the couch, and laid her little white hand in his withered fingers.</p> + +<p>"'Marie,' said he, 'dear Marie, I shall be gone—soon.'</p> + +<p>"The poor girl burst into tears, and gathered up the palsied hand of +the old man in both hers, as if she would not let him go.</p> + +<p>"'Marie,' continued he, very feebly, 'you will want a friend.'</p> + +<p>"Again the poor girl answered by a burst of tears. She could say +nothing.</p> + +<p>"'I have seen Remy,' continued the old man, still addressing the girl, +who seemed startled at the name, notwithstanding her grief. 'He has +suffered like us; he has been ill, too—very ill; you may trust +him now, Marie; he has promised to be kind. Marie, my child, will you +trust him?'</p> + +<p>"'Dear father, I will do what you wish,' said the girl, weeping.</p> + +<p>"'Thank you, Marie,' said the old man, and he tried to carry the white +hand to his lips, but he could not. 'And now, Marie—the little +locket?'</p> + +<p>"Marie stepped softly across the chamber, and brought a small gold +locket, very richly wrought, and put it in the old man's hand; the old +man raised it toward his face.</p> + +<p>"'A little more light, dear Marie,' said he.</p> + +<p>"Marie stepped to the window and removed the yellow placard.</p> + +<p>"'A little more—light, Marie,' said the old man, feebly. He was +getting lower and lower.</p> + +<p>"Marie set the door ajar, and, stepping to the window, she pulled a +little handkerchief from her pocket, and tried to rub some of the dust +from the glass.</p> + +<p>"'Light, Marie; dear Marie—more light!' He said it scarce above +his breath, but she heard it, and looked at me. I shook my head. She +saw how it was, and caught the stiffening hand of the old man.</p> + +<p>"'Dear, dear father!' and her tears streamed over it. Her sobs roused +the old man for a moment.</p> + +<p>"'Marie,' said he, and he raised his hand with a last effort, till it +rested on her head, 'Marie—God bless you!'</p> + +<p>"I could hear nothing now but the poor girl's sobs. The hand of the +old man grew heavier and heavier on her head. She sunk down till her +knees touched the rough floor of the chamber, and her face rested on +the couch. Gradually the hand of the old man slipped down and lay upon +her white, smooth neck.</p> + +<p>"Presently she lifted her eyes timidly till they looked on the eyes of +the old man—they must have looked strangely to her.</p> + +<p>"'Father, dear father!' said she. There was a little clock at the +foot of the couch, and it ticked very—very loud.</p> + +<p>"The poor girl gave a quick, frightened glance at me, and another +hurried look into the fixed eyes of the old man. She thought how it +must be; ah, <i>mon ami</i>, if you had heard her cry, '<i>Mon Dieu! il est +mort!</i>—<i>il est mort!</i>'"</p> + +<p>For a moment the abbé could not go on.</p> + +<p>"She was right," continued he, presently, "the old man was dead!"</p> + +<p>The garçon removed the chicken, and served us with a dozen or +two of oysters, in the shell. For ten minutes the abbé had not +touched his wine—nor had I.</p> + +<p>"He was buried," resumed the abbé, "just within the gates of +Pere la Chaise, a little to the right of the carriage way. A cypress +is growing by the grave, and there is at the head a small marble +tablet, very plain, inscribed simply, '<i>à mon pere</i>, 1845.'</p> + +<p>"I was at the burial. There were very few to mourn."</p> + +<p>"You saw mademoiselle?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I saw her; she was in deep black. Her face was covered with a +thick black veil—not so thick, though, but I could see a white +handkerchief all the time beneath; and I saw her slight figure +tremble. I was not near enough to hear her sobs, when they commenced +throwing down the earth upon the coffin.</p> + +<p>"<i>Oui</i>, <i>mon ami</i>, I saw her walk away—not able to support +herself, but clinging for very weakness to the arm of the man whose +face I had seen at St. Louis. They passed slowly out of the gates; +they entered a carriage together, and drove away."</p> + +<p>"It was Remy, I suppose?" said I.</p> + +<p>"I do not know," said the abbé.</p> + +<p>"And when did you see her again?"</p> + +<p>"Not for months," said the abbé; and he sipped his wine.</p> + +<p>"Shall I go on, <i>mon cher</i>?—it is a sad story."</p> + +<p>I nodded affirmatively, and filled the abbé's glass, and took a +nut or two from the dish before us.</p> + +<p>"I called at the hotel where monsieur had died; mademoiselle had gone, +the concierge could not tell where. I went to the hospital, and made +inquiries for a Monsieur Remy—no such name had been entered +within a year. I sometimes threw a glance up at the little window of +the court; it was bare and desolate, as you see it now. Once I went to +the grave of the old man—it was after the tablet had been +raised; a rose-tree had been put at the foot of the grave. I did not +know, but thought who must have set it there. I gave up all hope of +seeing the beautiful <i>Marie</i> again.</p> + +<p>"You remember, <i>mon ami</i>, the pretty little houses along the Rue de +Paris, at Passy, with the linden trees in front of them, and the clear +marble door-steps?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Très bien, mon cher abbé.</i>"</p> + +<p>"It is not many months since I was passing by them, and saw at the +window of one, the same sad face which I saw last at the grave. I went +in, <i>mon ami</i>. I made myself known as the attendant on her<span class='pagenum'><a +name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span> father's death. She took my +hand at this—ah, the soft white hand."</p> + +<p>The abbé sipped his wine.</p> + +<p>"She seemed sadly in want of friends, though there were luxuries +around her. She was dressed in white, her hair twisted back, and +fastened with a simple gold pin. Her sleeves were loose, and reached +but a little way below the elbow; and she wore a rose on her bosom, +and about her neck, by a little gold chain, a coral crucifix.</p> + +<p>"I told her I had made numerous inquiries for her. She smiled her +thanks.</p> + +<p>"I told her I had ventured to inquire, too, for the friend, Remy, of +whom her father had spoken; at this she put both hands to her face, +and burst into tears.</p> + +<p>"I begged pardon; I feared she had not found her friend.</p> + +<p>"'<i>Mon Dieu!</i>' said she, looking at me earnestly, '<i>il est</i>—<i>il +etait mon mari!</i>'</p> + +<p>"She burst into tears. What could I say? He is dead, too, then?"</p> + +<p>"'<i>Ah, non, non, monsieur</i>—worse—<i>Mon Dieu! quel +mariage!</i>' and she buried her face in her hands.</p> + +<p>"What could I do, <i>mon cher</i>? The <i>friend</i> had betrayed her. They told +me as much at Passy."</p> + +<p>Again the abbé stopped.</p> + +<p>"She talked with a strange smile of her father; she wanted to visit +his grave again. She took the rose from her bosom—it was from +his grave—and kissed it, and then—crushed it in her +hand—'Oh, God! what should I do now with flowers?' said she.</p> + +<p>"I never saw her again. She went to her father's grave—but not +to pick roses.</p> + +<p>"<i>She is there now</i>," said the abbé.</p> + +<p>There was a long pause. The abbé did not want to +speak—nor did I.</p> + +<p>At length I asked if he knew any thing of Remy.</p> + +<p>"You may see him any day up the Champs Elysiens," said the +abbé. "Ah, <i>mon ami</i>, there are many such. Poverty and shame +may not come on him again; wealth may pamper him, and he may fatten on +the world's smiles; but there is a time coming—it is coming, +<i>mon cher</i>, when he will go away—where God judgeth, and not +man."</p> + +<p>Our dinner was ended. The abbé and myself took a <i>voiture</i> to +go to Pere la Chaise. Just within the gateway, a little to the right +of the carriage-track, were two tablets, side by side—one was +older than the other. The lesser one was quite new; it was inscribed +simply—"Marie, 1846." There were no flowers; even the grass was +hardly yet rooted about the smaller grave—but I picked a +rose-bud from the grave of the old man. I have it now.</p> + +<p>Before I left Paris, I went down into the old corridor again, in the +Rue de Seine. I looked up in the court at the little window at the +top.</p> + +<p>A new occupant had gone in; the broken glass was re-set, and a dirty +printed curtain was hanging over the lower half. I had rather have +seen it empty.</p> + +<p>I half wished I had never seen <i>Le Petit Soulier</i>.</p> +<br /><br /> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="EARLY_ENGLISH_POETS" id="EARLY_ENGLISH_POETS"></a>EARLY ENGLISH POETS.</h2> + +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> +<h5>BY ELIZABETH J. EAMES.</h5> +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> + + +<h3>MILTON.</h3> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +Learned and illustrious of all Poets thou,<br /> +<span class="i1">Whose Titan intellect sublimely bore</span><br /> +The weight of years unbent; thou, on whose brow<br /> +<span class="i1">Flourish'd the blossom of all human lore—</span><br /> +How dost thou take us back, as 't were by vision,<br /> +<span class="i1">To the grave learning of the Sanhedrim;</span><br /> +And we behold in visitings Elysian,<br /> +<span class="i1">Where waved the white wings of the Cherubim;</span><br /> +But, through thy "Paradise Lost," and "Regained,"<br /> +<span class="i1">We might, enchanted, wander evermore.</span><br /> +Of all the genius-gifted thou hast reigned<br /> +<span class="i1">King of our hearts; and, till upon the shore</span><br /> +Of the Eternal dies the voice of Time,<br /> +<span class="i1">Thy name shall mightiest stand—pure, brilliant, and sublime.</span><br /> +</div> +</div> +<br /><br /> + +<h3>DRYDEN.</h3> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +Not dearer to the scholar's eye than mine,<br /> +<span class="i1">(Albeit unlearned in ancient classic lore,)</span><br /> +<span class="i1">The daintie Poesie of days of yore—</span><br /> +The choice old English rhyme—and over thine,<br /> +<span class="i1">Oh! "glorious John," delightedly I pore—</span><br /> +Keen, vigorous, chaste, and full of harmony,<br /> +<span class="i1">Deep in the soil of our humanity</span><br /> +<span class="i1">It taketh root, until the goodly tree</span><br /> +Of Poesy puts forth green branch and bough,<br /> +<span class="i1">With bud and blossom sweet. Through the rich gloom</span><br /> +Of one embowered haunt I see thee now,<br /> +<span class="i1">Where 'neath thy hand the "Flower and Leaflet" bloom.</span><br /> +That hand to dust hath mouldered long ago,<br /> +Yet its creations with immortal life still glow.<br /> +</div> +</div> +<br /><br /> + +<h3>ADDISON.</h3> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +Thou, too, art worthy of all praise, whose pen,<br /> +<span class="i1">"In thoughts that breathe, and words that burn," did shed,</span><br /> +<span class="i1">A noontide glory over Milton's head—</span><br /> +He, "Prince of Poets"—thou, the prince of men—<br /> +<span class="i1">Blessings on thee, and on the honored dead.</span><br /> +How dost thou charm for us the touching story<br /> +<span class="i1">Of the lost children in the gloomy wood;</span><br /> +Haunting dim memory with the early glory,<br /> +<span class="i1">That in youth's golden years our hearts imbued.</span><br /> +From the fine world of olden Poetry,<br /> +<span class="i1">Life-like and fresh, thou bringest forth again</span><br /> +<span class="i1">The gallant heroes of an earlier reign,</span><br /> +And blend them in our minds with thoughts of thee,<br /> +Whose name is ever shrined in old-world memory.<br /> +</div> +</div> +<br /><br /> + + + +<h2><a name="DISSOLVING_VIEWS" id="DISSOLVING_VIEWS"></a>DISSOLVING VIEWS.</h2> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> +<h3>OR, A BELLE IN A NEW LIGHT.</h3> + +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> +<h5>BY F. E. F., AUTHOR OF "AARON'S ROD," "TELLING SECRETS," ETC.</h5> +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> + +<h3>CHAPTER I.</h3> + +<p>"You had better leave Harry alone about that girl," said Tom Leveredge +to his sisters, who were talking very fast, and sometimes both +together, in the heat and excitement of the subject under discussion. +"You only make Harry angry, and you do no good. Take my advice, and +say no more to him about her."</p> + +<p>"And let him engage himself without one word of remonstrance," +exclaimed Miss Leveredge, despairingly.</p> + +<p>"You don't know that he means to engage himself," argued Tom; "and if +he does, opposition wont prevent him. On the contrary, it may settle a +passing fancy into a serious feeling; and if he does not mean it now, +you are enough to put it into his head, with all the talk you make +about it."</p> + +<p>"<i>She'll</i> put it into his head," ejaculated Miss Leveredge, +scornfully. "Leave her alone for that. She'll get him—I know she +will," she continued, almost in tears at the thought. "It's too bad!"</p> + +<p>"What do you think about it, Tom?" inquired Mrs. Castleton, earnestly. +"Do you think with Emma, that it will end in his having her?"</p> + +<p>"I should not be surprised," replied Tom, coolly.</p> + +<p>"Then you think he is in love with her?" continued his sister, +mournfully.</p> + +<p>"There's no telling," replied Tom. "He's a good deal with her; and if +he is thwarted at home, and flattered by her, I think it very possible +he may fancy himself so, whether he is or not."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" exclaimed Mrs. Castleton, "that would be melancholy, +indeed—to be taken in without even being attached to her!"</p> + +<p>"Don't be in such a hurry," said Tom. "I don't know that he is not in +love with her, or that he is going to be taken in; but I do say, that +Emma's course is very injudicious."</p> + +<p>"What is that?" inquired Mrs. Castleton.</p> + +<p>"Oh, abusing the girl so—saying she is vulgar, and—"</p> + +<p>"I am sure I did not say any thing that is not true," said Emma, with +some spirit. |</p> + +<p>"Perhaps not," replied Tom; "but it is not always wise to be forcing +the truth upon people at all times, and in all tempers."</p> + +<p>"Where on earth did Harry become acquainted with her?" asked Mrs. +Castleton.</p> + +<p>"That's more than I can tell you," replied Tom. "He told me that +Jewiston introduced him."</p> + +<p>"I never could bear that Jewiston," remarked Miss Leveredge; "I always +thought him very under-bred and vulgar. Why will Harry have any thing +to do with him?"</p> + +<p>"Who—Jewiston? He's a clever fellow enough," said Tom.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Tom! how can you say so!"</p> + +<p>"So he is," persisted the young man. "He's not very refined or +elegant, I grant you—but still a very good fellow."</p> + +<p>"And so you think, Tom," continued Mrs. Castleton, still intent on the +main theme, "that in all probability Miss Dawson will be our +sister-in-law?"</p> + +<p>Emma shivered.</p> + +<p>"I don't think it probable, but very possible," replied the young man, +"particularly under the present system of family politics."</p> + +<p>"And it would be very bad." pursued Mrs. Castleton, inquiringly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, dreadful!" ejaculated Emma.</p> + +<p>"There's nothing very <i>dreadful</i> about it," remonstrated Tom; "it +would not be pleasant, certainly—but that's all. There's no use +in making the matter worse than it is."</p> + +<p>Emma looked as if that were impossible, but said nothing, while Mrs. +Castleton continued with—</p> + +<p>"What kind of a set is she in—and what are the family?"</p> + +<p>"Very low, vulgar people," said Emma.</p> + +<p>"Now, Emma, there again you are exaggerating," rejoined Tom. "They are +<i>not</i> a low set—vulgar, I admit."</p> + +<p>"The same thing," persisted Emma.</p> + +<p>"It's not the same thing, Emma," said the young man, decidedly. "They +are very far from being <i>low</i> people. Her father is a highly +respectable man, and, indeed, so are all the family—not +fashionable, I grant you."</p> + +<p>"Fashionable!" ejaculated Emma, with a smile full of scornful meaning.</p> + +<p>"But I admit," continued Tom, "that it is not a connection that would +altogether suit us. I should be as sorry, perhaps, as any of you to +see the thing take place."</p> + +<p>"And what is the girl in herself," pursued Mrs. Castleton.</p> + +<p>"A vulgar, forward, ugly thing," said Emma, speaking quickly, as if +she could not help herself—the words must out, let Tom say what +he would.</p> + +<p>Tom said nothing, however.</p> + +<p>"Is she?" said Mrs. Castleton, looking very much distressed, and +turning to her brother.</p> + +<p>"Emma will have it that she is," he replied.</p> + +<p>"Now, Tom, you know she is," expostulated Emma.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No, Emma," said Tom, "if you will permit me, I know no such thing."</p> + +<p>"You surely don't admire her, too," said Emma, with a look of mingled +alarm and disgust.</p> + +<p>"No," said Tom, "she is as you say, vulgar, and somewhat +forward—but not ugly. On the contrary, she is decidedly +handsome."</p> + +<p>"Handsome!" repeated Miss Leveredge. "Do you call her handsome, with +all those hanging curls, and that <i>feronière</i>, and her hat on +the very back of her head; with her short petticoats and big +feet—and such bright colors, and quantity of tawdry jewelry as +she wears, too."</p> + +<p>"You women never can separate a girl from her dress," said Tom, +laughing. "Miss Dawson dresses execrably, I grant you; but give her +one half of the advantages of the girls that you see around you in +society, and she would be not only pretty, but beautiful."</p> + +<p>"Then she may be improved," said Mrs. Castleton, hopefully.</p> + +<p>"Not much of that," said Tom. "She is very well satisfied with +herself, I imagine."</p> + +<p>"Oh, it's evident she's a public belle and beauty in her own set," +said Emma. "She's full of airs and graces."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Castleton sighed.</p> + +<p>"It's a bad business, I am afraid," she said, mournfully.</p> + +<p>"No," said Tom, stoutly, "it's not pleasant, and that's all. The girl +may make a very good wife, though she does dress badly. She looks +amiable, and I dare say has sense enough."</p> + +<p>"It's not her dress only," persisted Emma, "but her manners are so +bad."</p> + +<p>"Well, many a flirty girl has settled into a very respectable married +woman," continued Tom.</p> + +<p>"Where have you seen her, Emma?" asked Mrs. Castleton.</p> + +<p>"Tom pointed her out to me one night at the theatre; and I have since +seen her in the street frequently."</p> + +<p>"Then you do not know her at all?" continued Mrs. Castleton, with some +surprise in her tone. "How, then, do you know any thing about her +manners, Emma?"</p> + +<p>"It's not necessary to know her to know what her manners are," replied +Emma. "One glance across the theatre is enough for that. She had two +or three beaux with her—indeed, I believe she was there only +with them—"</p> + +<p>"Her mother was with her, Emma," interposed Tom, decidedly.</p> + +<p>"Well," continued Emma, a little provoked at being set right, "she +ought to have made her behave herself, then."</p> + +<p>"But how did she behave, Emma?" pursued Mrs. Castleton, who had been +absent from the city during the rise and progress of this flirtation, +and was now anxious for as much information as could be obtained on +the subject.</p> + +<p>"Oh, laughing, and flirting, and shaking her long curls back, and +looking up to their faces—perfectly disgusting!"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Castleton looked at her brother in the hopes of some amendment +here on his part; but he only smiled, and shook his head, and said,</p> + +<p>"Pretty much so, Emma."</p> + +<p>"And then, dressed—oh, you never saw a girl so bedizzened!"</p> + +<p>"Strange!" said Mrs. Castleton. "that Harry should admire such a girl. +He is generally rather critical—hates particularly to see you at +all over-dressed, Emma. He never would admire Fanny Lewis, you know, +because she had something of that manner. I wonder he should admire +this girl."</p> + +<p>"Oh, it all depends very much upon the <i>clique</i> in which a man sees a +girl how she strikes him," said Tom. "Miss Dawson's manners are very +much those of the girls around her, quite as good, if not better; then +she is really handsome—moreover, very much admired, the belle of +the set; and Harry's vanity is rather flattered, I suppose, by the +preference she shows him."</p> + +<p>"You think, then, she likes him?" said Mrs. Castleton.</p> + +<p>"I know nothing more about it than you do," replied Tom. "I suppose +she must, for she certainly could marry richer men than Harry if she +wanted to. She has the merit, at least, of disinterestedness."</p> + +<p>"Harry would be a great match for her," said Emma, +indignantly—"and she knows it. She might get more money, +perhaps, but think of the difference of position."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I suppose that has something to do with it," replied Tom. "You +women all think so much of such things."</p> + +<p>"Strange!" repeated Mrs. Castleton, "I don't know how Harry can fancy +such a girl."</p> + +<p>"Don't you know all objects vary according to the light they are in," +said Tom. "If Harry saw Miss Dawson among young ladies of a different +style and stamp, the changes of the 'dissolving views' would not be +greater. The present picture would fade away, and a new, and in all +probability a very different one, would take its place."</p> + +<p>"That's a good idea!" exclaimed Mrs. Castleton, suddenly, and clapping +her hands joyfully. "I'll call and ask her to my party for the bride."</p> + +<p>Emma looked at her for a moment aghast, as if she thought she had +suddenly gone crazy.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean, Laura?" she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Why, to follow out Tom's idea," she said. "It's excellent! I'm going +to give Mrs. Flemming a party. I'll make it very select, and not +large; invite all the prettiest and most elegant girls, and then play +amiable to Harry, by telling him I'll call upon his Miss Dawson and +invite her."</p> + +<p>Emma looked very dubious, and said,</p> + +<p>"I don't like our countenancing the thing in this way."</p> + +<p>"You need have nothing to do with it," returned her sister. "As it +seems you and Harry have had words about it, you had better not; but +<i>I</i>'ll call—I'll have her. And it shall be such an elegant, +select little<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> affair that it will show her off to charming +advantage," she continued, with much animation, delighted with her own +cleverness in the scheme. "He can't help but be ashamed of her. Don't +you think so, Tom?"</p> + +<p>The young man laughed.</p> + +<p>"Now, Tom," said she, a little disappointed, "don't you think so?"</p> + +<p>"There's a good chance of it, certainly," he replied. "You can but try +it."</p> + +<p>"Then why do you laugh," she continued, still dissatisfied.</p> + +<p>"Only to see what spiteful creatures you women are," he continued, +smiling. "To see the pains you'll take to put down a girl you don't +happen to fancy."</p> + +<p>"Surely, you yourself, Tom," commenced Mrs. Castleton, seriously, and +"I am sure, Tom," chimed in Emma, in the same breath, "you have always +said—"and then they both poured forth such a torrent of +reminiscences and good reasons for wishing to prevent the match, that +he was glad to cry for mercy, and ended by saying seriously,</p> + +<p>"I am sure I hope you may succeed."</p> +<br /><br /> + +<h3>CHAPTER II.</h3> + +<p>"Harry," said Mrs. Castleton, in her prettiest and most winning +manner, "I am going to call on your friend, Miss Dawson, and invite +her for Thursday evening."</p> + +<p>Harry looked up very much astonished, hardly knowing whether to be +pleased or not, and said,</p> + +<p>"What put that in your head?"</p> + +<p>"I want to know her," continued Mrs. Castleton. "They tell me you +admire her, Harry; and if she is to be my future sister, as people +say—"</p> + +<p>"People say a great deal more than they know," said Harry, hastily.</p> + +<p>"Well," rejoined his sister, playfully, "be that as it may, Harry, I +should like to see the young lady; and beside, I want as many pretty +girls as I can get, they always make a party brilliant—and you +say she is pretty, don't you, Harry?"</p> + +<p>"Beautiful," he replied, with an earnestness that startled Mrs. +Castleton. "You'll have no prettier girl here, I promise you that, +Laura," he added, presently, more quietly. "But what will Emma say," +he continued, bitterly. "She'll never give her consent, depend upon +it, to your calling."</p> + +<p>"It's not necessary that she should," said Mrs. Castleton, good +humoredly; "so perhaps I had better not ask her."</p> + +<p>"Emma gives herself airs," continued Harry, angrily. "She thinks that +all the world are just confined to her one little <i>clique</i>; that +there's neither beauty, nor sense, nor any thing else out of her +particular set. Now I can tell her that there's more beauty among +those who don't give themselves half the airs, and who she looks down +upon, than there is to be found among her 'fashionables.' But Emma is +perfectly ridiculous with her 'exclusive' nonsense," he continued, +with much feeling, evidently showing how deeply he resented his +sister's reflections upon the style and stamp of his present +admiration, Miss Dawson.</p> + +<p>"Oh," said Mrs. Castleton, soothingly, "it's a mistake all very young +girls make, Harry. They know nothing out of one circle. Of course, +they disparage all others."</p> + +<p>But Harry was not to be quieted so easily. He was not satisfied until +he had poured forth all his complaints against Emma; and Mrs. +Castleton found it best not to take her part, but trust to the result +of her experiment of the next week with putting him in good humor with +her again.</p> + +<p>"Will you call with me?" she continued, presently. "I have ordered the +carriage at one."</p> + +<p>He looked pleased, and said he would. But after a little while he +seemed to grow nervous and fidgetty—walked about the +room—asked a good many questions, without seeming to attend much +to the answers, and at last said, hurriedly,</p> + +<p>"Well, Laura, it's rather late, and I have an engagement down +town—do you care about my calling with you? You know it's only +necessary for you to leave your card. You need not go in even, if you +don't care about it."</p> + +<p>"Oh, certainly," she replied. "No, don't wait for me."</p> + +<p>And he took his hat and darted off like light, as if he had made an +escape from he hardly knew what.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Castleton could not but laugh as she heard him shut the +hall-door, almost before she was aware he had left the room, well +pleased with this indication of susceptibility on his part, which she +took as a good omen of the future, fully believing that "future events +cast their shadows before." "If Harry were nervous already, what would +he be on Thursday evening."</p> + +<p>The call was made. Miss Dawson was out. A card was left, with an +invitation, which, in due time, was accepted.</p> + +<p>"Are you going to ask the Hazletons," inquired Emma.</p> + +<p>"No," said Mrs. Castleton; "I don't want to have too large a party. I +want just enough to fill my rooms prettily, so that you can see +everybody, and how they are dressed—just one of those small, +select, pretty parties, where everybody is noticed. I have hardly +asked a person—I don't know one—who is not in some way +distinguished for either dress, manner, air, or beauty. I have taken +pains to cull the most choice of my acquaintance. The rooms will be +beautifully lighted—and I expect it to be a brilliant affair."</p> + +<p>"If it were not for that Miss Dawson to spoil all," said Emma, +dejectedly—for she had never liked the scheme, though she did +not oppose it. "I declare, Laura, I wonder at your moral courage in +having her. I don't think <i>I</i> could introduce her among such a set, +even to be sure of breaking it off. You will be terribly ashamed of +her. You don't know, I think, what you have undertaken."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Castleton could not but laugh at the earnestness, not to say +solemnity, of Emma's manner.</p> + +<p>"Not I, Emma—why should I be ashamed of her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span>. If she +were Harry's wife, or if even he were engaged to her, the case would +be different—I should blush for her then, if she is vulgar. But +merely as a guest, how can her dress or manners affect <i>me</i>. My +position is not to be altered by my happening to visit a girl who +dresses vilely, and flirts <i>à discretion</i>."</p> + +<p>But still Emma looked very dubious, and only said, "Well, don't +introduce me."</p> + +<p>"Don't be alarmed," replied her sister. "I don't mean to. Come, come, +Emma," she continued, laughing, "I see you are nervous about it, but I +think you may trust me for carrying it off well," to which her sister +replied,</p> + +<p>"Well, Laura, if any one <i>can</i> get out of such a scrape gracefully, +you will."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Castleton laughed, and the subject dropped.</p> + +<p>What Emma had said was true. There was an airy grace, a high-bred ease +about Mrs. Castlelon, that could carry her through any thing she chose +to undertake.</p> + +<p>Thursday evening arrived at last. Mrs. Castleton's rooms were lighted +to perfection, and she herself dressed with exquisite taste, looking +the fitting priestess of the elegant shrine over which she presided. +Emma, with her brothers, came early—and one glance satisfied +Mrs. Castleton. The simplicity and elegance of Emma's <i>toilette</i> were +not to be out-done even by her own. Tom looked at them both with great +pride; and, certainly, two prettier or more elegant specimens of +humanity are not often to be met with.</p> + +<p>He made some playful observation to his sister, expressive of his +admiration of her taste, and looking about, said,</p> + +<p>"Your rooms are very well lighted. There's nothing like wax, after +all."</p> + +<p>"They are too hot," said Harry, pettishly.</p> + +<p>"Bless you, man," replied Tom, "how can you say so. I am downright +chilly; but as there is to be dancing, it is better it should be so."</p> + +<p>"If you find this room warm, Harry," said Mrs. Castleton, "you had +better go in the dancing-room—there is not a spark of fire +there."</p> + +<p>Harry walked off, and Emma said,</p> + +<p>"I don't know what is the matter with him—he's so cross. He has +been so irritable all day that I have hardly dared to speak to him."</p> + +<p>Tom only laughed.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Castleton gave him a quick look of intelligence, but before she +had time to speak, she was called upon to receive her guests, who +began to come.</p> + +<p>At every fresh arrival Harry's face was to be seen peeping in +anxiously from the dancing-room, and it wore something of a look of +relief as he turned off each time to resume his restless wanderings in +the still empty apartment.</p> + +<p>Miss Dawson, meaning to be very fashionable, came late. The bride for +whom the party was ostensibly given had arrived; and Mrs. Castleton +was about giving orders to have the dancing-room thrown open, and just +at the pause that frequently precedes such a movement in a small +party, the door was thrown open, and Miss Dawson entered, leaning on +the arm of a gentleman whom she introduced as Mr. Hardwicks. Now this +Mr. Hardwicks was something more than Mrs. Castleton had bargained +for; and Harry hastened forward with a look of some embarrassment and +vexation as he perceived the mistake his fair friend had made in +taking such a liberty with his high-bred sister. Miss Dawson had often +taken <i>him</i> to parties with her, and somehow it had not struck him +then as strange. Perhaps it was because he saw it was the style among +those around him. But these were not the "customs of Branksome Hall;" +and Harry was evidently annoyed. Moreover, this Mr. Hardwicks was a +forward, under-bred looking individual, with a quantity of black +whisker, and brass buttons to his claret-colored coat, altogether a +very different looking person from the black-coated, +gentlemanly-looking set that Mrs. Castleton had invited. She received +him with a graceful but distant bow, somewhat annoyed, it is true; but +as she never allowed trifles to disturb her, she turned calmly away, +and never gave him a second thought during the evening.</p> + +<p>Miss Dawson she received with <i>empressement</i>. She was dressed to her +heart's delight, with a profusion of mock pearl and tinsel; her hair +in a shower of long curls in front, with any quantity of bows and +braids behind, and a wreath!—that required all Mrs. Castleton's +self-possession to look at without laughing. Her entrance excited no +little sensation—for she was a striking-looking girl, being +tall, and full formed, with a very brilliant complexion. Simply and +quietly dressed, and she would have been decidedly handsome; but as it +was, she was intensely <i>showy</i> and vulgar.</p> + +<p>"Harry, the music is just beginning; you will find a place for Miss +Dawson in the dancing-room," and so, whether he would or no, he had to +ask her to dance. Probably he would have done so if his sister had let +him alone; but as it was, he felt as if he <i>had</i> to.</p> + +<p>She danced very badly. Harry had not been aware of it before; but she +jumped up and down—and if the truth must be told, with an air +and spirit of enjoyment not just then the fashionable style.</p> + +<p>"How in earnest your fair friend dances," said a young man, with a +smile, to Harry, as they passed in the dance.</p> + +<p>Harry colored.</p> + +<p>"Who on earth have you there, Harry?" asked another, with rather a +quizzical look. "Introduce me, wont you?" But Harry affected not to +hear the request.</p> + +<p>"Who is the young lady your brother is dancing with, Mrs. Castleton?" +he heard asked several times; to which his sister answered in her +sweetest and most winning manner, "Miss Dawson—a friend of +Harry's;" and to some of her brother's particular friends, he heard +her say, "Oh, that's Harry's <i>belle</i>. Don't you know Miss +Dawson—let me introduce you."</p> + +<p>Harry felt quite provoked, he did not know why, at hearing his sister +couple <i>him</i> always with Miss<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> Dawson; and if he thought the +room hot at the beginning of the dance, he did not feel it any cooler +before it was over.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Castleton introduced a gentleman just as the dance finished, who +asked her for the next, when Harry said quickly,</p> + +<p>"You are fatigued, are you not? Perhaps you had better go with me and +get an ice."</p> + +<p>"Do you go and bring Miss Dawson one," said his sister. "I hope," she +continued, "you are not fatigued already?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no," replied the young lady, with an animation and energy that +proclaimed she had a dancing power within not to be readily exhausted. +"Oh, no, indeed; I could dance all night."</p> + +<p>"I am glad to hear it," said Mrs. Castleton, graciously, as if she +felt her dancing a personal compliment. And before the dance was over +she had introduced half a dozen young men to her.</p> + +<p>Feeling herself a decided belle, Miss Dawson was in high spirits (that +trying test to an unrefined woman.) She considered Mrs. Castleton's +visit and invitation as a marked compliment, (as she had every right +to do,) and her attentions now, and the admiration she received, +excited her to even more than her ordinary animation, which was +always, to say the least of it, sufficient. She laughed, and she +talked, and shook her long curls about, and flirted in a style that +made the ladies look, and the gentlemen smile. Moreover, Mr. +Hardwicks, who knew no one else, (for Mrs. Castleton had no idea of +forcing <i>him</i> on any of her friends,) never left her side; and the +easy manner in which he spoke to her, and took her fan from her hand +while she was talking, and even touched her sleeve to call her +attention when her head was turned away, all of which she seemed to +think quite natural, made Harry color, and bite his lip more than once +with mortification and vexation.</p> + +<p>"You are not going to waltz?" he said, justly distrusting the waltzing +of a lady who danced so.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said, "with Mr. Hardwicks;" and in a moment they were +whirling round in a style quite peculiar, and altogether new to the +accomplished waltzers then and there assembled.</p> + +<p>People looked, and some smiled—and then couple after couple +paused in the dance to gaze on the strangers who had just taken the +floor—and soon they had it all to themselves, and on they +whirled like mad ones. Harry could not stand it—he left the +room.</p> + +<p>Presently some of his young friends followed him, who seemed +excessively amused, and one of them exclaimed,</p> + +<p>"Harry, where on earth did you pick up those extraordinary waltzers. +Mrs. Castleton tells me they are friends of yours?"</p> + +<p>Harry muttered something, and said,</p> + +<p>"Hardwicks should not ask any woman to waltz. He did not know how; no +man should, if he could not waltz himself."</p> + +<p>"Are you dancing, Francis?" asked another, of a fashionable looking +young man standing near.</p> + +<p>"No," he replied, languidly, "I am exhausted. I danced with Harry's +fair friend the last dance, and it requires no small degree of +physical power to keep pace with her efforts."</p> + +<p>Harry was excessively annoyed. He heartily wished he had never seen +her; and was quite angry with Mrs. Castleton for having invited her. +And just then, irritated and cross as he was, Mrs. Castleton met him +with,</p> + +<p>"Harry, Miss Dawson says you have carried off her bouquet."</p> + +<p>"I have not got her bouquet," he answered, angrily.</p> + +<p>"Well, go and make your own apology," and before he had time to know +what she was about, she had her arm in his, and had taken him up to +Miss Dawson, saying,</p> + +<p>"Here is the culprit, Miss Dawson—but he pleads not guilty;" +whereupon the young lady tapped him with her fan, and declared he was +a "sad fellow," and shook her curls back, and looked up in his face, +and flirted, as she thought, bewitchingly, while he with pleasure +could have boxed her ears.</p> + +<p>"Your carriage is at the door," Mrs. Castlelon heard him say soon +after.</p> + +<p>"Why, Harry!" exclaimed his sister, looking almost shocked at his +evident desire to hurry away her guest. "You surely don't think of +going yet. Miss Dawson?" said she, in her most persuasive manner. "You +will dance this polka."</p> + +<p>A polka! Harry was in despair. He would have preferred dancing on hot +ploughshares himself.</p> + +<p>"The scheme works to admiration," said Mrs. Castleton to Emma, as they +met for a moment in the crowd.</p> + +<p>"But it has spoiled your party," replied the other.</p> + +<p>"Not at all," she answered, laughing, "what it has withdrawn in +elegance, it has made up in spirit. The joke seems to take +wonderfully."</p> + +<p>But Emma did not like such "jokes." Mrs. Castleton's <i>hauteur</i> was of +a more flexible kind. To spoil a match she was willing to spoil her +party.</p> + +<p>"Was I right?" she said to Tom, toward the close of the evening.</p> + +<p>He nodded and laughed, and said, "I congratulate you."</p> + +<p>Harry had in vain attempted to persuade Miss Dawson that she was +heated and tired, and had better not polka; but the young lady thought +him over-careful, and chose to dance.</p> + +<p>"A willful thing!" muttered Harry, as he turned off. "Trifles show the +temper—preserve me from an unamiable woman."</p> + +<p>Now Miss Dawson was not unamiable, but Harry was cross. If he were +ashamed of her, she was hardly to be expected to know that. At any +rate he walked off and left her to take care of herself. Mr. Hardwicks +took her home as he had brought her—and Harry hardly looked at +her again.</p> + +<p>He was thoroughly out of humor. Mrs. Castleton had discretion enough +not to follow up her victory. She saw she was successful, and so left +things to their own course.</p> + +<p>Never was a "dissolving view" more perfect. Harry had really imagined +Miss Dawson not only<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span> very beautiful, but thought she would +grace any drawing-room in Europe. He now saw her hoydenish, flirty, +and ungraceful, with beauty of a very unrefined style—in fact, a +different person. Such is the power of contrast, and the effect of a +"new light."</p> + +<p>The spell was broken—for when a lover is mortified, ashamed of +his choice, the danger is over.</p> + +<p>Fortunately, his honor was no deeper pledged than his heart. Miss +Dawson had not flirted more with him than with two or three others; +and though she would have preferred him, one of the others would do.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>"What did Harry say of my party last night?" asked Mrs. Castleton of +her sister.</p> + +<p>"He merely said 'it was a great bore, this going out,' and seemed +quite cross, and took his light and walked off to his room +immediately; and, in fact, it seemed such a delicate point with him, +that I did not dare to make any allusion to it this morning."</p> + +<p>"Poor fellow! I don't wonder," said Mrs. Castleton, laughing. "How she +did look beside the Claverings and Lesters."</p> + +<p>"Like a peony among moss rose-buds," said Emma.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>"Laura," said Harry, a few days after, "I am going to New Orleans for +the rest of the winter."</p> + +<p>"Are you?" she said, in surprise.</p> + +<p>"Yes. My father is anxious about that business of his, and I am going +for him."</p> + +<p>"I thought you had declined, and that he was going to send Tom," she +said.</p> + +<p>"I've changed my mind," he replied. "In fact it is very dull here, and +as Tom don't want to go, I think I shall like the trip."</p> + +<p>"I've no doubt you will find it very pleasant," she said, cheerfully, +amused at his proposing himself the very thing they had all been so +anxious to have him do, and which he had negatived so decidedly some +weeks back.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>"Ah, Tom," said Mrs. Castleton, laughing, "that was a bright idea of +yours. There's nothing like a new light for bringing out new colors. I +think that party of mine finished Miss Dawson."</p> + +<p>"You need not crow too much, Laura," replied Tom, "for, in all +probability, if you had left Harry alone in the beginning, the party +never would have been required. You women never learn not to thwart +and oppose a man until it is too late. <i>Then</i>, you'll move heaven and +earth to undo your own work. If you would only govern that 'unruly +member' in the beginning, you would have required no 'dissolving +views, in the end."</p> +<br /><br /> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_VOICE_OF_THE_FIRE" id="THE_VOICE_OF_THE_FIRE"></a>THE VOICE OF THE FIRE.</h2> + +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> +<h5>BY J. BAYARD TAYLOR.</h5> +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +They sat by the hearth-stone, broad and bright,<br /> +Whose burning brands threw a cheerful light<br /> +On the frosty calm of the winter's night.<br /> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +Her radiant features wore the gleam<br /> +Which childhood learns from an angel-dream,<br /> +And her bright hair stirred in the flickering beam.<br /> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +Those tresses soft to his lips were pressed,<br /> +Her head was leaned on his happy breast,<br /> +And the throb of the bosom his soul expressed;<br /> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +And ever a gentle murmur came<br /> +From the clear, bright heart of the wavering flame,<br /> +Like the faltering thrill of a worshiped name.<br /> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +He kissed her on the warm, white brow,<br /> +And told her in fonder words, the vow<br /> +He whispered under the moonlit bough;<br /> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +And o'er them a steady radiance came<br /> +From the shining heart of the mounting flame,<br /> +Like a love that burns through life the same.<br /> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +The maiden smiled through her joy-dimmed eyes,<br /> +As he led her spirit to sunnier skies,<br /> +Whose cloudless light on the future lies—<br /> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +And a moment paused the laughing flame,<br /> +And it listened awhile, and then there came<br /> +A cheery burst from its sparkling frame.<br /> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +He visioned a home by pure love blest,<br /> +Clasping their souls in a calmer rest,<br /> +Like woodland birds in their leafy nest.<br /> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +There slept, foreshadowed, the bliss to be,<br /> +When a tenderer life that home should see,<br /> +In the wingless cherub that climbed his knee.<br /> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +And the flame went on with its flickering song,<br /> +And beckoned and laughed to the lovers long,<br /> +Who sat in its radiance, red and strong.<br /> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +Then broke and fell a glimmering brand<br /> +To the cold, dead ashes it fed and fanned,<br /> +And its last gleam leaped like an infant's hand.<br /> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +A sudden dread to the maiden stole,<br /> +For the gloom of a sorrow seemed to roll<br /> +O'er the sunny landscape within her soul.<br /> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +But, hovering over its smouldering bed,<br /> +Its ruddy pinions the flame outspread,<br /> +And again through the chamber its glory shed;<br /> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +And ever its chorus seemed to be<br /> +The mingled voices of household glee,<br /> +Like a gush of winds in a mountain tree.<br /> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +The night went on in its silent flow,<br /> +While through the waving and wreathéd glow<br /> +They watched the years of the Future go.<br /> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +Their happy spirits learned the chime<br /> +Of its laughing voice and murmured rhyme—<br /> +A joyous music for aftertime.<br /> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +They felt a flame as glorious start,<br /> +Where, side by side, they dwelt apart,<br /> +In the quiet homestead of the heart.<br /> +</div> +</div> +<br /><br /> + +<h2><a name="MARGINALIA" id="MARGINALIA"></a>MARGINALIA.</h2> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> +<h5>BY EDGAR A. POE.</h5> +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> + +<p>One of the happiest examples, in a small way, of the +carrying-one's-self-in-a-hand-basket logic, is to be found in a London +weekly paper called "The Popular Record of Modern Science; a Journal +of Philosophy and General Information." This work has a vast +circulation, and is respected by eminent men. Sometime in November, +1845, it copied from the "Columbian Magazine" of New York, a rather +adventurous article of mine, called "Mesmeric Revelation." It had the +impudence, also, to spoil the title by improving it to "The Last +Conversation of a Somnambule"—a phrase that is nothing at all to +the purpose, since the person who "converses" is <i>not</i> a somnambule. +He is a sleep-waker—<i>not</i> a sleep-walker; but I presume that +"The Record" thought it was only the difference of an <i>l</i>. What I +chiefly complain of, however, is that the London editor prefaced my +paper with these words:—"The following is an article +communicated to the Columbian Magazine, a journal of respectability +and influence in the United States, by Mr. Edgar A. Poe. <i>It bears +internal evidence of authenticity.</i>"!</p> + +<p>There is no subject under heaven about which funnier ideas are, in +general, entertained than about this subject of internal evidence. It +is by "internal evidence," observe, that we decide upon the mind.</p> + +<p>But to "The Record:"—On the issue of my "Valdemar Case," this +journal copies it, as a matter of course, and (also as a matter of +course) improves the title, as in the previous instance. But the +editorial comments may as well be called profound. Here they are:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>"The following narrative appears in a recent number of <i>The American +Magazine</i>, a respectable periodical in the United States. It comes, it +will be observed, from the narrator of the 'Last Conversation of a +Somnambule,' published in The Record of the 29th of November. In +extracting this case the <i>Morning Post</i> of Monday last, takes what it +considers the safe side, by remarking—'For our own parts we do +not believe it; and there are several statements made, more especially +with regard to the disease of which the patient died, which at once +prove the case to be either a fabrication, or the work of one little +acquainted with consumption. The story, however, is wonderful, and we +therefore give it.' The editor, however, does not point out the +especial statements which are inconsistent with what we know of the +progress of consumption, and as few scientific persons would be +willing to take their pathology any more than their logic from the +<i>Morning Post</i>, his caution, it is to be feared, will not have much +weight. The reason assigned by the Post for publishing the account is +quaint, and would apply equally to an adventure from Baron +Munchausen:—'it is wonderful and we therefore give it.'...The +above case is obviously one that cannot be received except on the +strongest testimony, and it is equally clear that the testimony by +which it is at present accompanied, is not of that character. The most +favorable circumstances in support of it, consist in the fact that +credence is understood to be given to it at New York, within a few +miles of which city the affair took place, and where consequently the +most ready means must be found for its authentication or disproval. +The initials of the medical men and of the young medical student must +be sufficient in the immediate locality, to establish their identity, +especially as M. Valdemar was well known, and had been so long ill as +to render it out of the question that there should be any difficulty +in ascertaining the names of the physicians by whom he had been +attended. In the same way the nurses and servants under whose +cognizance the case must have come during the seven months which it +occupied, are of course accessible to all sorts of inquiries. It will, +therefore, appear that there must have been too many parties concerned +to render prolonged deception practicable. The angry excitement and +various rumors which have at length rendered a public statement +necessary, are also sufficient to show that <i>something</i> extraordinary +must have taken place. On the other hand there is no strong point for +disbelief. The circumstances are, as the Post says, 'wonderful;' but +so are all circumstances that come to our knowledge for the first +time—and in Mesmerism every thing is new. An objection may be +made that the article has rather a Magazinish air; Mr. Poe having +evidently written with a view to effect, and so as to excite rather +than to subdue the vague appetite for the mysterious and the horrible +which such a case, under any circumstances, is sure to +awaken—but apart from this there is nothing to deter a +philosophic mind from further inquiries regarding it. It is a matter +entirely for testimony. [So it is.] Under this view we shall take +steps to procure from some of the most intelligent and influential +citizens of New York all the evidence that can be had upon the +subject. No steamer will leave England for America till the 3d of +February, but within a few weeks of that time we doubt not it will be +possible to lay before the readers of the <i>Record</i> information which +will enable them to come to a pretty accurate conclusion."</p> +</div> + +<p>Yes; and no doubt they came to one accurate enough, in the end. But +all this rigmarole is what people call testing a thing by "internal +evidence." The <i>Record</i> insists upon the truth of the story because of +certain facts—because "the initials of the young men <i>must</i> be +sufficient to establish their identity"—because "the nurses +<i>must</i> be accessible to all sorts of inquiries"—and because the +"angry excitement and various rumors which at length rendered a public +statement necessary, are sufficient to show that <i>something</i> +extraordinary <i>must</i> have taken place."</p> + +<p>To be sure! The story is proved by these facts—the facts about +the students, the nurses, the excitement, the credence given the tale +at New York. And now all we have to do is to prove these facts. +Ah!—<i>they</i> are proved <i>by the story</i>.</p> + +<p>As for the <i>Morning Post</i>, it evinces more weakness in its disbelief +than the <i>Record</i> in its credulity. What the former says about +doubting on account of inaccuracy in the detail of the phthisical +symptoms, is a mere <i>fetch</i>, as the Cockneys have it, in order to make +a very few little children believe that it, the Post, is not quite so +stupid as a post proverbially is.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span> It knows nearly as much +about pathology as it does about English grammar—and I really +hope it will not feel called upon to blush at the compliment. I +represented the symptoms of M. Valdemar as "severe," to be sure. I put +an extreme case; for it was necessary that I should leave on the +reader's mind no doubt as to the certainty of death without the aid of +the Mesmerist—but such symptoms <i>might</i> have appeared—the +identical symptoms <i>have appeared</i>, and will be presented again and +again. Had the Post been only half as honest as ignorant, it would +have owned that it disbelieved for no reason more profound than that +which influences all dunces in disbelieving—it would have owned +that it doubted the thing merely because the thing was a "wonderful" +thing, and had never yet been printed in a book.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="LETHE" id="LETHE"></a>LETHE.</h2> + +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> +<h5>BY HENRY B. HIRST.</h5> +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> + +<h5><i>Agressi sunt mare tenebrarum id in eo exploraturi esset.</i> <span class="smcap">Nubian Geographer.</span></h5> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<i>Looking like Lethe, see! the lake</i><br /> +A conscious slumber seems to take,<br /> +And would not for the world awake. "<i>The Sleepers</i>." <span class="smcap">Poe</span>.<br /> +</div> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There is a lake whose lilies lie</span><br /> +<span class="i1">Like maidens in the lap of death,</span><br /> +<span class="i2">So pale, so cold, so motionless</span><br /> +<span class="i2">Its Stygian breast they press;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">They breathe, and toward the purple sky</span><br /> +<span class="i1">The pallid perfumes of their breath</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Ascend in spiral shapes, for there</span><br /> +<span class="i0">No wind disturbs the voiceless air—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">No murmur breaks the oblivious mood</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of that tenebrean solitude—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">No Djinn, no Ghoul, no Afrit laves</span><br /> +<span class="i0">His giant limbs within its waves</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Beneath the wan Saturnian light</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That swoons in the omnipresent night;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But only funeral forms arise,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With arms uplifted to the skies,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And gaze, with blank, cavernous eyes</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In whose dull glare no Future lies,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The shadows of the dead—the Dead</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of whom no mortal soul hath read,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">No record come, in prose or rhyme,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Down from the dim Primeval Time!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A moment gazing—they are gone—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Without a sob—without a groan—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Without a sigh—without a moan—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And the lake again is left alone—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Left to that undisturbed repose</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Which in an ebon vapor flows</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Among the cypresses that stand</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A stone-cast from the sombre strand—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Among the trees whose shadows wake,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But not to life, within the lake,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That stand, like statues of the Past,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And will, while that ebony lake shall last.</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But when the more than Stygian night</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Descends with slow and owl-like flight,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Silent as Death (who comes—we know—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Unheard, unknown of all below;)</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Above that dark and desolate wave,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The reflex of the eternal grave—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Gigantic birds with flaming eyes</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Sweep upward, onward through the skies,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Or stalk, without a wish to fly,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Where the reposing lilies lie;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">While, stirring neither twig nor grass,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Among the trees, in silence, pass</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Titanic animals whose race</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Existed, but has left no trace</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of name, or size, or shape, or hue—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Whom ancient Adam never knew.</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">At midnight, still without a sound,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Approaching through the black Profound,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Shadows, in shrouds of pallid hue,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Come slowly, slowly, two by two,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In double line, with funeral march,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Through groves of cypress, yew and larch,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Descending in those waves that part,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Then close, above each silent heart;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">While, in the distance, far ahead,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The shadows of the Earlier Dead</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Arise, with speculating eyes,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Forgetful of their destinies,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And gaze, and gaze, and gaze again</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Upon the long funereal train,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Undreaming their Descendants come</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To make that ebony lake their home—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To vanish, and become at last</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A parcel of the awful Past—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The hideous, unremembered Past</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Which Time, in utter scorn, has cast</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Behind him, as with unblenched eye,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">He travels toward Eternity—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That Lethe, in whose sunless wave</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Even he, himself, must find a grave!</span><br /> +</div> +</div> +<br /><br /> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="EPITAPH_ON_A_RESTLESS_LADY" id="EPITAPH_ON_A_RESTLESS_LADY"></a>EPITAPH ON A RESTLESS LADY.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +The gates were unbarred—the home of the blest<br /> +<span class="i1">Freely opened to welcome Miss C——;</span><br /> +But hearing the chorus that "Heaven is Rest,"<br /> +<span class="i1">She turned from the angels to flee,</span><br /> +Saying, "Rest is no Heaven to me!"<br /> +</div> +</div> +<br /><br /> + + + +<h2><a name="MY_LADY_HELP" id="MY_LADY_HELP"></a>MY LADY-HELP.</h2> + +<h3>OR AUNT LINA'S VISIT.</h3> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> + +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> +<h5>BY ENNA DUVAL.</h5> +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> + +<p>"You are in want of an efficient person to assist you in taking charge +of your domestic affairs, Enna," said a maiden aunt of mine to me one +evening. I pulled my little sewing-table toward me with a slight +degree of impatience, and began very earnestly to examine the contents +of my work-box, that I might not express aloud my weariness of my +aunt's favorite subject. I had been in want of just such an article as +an "efficient person" ever since I had taken charge of my father's +<i>ménage</i>; and after undergoing almost martyrdom with slip-shod, +thriftless, good-for-nothing "<i>help</i>," as we Americans, with such +delicate consideration, term our serving maids, I had come to the +conclusion that indifferent "<i>help</i>" was an unavoidable evil, and that +the best must be made of the poor, miserable instruments of assistance +vouchsafed unto the race of tried, vexed housekeepers.</p> + +<p>"I have just thought," continued my aunt, "of a very excellent person +that will suit you in every way. Lizzie Hall, the one I was thinking +of, has never been accustomed to living out. Her father is a farmer in +our place, but having made a second marriage, and with a young family +coming up around him, Lizzie very properly wishes to do something for +herself. I remember having heard her express such a desire; and I have +no doubt I could persuade her to come to you. She is not very +young—about eight-and-twenty, or thereabouts."</p> + +<p>I listened to my Aunt Lina's talk with, it must be confessed, +indifference, mingled with a little sullenness, and quieted my +impatience by inward ejaculations—a vast deal of good do those +inward conversations produce, such mollifiers of the temper are they. +"So, so," said I to myself, "my Aunt Lina's paragon is a +'<i>lady-help</i>.' Of all kinds 'of help' the very one I have endeavored +most to avoid; it is such a nondescript kind of creature that +lady-help;" and as I soliloquized, recollections of specimens of the +kind I had been afflicted with, came in sad array before my +memory—maids with slip-shod French kid slippers, that had never +been large enough for their feet—love-locks on either side of +their cheeks, twirled up during the day in brown +curl-papers—faded lawn dresses, with dangling flounces and +tattered edging; then such sentimental entreaties that I should not +make them answer the door-bell if Ike, the black boy, might happen to +be away on some errand, or expose them to the rude gaze of the +multitude in the market-house; and I groaned in spirit as I thought +what a troublesome creature the "lady-help" was to manage. During this +sympathizing colloquy with myself, my aunt went on expatiating most +eloquently on the merits of her <i>protégé</i>, Lizzie Hall. +Some pause occurring—for want of breath, I really believe, on my +aunt's side—good-breeding seemed to require a remark from me, +and I faltered out some objection as to the accommodations a city +household afforded for a person of Lizzie Hall's condition.</p> + +<p>"Of course," said my aunt, "she will not wish to sit at the same table +with the black servants you may happen to have; but Lizzie will not +cause you any trouble on the score of accommodations, I'll answer for +it, Enna; she is too sensible a person not to fully understand the +difference between town and country habits—and if you say so, I +will engage her for you when I return to Rockland."</p> + +<p>My father, who had been dozing over his paper, gradually aroused +himself as this conversation progressed, and as my aunt made the last +proposition, he entered into it most cordially, and begged she would +endeavor to procure the young woman, and send her by the earliest +opportunity. I remained quiet—for I could not say any thing +heartily, seeing nothing but vexation and annoyance in the whole +affair for me. The young woman was evidently a favorite with my Aunt +Lina; and should she not prove a very useful or agreeable maid to me, +I would receive but little sympathy from my immediate family. My +father is as ignorant as a child of what we poor housekeepers require +in a domestic; and my Aunt Lina, though kind-hearted and well-wishing, +is in equally as blissful a state. A very indifferent servant, who +happened to please her fancy, she would magnify into a very excellent +one; then, being rather opinionative and "<i>set</i>," as maiden ladies are +apt to be when they pass the fatal threshold of forty, I despaired of +ever convincing her to the contrary. "However," said I to myself, "I +will not anticipate trouble."</p> + +<p>I had just recovered from a dangerous fit of illness, through which my +kind, well-meaning aunt had patiently nursed me. At the first news of +my sickness she had, unsummoned, left her comfortable home in +Rockland, in mid-winter, and had crossed the mountains to watch beside +the feverish pillow of her motherless niece. Careful and kind was her +nursing; and even the physicians owned that to her patient +watchfulness I owed my life. How grateful was I; and with what looks +of love did I gaze on her trim, spinster figure, as she moved +earnestly and pains-taking around my chamber; but, alas! the kitchen +told a different story when I was well enough to make my appearance +there. Biddy, a raw, bewildered-looking Irish girl, with huge red arms +and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span> stamping feet, had quite lost her confused, stupid +expression of countenance, and was most eloquent in telling me, with +all the volubility of our sex, of the "quare ways of the ould maid."</p> + +<p>"Sure, and if the ould sowl could only have had a husband and a parcel +of childthers to mind, she wouldn't have been half so stiff and +concated," exclaimed Biddy.</p> + +<p>Even poor little roguish Ike, with mischief enough in his composition +to derange a dozen well-ordered houses, looked wise and quiet when my +prim, demure aunt came in sight. Complaints met me on all sides, +however, for my Aunt Lina was quite as dissatisfied as the rest.</p> + +<p>"I found them all wrong, my dear," she said, "no order, no regulation, +every thing at sixes and sevens; and as for the woman Biddy, she is +quite, quite incorrigible. I showed her a new way of preparing her +clothes for the wash, by which she could save a deal of labor; but all +in vain, she persisted most obstinately to follow the old troublesome +way. Then she confuses her work altogether in such a manner that I +never can tell at which stage of labor she has arrived; and when I put +them all <i>en traine</i>, and leave them a few instants, I find on my +return every thing as tangled as ever. Method is the soul of +housekeeping, Enna. You will never succeed without order. I fear you +are too easy and indulgent; although I have never kept a house, I know +exactly how it should be done. A place for every thing—every +thing in its place, as your grandpapa used to say. If you insist upon +your servants doing every thing at a certain hour, and in a certain +way, your affairs will go on like clock-work."</p> + +<p>I could not but assent to all these truisms—for I felt +conscience-stricken. I knew I had always depended in all my +housekeeping emergencies too much on my "talent for improvising," as +Kate Wilson merrily entitles my readiness in a domestic tangle and +stand-still. I had been in the habit of letting things go on as easily +as possible, scrupulously avoiding domestic tempests, because they +deranged my nervous system; and if I found a servant would not do a +thing in my way, I would let her accomplish it in her own manner, and +at her own time—so that it was done, that was all I required. I +felt almost disheartened as the remarks of my precise aunt proved to +me how remiss I had been, and resolved in a very humble mood to +reform. Bat when Aunt Lina continued her conversations about the +mismanagement before my father, then I felt the "old Adam" stir within +me. There she surely was wrong. I could not bear he should have his +eyes opened; he had always fancied me a little queen in my domestic +arrangements—why should he think differently—what good did +it do? If he found his dinner nicely cooked and served, his tea and +toast snugly arranged in the library, in the evening, when he returned +wearied from his office, with his dressing-gown and slippers most +temptingly spread out; then awakened in the morning in a clean, +well-ordered bed-room, with Ike at his elbow to wait his orders, and a +warm, cozy breakfast to strengthen him ere he started out on his +daily labors—if all this was carefully and quietly provided for +him, what need of his knowing how it was done, or what straits I might +be driven to sometimes, from my own thoughtlessness or forgetfulness +to accomplish these comforts for him. I had always scrupulously +avoided talking of my household affairs before him; but when Aunt Lina +discoursed so eloquently and learnedly in his presence, slipping in +once in a while such high-sounding words as "domestic economy," +"well-ordered household," "proper distribution of time and labor," +&c., &c., he began to prick up his ears, and fancy his thrifty +little daughter Enna was not quite so excellent in her management as +he had blindly dreamed. Poor man! his former ignorance had surely been +bliss, for his unfortunate knowledge only made him look vexed and full +of care whenever he entered the house. He even noted the door-handles, +as to their brightness, rated poor Ike about the table appointments, +and pointed out when and how work should be done—told how he +managed in his business, and how we should manage in ours. I was +almost distraught with annoyance; and, kind as my aunt had been, I +wished for the time of her departure silently, but as earnestly as did +my servants. Heaven pardon me for my inhospitality and ingratitude.</p> + +<p>"Now, Lina," said my father, the morning she left, "don't forget the +woman you were speaking of. Enna needs some experienced person to keep +things in order. We shall have to break up housekeeping if affairs go +on in this disordered state. I do not know how we have stood it thus +long."</p> + +<p>I opened my eyes but said not a word. Three months before and my +father had been the happiest, free-from-care man in the city; now the +little insight he had gained into domestic affairs—the peep +behind the curtain given him by my mistaken maiden aunt, had served to +embitter his existence, surrounding his path with those nettles of +life, household trifles, vulgar cares and petty annoyances. I almost +echoed Biddy's ejaculation as the carriage drove from the door with my +aunt and her numberless boxes, each one arranged on a new, orderly, +time-saving plan.</p> + +<p>"Sure, and it's glad I am, that the ould craythur is fairly +off—for divil a bit of comfort did she give the laste of us with +her time-saving orderly ways. And it's not an owld maid ye must ever +be, darlint Miss Enna, or ye'll favor the troublesome aunty with her +tabby notions."</p> + +<p>Ike shouted with glee, and turned somersets all the way through the +hall into the back entry, regardless of all I could say; and the +merriment and light heartedness that pervaded the whole house was most +cheering. Biddy stamped and put her work in a greater confusion than +ever; and Ike dusted the blinds from the top to the bottom in a +"wholesale way," as he called it, and cleaned the knives on the wrong +side of the Bath-brick to his heart's content. Every one, even the +dumb animals, seemed conscious of Aunt Lina's departure. My little pet +kitten, Norah, resumed her place by the side of the heater in the +library, starting once in a while in her dreams and springing up as +though she heard the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span> rustle of Aunt Lina's gown, or the +sharp, clear notes of her voice—but coiled herself down with a +consoling "pur," as she saw only "little me" laughing at her +fears—and my little darling spaniel Flirt laid in my lap, +nestled on the foot of my bed, and romped all over the house to his +perfect satisfaction. I should have been as happy as the rest also, if +it had not been for the anticipation that weighed down on me, of the +expected pattern-card—my lady-help.</p> + +<p>Soon after my aunt's return home I received a letter from her, +announcing with great gratification her success. The letter was filled +with a long <i>preachment</i> on household management, which my father read +very seriously, pronouncing his sister Lina a most excellent, sensible +woman, possessing more mind and judgment than did most of her sex. My +aunt wound up her letter, saying—</p> + +<p>"But you will have little order and regulation about your house so +long as you keep that thriftless Biddy in it. Take my advice and tramp +her off bag and baggage before Lizzie comes, for, from my account of +her, Lizzie is not very favorably disposed toward her."</p> + +<p>Here was a pretty state of affairs to be sure, not very agreeable to a +young housekeeper who had hitherto been her own mistress—my new +maid was to dictate to me even my own domestic arrangements. My father +was earnest in wishing to dispose of Biddy—but on that point, +though quiet, I was resolute in opposition. Poor warm-hearted Biddy, +with all her stupid thriftless ways, I could not find in my heart to +turn away, and as my chambermaid wanted to go to her relations in the +"back states," as she called the great West, I proposed to Biddy to +take her place, so soon as the new woman should make her appearance.</p> + +<p>"If she's like the aunty of ye," said Biddy when we concluded this +arrangement and were talking of the expected new comer, "I'll wish her +all the bad luck in the world, for it's hot wather she'll kape us in +all the time with her painstakings."</p> + +<p>Not in a very pleasant frame of mind I awaited the arrival of my new +domestic. Poor girl, there was no one to welcome her when she at last +came, and she stepped into the kitchen without one kind feeling +advancing to greet her. Biddy's warm Irish heart was completely closed +against her, and Ike, the saucy rogue, pursed up his thick lips in a +most comical manner when she appeared. But how my heart smote me when +I first looked at the pale, care-worn, sad-looking creature. She was +not pretty—her face bore the marks of early care and trial. She +might have been well-favored in girlhood, but if so, those good looks +had completely vanished. Her eyes were dim, her cheek hollow, and her +brow was marked with lines stamped by endurance; her whole person thin +and spare, with hard, toil-worn hands, and large feet, showed that +labor and sorrow had been her constant companions. And how unjust had +been our hasty judgment of her—for so far from proving to be the +troublesome, fault-finding, airs-taking, lady-help I had fearfully +anticipated, I found her amiable, yielding and patiently industrious. +She had no regular set ways about her, but worked unceasingly from +morning till night in every department in the house. Not a week passed +before I heard Biddy, with her Irish enthusiasm, calling on Heaven to +bless the "darlint." She was always ready to excuse Biddy's +thriftlessness and Ike's mischief, helping them on in their duties +constantly. Good Lizzie Hall! every one in the house loved her. Yes, +indeed, my dear housekeeping reader, all doubtful as you look, I had +at last obtained that paragon, so seldom met with—a good, +efficient servant. Lizzie lived with me many years, and when I parted +with her, as I had to at last, I felt certain, I had had my share of +good "help"—that her place would never be supplied.</p> + +<p>Lizzie grew very fond of me, and ere she had lived with us many months +told me her whole history. Poor girl, without beauty, without mental +attractions, of an humble station, and slender abilities, her +life-woof had in it the glittering thread of romance—humble +romance, but romance still it was. Lizzie's father was a farmer, +owning a small farm in the part of the country where my Aunt Lina +resided. His first wife, Lizzie's mother, was an heiress according to +her station, bringing her husband on her marriage some hundreds of +dollars, which enabled him to purchase his little farm, and stock it. +They labored morning, noon, and night, unceasingly. Lizzie's mother +was a thrifty, careful body; but, unfortunately, she had more industry +than constitution; and when Lizzie was seventeen, her mother was fast +sinking into the grave, a worn-out creature, borne down by hard labor +and sickness. Nine children had she, and of them Lizzie was the eldest +and only girl. What sorrow for a dying mother! Before her mother's +last sickness, Lizzie was "wooed and won" by the best match in the +place. James Foster, her lover, was a young farmer, an orphan, but +well off in life. He owned a handsome, well-stocked farm, and was a +good-looking, excellent young man. Both father and mother cheerfully +gave their consent, but insisted that their engagement should last a +year or so, until Lizzie might be older. As Mrs. Hall felt death +approaching, she looked around on the little family she was to leave +motherless behind her; and with moving, heart-rending entreaties, +besought of Lizzie not to leave them.</p> + +<p>"Stay with your father, my child," she urged; "James, if he loves you, +will wait for you. Don't marry until the boys are all old enough to be +out of trouble. Think, Lizzie, of the misery a step-mother might cause +with your brother Jack's impetuous temper, and Sam's hopeless, +despairing disposition—each one would be hard for a step-mother +to guide. Be a mother to them, my girl; down on your knees, and to +make your mother's heart easy, promise before God that you will guide +them, and watch over them as long as you are needed. Stay with your +father, and Heaven will bless you, as does your dying mother."</p> + +<p>Willingly did the almost heart-broken girl give the required +promise—and James Foster loved her all the better for it. She +wept bitter, heart-aching tears<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> over her dear mother's grave, +but turned steadily to the hard path traced out before her; but she +was young and beloved, and a bright star beamed before her—the +star of love—to gild her toilsome path; and a mother's smile +seemed blended with its bright rays. A year or two rolled +around—years of hard labor, which made Lizzie, who toiled +untiringly, as her mother had done, old before her time. She was +noted, however, all over the village for a thrifty, industrious, +excellent girl. James Foster was a pattern for lovers; every spare +moment he gave to her. What few amusements she had time to enjoy he +procured for her; and as the village people said, they went as +steadily together as old married people.</p> + +<p>Lizzie's father was a narrow-minded, selfish man, caring very little +for any one's comfort but his own, and at times was exceedingly cross +and testy. Unfortunately, he took great interest in politics, and was +quite an oracle in the village bar-room. He was bigoted and "set" in +his opinions, considering all who differed from him as enemies to +their country, and called them rascals and hypocrites freely. His wife +had been dead about two years, when a presidential election came on. +James Foster, unluckily, had been brought up with different political +opinions from Mr. Hall; but, being very quiet and retiring in his +disposition, he never had rendered himself obnoxious. Of course, Mr. +Hall took great interest in the approaching election. He became very +ambitious of his township giving a large vote on the side to which he +belonged—and he used every means to obtain votes. Elated with +fancied success, he swore one day in the tavern bar-room, that he +would make James Foster abandon his party, and vote to please him. +Some, who knew Foster's quiet but resolute disposition, bantered and +teased Hall, which wrought him to such a pitch of excitement that, on +meeting James Foster a little while after in front of the tavern, he +made the demand of him. Foster at first treated it as a jest; then, +when he found Hall was in earnest, decidedly, but civilly, refused; +and in such a manner as to put at rest all further conversation. +Enraged, Hall instantly turned, swearing to the laughing politicians +that surrounded the tavern steps, and who had witnessed his +discomfiture, that he would punish Foster's impudent obstinacy. +Accordingly, full of ill, revengeful feelings, he returned home, and +forbade his daughter ever permitting Foster to step over the threshold +of the door—commanding her instantly to break the engagement. +She used every entreaty, expostulated, temporized—all was of no +avail; indeed, her entreaties seemed but to heighten her father's +anger; and at last, with a fearful oath, he declared, if she did not +break the engagement with the purse-proud, hypocritical rascal, she +should leave his house instantly. She looked on the terrified +children, the youngest only five years old, and who clung weeping to +her knees, as her father threatened to turn her out of doors, never to +see them again; and she thought of her mother's last words—her +decision was made; and with a heavy heart she performed the +self-sacrifice.</p> + +<p>"Don't say you will never marry me, Lizzie," urged her lover; "I can +wait ten years for you, darling."</p> + +<p>But Lizzie was conscientious; her father had expressly stipulated +there should be no "half-way work—no putting off;" all hope must +be given up, she never could be his—and forever she bid him +farewell. James tried to argue with and persuade her father; but the +selfish, obstinate old man would listen to nothing from him. Poor +James, finding both immovable, at last sold off his farm, and all his +property, and moved away into a distant state; he could not, he said, +live near Lizzie, and feel that she never would be his wife. Men are +so soon despairing in love affairs, while women hope on, even to +death. Poor Lizzie, how her heart sunk when the sight of her lover was +denied to her; and she felt even more wretched than she did at the +moment of her mother's death. Nothing now remained to her in life but +the performance of stern, rigid duty. Two or three years passed by, +and one by one her charges departed from her. One brother was placed +with a farmer, and the others were apprenticed to good trades. The +little white-headed Willie, who at his mother's death was a tiny, +roly-poly prattler, only two years old, was becoming a slender, tall +youth. Lizzie felt proud as she looked at her crowd of tall boys, when +once or twice a year they would assemble at home; and on a Sunday's +afternoon, at twilight, on her way to the evening meeting, she would +steal down into the quiet church-yard, and kneeling beside her +mother's grave, ask, with streaming eyes, if she had not done well. +Such moments were fraught with bitter anguish; but a heavenly peace +would descend on her, and she said her trials, after the agony was +over, seemed lighter to bear.</p> + +<p>"But I was blessed in one thing, dear Miss Enna," she would exclaim, +"not one of those darling boys was taken from me, and all bid fair to +turn out well. God surely smiled on the motherless, and gave me +strength to perform my labor of love."</p> + +<p>At last there moved to the village a woman of the name of Pierce; she +opened a little milliner's shop, and soon made herself busy with the +affairs of others, as well as her own, becoming quite a considerable +person amongst the villagers. She was a widow with two or three +children—a girl or two, and a boy—little things. She was a +stout, healthy, good-looking woman, "rising forty," with a clear, +shrill voice, and good, bright black eyes in her head. She soon +steadied these bonnie eyes at the widower, Lizzie's father, and not in +vain; for after hailing him industriously, as he passed the door of +her shop, with questions about the weather, or the crops, he at last +managed to stop without the hailing; and after a short courtship +brought her and her children to his own home. How Lizzie rejoiced that +her brothers were now all out of the way. Her last pet, Willie, had, a +few months previous to the new marriage, been sent to a printer in the +neighboring city. She never thought of herself, but commenced with +redoubled industry to assist in taking care of the new family. But her +constant industry and thrifty habits were a silent reproach to the +step-mother, I fancy, for she left<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> no stone unturned to rid +herself of the troublesome grown up daughter. She tried every means, +threw out hints, until at last Lizzie perceived her drift. Even her +father seemed restrained and annoyed by her presence; and when she +proposed to him that she should do something now for herself, in the +way of support, he made no opposition; on the contrary, seemed +relieved, saying the times were hard, and he had always had an +expensive family. At this time my dear Aunt Lina obtained her for me. +Blessed Aunt Lina! how we all loved her for this good act; even Biddy +said,</p> + +<p>"Well, the owld toad wasn't so bad, afther all. She had some good in +her, for she sent the angel to our door—good luck to her +forever."</p> + +<p>And what parted Lizzie from us? Ah, there is the romance of my +story—the darling little bit of sentiment so dear to my woman's +heart. Lizzie lived with me five years. In the meantime her father had +died; the thriftless wife had broken his heart by her extravagant +habits, and Lizzie and her brothers never received a penny of their +mother's little fortune. One evening, my father, on handing me the +letters and papers, said, "Amongst those, Enna, you will find a letter +for Lizzie, which has come from the far West, clear beyond St. +Louis—what relations has she there?"</p> + +<p>I could not tell him, but gave the letter to Ike, now grown into quite +a dandy waiter, to take to her. I did not feel much curiosity about +the letter, thinking it might be from some cousin of hers; but when I +retired to bed that evening, she came into my room, and throwing +herself down on the soft rug beside my bed, by the dim light of my +night-lamp, told me all her happiness. The letter was from James +Foster—he still loved her as dearly as ever. He had heard by +chance of her father's death, and her situation, and said if she was +ready to marry him, he was still waiting. He wrote of his handsome +farm he had cleared with his own hands, and the beautiful wild country +he lived in, telling her he hoped her future life would be free from +all care. All this, and even more, dear reader, he told her—in +plain, homely words, it is true; but love's language is always sweet, +be it in courtly tongue or homely phrase.</p> + +<p>And James Foster came for her; and in our house was she married. My +father presented the soft mull dress to the bride, which Kate Wilson +and I made, and assisted in dressing her, and stood as her +bride-maids. Aunt Lina, Biddy, the stamping, good-hearted Biddy, and +dandy Ike, were all there, rejoicing in her happiness. Her husband was +a stout, strong, hard-featured, but kind-hearted man, and looked upon +his poor, care-worn, slender Lizzie as if she were an angel. We all +liked him; and her whole troop of brothers, who were present at the +ceremony, greeted him with hearty words of friendship. Three he +persuaded to accompany them out to the "new home"—the farmer, +the shoemaker, and the little white-headed Willie, Lizzie's +pet—declaring all the time that his house and heart, like the +wide western valley where he lived, was large enough to hold them all. +They all went out one after another; and when I last heard from +Lizzie, she was very happy, surrounded by all her brothers; and she +told me of a little darling girl, whom she had named after her dear +Miss Enna. My father and I often talk during the winter evenings, when +sitting very cozily together in the warm library, of taking a summer's +jaunt to Lizzie's western home. I wish we could, that I might see my +lady-help as mistress of her own household; and what is still better, +a happy wife, mother, and sister.</p> +<br /><br /> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="LINES" id="LINES"></a>LINES</h2> + +<h5><i>Addressed to a friend who asked "How would you be remembered when you die?"</i></h5> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +How would I be remembered?—not forever,<br /> +<span class="i5">As those of yore.</span><br /> +Not as the warrior, whose bright glories quiver<br /> +<span class="i5">O'er fields of gore;</span><br /> +Nor e'en as they whose song down life's dark river<br /> +<span class="i5">Is heard no more.</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +No! in my veins a gentler stream is flowing<br /> +<span class="i5">In silent bliss.</span><br /> +No! in my breast a woman's heart is glowing,<br /> +<span class="i5">It asks not this.</span><br /> +I would not, as down life's dark vale I'm going<br /> +<span class="i5">My true path miss.</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +I do not hope to lay a wreath undying<br /> +<span class="i5">On glory's shrine,</span><br /> +Where coronets from mighty brows are lying<br /> +<span class="i5">In dazzling shine:</span><br /> +Only let love, among the tomb-stones sighing,<br /> +<span class="i5">Weep over mine.</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +Oh! when the green grass softly waves above me<br /> +<span class="i5">In some low glen,</span><br /> +Say, will the hearts that now so truly love me<br /> +<span class="i5">Think of me then;</span><br /> +And, with fond tones that never more can move me,<br /> +<span class="i5">Call me again?</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +Say, when the fond smiles in our happy home<br /> +<span class="i5">Their soft light shed,</span><br /> +When round the hearth at quiet eve they come,<br /> +<span class="i5">And mine has fled,</span><br /> +Will any gentle voice then ask for room—<br /> +<span class="i5"><i>Room for the dead?</i></span><br /> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +Oh! will they say, as rosy day is dying,<br /> +<span class="i5">And shadows fall,</span><br /> +"Come, let us speak of her now lowly lying,<br /> +<span class="i5">She loved us all!"</span><br /> +And will a gentle tear-drop, then replying,<br /> +<span class="i5">From some eye fall?</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +Give me, oh! give me not the echo ringing<br /> +<span class="i5">From trump of fame;</span><br /> +Be mine, be mine the pearls from fond eyes springing,<br /> +<span class="i5"><i>This</i>, would I claim.</span><br /> +Oh! may I think such memories <i>will</i> be clinging<br /> +<span class="i5">Around my name. GRETTA.</span><br /> +</div> +</div> +<br /><br /> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="GAME-BIRDS_OF_AMERICA_NO_IX" id="GAME-BIRDS_OF_AMERICA_NO_IX"></a>GAME-BIRDS OF AMERICA.—NO. IX.</h2> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span> +<br /><br /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/illus252.png" width="600" height="488" +alt="Passenger Pigeon" title="" /></div> +<h4>PASSENGER PIGEON.</h4> +<br /><br /> + +<p>This bird, the marvel of the whole Pigeon race, is beautiful in its +colors, graceful in its form, and far more a child of wild nature than +any other of the pigeons. The chief wonder, however, is in its +multitudes; multitudes which no man can number; and when Alexander +Wilson lays the mighty wand of the enchanter upon the Valley of the +Mississippi, and conjures it up to the understanding and the feeling +of the reader, with far more certain and more concentrated and +striking effect than if it were painted on canvas, or modeled in wax, +these pigeons form a feature in it which no one who knows can by +possibility forget. It is probable that the multitudes may not be more +numerous than those of the petrels in Bass's Strait, of which Captain +Flinders—who also was a kind of Wilson in his way—gives a +graphic description. But vast as the multitude of these was, it was +only as a passing cloud to the captain; he was unable to follow it up; +and even though he had, the flight of birds over the surface of the +sea is tame and storyless, as compared with the movements of the +unnumbered myriads of these pigeons in the great central valley of our +continent. None of the names which have been bestowed upon this +species are sufficiently, or at all, descriptive of it. Passenger, the +English expression, and <i>Migratoria</i>, the Latin name, fall equally +short, inasmuch as every known pigeon is to a greater or less extent +migratory as well as this one. The "swarm" pigeon, the "flood" pigeon, +or even the "deluge" pigeon would be a more appropriate appellation; +for the weight of their numbers breaks down the forest with scarcely +less havoc than if the stream of the Mississippi were poured upon it.</p> + +<p>Birds so numerous demand both a wide pasture and powerful means of +migration, and the Passengers are not stinted in either of those +respects. In latitude, their pasture extends from the thirtieth to the +sixtieth degree, which is upward of two thousand miles; and the +extensive breadth in longitude cannot be estimated at less than +fifteen hundred. Three millions of square miles is thus the extent of +territory of which the Passenger pigeon has command; and that +territory has its dimensions so situated as that the largest one is +the line upon which the birds migrate.</p> + +<p>In Canada their numbers are so great, and the ravages which they +commit upon the cultivated ground so extensive, that instances are +recorded in which the bishop has been seriously and earnestly implored +to exorcise them "by bell, book, and candle"—to cast them out of +the land by the same means used in days of yore against spirits +troublesome to other individuals, men and women. But as the Passengers +were material and not spiritual, the bishop had the good sense not to +try the experiment upon them. At least, La Houton, who records the +matter, is perfectly silent as to the success or failure of the +proposition.</p> + +<p>Both sexes are beautiful birds; but their value, in an economical +point of view, is not, however, in any way equal to their numbers or +their beauty. The flesh of the old ones is dark, dry, hard and +unpalatable, as is very generally the case with birds which are much +on the wing; but the young, or <i>squabs</i>, as they are called, are +remarkably fat; and as in the places where the birds congregate, they +may be obtained without much difficulty, this fat is obtained by +melting them, and is used instead of lard. As they nestle in vast +multitudes at the same place, their resting-places have many +attractions for the birds of prey, which indiscriminately seize upon +both<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span> the old and the young. The eggs, like those of most of +the pigeon tribe, are usually two in number; but the number of birds +at one nesting-place is so great that the young, when they begin to +branch and feed, literally drive along the woods like a torrent. They +feed upon the fruits which at this time they procure at the middle +heights of the forests, and do not venture upon the open grounds. The +nests are far more closely packed together than in any rookery, and +are built one above another, from the height of twenty feet to the top +of the tallest trees.</p> + +<p>Wilson says that as soon as the young were fully grown, and before +they left the nests, numerous parties of the inhabitants from all +parts of the adjacent country came with wagons, axes, beds, cooking +utensils, many of them accompanied by the greater part of their +families, and encamped for several days at this immense nursery, near +Shelbyville, Kentucky, forty miles long, and several miles in breadth. +The noise in the woods was so great as to terrify their horses, and it +was difficult for one person to hear another speak without bawling in +his ear. The ground was strewed with broken limbs of trees, eggs, and +young squab pigeons, which had been precipitated from above, and on +which herds of hogs were fattening. Hawks, buzzards and eagles were +sailing about in great numbers, and seizing the squabs from their +nests at pleasure, while from twenty feet upward to the tops of the +trees, the view through the woods presented a perpetual tumult of +crowding and fluttering multitudes of pigeons, their wings roaring +like thunder, mingled with the frequent crash of falling timber, for +now the axe-men were at work cutting down those trees which seemed to +be most crowded with nests, and seemed to fell them in such a manner +that, in their descent, they might bring down several others, by which +means the falling of one large tree sometimes produced two hundred +squabs, little inferior in size to the old ones, and almost one mass +of fat. On some single trees upward of one hundred nests were found. +It was dangerous to walk under these flying and fluttering millions, +from the frequent fall of large branches, broken down by the weight of +the multitudes above, and which in their descent often destroyed +numbers of the birds themselves. This is a scene to which we are aware +of no parallel in the nesting-places of the feathered tribes. In the +select places where the birds only roost for the night, the +congregating, though not permanent, is often as great and destructive +to the forest. The native Indians rejoice in a breeding or a +roosting-place of the migratory pigeon, as one which shall supply them +with an unbounded quantity of provisions, in the quality of which they +are not particularly chary. Nor are these roosting-places attractive +to the Indians only, for the settlers near them also pay them +nocturnal visits. They come with guns, clubs, pots of suffocating +materials, and every other means of destruction that can well be +imagined to be within their command, and procure immense quantities of +the birds in a very short time. These they stuff into sacks and carry +home on their horses.</p> + +<p>The flocks being less abundant in the Atlantic States, the gun, decoy +and net are brought into operation against them, and very considerable +numbers of them are taken. In some seasons they may be purchased in +our markets for one dollar a hundred, and flocks have been known to +occupy two hours in passing, in New Jersey and the adjoining States. +Many thousands are drowned on the edges of the ponds to which they +descend to drink while on their aerial passage; those in the rear +alighting on the backs of those who touched the ground first, in the +same manner as the domestic pigeon, and pressing them beneath the +surface of the water. Nuttall estimates the rapidity of their flight +at about a mile a minute, and states among other data for this result, +that there have been wild pigeons shot near New York, whose crops were +filled with rice that must have been collected in the plantations of +Georgia, and to digest which would not require more than twelve hours.</p> +<br /><br /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/illus253.png" width="600" height="379" +alt="Shore Lark" title="" /></div> +<h4>SHORE LARK.</h4> +<br /><br /> + +<p>Usually fat, much esteemed as food, and not uncommon in our markets, +this beautiful bird may be seen in different seasons ranging from +Hudson's Bay to Mexico, and from New England to the Rocky Mountains. +They arrive in the Northern and Middle States late in the fall, and +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span> +many remain throughout the winter. As the weather grows colder in +the north, however, they become quite common in South Carolina and +Georgia, frequenting the plains, commons and dry ground, keeping +constantly upon the ground, and roving about in families under the +guidance of the old birds, whose patriarchal care extends over all, to +warn them by a plaintive call of the approach of danger, and instruct +them by example how to avoid it. They roost somewhat in the same +manner as partridges, in a close ring or circle, keeping each other +warm, and abiding with indifference the frost and the storm. They +migrate only when driven by want of food; this appears to consist of +small round compressed black seeds, oats, buckwheat, &c., with a +large proportion of gravel. Shore Lark and Sky Lark are the names by +which they are usually known. They are said to sing well, rising in +the air and warbling as they ascend, after the manner of the sky-lark +of Europe.</p> +<br /><br /> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="TRIUMPHS_OF_PEACE" id="TRIUMPHS_OF_PEACE"></a>TRIUMPHS OF PEACE.</h2> + +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> +<h5>BY WILLIAM H. C. HOSMER.</h5> +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">From palace, cot and cave</span><br /> +<span class="i1">Streamed forth a nation, in the olden time,</span><br /> +<span class="i2">To crown with flowers the brave,</span><br /> +<span class="i1">Flushed with the conquest of some far-off clime,</span><br /> +<span class="i1">And, louder than the roar of meeting seas,</span><br /> +<span class="i1">Applauding thunder rolled upon the breeze.</span><br /> +<span class="i3">Memorial columns rose</span><br /> +<span class="i1">Decked with the spoils of conquered foes,</span><br /> +And bards of high renown their stormy pæans sung,<br /> +<span class="i1">While Sculpture touched the marble white,</span><br /> +<span class="i1">And, woke by his transforming might,</span><br /> +<span class="i3">To life the statue sprung.</span><br /> +<span class="i2">The vassal to his task was chained—</span><br /> +<span class="i2">The coffers of the state were drained</span><br /> +<span class="i1">In rearing arches, bright with wasted gold,</span><br /> +<span class="i1">That after generations might be told</span><br /> +<span class="i3">A thing of dust once reigned.</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">Tombs, hallowed by long years of toil,</span><br /> +<span class="i2">Were built to shrine heroic clay,</span><br /> +<span class="i1">Too proud to rest in vulgar soil,</span><br /> +<span class="i2">And moulder silently way;</span><br /> +<span class="i1">Though treasure lavished on the dead</span><br /> +<span class="i1">The wretched might have clothed and fed—</span><br /> +<span class="i1">Dragged merit from obscuring shade,</span><br /> +<span class="i1">And debts of gratitude have paid;</span><br /> +<span class="i1">From want relieved neglected sage,</span><br /> +<span class="i2">Or veteran in battle tried;</span><br /> +<span class="i2">Smoothed the rough path of weary age,</span><br /> +<span class="i1">And the sad tears of orphanage have dried.</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Though green the laurel round the brow</span><br /> +<span class="i3">Of wasting and triumphant War,</span><br /> +<span class="i2">Peace, with her sacred olive bough,</span><br /> +<span class="i3">Can boast of conquests nobler far:</span><br /> +<span class="i4">Beneath her gentle sway</span><br /> +<span class="i4">Earth blossoms like a rose—</span><br /> +<span class="i1">The wide old woods recede away,</span><br /> +<span class="i1">Through realms, unknown but yesterday,</span><br /> +<span class="i1">The tide of Empire flows.</span><br /> +<span class="i1">Woke by her voice rise battlement and tower,</span><br /> +<span class="i1">Art builds a home, and Learning finds a bower—</span><br /> +<span class="i1">Triumphant Labor for the conflict girds,</span><br /> +<span class="i1">Speaks in great works instead of empty words;</span><br /> +<span class="i1">Bends stubborn matter to his iron will,</span><br /> +<span class="i1">Drains the foul marsh, and rends in twain the hill—</span><br /> +<span class="i1">A hanging bridge across the torrent flings,</span><br /> +<span class="i1">And gives the car of fire resistless wings.</span><br /> +<span class="i1">Light kindles up the forest to its heart,</span><br /> +<span class="i1">And happy thousands throng the new-born mart;</span><br /> +<span class="i1">Fleet ships of steam, deriding tide and blast,</span><br /> +<span class="i1">On the blue bounding waters hurry past;</span><br /> +<span class="i1">Adventure, eager for the task, explores</span><br /> +<span class="i1">Primeval wilds, and lone, sequestered shores—</span><br /> +<span class="i1">Braves every peril, and a beacon lights</span><br /> +<span class="i1">To guide the nations on untrodden heights.</span><br /> +</div> +</div> +<br /><br /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 480px;"> +<img src="images/illus255.png" width="480" height="658" +alt="Expectation" title="" /></div> +<h4>EXPECTATION<br /> +J. Hayter J. Addison<br /> +Engraved expressly for Graham's Magazine</h4> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="EXPECTATION" id="EXPECTATION"></a>EXPECTATION.</h2> + +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> +<h5>BY LOUISA M. GREEN.</h5> +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> + +<h4>[SEE ENGRAVING.]</h4> + + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +Why comes he not? He should have come ere this:<br /> +<span class="i1">The promised hour is past: he is not here!</span><br /> +I love him—yes, my maiden heart is his;<br /> +<span class="i1">I sigh—I languish when he is not near.</span><br /> +The truant! Wherefore tarries he? His love,<br /> +<span class="i1">Were it like mine, would woo him to my side—</span><br /> +Or does he—dares he—merely seek to prove<br /> +<span class="i1">The doubted passion of his promised bride?</span><br /> +Do I not love him? But does he love me?<br /> +<span class="i1">He swore so yester-eve, when last we met</span><br /> +Down in the dell by our old trysting-tree:<br /> +<span class="i1">Can he be false? If so, my sun is set!</span><br /> +No; he will come—I feel—I know he will;<br /> +<span class="i1">And he shall never dream that once I sighed;</span><br /> +I hear his step—behold his form: be still,<br /> +<span class="i1">Warm heart; he comes—to clasp his bride.</span><br /> +</div> +</div> +<br /><br /> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="WOMANS_LOVE" id="WOMANS_LOVE"></a>WOMAN'S LOVE.</h2> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> + +<h5>POETRY BY ANON.</h5> + +<h3>MUSIC BY MATHIAS KELLER.</h3> + +<h6>COPYRIGHTED BY J. C. SMITH, NO. 215 CHESNUT STREET, PHILADELPHIA.</h6> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 759px;"> +<img src="images/music1.png" width="759" height="800" +alt="music for Woman's Love--sheet 1" title="" /></div> +<br /> + +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;"> +<img src="images/music2.png" width="700" height="800" +alt="music for Woman's Love--sheet 2" title="" /></div> +<br /> + +<p><span class="smcap">Second Verse.</span></p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +A woman's love is like the spring<br /> +<span class="i1">Amid the wild alone;</span><br /> +A burning wild o'er which the wing<br /> +<span class="i1">Of cloud is seldom thrown;</span><br /> +And blest is he who meets that fount,<br /> +<span class="i1">Beneath the sultry day;</span><br /> +How gladly should his spirit mount,<br /> +<span class="i1">How pleasant be his way.</span><br /> +</div> +</div> +<br /> + +<p><span class="smcap">Third Verse.</span></p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +A woman's love is like the rock,<br /> +<span class="i1">That every tempest braves,</span><br /> +And stands secure amid the shock<br /> +<span class="i1">Of ocean's wildest waves;</span><br /> +And blest is he to whom repose<br /> +<span class="i1">Within its shade is given—</span><br /> +The world, with all its cares and woes,<br /> +<span class="i1">Seems less like earth than heaven.</span><br /> +</div> +</div> +<br /><br /> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="YEARS_AGO_A_BALLAD" id="YEARS_AGO_A_BALLAD"></a>YEARS AGO.—A BALLAD.</h2> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> + +<h4>WRITTEN EXPRESSLY FOR MRS. C. E. HORN.</h4> + +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> +<h5>BY GEORGE P. MORRIS.</h5> +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +On the banks of that sweet river<br /> +<span class="i1">Where the water-lilies grow,</span><br /> +Breathed the fairest flower that ever<br /> +<span class="i1">Bloomed and faded years ago.</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +How we met and loved and parted,<br /> +<span class="i1">None on earth can ever know,</span><br /> +Nor how pure and gentle-hearted<br /> +<span class="i1">Beamed the mourned one years ago.</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +Like the stream with lilies laden,<br /> +<span class="i1">Will life's future current flow,</span><br /> +Till in heaven I meet the maiden<br /> +<span class="i1">Fondly cherished years ago.</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +Hearts that truly love forget not—<br /> +<span class="i1">They're the same in weal or wo—</span><br /> +And that star of memory set not<br /> +<span class="i1">In the grave of years ago.</span><br /> +</div> +</div> +<br /><br /> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="TO_MY_WIFE" id="TO_MY_WIFE"></a>TO MY WIFE.</h2> + +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> +<h5>BY ROBT. T. CONRAD.</h5> +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +When that chaste blush suffused thy cheek and brow,<br /> +<span class="i1">Whitened anon with a pale maiden fear,</span><br /> +<span class="i1">Thou shrank'st in uttering what I burned to hear:</span><br /> +And yet I loved thee, love, not then as now.<br /> +Years and their snows have come and gone, and graves,<br /> +<span class="i1">Of thine and mine, have opened; and the sod</span><br /> +<span class="i1">Is thick above the wealth we gave to God:</span><br /> +Over my brightest hopes the nightshade waves;<br /> +And wrongs and wrestlings with a wretched world,<br /> +<span class="i1">Gray hairs, and saddened hours, and thoughts of gloom,</span><br /> +<span class="i1">Troop upon troop, dark-browed, have been my doom;</span><br /> +And to the earth each hope-reared turret hurled!<br /> +And yet that blush, suffusing cheek and brow,<br /> +'T was dear, how dear! then—but 't is dearer now.<br /> +</div> +</div> +<br /><br /> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="ISOLA" id="ISOLA"></a>ISOLA.</h2> + +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> +<h5>BY JOHN TOMLIN.</h5> +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +I dreamed that thou a lily wast,<br /> +<span class="i1">Within a lowly valley blest;</span><br /> +A wingéd cherub flying past,<br /> +<span class="i1">Plucked thee, and placed within his breast,</span><br /> +And there by guardian angel nurst,<br /> +<span class="i1">Thou took'st a shape of human grace,</span><br /> +Until, a lowly flower at first,<br /> +<span class="i1">Thou grew'st the first of mortal race.</span><br /> +Alas! if I who still was blessed<br /> +<span class="i1">When thou wast but a lowly flower—</span><br /> +To pluck thy image from my breast,<br /> +<span class="i1">Though thus thou will'st it, have no power;</span><br /> +Thou still to me, though lifted high<br /> +<span class="i1">In hope and heart above the glen,</span><br /> +Where first thou won my idol eye,<br /> +<span class="i1">Must spell my worship just as then.</span><br /> +</div> +</div> +<br /><br /> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CONTEMPLATION" id="CONTEMPLATION"></a>CONTEMPLATION.</h2> + +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> +<h5>BY JANE R. DANA.</h5> +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> + +<h5>[ILLUSTRATING AN ENGRAVING.]</h5> + + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p><span class="i0">Strange! that a tear-drop should o'erfill the eye</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of loveliness that looks on all it loves!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Yet are there moods, when the soul's wells are high</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With crystal waters which a strange fear moves,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To doubt if what it joys in, be a joy;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Fear not, thou fond and gentle one! though life</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Be but a checkered scene, where wrong and right,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Struggle forever; there is not a strife</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Can reach thy bower: the future, purely bright,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Is round about thee, like a summer sky.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And there are those, brave hearts and true, to guard</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thy walks forever; and to make each hour</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of coming time, by fond and faithful ward,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Happy as happiest known within thy bridal bower.</span></p> +</div> +</div> +<br /><br /> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 473px;"> +<img src="images/illus262.png" width="473" height="642" +alt="logo" title="" /></div> +<h4>CONTEMPLATION<br /> +J. W. Wright J. Addison<br /> +Engraved expressly for Graham's Magazine</h4> +<br /><br /> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="REVIEW_OF_NEW_BOOKS" id="REVIEW_OF_NEW_BOOKS"></a>REVIEW OF NEW BOOKS.</h2> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p><i>Practical Physiology: for the use of Schools and Families.<br /> +By Edward Jarvis. Philadelphia: Thomas, Cowperthwaite +& Co.</i></p> +</div> + +<p>The popular and practical study of physiology is too much neglected in +this country, and we rejoice to see this effort to commend its +important truths to public attention. Perhaps no people existing are +in greater need of a heedful regard to the lessons of this work than +the over-fed, over-worked, and over-anxious people of the United +States. The pursuit of wealth, honor, and power, the absorbing and +health-sacrificing devotion to advancement, impels our people from the +moment they first enter the school-house until they are snatched from +the scene of their over-wrought strugglings. At the school, the child +is treated as a man. The fresh air, the blue sky, the bright and happy +hilarity of boyhood are too often proscribed indulgences. And this is +called, not murder, but education. Those who survive it, having been +taught that an American youth should never be satisfied with the +present, that <i>excelsior</i> should be the only motto, and that all +pleasure should be denied, health sacrificed, and time unremittingly +devoted to win the eminence struggled for, rush into the business of +life before their time. They win wrinkles before they attain manhood, +and graves before the wild ambition thus kindled and inflamed can +receive its first chaplet. All our literature teaches this unquiet and +discontented spirit as to the present, and this rash and impatient +determination to achieve immediate success. Now, this is a peculiarity +of our country, the land of all others which should cherish a +disposition to be gratefully contented with the unequaled blessings +with which it is endowed. There is no necessity for this forcing +system to expand properly and in due time the real energies of our +people. The truly great in every walk of science and literature have +been generally patient students, and have lived, in tranquillity, to a +good old age. The impatient ambition which scourges our people on to +the farthest stretch of their energies in any adopted pursuit, is +inconsistent with the permanent and healthful character of a race. It +made Rome great; but it left her people, as a race, so physically +exhausted that the weakest tribes of the North dictated to her the +terms of her degradation. The physical character of a nation moulds +its intellectual nature, and shapes its destinies. The study of health +is therefore the great study, and it will be found in all things +accordant with those loftier truths taught by the Great Physician. +Strangers of intelligence often remark that, with unbounded means of +happiness, affluence for every reasonable want, security against every +danger, and the high prerogatives of conscious and elevated freedom, +we are still the most unhappy of the sons of Adam. They assert that we +grow old before our time; are restless, excitable, and ever worrying +for an attainment, in reference to some ruling passion beyond our +reach. Comfort, health, calmness, and content, are sacrificed to grasp +at something more. Our cheeks grow pale, our brows wrinkled, our +hearts clouded, from a settled, taught, established habit of +discontent with any position that is not the highest. There is much of +truth in all this, as every one who treads our crowded marts and finds +each man, however prosperous, cankered with the thought that he is not +prosperous enough, will admit. All this constitutes American energy; +all this renders our country great in the world's eye; but does it +constitute happiness? It may be gravely doubted. The study of health +is essentially the study of happiness. Life is with our people, as a +general rule, a thing of little value. Those who think, in a better +spirit, and remember its duties and its ends, will come to a different +conclusion, and regard the conservation of the even and steady +physical energies of the body as superior in importance to any result +to be gained by the forced and unnatural efforts from which more is +attained than nature sanctions.</p> + +<p>A work like the one before us is calculated to be of great service, +and especially so if it be placed in the hands of children. It claims, +and certainly deserves, no praise as an original work of science; but +it has this merit—no ordinary one—that it communicates the +most important truths of physiology in language which any intelligent +child can understand; and does so in a manner that every moralist will +commend.</p> +<br /><br /> + + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p><i>The Fruits and Fruit Trees of America. By A. J. Downing.<br /> +Published by Wiley & Putnam, New York.</i></p> +</div> + +<p>This work has been known to every scientific horticulturist and +pomologist for many years. Its author has devoted a vigorous and +enlightened intellect to this purest and noblest of pursuits; and has +won a reputation of which this work will form the coronal wreath. The +past editions of this work, and they have been many, have elicited the +strongest praise here and abroad. The classic poets of every land have +valued the praise which rewarded their dedication of the first +triumphs of the muse to subjects connected with the cultivation of the +soil, to the arts that rendered the breast of our common mother +lovely, and wedded the labors which sustain life with the arts that +render it happy. The work before us has an established reputation. It +is written by one whose labors upon this subject are known as well +abroad as here, and who has won the applause of all who regard +pomology as worthy of an earnest support. He is the Prose Virgil of +our country. This work contains eighty-four colored engravings of +apples, pears, cherries, apricots, peaches, plums, raspberries, and +strawberries. These plates have been, at great expense, executed at +Paris, and are worthy of all commendation. Among those that seem to us +worthy of especial commendation are, in the plums, the Columbia, the +Coe's Golden Drop, and the Jefferson; among the pears, the Bartlett, +the Bosc, the Flemish Beauty, the Frederick of Wurtemburg; among the +apples, the Gravenstein, the Yellow Belle Fleur, the Dutch Mignonne, +Ladies' Sweet, and Red Astrochan. All the plates are, however, good; +and the work is, to all who love nature, invaluable.</p> + +<p>The leading horticultural societies of this country have recently +endeavored to counteract the confusion which has heretofore prevailed +in pomological nomenclature, by adopting this work as the American +standard; and we learn that it has been so recognized and adopted, in +reference to this country, in London. Horticulture is greatly indebted +for the advances it has made within the last few years to the author +of this work. He is well known to all those who cherish the science of +the soil, as the popular editor of the Horticulturist, and as one of +the ablest, most scientific and enthusiastic horticulturists and +pomologists in the country.</p> +<br /><br /> + + +<p><i>Tristram Shandy.</i>—Original or not, Sterne gave to the +literature of this language that which must last and should<span class='pagenum'> +<a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span> last. This edition, published +by Grigg, Elliott & Co., is cheap, and should be cheap, for it is +got up for universal distribution. It is well illustrated by Darley.</p> +<br /><br /> + + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p><i>The Medical Companion, or Family Physician, Treating of<br /> +the Diseases of the United States, &c. By James Ewell.</i></p> +</div> + +<p>This is a work long and well known to the nation; and the edition +before us, being the tenth, is an enlargement and improvement on those +which have heretofore appeared. Dr. Chapman has pronounced it to be +indisputably the most useful popular treatise on medicine with which +he is acquainted; and a large number of the most celebrated professors +of the country, as Caldwell, Shippen, Barton, Woodhouse, and others, +have very emphatically commended it to the confidence of the public. +The edition before us is a great improvement upon those which have +preceded it, having, in addition to corrections resulting from the +advance of the science, a treatise on Hydropathy, Homœpathy, and the +Chronothermal system. It is published by Thomas, Cowperthwaite & +Co., Philadelphia, and does, in general appearance and character, +great credit to those enterprizing publishers.</p> +<br /><br /> + + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p><i>General Scott and his Staff. Comprising Memoirs of Generals Twiggs, +Smith, Quitman, Shields, Pillow, Lane, Cadwallader, Patterson, and +Pierce, and Colonels Childs, Riley, Harney and Butler, and Other +Distinguished Officers Attached to General Scott's Army; Together with +Notices of Gen. Kearney, Col. Doniphan, Fremont, and Others. +Philadelphia: Grigg, Elliot & Co.</i></p> +</div> + +<p>This work embodies the floating intelligence which has reached us in +relation to the present Mexican war, and is illustrated by wood-cuts +worthy of the text. We can say no more. This book is not inferior to +others which the curiosity of the community has invited, and will +doubtless sell, as they have sold, well.</p> +<br /><br /> + + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p><i>General Taylor and his Staff. Comprising Memoirs of Generals Taylor, +Worth, Wool, and Butler, Cols. May, Cross, Clay, Hardin, Yell, Hays, +and Other Distinguished Officers Attached to Gen. Taylor's Army. +Philadelphia: Grigg, Elliot & Co.</i></p> +</div> + +<p>This volume seems to be as picturesque and as veritable as other works +of a like character, and is as well written and as well printed as the +best. Perhaps this is not saying much; but can we say more?</p> +<br /><br /> + + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p><i>Lectures on the Physical Phenomena of Living Beings. By Carlo +Matteuci, Professor in the University of Pisa. Translated by Jonathan +Pereira, M. D., F. R. S. Phila.: Lea & Blanchard.</i></p> +</div> + +<p>This work has passed through two editions in Italy, and one in France. +A hasty examination of the volume has excited a degree of curiosity +and admiration which a more careful perusal than we can now give it +will enable us hereafter to do justice to.</p> +<br /><br /> + + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p><i>Three Hours, or the Vigil of Love, and Other Poems. By Mrs. S. J. +Hale. Carey & Hart, Philadelphia.</i></p> +</div> + +<p>This beautiful volume is dedicated to the readers of the Lady's Book, +(why not to its amiable proprietor?) of which she has long been an +able and successful editor. We have not found time to examine the +volume page by page—that is a happiness reserved to us, and we +feel, in so much, the richer in our capital of future enjoyment; but +we know that Mrs. Hale is one of the purest, most powerful, truthful, +and tasteful of our writers; and we are certain that the volume before +us is worthy of more than praise.</p> +<br /><br /> + + +<i>Evangeline.</i>—This beautiful poem has been beautifully +complimented by an artist-poet whose contributions enrich <p>our pages, +Thomas Buchanan Read, or, as he has been aptly characterized by a +contemporary, "the Doric Read." The painting is worthy the subject, +the artist, and the poet; and is one of the richest productions of +American art.</p> +<br /><br /> + + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p><i>A Campaign in Mexico, or a Glimpse at Life in Camp. By one who has +seen the Elephant. Phila.: Grigg & Elliott.</i></p> +</div> + +<p>This work, though, perhaps, beneath the dignity of a formal review, is +still good reading, and we have gone through its pages with pleasure.</p> +<br /><br /> + + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p><i>Principles of Physics and Meteorology. By J. Müller. First +American edition, Revised and Illustrated with 538 engravings on wood, +and two colored plates. Phila.: Lea & Blanchard.</i></p> +</div> + +<p>This treatise on Physics, by Professor Müller, is the first of a +series of works, on the different branches of science, now passing +through the press of Bailliére, in London. The American editor +has made many additions and improvements; and the work, as presented +to the public, is worthy of all praise and all patronage.</p> +<br /><br /> + + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p><i>The Primary School Reader—Parts First, Second, and Third. By +Wm. D. Swan, Principal of the Mayhew Grammar School, Boston. +Philadelphia: Thomas, Cowperthwaite & Co.</i></p> +</div> + +<p>These volumes have been prepared to supply the want of a system for +teaching reading in Primary Schools. The task has been well performed, +and the series will be found of value both to the teacher and the +taught.</p> +<br /><br /> + + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p><i>Greene's Analysis. A Treatise on the Structure of the English +Language, or the Analysis and Classification of Sentences and their +Component Parts. With Illustrations and Exercises adapted to the use +of schools. By Samuel J. Greene, A. M., Principal of the Phillip's +Grammar School, Boston. Published by Thomas, Cowperthwaite & Co.</i></p> +</div> + +<p>The title of this volume sufficiently indicates its purposes and +character. It is a work calculated to contribute, in a considerable +degree, to improve the methods of teaching the English language.</p> +<br /><br /> + + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p><i>The Grammar School Reader, consisting of Selections in Prose and +Poetry, with Exercises in Articulation. By William D. Swan. Thomas, +Cowperthwaite & Co., Philadelphia.</i></p> +</div> + +<p>This work is well designed to correct prevailing vices of +articulation. There is much room for reform in this branch of +education, even our best public speakers being guilty of provincial +errors, and faulty enunciation. The rules are lucidly explained, and +the selections made with taste.</p> +<br /><br /> + + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p><i>Swan's District School Reader. Same Publishers.</i></p> +</div> + +<p>This is a more advanced and more valuable branch of the same series of +class books, and is designed for the highest classes of public and +private schools.</p> +<br /><br /> + + + +<p><span class="smcap">The Home Journal.</span>—This admirable periodical maintains and +advances its enviable reputation. With Morris & Willis as its +editors, it needs no endorsement from its contemporaries. It must be, +with such genius, tact and experience, all that a weekly periodical +can be. We invite attention to the advertisement upon the cover of +this number of the Magazine. Those who know the Journal will complain +that the advertisers have not told half its merits.</p> +<br /><br /> + + +<div class="footnotes"> +<h4>FOOTNOTE:</h4> +<div class="footnote"> +<div class="footnote"><a name="Footnote_A_1" id="Footnote_A_1"></a> +<a href="#FNanchor_A_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Fresh Gleanings, pp. 132, 133. +</div> +<br /><br /> +</div> +</div> +<br /><br /> + +<p><b>Transcriber's Note:</b></p> + +<p>1. page 133--corrected typo 'mizzen-rroyal' to 'mizzen-royal'</p> + +<p>2. page 133--corrected typo 'them erchant' to 'the merchant'</p> + +<p>3. page 137--punctuation mark at end of paragraph '...not gone the + voyage.,' corrected to "</p> + +<p>4. page 139--period in sentence '...of a Kentucky rifleman. I +brought...' corrected to a comma</p> + +<p>5. page 139--typo in '...I get acquaiuted with her?' corrected to 'acquainted'</p> + +<p>6. page 139--typo in '...I beg you wont get out' corrected to 'won't'</p> + +<p>7. page 140--typo in sentence " 'Sartainly, sartainly," said he... +changed to "'Sartainly, sartainly,' said he...</p> + +<p>8. page 140--typos in sentence '...expect you early, gentlemem. +Adieu--and with...' corrected to '...expect you early, gentlemen. +Adieu'--corrected spelling mistake and added single quote mark</p> + +<p>9. page 140--comma at end of sentence '...Is she so handsome, Ben,' +changed to period</p> + +<p>10. page 140--single quotes added in sentence "Egad! you don't say so!", +so resulting sentence reads " 'Egad! you don't say so!'</p> + +<p>11. page 140--later same sentence, corrected typo 'thonght' to 'thought'</p> + +<p>12. page 142--added missing single quote at start of sentence +"Mr. Stewart,' said Don Pedro...</p> + +<p>13. page 143--removed extraneous single quote in sentence ...and +answer me frankly. 'Do you really love... sentence is part of a +continuing quotation</p> + +<p>14. page 144--typo '...make love à la modé?...' +corrected to 'à la mode...'</p> + +<p>15. page 144--typo 'wont' corrected to 'won't'</p> + +<p>16. page 145--single quote added at start of sentence "What!' cried +Clara...</p> + +<p>17. page 145--double quotes changed to single in sentence "'Oh +Pedro!" continued his sister...</p> + +18. page 146--corrected typo 'an' in sentence '...but to cut an run, and +favored...' to 'and' + +<p>19. page 148--typo 'Giacoma' corrected to 'Giacomo'</p> + +<p>20. page 158--typo 'hour's' in sentence '...only a few hour's drive +from...' corrected to 'hours''</p> + +<p>21. page 158--colon at end of line 'At the sunny hour of noon:' changed +to semi-colon</p> + +<p>22. page 162--typo 'interpretaion' corrected to 'interpretation'</p> + +<p>23. page 163--typo 'wtth' in sentence '...much, compared wtth its +village-like...' corrected to 'with'</p> + +<p>24. page 166--typos in sentence '...je sins un pr[-e]tre.' corrected +to '...je suis un prêtre.'</p> + +<p>25. page 167--typo in sentence '..."How should I know, monsieur?,' +corrected to ' "How should I know, monsieur?" '</p> + +<p>26. page 167, later--double quote added to sentence "Pretty--very +pretty lodgers, said I.</p> + +<p>27. page 168--extraneous double quote removed from sentence 'I knew +from its position...'</p> + +<p>28. page 168--missing initial double quote added to sentence Oui, +monsieur."</p> + +<p>29. page 169--period substituted for comma at end of sentence '...at +length, then?" said I,</p> + +<p>30. page 169--same error at end of '...black upon his arm,"</p> + +<p>31. page 169--extraneous double quote removed from sentence '...before +me, dying!" The concierge...'</p> + +<p>32. page 170--added missing quote at end of sentence '...cher?--it +is a sad story.'</p> + +<p>33. page 171--extraneous " removed at end of sentence '...had not +found her friend.'</p> + +<p>34. page 171--extraneous " removed at end of sentence '...He is dead, +too, then?'</p> + +<p>35. page 171--changed comma to period at end of line '..enchanted, +wander evermore,'</p> + +<p>36. page 172--added quote at start of sentence 'Emma will have it that...'</p> + +<p>37. page 173--removed extra 's' from 'disinterestednesss'</p> + +<p>38. page 175--added missing quote at end of '...flirts à +discretion.'</p> + +<p>39. page 180--added 't' to word 'eloquenly'</p> +<br /><br /> + + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Graham's Magazine Vol XXXII. No. 3. +March 1848, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GRAHAM'S MAGAZINE, MARCH 1848 *** + +***** This file should be named 29236-h.htm or 29236-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/9/2/3/29236/ + +Produced by David T. Jones, Juliet Sutherland and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Canada Team at +http://www.pgdpcanada.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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No. 3. March +1848, 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: Graham's Magazine Vol XXXII. No. 3. March 1848 + +Author: Various + +Editor: George R. Graham + Robert T. Conrad + +Release Date: June 25, 2009 [EBook #29236] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GRAHAM'S MAGAZINE, MARCH 1848 *** + + + + +Produced by David T. Jones, Juliet Sutherland and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Canada Team at +http://www.pgdpcanada.net + + + + + + + +GRAHAM'S MAGAZINE. + +VOL. XXXII. PHILADELPHIA, MARCH, 1848. No. 3. + + + + +THE CRUISE OF THE GENTILE. + +BY FRANK BYRNE. + + +CHAPTER I. + +_In which the reader is introduced to several of the dramatis personae._ + + +On the evening of the 25th of March, in the year of our Lord one +thousand eight hundred and thirty-nine, the ship Gentile, of Boston, +lay at anchor in the harbor of Valetta. + +It is quite proper, gentle reader, that, as it is with this ship and +her crew that you will chiefly have to do in the following yarn, they +should be severally and particularly introduced to your notice. + +To begin, then. Imagine yourself standing on the parapet of St. Elmo, +about thirty minutes past five o'clock on the evening above mentioned; +the Gentile lies but little more than a cable's length from the shore, +so that you can almost look down upon her decks. You perceive that she +is a handsome craft of some six or seven hundred tons burthen, +standing high out of water, in ballast trim, with a black hull, bright +waist, and wales painted white. Her bows flare very much, and are +sharp and symmetrical; the cut-water stretches, with a graceful curve, +far out beyond them toward the long sweeping martingal, and is +surmounted by a gilt scroll, or, as the sailors call it, a +fiddle-head. The black stern is ornamented by a group of white figures +in bas relief, which give a lively air to the otherwise sombre and +vacant expression, and beneath the cabin-windows is painted the name +of the ship, and her port of register. The lower masts of this vessel +are short and stout, the top-masts are of great height, the extreme +points of the fore and mizzen-royal poles, are adorned with gilt +balls, and over all, at the truck of the main sky-sail pole, floats a +handsome red burgee, upon which a large G is visible. There are no +yards across but the lower and topsail-yards, which are very long and +heavy, precisely squared, and to which the sails are furled in an +exceeding neat and seaman-like manner. The rigging is universally taut +and trim; and it is easy to perceive that the officers of the Gentile +understand their business. The swinging-boom is rigged out, and +fastened thereto, by their painters, a pair of boats, a yawl and gig, +float lovingly side by side; and instead of the usual ladder at the +side, a handy flight of accommodation steps lead from the water-line +to the gangway. + +Now, dear reader, leaving the battlements of St. Elmo, you alight upon +the deck of our ship, which you find to be white and clean, and, as +seamen say, sheer--that is to say, without break, poop, or +hurricane-house--forming on each side of the line of masts a smooth, +unencumbered plane the entire length of the deck, inclining with a +gentle curve from the bow and stern toward the waist. The bulwarks are +high, and are surmounted by a paneled monkey-rail; the belaying-pins +in the plank-shear are of lignum-vitae and mahogany, and upon them the +rigging is laid up in accurate and graceful coils. The balustrade +around the cabin companion-way and sky-light is made of polished +brass, the wheel is inlaid with brass, and the capstan-head, the +gangway-stanchions, and bucket-hoops are of the same glittering metal. +Forward of the main hatchway the long-boat stands in its chocks, +covered over with a roof, and a good-natured looking cow, whose stable +is thus contrived, protrudes her head from a window, chews her cud +with as much composure as if standing under the lee of a Yankee +barn-yard wall, and watches, apparently, a group of sailors, who, +seated in the forward waist around their kids and pans, are enjoying +their coarse but plentiful and wholesome evening meal. A huge +Newfoundland dog sits upon his haunches near this circle, his eyes +eagerly watching for a morsel to be thrown him, the which, when +happening, his jaws close with a sudden snap, and are instantly agape +for more. A green and gold parrot also wanders about this knot of men, +sometimes nibbling the crumbs offered it, and anon breaking forth into +expressions which, from their tone, evince no great respect for some +of the commandments in the Decalogue. Between the long-boat and the +fore-hatch is the galley, where the "Doctor" (as the cook is +universally called in the merchant service) is busily employed in +dishing up a steaming supper, prepared for the cabin mess; the +steward, a genteel-looking mulatto, dressed in a white apron, stands +waiting at the galley-door, ready to receive the aforementioned +supper, whensoever it may be ready, and to convey it to the cabin. + +Turning aft, you perceive a young man pacing the quarter-deck, and +whistling, as he walks, a lively air from La Bayadere. He is dressed +neatly in a blue pilot-cloth pea-jacket, well-shaped trowsers, +neat-fitting boots, and a Mahon cap, with gilt buttons. This gentleman +is Mr. Langley. His father is a messenger in the Atlas Bank, of +Boston, and Mr. Langley, jr. invariably directs his communications to +his parent with the name of that corporation somewhere very legibly +inscribed on the back of the letter. He is an apprentice to the ship, +but being a smart, handy fellow, and a tolerable seaman, he was deemed +worthy of promotion, and as his owner could find no second mate's +berth vacant in any of his vessels, the Gentile has rejoiced for the +last twelve months in the possession of a third mate in the person of +Mr. Langley. He is about twenty years of age, and would be a sensible +fellow, were it not for a great taste for mischief, romance, theatres, +cheap jewelry, and tight boots. He quotes poetry on the weather +yard-arm, to the great dissatisfaction of Mr. Brewster, (to whom you +will shortly be introduced,) who often confidentially assures the +skipper that the third mate would have turned out a natural fool if +his parents had not providentially sent him to sea. + +But while you have been making the acquaintance of Mr. Langley, the +steward has brought aft the dishes containing the cabin supper. A +savory smell issues from the open sky-light, through which also +ascends a ruddy gleam of light, the sound of cheerful voices, and the +clatter of dishes. After the lapse of a few minutes the turns of Mr. +Langley in pacing the deck grow shorter, and at last, ceasing to +whistle and beginning to mutter, he walks up to the sky-light and +looks down into the cabin below. Gentle reader, place yourself by his +side, and now attend as closely as the favored student did to +Asmodeus. + +The fine-looking seaman reclining upon the cushioned transom, picking +his teeth while he scans the columns of a late number of the Liverpool +Mercury, is Captain Smith, the skipper, a regular-built, true-blue, +Yankee ship-master. Though his short black curls are thickly sprinkled +with gray, he has not yet seen forty years; but the winds and suns of +every zone have left their indelible traces upon him. He is an +intelligent, well-informed man, though self-taught, well versed in the +science of trade, and is a very energetic and efficient officer. + +The tall gentleman, just folding his doily, is the mate of the ship, +Mr. Stewart. You would hardly suppose him to be a sailor at the first +glance; and yet he is a perfect specimen of what an officer in the +merchant service should be, notwithstanding his fashionably-cut +broadcloth coat, white vest, black gaiter-pants, and jeweled fingers. +He is dressed for the theatre. Mr. Stewart is a graduate of Harvard, +and at first went to sea to recover the health which had been somewhat +impaired by hard study; but becoming charmed with the profession, he +has followed it ever since, and says that it is the most manly +vocation in the world. He is a great favorite with the owner of the +ship; and when he is at Boston, always resides with him. He will +command a ship himself after this voyage. His age is twenty-eight. Mr. +Stewart is a handsome man, a polite gentleman, an accomplished +scholar, a thorough seamen, a strict but kind officer, a most +companionable shipmate, and, in one word--a fine fellow. + +Next comes Mr. Brewster, the second mate. That is he devouring those +huge slices of cold beef with so much gusto, while Langley mutters, +"Will he never have done!" He with the blue jacket, bedizzened so +plentifully with small pearl buttons, the calico shirt, and +fancifully-knotted black silk cravat around his brawny neck. + +Mr. Micah Brewster hails from Truro, Cape Cod, and, like all Capemen, +is a Yankee sailor, every inch of him. He commenced going to sea when +only twelve years old, by shipping for a four months' trip in a +banker; and in the space of fourteen years, which have since elapsed, +he has not been on shore as many months. He is complete in every +particular of seamanship, and is, besides, a tolerably scientific +navigator. He knows the color and taste of the water all along shore +from Cape Farewell to the Horn, and can tell the latitude and +longitude of any place on the chart without consulting it. Bowditch's +Epitome, and Blunt's Coast Pilot, seem to him the only books in the +world worth consulting, though I should, perhaps, except Marryatt's +novels and Tom Cringle's Log. But of matters connected with the shore +Mr. Brewster is as ignorant as a child unborn. He holds all landsmen +but ship-builders, owners, and riggers, in supreme contempt, and can +hardly conceive of the existence of happiness, in places so far inland +that the sea breeze does not blow. A severe and exacting officer is +he, but yet a favorite with the men--for he is always first in any +emergency or danger, his lion-like voice sounding loud above the roar +of the elements, cheering the crew to their duty, and setting the +example with his own hands. He is rather inclined to be irritable +toward those who have gained the quarter-deck by the way of the +cabin-windows, but, on the whole, I shall set him down in the list of +good fellows. + +That swarthy, curl-pated youngster, in full gala dress for the +theatre, drawing on his gloves, and hurrying Mr. Stewart, is, dear +reader, your most humble, devoted, and obedient servant, Frank Byrne, +_alias_, myself, _alias_, the ship's cousin, _alias_, the son of the +ship's owner. Supposing, of course, that you believe in Mesmerism and +clairvoyance, I shall not stop to explain how I have been able to +point out the Gentile to you, while you were standing on the bastion +of St. Elmo, and I all the while in the cabin of the good ship, +dressing for the theatre, and eating my supper, but shall immediately +proceed to inform you how I came there, to welcome you on board, and +to wish you a pleasant cruise with us. + +About two years ago, (I am speaking of the 25th of March, A. D. 1839, +in the present tense,) I succeeded in persuading my father to gratify +my predilection for the sea, by putting me on board of the Gentile, +under the particular care of Captain Smith, to try one voyage--so I +became the ship's cousin. Contrary to the predictions of my friends, +I returned determined to go again, and to become a sailor. Now a +ship's cousin's berth is not always an enviable one, notwithstanding +the consanguinity of its occupant to the planks beneath him, for he, +usually feeling the importance of the relationship, is hated by +officers and men, who annoy him in every possible way. But my case was +an exception to the general rule. Although at the first I was +intimately acquainted with each of the officers, I never presumed upon +it, but always did my duty cheerfully and respectfully, and tried hard +to learn to be a good seaman. As my father allowed me plenty of +spending money, I could well afford to be open-handed and generous to +my shipmates, fore and aft; and this good quality, in a seaman's +estimation, will cover a multitude of faults, and endears its +possessor to his heart. In fine, I became an immense favorite with all +hands; and even Mr. Brewster, who at first looked upon my advent on +board with an unfavorable eye, was forced to acknowledge that I no +more resembled a ship's cousin than a Methodist class-leader does a +midshipman. + +Mr. Stewart and myself had always been great friends before I went to +sea. When I first came on board, Mr. Langley, who had been my +school-mate and crony, was, though one of the cabin mess, only an +apprentice, and had not yet received his brevet rank as third +mate--Mr. Stewart, of course, stood his own watch, and chose Langley +and myself as part of it. The mate generally kept us upon the +quarter-deck with him, and many were the cozy confabs we used to hold, +many the choice cigars we used to smoke upon that handy loafing-place, +the booby-hatch, many the pleasant yarns we used to spin while pacing +up and down the deck, or leaning against the rail of the companion. As +I have said, Mr. Stewart was a delightful watch-mate--and Bill Langley +and I used to love him dearly, and none the worse that he made us toe +the line of our duty. He always, however, appeared to prefer me to +Langley, and to admit me to more of his confidence. Since Bill's +promotion we had not seen so much of the mate, but still, during our +late tedious voyage from Calcutta, he had often come upon deck in our +watch, and hundreds of long miles of the Indian Ocean had been +shortened in the old way. + +Gentle reader, you are as much acquainted with the Gentile, and the +quint who compose her cabin mess, as you could hope to be at one +interview. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +_News from Home._ + + +Mr. Langley had just commenced his supper with a ravenous appetite, +stimulated by the tantalizing view of our previous gastronomic +performances, which he had had through the sky-light, the mate and +myself were on the point of going on deck to go ashore, the captain +had just lighted a second cigar, when Mr. Brewster, who had relieved +poor Langley in the charge of the deck, made his appearance at the +cabin door, bearing in his hands a large packet. + +"She's in, sir!" he shouted, "she came to anchor in front of the +Lazaretto while we were at supper, and Bill here didn't see her. The +quarantine fellows brought this along. Bill, you must be a bloody +fool, to let a ship come right under our stern, and sail across the +bay, and not know nothing about it." + +Langley, whose regards for the supper-table had drawn his attention +from the arrival of a ship which had been expected by us for more than +a week, and by whom we had anticipated the receipt of the packet the +skipper now held in his hands, Langley, I say, blushed, but said +nothing, and turned toward the captain, who, with trembling hands, was +cutting the twine which bound the precious bundle together. + +Now our last letters from Boston had been written more than a year +before, had been read at Calcutta, since then we had sailed fifteen +thousand miles from Calcutta to Trieste, and from Trieste to Valetta, +and here we had been pulling at our anchor for three weeks, waiting +orders from my father by the ship which had just arrived; it is not +wonderful, therefore, that the group which surrounded Capt. Smith were +very pale, eager, anxious-looking men. How much we were to learn in +ten minutes time; what bitter tidings might be in store for us in that +little packet. + +At last it is open, and newspapers and letters in rich profusion meet +our gaze; with a quick sleight the captain distributes them, sends a +half dozen to their owners in the forecastle by the steward, and then +ensues a silence broken only by the snapping of seals, and the +rattling of paper. Suddenly Mr. Stewart uttered an exclamation of +surprise, and looking up from my letter, I noticed the quick exchange +of significant glances between the captain and mate. + +"You've found it out, then," said the skipper. + +The mate nodded in reply, and gathering up his letters, retired +precipitately to his state-room. + +At this juncture, Mr. Brewster, who had just finished the perusal of a +very square, stiff-looking epistle, gave vent to a prolonged whistle. + +"Beats thunder, I swear!" said he, "if the old woman haint got spliced +again--and she's every month of fifty-six years old." + +"That's nothing," cried Langley, "only think, father has left the +Atlas Bank, and is now Mr. Byrnes' book-keeper; and they talk of +shutting up the Tremont theatre, and Bob here says that Fanny Ellsler +is--" + +"Avast there!" interrupted the skipper, "clap a stopper over all that, +and stand by to hear where we are bound to-morrow, or next day. Have +any of you found out yet?" + +"No, sir," cried Langley and I in a breath, "Home, I hope." + +"Not so soon," replied Captain Smith, "as soon as maybe we sail for +Matanzas de Cuba, to take aboard a sugar freight for the +Baltic--either Stockholm or Cronstadt; so that when we make +Boston-light it will be November, certain. How does that suit ye, +gentlemen?" + +I was forced to muster all my stoicism to refrain from whimpering; Mr. +Langley gave utterance to a wish, which, if ever fulfilled, will +consign the cities of Cronstadt, Stockholm, and Matanzas to the same +fate which has rendered Sodom, Gomorrah, and Euphemia so celebrated. +Mr. Brewster alone seemed indifferent. That worthy gentleman snapped +his fingers, and averred that he didn't care a d--n where he went to. + +"Besides," said he, "a trip up the Baltic is a beautiful summer's +work, and we shall get home in time for thanksgiving, if the governor +don't have it earlier than common." + +"Matanzas!" inquired Langley; "isn't there where Mr. Stowe moved to, +captain?" + +"Yes," replied the skipper, "he is Mr. Byrnes' correspondent there--" + +"Egad, then, Frank, we shall see the girls, eh, old fellow!" and Mr. +Langley began to recover his serenity of mind. + +"Beside all this," added the skipper, "Frank has a cousin in +Matanzas--a nun in the Ursuline Convent." + +"So I have just found out," said I; "father bids me to be sure and see +her, if possible, and says that I must ask you about it. It is very +odd I never have heard of this before. By the bye, Bill, my boy, look +at this here!" and I displayed a draft on Mr. Stowe for $200. + +At this moment Mr. Stewart's state-room door opened, and he appeared. +It was evident that he had heard bad news. His face was very grave, +and his manner forced. + +"Frank," said he, "you must excuse my company to-night. Langley will +be glad to go with you; and as we sail so soon, I have a good deal to +do--" + +"But," said I, hesitating, "may I inquire whether you have received +bad news from home?" + +"On the contrary, very good--but don't ask any questions, Frank; be +off, it is very late to go now." + +"Langley," said I, as we were supping at a _cafe_, after the closing +of the theatre, "isn't it odd about that new cousin of mine?" + +"Ay,", replied my companion, "and it is odd about Stewart's actions +to-night; and it will be odd if I don't kiss Mary Stowe; and it will +be odd if you don't kiss Ellen; and it will be odd if I arn't made +second mate after we get home from this thundering long voyage; and, +finally, it will be most especially odd if we find all our boat's crew +sober when we get down to the quay." + +Nothing so odd as that was the case; but after some little difficulty +we got on board, and Langley and myself retired to the state-room +which we held as tenants in common. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +_In which four thousand miles are gained._ + + +We laid almost a week longer wind-bound. At last the skipper waxed +impatient, and one fine morning we got out our boats, and with the +help of the Pharsalia's boats and crew, we were slowly towed to sea. +Here we took a fine southwesterly breeze, and squared away before it. +Toward night we had the coast of Sicily close under our lee, and as +far away as the eye could reach, the snow-capped summit of AEtna, +ruddy in the light of the setting sun, rose against the clear blue of +the northern sky. + + * * * * * + +We had as fine a run to Gibralter as any seaman could wish; but after +passing the pillars of Hercules there was no more good weather beyond +for us until we crossed the tropic, which we did the 10th of May, in +longitude about sixty degrees, having experienced a constant +succession of strong southerly and westerly gales. But having passed +the tropic, we took a gentle breeze from the eastward, and with the +finest weather in the world, glided slowly along toward our destined +port. + +I shall never forget the evening and night after the 15th of May. We +were then in the neighborhood of Turks Island, heading for the Caycos +Pass, and keeping a bright look-out for land. It was a most lovely +night, one, as Willis says, astray from Paradise; the moon was shining +down as it only does shine between the tropics, the sky clear and +cloudless, the mild breeze, just enough to fill our sails, pushing us +gently through the water, the sea as glassy as a mountain-lake, and +motionless, save the long, slight swell, scarcely perceptible to those +who for long weeks have been tossed by the tempestuous waves of the +stormy Atlantic. The sails of a distant ship were seen, far away to +the north, making the lovely scene less solitary; the only sounds +heard were the rippling at the bows, the low sough of the zephyr +through the rigging, the cheeping of blocks, as the sleepy helmsman +allowed the ship to vary in her course, the occasional splash of a +dolphin, and the flutter of a flying-fish in the air, as he winged his +short and glittering flight. The air was warm, fragrant, and +delicious, and the larboard watch of the tired crew of the Gentile, +after a boisterous passage of forty days from Gibralter, yielded to +its somnolent influence, and lay stretched about the forecastle and +waists, enjoying the voluptuous languor which overcomes men suddenly +emerging from a cold into a tropical climate. + +Mr. Langley, myself, and the skipper's dog, reclined upon the +booby-hatch. The first having the responsibility of the deck contrived +to maintain a half upright position, and to keep one eye open, but the +other two, prostrate by each others' side, slumbered outright. + +"What's the time, Bill?" I asked, at length, rousing myself, and +shaking off the embrace of Rover, who was loth to lose his bedfellow. + +"'We take no note of time,'" spouted the third mate, drawing his watch +from his pocket. "For'ard, there! strike four bells, and relieve the +wheel. Keep your eye peeled, look-out; and mind, no caulking." + +"Ay ay, sir," was the lazy response, and in a moment more the +_ting-ting_, _ting-ting_, of the ship's bell rang out on the silent +air, and proclaimed that the middle watch was half over, or, in +landsmen's lingo, that it was two o'clock, A. M. + +"Lay along, Rover," I muttered, preparing for another snooze. + +"Oh! avast that Frank; come, keep awake, and let's talk." + +"Talk!" said I, "about what, pray?" + +"Oh! I don't know," replied Bill. "I tell you what, Frank, if it +wasn't for being cock of the roost myself, I should wish that Stewart +headed this watch now. What fine times we used to have, eh?--but he +has altered as well as the times--how odd he has acted by spells ever +since we got that packet at Malta. I'm d--d if I don't believe he got +news of the loss of his sweetheart." + +"He never had any that I know of," I rejoined, "but he certainly did +hear something, for he has changed in his manner, and the skipper and +he have long talks by themselves, and I heard Stewart tell him one day +that after all it would have been better to have left the ship at +Gibralter, and not gone the voyage." + +"Did he, though!" cried Langley; "in that case I should have been +second mate--however, I'm glad he didn't quit." + +"Thank you, Bill," said a voice behind us; and turning in some +confusion we beheld Mr. Stewart standing in the companion. "How is her +head?" he continued, asking the usual question, to allow us to recover +from our embarrassment. + +"About west, sir," replied Langley. + +"Well, as the wind freshens a little and is getting rather to the +nor'ard, you'd better give your larboard braces a pull or two, and +then put your course rather north of west to hit the Pass." + +"Ay ay, sir," said the third mate. "For'ard, there, come aft here, and +round in on the larboard braces. Keep her up, Jack, about west +nor'west." + +After the crew had complied with the orders of the officer they +retired forward, and we of the quarter-deck seated ourselves on the +booby-hatch. + +"We were talking about you when you came on deck, sir," said I, after +a short silence. + +"Ah! indeed," replied the mate smiling. + +"Yes," said Langley, "we thought it was rather odd you hadn't been on +deck lately, to see whether we boys were not running away with the +ship in your watch. It has been deuced lonesome these dark blowy +nights along back. If you had been on deck to spin us a yarn it would +have been capital." + +"Boys," said the mate, taking out his cigar-case, "I've a great mind +to spin you a yarn now." + +"Oh! do, by all means," cried the third mate and the ship's cousin +together. + +We lighted our cigars; the mate took a few puffs to get fairly under +way, and then began. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +_The Mate's Yarn._ + + +"I've told you about a great many days' works, boys, but there is one +leaf in my log-book of which you as yet know nothing. It is now about +six years since I was in this part of the world, for the first and +only time. I was then twenty-two, and was second mate, Frank, of your +father's ship, the John Cabot. Old Captain Hopkin's was master, and +our present skipper was mate. One fine July afternoon we let go our +anchor alongside of the Castle of San Severino, in Matanzas harbor. A +few days after our arrival I was in a billiard-room ashore, quietly +reading a newspaper, when one of the losing players, a Spaniard of a +most peculiarly unpleasant physiognomy, turned suddenly around with an +oath, and declared the rustling of the paper disturbed him. As several +gentlemen were reading in different parts of the room I did not +appropriate the remark to myself, though I thought he had intended it +for me. I paid no attention to him, however, until, just as I was +turning the sheet inside out, the Spaniard, irritated by another +stroke of ill luck, advanced to me, and demanded that I should either +lay the newspaper aside or quit the room. I very promptly declined to +do either, when he snatched the paper from my hands, and instantly +drew his sword. I was unarmed, with the exception of a good sized +whalebone cane, but my anger was so great that I at once sprung at the +scamp, who at the instant made a pass at me. I warded the thrust as +well as I could, but did not avoid getting nicely pricked in the left +shoulder; but, before my antagonist could recover himself, I gave him +such a wipe with my cane on his sword-arm that his wrist snapped, and +his sword dropped to the ground. Enraged at the sight of my own blood, +which now covered my clothes in front, I was not satisfied with this, +but applying my foot to his counter, two or three vigorous kicks +sufficed to send him sprawling into the street. Captain Hopkins +arrived just as the fracas was over, and instantly sent for a surgeon, +and in the meantime I received the congratulations of all present on +my victory. I learned that my man was a certain Don Carlos Alvarez, a +broken down hidalgo, who had formerly been the master of a piratical +schooner, at the time when Matanzas was the head-quarters of pirates, +before Commodore Porter in the Enterprise broke up the haunt. When the +surgeon arrived he pronounced my wound very slight, and a slip of +sticking-plaster and my arm in a sling was thought to be all that was +necessary. After Captain Hopkins and myself got on board that night, +he told me a story, the repetition of which may somewhat surprise you, +Frank. Do you remember of ever hearing that a sister of your father +married a Cubanos merchant, some thirty odd years ago?" + +"I remember hearing of it when a child," I replied, "and father in his +last letter says that I have a cousin now in the nunnery at Matanzas. +I suppose she is a daughter of that sister." + +"You are right," resumed the mate, sighing slightly. "Your grandfather +had only two children. When your father was but a small boy, the whole +family spent the winter in Havana, to recruit your grandmother's +health, while your grandfather collected some debts which were due +him. While there, a young Creole merchant, heavily concerned in the +slave-trade, became deeply enamored with your aunt, and solicited her +hand. The young lady herself was nothing loth, but the elders disliked +and opposed the match; the consequence was an elopement and private +marriage, at which your grandfather was so exceedingly incensed that +he disowned his daughter, and never afterward held any communication +with her. Your aunt had two children, and died some fifteen years ago. +Your father shortly after received this intelligence by means of a +letter from the son, and the correspondence thus begun was continued +in a very friendly manner. Senor Garcia, your uncle by marriage, +became concerned, in a private way, like many other Cubanos merchants, +in fitting out piratical craft, and one of his confidential captains +was this same Alvarez whom I so summarily ejected from the +billiard-room. Garcia died in 1830, leaving a large property to his +children, and consigning the guardianship of the younger, a girl, to +his friend Don Carlos Alvarez. The will provided that in case she +should marry any person, but an American, without her guardian's +consent, her fortune should revert to her guardian; and in the choice +of an American husband her brother's wishes were not to be +contravened. The reservation in favor of Americans was made at the +entreaty of the brother, who urged the memory of his mother as an +inducement. Now it so turned out that Don Carlos, though forty years +old, and as ugly as a sculpin, became enamored with the beauty and +fortune of his ward, and, hoping to win her, kept her rigidly secluded +from the society of every gentleman, but especially that of the +American residents. Pedro Garcia, the brother, whom Captain Hopkins +represented to be a fine, manly fellow, was, however, much opposed to +such a plan, and ardently desired that his sister should marry an +American, being convinced that this was the only way for her to get a +husband and save her fortune. 'If,' said Captain Hopkins, in +conclusion, 'some smart young Yankee could carry the girl off, it +would be no bad speculation. Ben, you had better try yourself, you +couldn't please Mr. Byrne better.' + +"'Much obliged,' I replied, 'but Yankee girls suit my taste tolerably +well, much better than pirates' daughters, and I hope that I can +please my owner well enough by doing my duty aboard ship.' + +"'Pshaw! she is not a pirate's daughter exactly; she's Mr. Byrne's +niece.' + +"'For all that,' I answered, 'I should expect to find my throat cut +some fine morning.' + +"'Well, well,' said the old skipper, 'I only wish that I was a young +man, for the girl is said to be as handsome as a mermaid, and as for +money, I s'pose she's worth devilish nigh upon two hundred thousand +dollars.' + +"The next day but one was Sunday, so after dressing myself in my +go-ashore toggery, I went with the skipper to take another stroll in +the city. We dined at a _cafe_, and then hearing the cathedral bells +tolling for vespers, I concluded to leave the skipper to smoke and +snooze alone, and go and hear the performances. It was rather a warm +walk up the hill, and, upon arriving at the cathedral, I stopped +awhile in the cool airy porch to rest, brush the dust from my boots, +arrange my hair and neckcloth, and adjust my wounded arm in its sling +in the most interesting manner. Just as I had finished these nice +little preliminaries, a volante drove up to the door, which contained, +why, to be sure, only a woman, but yet the loveliest woman I have +ever seen in any part of the world. Yes, Bill, your little dancer at +Valetta ought not to be thought of the same day. + +"Well, boys, I fell in love incontinently at first sight, and was +taken all aback, but inspired by a stiff glass of eau-de-vie which I +had taken with my pineapple after dinner, I forged alongside, before +the negro postillion, cased to his hips in jack-boots, could dismount, +and offered my hand to assist the lady to alight from the carriage. +She at first gave me a haughty stare, but finally putting one of the +two fairest hands in the world into my brown paw, she reached terra +firma safely. + +"'Thank you, senor,' said she, with a low courtesy, after I had led +her into the church. + +"'Entirely welcome, ma'am,' I replied, as my mother had taught me to +do upon like occasions, 'and the more welcome, as I perceive you speak +English so fluently, that you must be either an English woman or my +own countrywoman.' + +"'I am a Cubanos, senor,' said the lady, with a smile, 'but my mother +was an American, and I learned the language in the nursery--but, +senor, again I thank you for your gallantry, and so _adios_.' She +dipped her finger in the holy-water vase, crossed herself, and then +looking at me from under her dark fringed eyelids with a most +bewildering glance, and a smile which displayed two dazzling rows of +pearls between her ruby lips, she glided into the church. + +"'Who is your mistress?' cried I, turning to the negro postillion, but +that sable worthy could not understand my question. The most +expressive pantomimes were as unavailable as words, and so in despair +I turned again into the porch, and stood in a reverie. I was clearly a +fathom deep in love, and as my extreme height is but five feet eleven +and a half, that is equivalent to saying that I was over head and ears +in love with the strange lady. I began to talk to myself. 'By Venus!' +said I, aloud, 'but she is an angel, regular built, and if I only +could find out her name and--' + +"A smothered laugh behind me reminded me that so public a place was +hardly appropriate for soliloquizing about angels. I turned in some +vexation and encountered the laughing glance of a well dressed young +man, apparently about twenty-five, who had probably been edified by my +unconscious enthusiasm. + +"'You are mistaken, senor,' said he in English, and looking quizzical; +'those images in the niches are said to represent saints and not +angels, though I must own they are admirably calculated to deceive +strangers. As you said you wished to know their names, I will tell +them to you--that is San Pablo, and that is San Pedro, and that is--' + +"'You are kind, sir,' said I, interrupting him angrily, 'but I've +heard of the twelve apostles before.' + +"'I want to know, as your countrymen say,' retorted the stranger, with +a good-natured mocking laugh. + +"I fired up on this. 'Senor,' said I, 'if my countrymen are not so +polished in their speech as the Castilians and their descendants, they +never insult strangers needlessly. I have been insulted once before +in your city within a few days, and allow me to add for your +consideration, that the rascal got well kicked--' + +"'You are very kind to give me such fair warning,' replied the +stranger, bowing, 'but allow me to ask whether the name of this person +you punished is Alvarez?' + +"'I have heard so, and if he is a connection of yours I am--' + +"'Stay, senor, don't get into a passion; believe me, that I thank you +most heartily for the good service you performed on the occasion to +which we allude. I only wish that I can be of use to you in return.' + +"'Well, then, senor,' I replied, much mollified, and intent upon +finding out my fair incognito, 'a lady just now passed through into +the church, and if you can only tell me who she is, I will promise to +flog you all the bullies in Cuba.' + +"'Ah, that would be a long job, dear senor, but if you will accept my +arm into the church, and point out the angel who has attracted your +notice, I will tell you her name and the part of heaven in which she +resides. She was very beautiful I suppose?' + +"'Oh! exquisitely beautiful.' + +"'Come, then, I am dying to find out which of our Matanzas belles has +had the good fortune to fascinate you--this way--do you use the holy +water?' + +"'In we went and found the organ piping like a northeast snow squall, +and the whole assembly on their knees. The stranger and myself +ensconced ourselves near a large pillar, and I stood by to keep a +bright look out for the lady. + +"At last I discovered her among a group of other women, kneeling at +the foot of an opposite pillar. + +"'There she is,' I whispered to my companion, who had knelt upon his +pocket-handkerchief. + +"'Well, in a moment,' he replied. 'I'm in the middle of a crooked +Latin prayer just now, and have to tell you so in a parenthesis.' + +"A turn came to the ceremonies, and all hands arose. + +"'_Saecula saeculorum_,' muttered my companion, rising, 'Amen! now +where's your lady?' + +"'Yonder, by the pillar,' I whispered, in a fit of ecstasy, for my +beautiful unknown in rising had recognized me, and given me another +thrilling glance from her dark eyes. + +"'But there are a score of pillars all around us,' urged the stranger, +'point her out, senor.' + +"'Well, then,' said I, extending my arm, 'there she is; you can't see +her face to be sure, but there can be only one such form in the world. +Isn't it splendid?' + +"'There are so many ladies by the pillar that I cannot tell to a +certainty which one you mean,' whispered my would-be informant. +Stooping and glancing along my arm with the precision of a Kentucky +rifleman, I brought my finger to bear directly upon the head of the +unknown, who, as the devil would have it, at this critical juncture +turned her head and encountered the deadly aim which we were taking +at her. + +"'That's she,' said I, dropping my arm, which had been sticking out +like a pump brake, 'that's she that just now turned about and blushed +so like the deuce--do you know her?' + +"'Yes, but I can't tell you here,' was the laconic reply of my +companion; 'come, let's go. You are sure that is the lady,' he +continued, when we had gained the street. + +"'Sure! most certainly; can there be any mistake about that face; +besides, didn't you notice how she blushed when she recognized me?' + +"'Maybe,' suggested my new friend, 'she blushed to see me.' + +"'Well,' said I, 'I don't know to be sure, but I think that the +emotion was on my account; but don't keep me in suspense any longer, +tell me who she is; can I get acquainted with her?' + +"'Softly, softly, my friend, one question at a time. Step aboard my +volante, and as we drive down the street I'll give you the information +you so much desire. Will you get in?' + +"I climbed aboard without hesitation, and was followed by my strange +friend; the postillion whipped up and we were soon under weigh. + +"'Now,' resumed my companion, 'in reply to your first and oft-repeated +inquiry, I have the honor to inform you that the lady is my only +sister. As to your second question--I beg you won't get out--sit +still, my dear sir, I will drive you to the _cafe_--your second +question I cannot so well answer. It would seem that my sister herself +is nothing loth--sit easy, sir, the carriage is perfectly safe--but +unfortunately it happens that the gentleman who has the control of her +actions, her guardian, dislikes Americans extremely; and I have reason +to believe that he has taken a particularly strong antipathy to you. +Indeed, I have heard him swear that he'll cut your throat--pardon me, +Mr. Stewart, for the expression, it is not my own.' + +"Surprise overcame my confusion. 'Senor,' cried I, interrupting him, +'it seems you know my name, and--' + +"'Certainly I do--Mr. Benjamin Stewart, of the ship John Cabot.' + +"'Senor,' I cried, half angrily, 'since you know my address so well, +will you not be so kind as to favor me with yours?' + +"'Mine! oh yes, with pleasure, though I now recollect that I have +omitted to state my sister's name--hers first, if you please; it is +Donna Clara Garcia.' + +"'And yours is Pedro Garcia.' + +"'Exactly, with a _Don_ before it, which my poor father left me. You +perceive, Mr. Stewart, by what means I knew you after your warning +about the kicking, eh? I suspected it was yourself, when I saw an +American gentleman with his arm in a sling, and so I made bold to +accost you in the midst of your rhapsody about angels--' + +"'Ah! Don Pedro,' I stammered in confusion, when I recalled the +ludicrous scene, 'how foolish I must appear to you.' + +"'For what, senor--for thinking my sister handsome? You do my taste +injustice. I think so myself.' + +"We rode on in silence a few minutes. I recalled all that Captain +Hopkins had told me about my new acquaintance, his sister, and her +guardian. I took heart of grace, and determined to know more of the +beautiful creature whom I had now identified; but when I turned toward +my companion, his stern expression, so different from the one his +features had hitherto borne, almost disheartened me. + +"'Don Pedro,' said I, with hesitation, 'may I ask if you are angry at +the trifling manner with which I have spoken of your sister before I +knew her to be such?' + +"'Is it necessary for me to assure you to the contrary?' he asked, +with a smile again lighting up his face. + +"'But if,' I continued, 'I should say that the admiration I have +manifested is sincere, that even in the short time I have seen her +to-day, I have been deeply interested, and that I ardently desire her +acquaintance.' + +"'Why, senor, in that case, I should reply, that my sister is very +highly honored by your favorable notice, and that I should do my +possible to make you know each other better. If,' he continued, 'the +case you have supposed be the fact, I think I can manage this matter, +her old janitor to the contrary notwithstanding.' + +"'I do say, then,' I replied, with enthusiasm, 'that the sight of +Donna Clara has excited emotions in my bosom I have never felt before. +I shall be the happiest man in the world to have the privilege of +knowing her.' + +"'Attend, then. Don Carlos is absent at Havana, and will probably +remain so for a few days, until his wrist gets well; in the meantime, +his sister acts as duenna over Donna Clara. She is quite a nice old +lady, however, and allows my sister far greater liberty in her +brother's absence than ordinarily, as, for instance, to-day. I will +get her to permit Clara to spend a few days at my villa down the +bay--Alvarez himself would not dare to refuse this request, if--' my +companion stopped short, and his brow clouded. 'But I forget the best +of the matter,' he continued a moment after, in a lively tone. 'Senor, +you will dine with me to-morrow, and spend a day or two with me. I +keep bachelor's hall, but I have an excellent cook, and some of the +oldest wine in Cuba. Beside, you will see my sister. Will you honor +me, Mr. Stewart?' + +"I was transported, 'Senior,' I cried, 'if Capt. Hopkins--' + +"'Oh! a fig for Hopkins,' shouted my volatile friend, 'he shall dine +with me too. He is an ancient of mine--he dare not refuse to let you +go. But there is the fine old sinner himself in the verandah of the +_cafe_; now we can ask him.' + +"We rattled up to the door, to the infinite astonishment of my worthy +skipper, who was greatly surprised to see Don Pedro and his second +mate on such excellent terms, and all without his intervention. + +"'Hillo!' he shouted, 'how came you two sailing in company?' + +"The worthy old seaman was briefly informed of my afternoon's +adventures over a bowl of iced sangaree; and when Pedro made his +proposition about the morrow's dinner, and a little extra liberty for +me, the reply was very satisfactory. + +"'Sartainly, sartainly,' said he, 'and I hope good will come of it.' + +"'Well, then,' said Pedro, 'as this matter is settled, I must take my +leave. I shall expect you early, gentlemen. _Adieu_'--and, with a +graceful bow, my new friend entered his carriage, and was driven away. + +"'Now,' said the skipper, after our boat's crew had cleared their +craft from the crowd at the stairs, 'now, Stewart, what do you think +of the pirate's daughter, my boy? D'ye see, I never happened to sight +her, though her brother and I have been fast friends these five years. +Is she so handsome, Ben.' + +"'Full as good-looking as the figure-head of the Cleopatra,' replied +I. + +"'Egad! you don't say so!' exclaimed the skipper, who thought that the +aforesaid graven image on the cut-water of his old ship, far excelled +the Venus de Medici in beauty of feature and form. 'She must be +almighty beautiful; and then, my son, she is as rich as the Rajah of +Rangoon, who owns a diamond as big as our viol-block. Did you fall in +love pretty bad, Ben?' + +"'Considerable,' I replied, grinning at the old gentleman's +simplicity. + +"'By the laws, then, if you don't cut out that sweet little craft from +under that old pirate's guns, you're no seaman, that's a fact! Egad! I +should like to do it, and wouldn't ask only one kiss for salvage, and +you'll be for having the whole concern.' + +"The next morning I packed my portmanteau and dressed myself with +unusual care. About ten the skipper and myself got aboard the gig, and +pushed off for Don Pedro's villa, which lay on the eastern shore of +the bay, two miles from the city, and nearly opposite the barracks and +hospital. + +"We landed at a little pier at the foot of the garden; the house, +embowered in a grove of orange and magnolia trees, was close at hand. +Don Pedro met us on the verandah. + +"'Welcome! welcome!' he cried; 'how do you like the appearance of my +bachelor's hall? But come, let's go in; my sister has arrived, and +knows that I expect Captain Hopkins and Mr. Stewart, of the Cabot, +and,' he added, with a significant smile, 'nothing more, though she +has been very curious to find who the gentlemen is with whom I entered +the church yesterday.' + +"We entered the drawing-room, and there, sure enough, was my angel of +the cathedral-porch. Her eye fell upon me as I passed the doorway, +and, by the half start and blush, I saw that I was plainly recognized, +and with pleasure. We were formally presented by Don Pedro, and, after +the old skipper had been flattered into an ecstasy of mingled +admiration and self-complacency, Donna Clara turned again to me. + +"'I do not know that I ought to have bid you welcome, Mr. Stewart,' +she said, with an arch smile, 'you treated my poor guardian +shamefully, I am told.' + +"'Yes,' cried Pedro, 'and just to let you know what a truculent person +he is, know that yesterday he more than insinuated that he would serve +me in the same way that he did Don Carlos.'" + +"Land ho!" sung out the man on the look-out. + +"Where away?" shouted Langley, walking forward. + +"Pretty near ahead, sir; perhaps a point on our starboard bow, sir." + +"Land ho!" bellowed the man at the wheel, "just abeam, sir, to +loo-ard." + +"What had I better do, sir?" inquired Langley, of the mate. + +"I was looking at the chart just at night, and I should reckon the +land ahead might be Mayaguana, and the Little Caycos under our lee." + +"Head her about west, then; but we shall have the lead going soon." + +We filled away before the wind, which had now veered again to the +eastward, and in a few moments were dashing bravely on, sailing right +up the moon's wake toward the Pass, the land lying on each side of us +like blue clouds resting on the horizon. We settled ourselves again on +the hatch, lighted fresh cigars, and the mate resumed his broken yarn. + +"It is getting late, boys, almost six bells, and I must cut my story a +little short. I will pass over the dinner, the invitation to stay +longer, Captain Hopkins' consent, the undisguised pleasure and the +repressed delight of Clara at this arrangement, and I will pass over +the next two days, only saying that the memory of them haunts me yet; +and that though at the time they seemed short enough, yet when I look +back upon them, it is hard to realize they were not months instead of +days, so much of heart experience did I acquire in the time. I found +Clara to be every thing which the most exacting wife-hunter could +wish--beautiful as a dream. Believe me, boys, I do not now speak with +the enthusiasm of a lover, but such beauty is seldom seen on the +earth. Added to this, she was intellectual, refined, accomplished, and +highly educated. I went back four years in life, and with all the +enthusiasm of a college student I raved of poetry and romance. We read +German together, and we talked of love in French; and the musical +tongue of Italy, it seemed to me, befitted her mouth better than her +own sonorous native language, and when in conversation she would look +me one of those dreamy glances which had at the first set my heart in +agitation, it perfectly bewildered me. You needn't smile, Langley, +(poor Bill's face was guilty of no such distortion,) but if your +little _danseuse_ should practice for years, she couldn't attain to +the delicious glance which my handsome creole girl can give you. The +heavily-fringed eyelid is just raised, so that you can look as if for +an interminable distance into the beautiful orb beneath, and at the +end of the vista, see the fiery soul which lies so far from the +voluptuous exterior. + +"But, though I was madly in love, I had not yet dared with my lips to +say so to the lady, whatever my eyes might have revealed; but Pedro +was my confident, and encouraged me to hope. + +"The third day of my sojourn on shore was spent in a visit to Don +Pedro's plantation in the vale, and it was dark when we arrived home. +After the light refreshment which constitutes the evening meal of +Cuba, Don Pedro pleaded business, and left the apartment--and for the +first time that day I was alone with Clara. + +"'Now,' thought I, 'now or never.' + +"If upon the impulse of the moment a man proceeds to make love, he +generally does it up ship-shape; but if he, with malice aforethought, +lays deliberate plans, he finds it the most awkward traverse to work +in the world to follow them--but I did not know this. I sat by the +table, and in my embarrassment kept pushing the solitary taper farther +and farther from me, until at last over it went, and was extinguished +upon the floor. + +"'I beg ten thousand pardons!' cried I apologizing. + +"'_N'importe_,' replied Clara, 'there is a fine moon, which will give +us light enough.' + +"She rose and drew the curtain of the large bow-window, so common in +the West Indian houses, and the rich moonlight, now unvexed by the +dull glare of the taper, flowed into the apartment, bathing every +object it touched with silvery radiance. Clara sat in the window, in +the full glow of the light, leaning forward toward the open air, and +I, with a beating heart, gazed upon her superb beauty. Shall I ever +forget it? Her head leaned upon a hand and arm which Venus herself +might envy; the jetty curls which shaded her face fell in graceful +profusion, Madonna-like, upon shoulders faultless in shape, and white +as that crest of foam on yonder sea. Her face was the Spanish oval, +with a low, broad feminine forehead, eyebrows exquisitely penciled, +and arching over eyes that I shall not attempt to describe. Her lovely +bosom, half exposed as she leaned over, reminded me, as it heaved +against the chemiset, of the bows of a beautiful ship, rising and +sinking with the swell of the sea, now high in sight, and anon buried +in a cloud of snowy spray. One hand, buried in curls, I have said, +supported her head, the other, by her side, grasped the folds of her +robe, beneath which peeped out a tiny foot in a way that was rather +dangerous to my sane state of mind to observe. + +"We had sat a few moments in silence, when Clara suddenly spoke. + +"'Come hither, senor,' said she, 'look out upon this beautiful +landscape, and tell me whether in your boasted land there can be found +one as lovely. Have you such a sky, such a moon, such waters, and +graceful trees, such blue mountains--and, hark! have you such music?' + +"I approached to her side and looked out. The band at the barracks had +just begun their nightly serenade, and the music traveled across the +bay to strike upon our ears so softly, that it sounded like strains +from fairy land. + +"'They are playing an ancient march of the days of Ferdinand and +Isabel,' whispered Clara; 'could you not guess its stately measures +were pure old Castilian? Now mark the change--that is a Moorish +serenade; is it not like the fitful breathings of an Eolian harp?' + +"The music ceased, but it died in cadences so soft that I stood with +lips apart, half in doubt whether the spirit-sound I yet heard were +the effect of imagination or not. Reluctantly I was compelled to +believe myself deceived, and then turned to look upon the landscape. I +never remember of seeing a lovelier night. It was now nine o'clock, +and the sounds of business were hushed on the harbor, but boats, +filled with gay revelers, glided ever the sparkling surface of the +water, whose laugh and song added interest and life to the scene. +Nearly opposite to us, upon the other side of the bay, were the +extensive barracks, hospital, and the long line of the Marino, their +white stuccoed walls glowing in the moonlight. On our left the +beautiful city rose like an amphitheatre around the head of the bay; +the hum of the populace, and the rumbling of wheels sounding faintly +in the distance. Behind the town the blue conical peaks of the +mountains melted into the sky. On our right was the roadstead and open +sea, the moon's wake thereon glittering like a street in heaven, and +reaching far away to other lands. All around us grew a wilderness of +palm, orange, cocoa, and magnolia trees, vocal with the thousand +strange noises of a tropical night. Directly below us, but a cable +length from the overhanging palms which fringed the shore, lay a heavy +English corvette in the deep shade of the land; but the arms of the +sentry on her forecastle glinted in the moonbeams as he paced his +lonely watch, and sung out, as the bell struck twice, his accustomed +long-drawn cry of 'All's well!' Just beyond her, in saucy propinquity, +lay a slaver, bound for the coast of Africa--a beautiful, graceful +craft. Still farther out the crew of a clumsy French brig were +chanting the evening hymn to the Virgin. Ships from every civilized +country lay anchored, in picturesque groups, in all directions, and +far down, her tall white spars standing in bold and graceful relief +against the dark, gray walls of San Severino, I recognized my own +beautiful craft, sitting like a swan in the water; and still farther, +in the deep water of the roadstead, lay an American line-of-battle +ship, her lofty sides flashing brightly in the moonlight, and her +frowning batteries turned menacingly toward the old castle, telling a +plain bold tale of our country's power and glory, and making my heart +proud within me that I was an American sailor. + +"'Say,' again asked Clara, in a low, hushed voice, 'saw you ever aught +so lovely in your own land?' + +"To tell the truth, I had forgotten my sweet companion for a moment. +'I am sorry,' said I, taking her hand, 'very sorry, that you think the +United States so unenviable a place of residence. I hope, dear lady, +to persuade you to make it your home.' + +"The small hand I clasped trembled in mine. + +"'Senora,' said I, taking a long breath, and beginning a little +speech which I had composed for the occasion, while sitting at the +table pushing the candle-stick, 'Senora, I have your brother's +permission to address you. I am--a--sure, indeed, convinced, that I +love you--ahem--considerably. I have known you, to be sure, but a few +days, but, as I said before--at least--at all events--I could be quite +happy if you were my wife--you know. Senora, and if you could--a--' + +"I had proceeded thus far swimmingly, except that a few of the words I +had previously selected seemed, when I came to pronounce them, as +extravagant, and so I had substituted others in their place, not so +liable to be censured for that fault; beside, a lapse of memory had +once or twice occasioned temporary delay and embarrassment; but I had +got along thus far, I say, as I presumed, exceedingly well, when, oh, +thunder! Donna Clara disengaged her hand, curtseyed deeply, bade me +good-night, and swept haughtily out of the room. Egad! I felt as if +roused out of my berth by a cold sea filling it full in the middle of +my watch below. 'Lord!' thought I, aloud, 'what can I have done? There +I was, making love according to the chart, and before I knew it, I'm +high and dry ashore. One thing is clear as a bell, she is a +regular-built coquette, and all her fine looks to me are nothing but +man-traps, decoys, and false lights. Yet how beautiful she is, how she +has deceived me, and how much I might have loved her. Shall I try +again? No, I'm d--d if I do! once is enough for me. Egad! I can take a +hint without being kicked. To-morrow I'll go aboard again, and to work +like a second mate as I am; that's decided. But--' + +"Absorbed in very disagreeable reflections, I sat by the window, +insensible to the charms without, which had before been so +fascinating, when I was suddenly aroused by the opening of the door. I +looked around, and saw Don Pedro. 'Where's Donna Clara?' he asked. + +"'Gone,' I replied, in an exceeding bad humor. + +"'What! so early? I made sure to find her here as usual.' + +"'Well,' said I, 'you perceive that you were mistaken, I presume'--I +was _very_ cross. + +"'Why, senor, something has gone wrong; you appear chagrined.' + +"'Oh! no, sir; never was so good-natured in my life--ha! ha! beautiful +evening, Don Pedro! remarkably fine night! How pleasant the moon +shines, don't it?' + +"'Mr. Stewart,' said Don Pedro, gravely, 'I do not wish to press you, +but you will greatly oblige me by telling me what has passed between +yourself and Donna Clara this night?' + +"So, rather ashamed of my petulence, I recounted my essay at +love-making. + +"'Carramba!' ejaculated Don Pedro, 'how d--d foolish--in her, I mean. +She is a wayward girl, sir, but yet I think she loves you. I tell you +frankly that I ardently desire her to marry you; pardon me, then, when +I say, that if you love her, do not be discouraged, but try again.' + +"'I think not,' said I, decidedly, 'I go on board to-morrow.' + +"My usually lively and mercurial friend sighed heavily, and then +drawing a chair, sat down opposite me. 'Listen to me a moment, sir,' +said he. 'Cast aside your mortified pride, and answer me frankly. Do +you really love my sister? Would you wish to see her subjected to the +alternative, either to become the wife of Don Carlos Alvarez, or else +to be confined in a convent, perhaps be constrained or influenced to +take the hateful veil? You alone can save her from this dreadful +dilemma.' + +"My Yankee cautiousness was awakened, but I replied, 'I do love your +sister, sir, and would do any thing but marry a woman who does not +love me to save her from such a fate as you represent; but still, sir, +I cannot perceive how that I, till lately unknown to you, can have +such an influence over you and yours. Is not your own power sufficient +to prevent such undesirable results?' + +"I saw by the moonlight that my companion's eyes flashed with anger, +but he made a strong effort to control himself. + +"'I do not wonder,' he said, a moment after, 'that you are angry, Mr. +Stewart, after the conduct of my madcap sister, or indeed that you +deem it strange to find yourself of so much importance suddenly,' he +added, a little maliciously, 'but I will explain the last matter to +you, relying upon your honor. About two years ago, I accompanied +Alvarez to Havana, upon some business relative to Clara's estate. +While returning late one evening to our hotel, we heard in a retired +street the cries of a woman in distress. Midnight outrages were then +very common in the city, and usually the inhabitants, if they were not +themselves interested in the issue, paid very little attention to +calls for assistance, and Alvarez, upon my suggesting to him to go +with me to the aid of the lady making the outcry, advised me to +consult my own safety by keeping clear of the _fracas_, but when a +louder cry for help reached my ears, I could restrain myself no +longer, but started for the scene of action. I soon perceived a +carriage drawn up before a house which had been broken open. Two of +the professional bravos were forcing a lady into this carriage, whom, +by the light of the lanterns, I recognized to be an actress at the San +Carlos. A gentleman in a mask stood by, apparently the commander of +the expedition. I called to the ruffians to desist, but was hindered +from attacking them by the gentleman, who drew his sword and kept me +off, while the robbers forced the lady into the carriage and drove +rapidly away. My antagonist seemed also disposed to retreat, but I was +very angry and kept him engaged, until, growing angry in his turn, he +seriously prepared himself to fight. He was a very expert swordsman, +nevertheless in a few minutes I ran him through the body, and he +instantly fell and expired. At this juncture Don Carlos stepped up, +and when we removed the mask from the face of the corpse, I found to +my consternation that I had killed the Count ----, an aid-de-camp of +the captain-general, and a son of one of the most powerful noblemen +in the mother country. Horror-struck, we fled. The next day the whole +city resounded with the fame of the so-called assassination. The +government offered immense rewards for the discovery of the murderer. +Since that time I hold my life, fortune and honor by the feeble tenure +of Don Carlo's silence. His power over me is very great. I distrust +him much. Unknown to but very few, I have a yacht lying at a little +estate in a rocky nook at Point Yerikos, in complete order to sail at +any moment. On board of her is a large amount of property in money and +jewels, but still, alas! I should, in case of flight, be forced to +leave behind the greater part of my patrimony, which is in real +estate, which I dare not sell for fear of exciting Alvarez' suspicion. +I live on red-hot coals. Clara alone detains me. It is true that she +might fly with me, but she would leave her large fortune behind in the +hands of her devil of a guardian. Now, with what knowledge you already +have of my father's will, you can easily guess the rest. You are no +stranger to me. I know your history, your family, your education, and, +under the most felicitous circumstances, would be proud and happy to +call you brother. Now, then, decide to try again. Clara shall not +refuse you; she does not wish to do so; on the contrary, she loves +you; but some of her oddness was in the ascendant to-night, and so it +happened as it did. At any rate I can no longer trifle with my own +safety, and have no authority or means to prevent Don Carlos from +exercising unlimited power over my sister's actions. Good-night, +senor, you can strike the gong when you wish for a servant and a +light. I shall have your answer in the morning.' + +"Don Pedro left the room in great agitation, and soon after I retired +to bed. I lay a long time thinking over the events and revelations of +the evening; love and pride alternately held the mastery of my +determinations. I loved Clara well and truly, and sympathized with her +and her brother in their unfortunate situation, but I had been +virtually refused once, and my pride revolted from accepting the hand +thus forced into mine by the misfortunes of its owner. At last, as the +clock struck three, I fell asleep, still undecided. The sun had first +risen in the morning when I started from an uneasy slumber. I dressed +myself, passed through my window to the verandah, and down to the +water, where I bathed, and returning through the garden entered an +arbor and stretched myself on a settee, the better to collect my +thoughts. + +"I had been here but a very short time when I heard voices approaching +me, and upon their drawing nearer, I perceived Don Pedro and his +sister engaged in earnest conversation. It was now too late to +retreat, for they were approaching me by the only way I could effect +it, and I was upon the point of going forth to meet them, when they +paused in front of the arbor, and I heard Clara pronounce my name so +musically, that I hope you will not think I did wrong, when told that +I drew back, determined to listen, and thereby to obtain a hint +whereupon to act. Clara leaned upon her brother's arm, who had +evidently been expostulating with her, for his voice was earnest and +reproachful, and Clara's eyes looked as if she had been crying. + +"'And yet you say,' continued Pedro, 'that you can love this +gentleman.' + +"'Can love him!' cried Clara passionately, 'oh! Pedro, if you only +knew how I do love him!' + +"'Why, then, in the name of all that is consistent, did you act so +strangely last night? In your situation an offer from any American +gentleman deserved consideration, to say the least; but Mr. Stewart, a +friend and _protege_ of our uncle's, a refined, educated man, a man +whom you say you love. Clara, I wonder at you! What could have been +the reason?' + +"'This, Pedro,' said Clara, looking at the toe of her slipper, which +was drawing figures in the gravel-walk. 'You must know that I did it +to punish him for making love so awkwardly. Now, instead of going down +on his knees, as the saints know I could have done to him, the +cold-blooded fellow went on as frigidly as if he had been buying a +negro, and that too with a moon shining over him which should have +crazed him, and talking to a girl whose heart was full of fiery love +for him. Pedro, my heart was chilled, and so, to punish him, I--' + +"'Diablo!' swore Pedro, dropping his sister's arm, and striding off in +a great rage. + +"'Oh! stay, brother!' sobbed poor Clara; 'indeed, I could not help it. +Oh, dear!' she continued, as Pedro vanished from her sight, 'now +_he's_ angry. What have I done?' She buried her face in her hands, +entered the arbor, threw herself on the settee, and began sobbing with +convulsive grief. Here was a situation for an unsophisticated youth +like myself. Egad! my heart bounced about in my breast like a shot +adrift in the cook's biggest copper. I approached the lady softly, +and, grown wiser by experience, knelt before I took her hand. She +started, screamed faintly, and endeavored to escape. + +"'Stay, stay, dearest Clara!' cried I, detaining her, 'I should not +dare to again address you after the repulse of last night, had I not +just now been an inadvertent, but delighted listener to your own sweet +confession that you loved me. Let me say in return that I love you as +wildly, tenderly, passionately, as if I, like you, had been born under +a southern sun; that I cannot be happy without you. Forgive me for +last night. It was not that my heart was cold, but I was fearful that +unless I constrained myself I should be wild and extravagant. Dearest +Clara, will you say to me that which you just now told Pedro?' + +"Her head sunk upon my shoulder. 'Senor,' she murmured, 'I do love +you, and with my whole heart.' + +"'And will be my wife?' I asked. + +"'Whenever you please.'" + +Here the mate paused, and gave several very energetic puffs, and +lighted a new cigar. + +"I clasped the dear girl to my heart," he resumed, "and kissed her +cheeks, her lips and eyes, a thousand times, and was just beginning on +the eleventh hundred, when, lo, there stood mine host in the doorway, +evidently very much amused, and, considering that it was his sister +with whom these liberties had been taken, extremely satisfied. + +"I came immediately to the conclusion, in my own mind, to defer any +farther labial demonstrations, and felt rather foolish; but Clara +arranged her dress and looked defiance. + +"'I beg ten thousand pardons,' said Don Pedro, entering, hat in hand, +and bowing low, 'but really the scene was so exquisitely fine, so much +to my taste, that I could not forbear looking on awhile. Clara, dear, +has Mr. Stewart discovered the way to make love _a la mode_? I +understood you to say he did it oddly and coldly; but, by Venus! I +think he does it in the most natural manner possible, and with some +warmth and vigor, or else I'm no judge of kissing--and I make some +pretensions to being a connoisseur.' + +"'And an amateur also,' retorted Clara. + +"'I won't deny the soft impeachment--but, my friends, breakfast is +waiting for you, if Mr. Stewart can bring his appetite to relish +coffee after sipping nectar from my sweet sister's lips.' + +"We made a very happy trio that morning around the well-spread board +of my friend Pedro. Just as we were rising, however, a servant brought +in a note for his master. Don Pedro's brow darkened as he read it. 'It +is from Carlos,' said he, folding it up, 'and informs me that he will +be at home to-night, and will call for you, Clara--for it seems he has +been informed of your visit here, and is determined that it shall be +as short as possible. We must work quick then.' + +"'But what is to be done?' I inquired. + +"'You need do nothing at present but keep Clara company, while I go to +town to see Capt. Hopkins. We will arrange some plan.' + +"Clara and I passed the morning as you may imagine; it seemed but a +few minutes from Pedro's departure for the city, till his return in +company with my skipper. + +"'Ben,' shouted the latter, seizing my hand, 'may I be d--d but you're +a jewel--begging your pardon, Donna Clara, for swearing in your +presence, which I did not notice before.' + +"When Clara retired to dress for dinner, Capt. Hopkins divulged to me +the plans which had been formed by him and Pedro. 'D'ye see, Ben, my +child, Don Pedro and I have arranged the matter in A No. 1 style; and +if we can only work the traverse, it'll be magnificent--and I don't +very well see why we can't. To day is Thursday, you know. Well, I +shall hoist my last box of sugar aboard to-morrow night, and, after +dark, Don Pedro is going to run a boat alongside with his plunder and +valuables. Your sweetheart must go home, it appears, but before she +goes you must make an arrangement with her to be at a certain window +of Alvarez' house, Pedro will tell her which, at twelve o'clock +Saturday night. You and her brother will be under it ready to receive +her; and when you have got the lady, you will bring her aboard the +ship, which shall be ready to cut and run, I tell you; up killock, +sheet home, and I'll defy all the cutters in Havana to overhaul us +with an hour's start! Those chaps in Stockholm are almighty +particular about your health, if your papers show that you left Havana +after the first of June, and so, to pull the wool over their eyes, and +save myself a long quarantine, I was intending to stop at Boston and +get a new clearance, so it'll be no trouble at all to set you all +ashore, for Don Pedro and his sister will not wish to go to Sweden; +and my second mate, I suppose, will want to get married and leave me. +Now, Ben, my boy, that's what I call a XX plan; no scratch brand about +that; superfine, and no mistake, and entitled to debenture.' + +"'Excellent, indeed!' replied I. + +"'Well, after dinner, we'll give you time to tell your girl all about +it, and to kiss her once or twice; but you must bear a hand about it, +now I tell you, because we must be out of that bloody pirate's way +when he comes, and there's a sight of work to do aboard.' + +"After dinner the whole matter was again talked over and approved by +all, and then the skipper and myself took our leave and went aboard. + +"As Captain Hopkins had arranged, we finished our freight on Friday +evening, and in the night Pedro came off to us with a boat-load of +baggage, pictures, heirlooms, and money. The next day we cleared at +the custom-house, and in the afternoon hove short on our anchor, +loosed our sails, and made every preparation for putting to sea in a +hurry. A lieutenant from the castle came off with our blacks after +dark, and while he was drinking a glass of wine in the cabin, Don +Pedro, most unfortunately, came on board. I heard his voice and +started to intercept him; but he met me in the companion, and seizing +me by the hand, exclaimed, 'Well, Stewart, you are all ready to cut +and run, I see; by this time to-morrow I hope we will be far beyond +reach--' + +"'Hush! hush! for God's sake!' I whispered, pointing to the companion; +'there is an officer from the castle below.' + +"We walked to the sky-light and looked down. + +"'Diablo!' muttered Pedro, with a start, 'do you think he heard me?' + +"'No, I think not; the skipper and he did not cease conversation. The +steward is so glad to get back amongst his crockery, that he was +kicking up a devil of a row in the pantry; that may have drowned your +voice.' + +"'If he did hear me I'm ruined. He is Don Sebastian Alvarez, a nephew +of Carlos', and dependent on him; he has watched me closely for three +months. What is his errand?' + +"'He brought off our cook and steward, who have been confined in the +castle.' + +"'Well, I dare say all is right; he is a lieutenant in the castle, and +there is nothing strange in his being here on such business; but I'll +keep out of sight.' + +"The officer soon came on deck, shook hands with Captain Hopkins, +wished him a pleasant voyage, and then went down into his boat, +ordering the men to pull for the castle. + +"'All right, I trust,' cried Pedro, emerging from the round-house, +'if he had started for the city, it would have been suspicious.' + +"The skipper called the crew, who were principally Yankees, upon the +quarter-deck, and in a brief speech stated the case in hand to them. +'Now, my men,' said he, 'which of you will volunteer to go with Don +Pedro Garcia and Mr. Stewart?' + +"Every man offered his services. We chose six lusty fellows, and +supplied them with pistols and cutlasses. Don Pedro gave them a +doubloon a-piece, and to each of the rest of the crew a smaller sum. +At eleven o'clock we descended into the boat and pushed off for the +shore. The night had set in dark and rainy, with a strong breeze, +almost a gale, from the south. The men rowed in silence and with +vigor, but the wind was ahead for us, and when we landed at the end of +the mole, behind a row of molasses-hogsheads, it wanted but a few +moments of twelve. Leaving two men for boat-keepers, Don Pedro and +myself, with the other four, traversed the silent streets until we +stopped in a dark lane, in the rear of a large house, which appeared +to front upon a more frequented street, for even at that late hour a +carriage occasionally was heard. + +"'Now, hist!' whispered Pedro, 'listen for footsteps.' + +"We strained our ears, but heard nothing but the clang of the +deep-toned cathedral bell, striking the hour of twelve. A moment after +a window above us opened, and a female form stepped out upon the +balcony. + +"'Pedro, whispered the musical voice of Clara, 'is that you?' + +"'Yes, yes--hush! Mr. Stewart is here, and some of his men. Are you +all ready?' + +"'Yes,' replied Clara; 'but how am I going to descend?' + +"'Catch this line, which I will throw to you,' said I, making a coil. + +"The fair girl caught the line as handily as--as--a monkey, I suppose +I must say. + +"'Now, haul away,' I said; 'there is a ladder bent on to the other +end, which you must make fast to the balustrade.' + +"'What!' cried Clara, quite aloud, 'a ladder!--a real, live +rope-ladder! how delightfully romantic!' + +"'Hush! hush! you lunatic!' said Pedro, in a hoarse whisper. + +"'Oh, Pedro!' continued his sister, 'just think how droll it is to run +away with one's lover, and one's brother standing by aiding and +abetting! Oh, fie! I'm ashamed of you! There, now, I've fastened this +delightful ladder--what next?' + +"I ascended, and taking her in my arms, prepared to assist her to the +ground. + +"'Am I not heavy?' she asked, as she put her arms about my neck. + +"My God! boys, I could have lifted twenty of her as I felt then. + +"'This is the second time, senor, that you have helped me to the +ground within a week; now get me on the water, and I will thank you +for all at once.' + +"'In a few moments more all danger will be behind us, dearest.' + +"Clara leaned upon my arm, enveloped in a boat-cloak, while we rapidly +retraced our steps to the boat, which we reached in safety, but, +behold, the men whom we had left were missing. Hardly had we made +ourselves sure of this unwelcome fact when a file of men, headed by +the same officer who had boarded us in the evening, sprang out from +behind the molasses-hogsheads. In a moment more a fierce fight had +begun. I seized Clara by the waist with one arm, and drew my cutlas +just in time to save my head from the sabre of Carlos Alvarez, who +aimed a blow at me, crying, 'Now, dog of a Yankee, it is my turn!' + +"'In the name of the king! in the name of the king!' shouted the +officer--but it made no difference, we fought like seamen. Clara had +fainted, but I still kept my hold of her, when suddenly a ton weight +seemed to have fallen on my head; my eyes seemed filled with red-hot +sparks of intense brilliancy and heat; the wild scene around vanished +from their sight as I sunk down stunned and insensible. + +"When I came to myself, I was lying in my own berth aboard the ship. I +felt weak, faint, and dizzy, and strove in vain to collect my thoughts +sufficiently to remember what had happened. My state-room door was +open, and I perceived that the sun's rays were shining brightly +through the sky-light upon the cabin-table, at which sat Capt. +Hopkins, overhauling the medicine-chest, which was open before him. I +knew by the sharp heel of the vessel, her uneasy pitching, and the +cool breeze which fanned my fevered cheek, that the ship was close +hauled on a wind, and probably far at sea. I looked at my arms; they +were wasted to half their usual size, and my head was bandaged and +very sore and painful. Slowly and with difficulty I recalled the +events of the few hours preceding that in which I had lost my +senses--then I remembered the _melee_ on the mole. Evidently I had +been severely wounded, and while senseless been brought off to the +ship. Then came the inquiry, what had been the fate of Clara and her +brother. Were they safe on board, or were they captured or killed in +the _fracas_? I hardly dared to ask the skipper who still sat at the +table, with a most dolorous face, arranging the vials and gallipots. +At last the suspense became intolerable. + +"'Captain Hopkins,' said I, but in a voice so weak that it startled +me. Faint as it was, however, the worthy skipper started to his feet, +and was by my side in an instant. + +"'Glory to God!' he shouted, snapping his fingers. 'I know by your +eyes that reason has hold of your helm again. You'll get well now! +Hurrah! D--n, though I mus'n't make so much noise.' + +"'But, Captain Hopkins--' + +"'Can't tell you any thing now, you're too weak to bear it; that +is--you know, Ben, good news is--ahem! dreadful apt to kill sick +people; and you've been horrid sick, that's a fact. I thought four +days ago that you had shipped on a voyage to kingdom come, and was +outward bound; but you'll do well enough now, if you only keep quiet, +and if you don't you'll slip your wind yet. Shut up your head, take a +drink of this stuff, and go to sleep.' + +"Capt. Hopkins left me, and, anxious as I was, I soon fell sound +asleep. When I awoke I felt much better and stronger, and teazed the +skipper so much, that he at last ventured to tell me that after I had +been struck down by a sabre-cut over the head, Don Pedro, also badly +wounded, and Donna Clara, had been captured by the soldiers. The two +boat-keepers also were missing, and one of the others left, either +dead or badly wounded, on the mole. Our other three men, finding +themselves overpowered, succeeded barely in gaining the boat with my +insensible form, and pushed off for the ship. Capt Hopkins, upon +hearing their story, had no other alternative but to cut and run, and +favored by the strong southerly gale, he managed to make good his +escape, though fired on by the castle before he had got out of range. +In the hurry and confusion my wound was not properly attended to, and +a brain fever set in, under which I had been suffering for a week; but +the kind care of Capt. Hopkins and Mr. Smith, and the strength of my +constitution, at last prevailed over the disease. Dismal as was this +story, and the prospects it unfolded, my spirits, naturally buoyant, +supported me, and I determined that when the ship should arrive in +Boston I would leave her and return immediately to Cuba, to make an +effort for the release of my friends. Wild as was this resolve, I grew +better upon the hope of accomplishing it; and when we anchored off +Long Wharf, after a tedious passage, I was nearly well. + +"Notwithstanding the advice of my friends I made arrangements for an +immediate return to Matanzas, but the day before my intended departure +the Paragon arrived from that port; and I learned from her officers +that Don Pedro was closely confined, awaiting his trial for the murder +of Count ----, the result of which would be, without doubt, against +him. Clara, believing the general report of my death, had entered the +Ursuline Convent to begin her novitiate; and I was told that if I was +to be seen in Matanzas, the _garrote_, or chain-gang, was all that I +could expect. Your father then told me that if I would consent to +accompany Captain Hopkins, he would sail in my place to Matanzas, and +do his utmost for his nephew and niece. I could not help but see the +wisdom of this arrangement, and acceded to it. We sailed from Boston +to Stockholm, from thence to Rotterdam, and from thence to Batavia. A +freight offering for Canton, we went to that port, and from thence +came home, after an absence of two years and a half. In the meantime +Don Pedro had been tried, and sentenced to death; but by the exertions +of your father, who wrought faithfully in his behalf, his sentence was +commuted, first to twenty, and then to twelve years in the gallies, +or, as it is in Cuba, the chain-gang. His efforts to see Clara, in +order to disabuse her mind of the belief of my death, was abortive; +and she, after finishing her year as a novice, took the veil--and she +is now a nun in the Ursuline Convent at Matanzas, while her noble +brother is a slave, with felons, laboring with the cursed chain-gang +in the same city to which we are bound. Now, boys, do you wonder that +when I found myself under orders to go again to the scene of all this +misery I was affected, and that a melancholy has possessed me which +has increased as the voyage has progressed? I did determine at first +that I would leave the ship at Gibralter and go home, but I dreaded to +part with my shipmates. I shall not go ashore while we lay at Matanzas +for many reasons, though I should incur no risk, I think. Everybody +who knew me in Matanzas believes me dead long since; and six years of +seafaring life in every climate, changes one strangely. But the wind +has veered again and freshened considerably since I began my yarn. It +looks some as if we might catch a norther by way of variety. Brewster +will have to shorten sail in his watch, I reckon, and maybe keep the +lead going if we make much leeway. Come, Bill, it is 4 o'clock, and a +little past." + +"Eight bells, there, for'ard!" shouted the third mate. "Call the +watch! Rouse Brewster, Frank, will you?" + +The sleepy, yawning starboard watch were soon on deck, half-dressed, +and snuffing the morning air very discontentedly. We of the larboard +division went below to our berths. + +"Langley," said I to the third mate, while we were undressing, "I've +got a plan in my head to get my cousins clear from their bad fix. Will +you help me work it?" + +"Marry, that I will," answered Langley, throwing himself into a +theatrical attitude. "Look here, Frank, this is the way I'll run that +bloody Alvarez through the gizzard!" + +The last sounds I heard that night were the hurried trampling of feet +over my head on deck, and the shouts of the watch shortening sail. I +fell asleep and dreamed that I was in the _fracas_ at the end of the +mole. + + [_Conclusion in our next._ + + + + +WHITE CREEK. + +BY ALFRED B. STREET. + + +[This is a picturesque little stream in Washington county, State of +New York. It flows through the broad and beautiful meadows of the Hon. +John Savage, late Chief Justice of the State.] + + +Over the stirless surface of the ground +The hot air trembles. In pale glittering haze +Wavers the sky. Along the horizon's rim, +Breaking its mist, are peaks of coppery clouds. +Keen darts of light are shot from every leaf, +And the whole landscape droops in sultriness. +With languid tread, I drag myself along +Across the wilting fields. Around my steps +Spring myriad grasshoppers, their cheerful notes +Loud in my ear. The ground bird whirs away, +Then drops again, and groups of butterflies +Spotting the path, upflicker as I come. +At length I catch the sparkles of the brook +In its deep thickets, whose refreshing green +Soothes my strained eyesight. The cool shadows fall +Like balm upon me from the boughs o'erhead. +My coming strikes a terror on the scene. +All the sweet sylvan sounds are hushed; I catch +Glimpses of vanishing wings. An azure shape +Quick darting down the vista of the brook, +Proclaims the scared kingfisher, and a plash +And turbid streak upon the streamlet's face, +Betray the water-rat's swift dive and path +Across the bottom to his burrow deep. +The moss is plump and soft, the tawny leaves +Are crisp beneath my tread, and scaly twigs +Startle my wandering eye like basking snakes. +Where this thick brush displays its emerald tent, +I stretch my wearied frame, for solitude +To steal within my heart. How hushed the scene +At first, and then, to the accustomed ear, +How full of sounds, so tuned to harmony +They seemed but silence; the monotonous purl +Of yon small water-break--the transient hum +Swung past me by the bee--the low meek burst +Of bubbles, as the trout leaps up to seize +The skipping spider--the light lashing sound +Of cattle, mid-leg in the shady pool, +Whisking the flies away--the ceaseless chirp +Of crickets, and the tree-frog's quavering note. + +Now, from the shadow where I lie concealed, +I see the birds, late banished by my form, +Appearing once more in their usual haunts +Along the stream; the silver-breasted snipe +Twitters and seesaws on the pebbly spots +Bare in the channel--the brown swallow dips +Its wings, swift darting round on every side; +And from yon nook of clustered water-plants, +The wood-duck, slaking its rich purple neck, +Skims out, displaying through the liquid glass +Its yellow feet, as if upborne in air. + +Musing upon my couch, this lovely stream +I liken to the truly good man's life, +Amid the heat of passions, and the glare +Of wordly objects, flowing pure and bright, +Shunning the gaze, yet showing where it glides +By its green blessings; cheered by happy thoughts, +Contentment, and the peace that comes from Heaven. + + + + +THE ALCHEMIST'S DAUGHTER. + +A DRAMATIC SKETCH. + +BY THOMAS BUCHANAN READ. + + +PERSONS REPRESENTED. + + +GIACOMO, _the Alchemist_, + +BERNARDO, _his son-in-law_, + +ROSALIA, _his daughter, and Bernardo's wife,_ + +LORENZO, _his servant_. + + +SCENE I. FERRARA. + +_The interior of Giacomo's house. Giacomo and Lorenzo discovered +together. Time, a little before daybreak._ + + _Gia._ Art sure of this? + + _Lor._ Ay, signor, very sure. +'Tis but a moment since I saw the thing-- +Bernardo, who last night was sworn thy son, +Hath made a villainous barter of thine honor. +Thou may'st rely the duke is where I said. + + _Gia._ If so--no matter--give me here the light. + + [_Exit Giacomo._ + + _Lor._ (_Alone._) Oh, what a night! It must be all a dream! +For twenty years, since that I wore a beard, +I've served my melancholy master here, +And never until now saw such a night! +A wedding in this silent house, forsooth,-- +A festival! The very walls in mute +Amazement stared through the unnatural light! +And poor Rosalia, bless her tender heart, +Looked like her mother's sainted ghost! Ah me, +Her mother died long years ago, and took +One half the blessed sunshine from our house-- +The other half was married off last night. +My master, solemn soul, he walked the halls +As if in search of something which was lost; +The groom, I liked not him, nor ever did, +Spoke such perpetual sweetness, till I thought +He wore some sugared villany within:-- +But then he is my master's ancient friend, +And always known the favorite of the duke, +And, as I know, our lady's treacherous lord! +Oh, Holy Mother, that to villain hawks +Our dove should fall a prey! poor gentle dear! +Now if I had their throats within my grasp-- +No matter--if my master be himself, +Nor time nor place shall bind up his revenge. +He's not a man to spend his wrath in noise, +But when his mind is made, with even pace +He walks up to the deed and does his will. +In fancy I can see him to the end-- +The duke, perchance, already breathes his last, +And for Bernardo--he will join him soon; +And for Rosalia, she will take the veil, +To which she hath been heretofore inclined; +And for my master, he will take again +To alchemy--a pastime well enough, +For aught I know, and honest Christian work. +Still it was strange how my poor mistress died, +Found, as she was, within her husband's study. +The rumor went she died of suffocation; +Some cursed crucible which had been left, +By Giacomo, aburning, filled the room, +And when the lady entered took her breath. +He found her there, and since that day the place +Has been a home for darkness and for dust. +I hear him coming; by his hurried step +There's something done, or will be very soon. + +(_Enter Giacomo. He sets the light upon the table and confronts +Lorenzo with a stern look._) + + _Gia._ Lorenzo, thou hast served me twenty years, +And faithfully; now answer me, how was't +That thou wert in the street at such an hour? + + _Lor._ When that the festival was o'er last night, +I went to join some comrades in their wine +To pass the time in memory of the event. + + _Gia._ And doubtless thou wert blinded soon with drink? + + _Lor._ Indeed, good signor, though the wine flowed free, +I could not touch it, though much urged by all-- +Too great a sadness sat upon my heart-- +I could do naught but sit and sigh and think +Of our Rosalia in her bridal dress. + + _Gia._ And sober too! so much the more at fault. +But, as I said, thou'st served me long and well, +Perchance too long--too long by just a day. +Here, take this purse, and find another master. + + _Lor._ Oh, signor, do not drive me thus away! +If I have made mistake-- + + _Gia._ No, sirrah, no! +Thou hast not made mistake, but something worse. + + _Lor._ Oh, pray you, what is that then I have made? + + _Gia._ A lie! + + _Lor._ Indeed, good master, on my knees +I swear that what I said is sainted truth. + + _Gia._ Pshaw, pshaw, no more of this. Did I not go +Upon the instant to my daughter's room +And find Bernardo sleeping at her side? +Some villain's gold hath bribed thee unto this. +Go, go. + + _Lor._ Well, if it must be, then it must. +But I would swear that what I said is truth, +Though all the devils from the deepest pit +Should rise to contradict me! + + _Gia._ Prating still? + + _Lor._ No, signor--I am going--stay--see here-- + + (_He draws a paper from his bosom._) + +Oh, blessed Virgin, grant some proof in this! +This paper as they changed their mantles dropt +Between them to the ground, and when they passed +I picked it up and placed it safely here. + + _Gia._ (_Examining it._) +Who forged the lie could fabricate this too:-- +But hold, it is ingeniously done. +Get to thy duties, sir, and mark me well, +Let no word pass thy lips about the matter-- + [_Exit Lorenzo._ +Bernardo's very hand indeed is here! +Oh, compact villainous and black! conditions, +The means, the hour, the signal--every thing +To rob my honor of its holiest pearl! +Lorenzo, shallow fool--he does not guess +The mischief was all done, and that it was +The duke he saw departing--oh, brain--brain! +How shall I hold this river of my wrath! +It must not burst--no, rather it shall sweep +A noiseless maelstrom, whirling to its center +All thoughts and plans to further my revenge +And rid me of this most accursed blot! + +(_He rests his forehead on his hand a few minutes, and exclaims,_) + +The past returns to me again--the lore +I gladly had forgot comes like a ghost, +And points with shadowy finger to the means +Which best shall consummate my just design. +The laboratory hath been closed too long; +The door smiles welcome to me once again, +The dusky latch invites my hand--I come! + +(_He unlocks the door and stands upon the threshold._) + +Oh, thou whose life was stolen from me here, +Stand not to thwart me in this great revenge; +But rather come with large propitious eyes +Smiling encouragement with ancient looks! +Ye sages whose pale, melancholy orbs +Gaze through the darkness of a thousand years, +Oh, pierce the solid blackness of to-day, +And fire anew this crucible of thought +Until my soul flames up to the result! + (_He enters and the door closes._) + + +SCENE II. _Another apartment in the alchemist's house. Enter Rosalia +and Bernardo._ + + _Ros._ You tell me he has not been seen to-day? + + _Ber._ Save by your trusty servant here, who says +He saw his master, from without, unclose +The shutters of his laboratory while +The sun was yet unrisen. It is well; +This turning to the past pursuits of youth +Argues how much the aspect of to-day +Hath driven the ancient darkness from his brain. +And now, my dear Rosalia, let thy face +And thoughts and speech be drest in summer smiles, +And naught shall make a winter in our house. + + _Ros._ Ah, sir, I think that I am happy. + + _Ber._ Happy? +Why so, indeed, dear love, I trust thou art! +But thou dost sigh and contemplate the floor +So deeply, that thy happiness seems rather +The constant sense of duty than true joy. + + _Ros._ Nay, chide me not, good sir; the world to me +A riddle is at best--my heart has had +No tutor. From my childhood until now +My thoughts have been on simple honest things. + + _Ber._ On honest things? Then let them dwell henceforth +On love, for nothing is more honest than +True love. + + _Ros._ I hope so, sir--it must be so! +And if to wear thy happiness at heart +With constant watchfulness, and if to breathe +Thy welfare in my orisons, be love, +Thou never shalt have cause to question mine. +To-day I feel, and yet I know not why, +A sadness which I never knew before; +A puzzling shadow swims upon my brain, +Of something which has been or is to be. +My mother coming to me in my dream, +My father taking to that room again +Have somehow thrilled me with mysterious awe. + + _Ber._ Nay, let not that o'ercast thy gentle mind, +For dreams are but as floating gossamer, +And should not blind or bar the steady reason. +And alchemy is innocent enough, +Save when it feeds too steadily on gold, +A crime the world not easily forgives. +But if Rosalia likes not the pursuit +Her sire engages in, my plan shall be +To lead him quietly to other things. +But see, the door uncloses and he comes. + +(_Enter Giacomo in loose gown and dishevelled hair._) + + _Gia._ (_Not perceiving them._) +Ha, precious villains, ye are caught at last! + + _Both._ Good-morrow, father. + + _Gia._ Ah, my pretty doves! + + _Ber._ Come, father, we are jealous of the art +Which hath deprived us all the day of thee. + + _Gia._ Are ye indeed? (_Aside._) How smoothly to the air +Slides that word _father_ from his slippery tongue. +Come hither, daughter, let me gaze on thee, +For I have dreamed that thou wert beautiful, +So beautiful our very duke did stop +To smile upon thy brightness! What say'st thou, +Bernardo, didst thou ever dream such things? + + _Ber._ That she is beautiful I had no cause to dream, +Mine eyes have known the fact for many a day. +What villains didst thou speak of even now? + + _Gia._ Two precious villains--Carbon and Azote-- +They have perplexed me heretofore; but now +The thing is plain enough. This morning, ere +I left my chamber, all the mystery stood +Asudden in an awful revelation! + + _Ber._ I'm glad success has crowned thy task to-day, +But do not overtoil thy brain. These themes +Are dangerous things, and they who mastered most +Have fallen at last but victims to their slaves. + + _Gia._ It is a glorious thing to fall and die +The victim of a noble cause. + + _Ber._ Ay, true-- +The man who battles for his country's right +Hath compensation in the world's applause. +The victor when returning from the field +Is crowned with laurel, and his shining way +Is full of shouts and roses. If he fall, +His nation builds his monument of glory. +But mark the alchemist who walks the streets, +His look is down, his step infirm, his hair +And cheeks are burned to ashes by his thought; +The volumes he consumes, consume in turn; +They are but fuel to his fiery brain, +Which being fed requires the more to feed on. +The people gaze on him with curious looks, +And step aside to let him pass untouched, +Believing Satan hath him arm in arm. + + _Gia._ Are there no wrongs but what a nation feels? +No heroes but among the martial throng? +Nay, there are patriot souls who never grasped +A sword, or heard the crowd applaud their names, +Who lived and labored, died and were forgot, +And after whom the world came out and reapt +The field, and never questioned who had sown. + + _Ber._ I did not think of that. + + _Gia._ Now mark ye well, +I am not one to follow phantom themes, +To waste my time in seeking for the stone, +Or chrystalizing carbon to o'erflood +The world with riches which would keep it poor; +Nor do I seek the elixir that would make +Not life alone, but misery immortal; +But something far more glorious than these. + + _Ber._ Pray what is that? + +_Gia._ A cure, sir, for the heart-ache. + Come, thou shalt see. The day is on the wane-- +Mark how the moon, as by some unseen arm, +Is thrusted upward, like a bloody shield! +On such an hour the experiment must begin. +Come, thou shalt be the first to witness this +Most marvelous discovery. And thou, +My pretty one, betake thee to thy bower, +And I will dream thou'rt lovelier than ever. +Come, follow me. (_To Bernardo._) + + _Ros._ Nay, father, stay; I'm sure +Thou art not well--thine eyes are strangely lit, +The task, I fear, has over-worked thy brain. + + _Gia._ Dearest Rosalia, what were eyes or brain +Compared with banishment of sorrow? Come. + + _Ber._ (_Aside to Rosalia._) +I will indulge awhile this curious humor; +Adieu; I shall be with thee soon again. + + _Gia._ (_Overhearing him._) +When Satan shall regain his wings, and sit +Approved in heaven, perchance, but not till then. + + _Ber._ What, not till then? + + _Gia._ Shall he be worthy deemed +To walk, as thou hast said the people thought, +Arm in arm with the high-souled philosopher:-- +And yet the people sometimes are quite right, +The devil's at our elbow oftener than +We know. + +(_He gives Bernardo his arm, and they enter the laboratory._) + + _Ros._ (_Alone._) He never looked so strange before; +His cheeks, asudden, are grown pale and thin; +His very hair seems whiter than it did. +Oh, surely, 'tis a fearful trade that crowds +The work of years into a single day. +It may be that the sadness which I wear +Hath clothed him in its own peculiar hue. +The very sunshine of this cloudless day +Seemed but a world of broad, white desolation-- +While in my ears small melancholy bells +Knolled their long, solemn and prophetic chime;-- +But hark! a louder and a holier toll, +Shedding its benediction on the air, +Proclaims the vesper hour-- +Ave Maria! + + [_Exit Rosalia._ + + +SCENE III. _Giacomo and Bernardo discovered in the laboratory._ + + + _Gia._ What say'st thou now, Bernardo? + + _Ber._ Let me live +Or die in drawing this delicious breath, +I ask no more. + + _Gia._ (_Aside._) Mark, how with wondering eyes +He gazes on the burning crucibles, +As if to drink the rising vapor with +His every sense. + + _Ber._ Is this the balm thou spak'st of? + + _Gia._ Ay, sir, the same. + + _Ber._ Oh, would that now my heart +Were torn with every grief the earth has known, +Then would this sense be sweeter by tenfold! +Where didst thou learn the secret, and from whom? + + _Gia._ From Gebber down to Paracelsus, none +Have mentioned the discovery of this-- +The need of it was parent of the thought. + + _Ber._ How long will these small crucibles hold out? + + _Gia._ A little while, but there are two beside, +That when thy sense is toned up to the point +May then be fired; and when thou breathest their fumes, +Nepenthe deeper it shall seem than that +Which Helen gave the guests of Menelaus. +But come, thou'lt weary of this thickening air, +Let us depart. + + _Ber._ Not for the wealth of worlds! + + _Gia._ Nay, but thy bride awaits thee-- + + _Ber._ Go to her +And say I shall be there anon. + + _Gia._ I will. +(_Aside._) Now while he stands enchained within the spell +I'll to Rosalia's room and don his cloak +And cap, and sally forth to meet the duke. +'Tis now the hour, and if he come--so be it. + + [_Exit Giacomo._ + + _Ber._ (_Alone._) +These delicate airs seem wafted from the fields +Of some celestial world. I am alone-- +Then wherefore not inhale that deeper draught, +That sweet nepenthe which these other two, +When burning, shall dispense? 'Twere quickly done, +And I will do it! + + (_He places the two crucibles on the furnace._) + +Now, sir alchemist, +Linger as long as it may suit thy pleasure-- +'Tis mine to tarry here. Oh, by San John, +I'll turn philosopher myself, and do +Some good at last in this benighted world! +Now how like demons on the ascending smoke, +Making grimaces, leaps the laughing flame, +Filling the room with a mysterious haze, +Which rolls and writhes along the shadowy air, +Taking a thousand strange, fantastic forms; +And every form is lit with burning eyes, +Which pierce me through and through like fiery arrows! +The dim walls grow unsteady, and I seem +To stand upon a reeling deck! Hold, hold! +A hundred crags are toppling overhead. +I faint, I sink--now, let me clutch that limb-- +Oh, devil! It breaks to ashes in my grasp! +What ghost is that which beckons through the mist? +The duke! the duke! and bleeding at the breast! +Whose dagger struck the blow? + + (_Enter Giacomo._) + + _Gia._ Mine, villain, mine! +What! thou'st set the other two aburning? +Impatient dog, thou cheat'st me to the last! +I should have done the deed--and yet 'tis well. +Thou diest by thine own dull hardihood! + + _Ber._ Ha! is it so? Then follow thou! + + _Gia._ My time +Is not quite yet, this antidote shall place +A bar between us for a little while. + + (_He raises a vial to his lips, drinks, and flings + it aside._) + + _Ber._ (_Rallying._) Come, give it me-- + + _Gia._ Ha, ha! I drained it all! +There is the broken vial. + + _Ber._ Is there no arm +To save me from the abyss? + + _Gia._ No, villain, sink! +And take this cursed record of thy plot, + + (_He thrusts a paper into Bernardo's hand,_) + +And it shall gain thee speedy entrance at +Th' infernal gate! + + (_Bernardo reads, reels and falls._) + + _Gia._ (_Looking on the body._) Poor miserable dust! +This body now is honest as the best, +The very best of earth, lie where it may. +This mantle must conceal the thing from sight, +For soon Rosalia, as I bade her, shall +Be here. Oh, Heaven! vouchsafe to me the power +To do this last stern act of justice. Thou +Who called the child of Jairus from the dead, +Assist a stricken father now to raise +His sinless daughter from the bier of shame. +And may her soul, unconscious of the deed, +Forever walk the azure fields of heaven. + + (_Enter Rosalia, dressed in simple white, bearing a + small golden crucifix in her hand._) + + _Ros._ Dear father, in obedience, I have come-- +But where's Bernardo? + + _Gia._ Gone to watch the stars; +To see old solitary Saturn whirl +Like poor Ixion on his burning wheel-- +He is our patron orb to-night, my child. + + _Ros._ I do not know what strange experiment +Thou'dst have me see, but in my heart I feel +That He, in whose remembrance this was made + + (_looking at the cross_) + +Should be chief patron of our thoughts and acts. +Since vesper time--I know not how it was-- +I could do naught but kneel and tell my prayers. + + _Gia._ Ye blessed angels, hymn the word to heaven. +Come, daughter, let me hold thy hand in mine, +And gaze upon the emblem which thou bearest. + + (_He looks upon the crucifix awhile and presses it + to his lips._) + + _Ros._ Pray tell me, father, what is in the air? + + _Gia._ See'st thou the crucibles, my child? Now mark, +I'll drop a simple essence into each. + + _Ros._ My sense is flooded with perfume! + + _Gia._ Again. + + _Ros._ My soul, asudden, thrills with such delight +It seems as it had won a birth of wings! + + _Gia._ Behold, now when I throw these jewels in, +The glories of our art! + + _Ros._ A cloud of hues +As beautiful as morning fills the air; +And every breath I draw comes freighted with +Elysian sweets! An iris-tinted mist, +In perfumed wreaths, is rolling round the room. +The very walls are melting from my sight, +And surely, father, there's the sky o'erhead! +And on that gentle breeze did we not hear +The song of birds and silvery waterfalls? +And walk we not on green and flowery ground? +Ferrara, father, hath no ground like this, +The ducal gardens are not half so fair! +Oh, if this be the golden land of dreams, +Let us forever make our dwelling here. +Not lovelier in my earliest visions seemed +The paradise of our first parents, filled +With countless angels whose celestial light +Thrilled the sweet foliage like a gush of song. +Look how the long and level landscape gleams, +And with a gradual pace goes mellowing up +Into the blue. The very ground we tread +Seems flooded with the tender hue of heaven; +An azure lawn is all about our feet, +And sprinkled with a thousand gleaming flowers, +Like lovely lilies on a tranquil lake. + + _Gia._ Nay, dear Rosalia, cast thy angel ken +Far down the shining pathway we have trod, +And see behind us those enormous gates +To which the world has given the name of Death; +And note the least among yon knot of lights, +And recognize your native orb, the earth! +For we are spirits threading fields of space, +Whose gleaming flowers are but the countless stars! +But now, dear love, adieu--a flash from heaven-- +A sudden glory in the silent air-- +A rustle as of wings, proclaim the approach +Of holier guides to take thee into keep. +Behold them gliding down the azure hill +Making the blue ambrosial with their light. +Our paths are here divided. I must go +Through other ways, by other forms attended. + + + + +LINES TO AN IDEAL. + +BY ELIZABETH LYON LINSLEY. + + + I wandered on the lonely strand, +A setting sun shone brightly there, + And bathed in glory sea and land, +And streamed in beauty through the air! + + A playful breeze the waters curled, +Touched their light waves and passed them by, + Then fanned a bird whose wings unfurled +Were waving on the sunset sky! + + The bird had gone. The sun had set. +His beams still tipped the hills and trees, + And flung a rainbow radiance yet +On clouds reflected in the seas! + + A distant boatman plied the oar, +All sparkling with its golden spray, + His voice came softened to the shore, +Then melted with the dying day! + + And when the last bright lines on high +Departed as the twilight came, + A large star showed its lone, sweet eye +All margined with a cloud of flame! + + The winds were hushed. Their latest breath +In soft, low murmurs died afar-- + The rippling of the wave beneath +Showed dancing there that one bright star! + + So fair a scene, so sweet an hour, +Were felt and passed. In stilly calm + They shed around me beauty's power, +Yet gave no peace, and brought no balm. + + I was alone! I saw no eyes +With mine gaze on the twilight sea-- + No heart returned my lonely sighs-- +No lips breathed sympathy with me. + + I was alone! I looked above. +That star seemed happy thus to lave + Its fairy light and glance of love +Deep in the bosom of the wave. + + I gazed no more! The blinding tear +Rose from my heart, and dimmed my sight. + Had one dear voice then whispered near, +That scene how changed!--That heart how light! + + My soul was swelling like the sea! +Had thine eyes gleamed there with mine own, + That soul a mirror true to thee +On ev'ry wave thyself had shown! + + + + +MRS. PELBY SMITH'S SELECT PARTY. + +BY MRS. A. M. F. ANNAN. + + +"Mrs. Goldsborough's party is to-night, is it not?" said Mr. Pelby +Smith to his wife; "are we going my dear?" + +"_Apropos_ of parties," returned she, waiving the question; "I don't +see how we are to get on any longer without giving one ourselves." + +"Why so, my dear? We cannot afford to give a party, and that will be +an apology all-sufficient to a woman of Cousin Sabina's sense." + +"Cousin Sabina!" exclaimed Mrs. Smith; "as if I, or any one else, ever +thought of going to the trouble of a party for a plain old maid, like +cousin Sabina Incledon!" + +"My dear, I wish you would not speak in that way of Cousin Sabina; she +is an excellent woman, of superior mind, and manners to command +respect in any society." + +"That may be _your_ opinion, Mr. Smith," answered the lady tartly; +"mine is that a quiet old maid, from somewhere far off in the country, +and with an income of two or three hundred dollars a year, would not +make much of a figure in _our_ society. At all events, I shan't make a +trial of it." + +"I thought you alluded to her visit as making it incumbent on us to +give a party," said Mr. Smith meekly; "there is no other reason, I +believe." + +"You will allow me to have some judgment in such matters, Mr. Smith. I +think it is absolutely necessary that we should, that is, if we wish +to go to parties for the future. We have been going to them all our +lives without giving any, and people will grow tired of inviting us." + +"Then, my dear, why not make up our minds to stay at home. I would +rather." + +"But _I_ would not, Mr. Smith. I shall go to parties as long as +possible. My duty to my children requires it." + +Mr. Smith opened his eyes as wide as his timidity would let him. + +"My duty to my children, I repeat," pursued she with energy; "they +will have to be introduced to society." + +"Not for seven or eight years yet, any of them," interposed Mr. Smith. + +"Sooner or later," continued the lady; "and how is that to be done +unless I keep the footing which I have attained--with trouble enough, +as I only know, and without any thanks to you, Mr. Smith. If I give up +parties, I may fall at once into the obscurity for which you have such +a taste. People of fortune and distinction can voluntarily withdraw +for a while, and then reappear with as much success as ever, but that +is not the case with persons of our position." + +"It is only the expense that I object to, my dear; my business is so +limited that it is impossible for us to live in any other than a +plain, quiet way. The cost of a party would be a serious inconvenience +to me." + +"The advantages will be of greater consequence than the sacrifices," +returned the lady, softening as she saw her husband yielding; "the +loss will soon be made up to you through an increase of friends. +Party-giving people are always popular." + +Mr. Smith saw that his wife was determined to carry her point, which +was nothing new. He had learned to submit, and to submit in silence, +so, after sitting moodily for a few minutes, he took up his hat to go +to his place of business. + +"I knew, my dear," said Mrs. Smith smoothly, "that you would soon see +the matter in a proper light; and now about Mrs. Goldsborough's party. +I shall lay out your things for you. I can go with some satisfaction +now that I have a prospect of soon being on equal terms with my +entertainers." + +Mrs. Smith walked round her two small and by no means elegant rooms, +reassuring herself as to the capabilities of her lamps, girandoles and +candlesticks, for she had mentally gone through all her arrangements +long before; the act of consulting her husband being, generally, her +last step toward the undertaking of any important project. She was +joined by the object of some of her recent remarks, Miss Sabina +Incledon, a cousin of Mr. Smith's, who, until within a few days, had +been a stranger to her. She was a plainly dressed person of middle +age, with an agreeable though not striking countenance, and +unobtrusive, lady-like manners. + +"I am sorry you are not going to Mrs. Goldsborough's to-night, Cousin +Sabina," said Mrs. Smith; "I have no doubt she would have sent an +invitation had she known I had a friend visiting me." + +"Not improbable. I do not, however, feel much inclination just now to +go to a party. Had it not been for that, I should have sent my card to +Mrs. Goldsborough after my arrival. I met her at the springs last +summer, and received much politeness from her." + +"Mrs. Goldsborough is a very polite woman--very much disposed to be +civil to every one," said Mrs. Smith; "by the bye," she added, "Pelby +and I have it in contemplation to give a large party ourselves." + +"Indeed? I thought you were not party-giving people; Cousin Pelby +assured me so." + +"And never would be if Pelby Smith had his own way. To be sure, we are +not in circumstances to entertain much, conveniently, but for the sake +of a firmer place in society, I am always willing to strain a point. +As to Pelby, he has so little spirit that he would as soon be at the +bottom of the social ladder as at the top. I can speak of it without +impropriety to you, as you are his relation, not mine. He has been a +perpetual drag and drawback upon me, but, notwithstanding, I have +accomplished a great deal. Five or six years ago we were merely on +speaking terms with the Goldsboroughs, and the Pendletons, and the +Longacres, and the Van Pelts and that set, and now I visit most of +them, and receive invitations to all their general parties. I have +always felt ashamed of not having entertained them in return, and now +I am resolved to do so, as a favorable opportunity offers of doing it +advantageously. I mean the coming out of Julia Goldsborough, Mrs. +Goldsborough's only daughter. It will be something to say that I have +given her a party." + +"Do the family expect the compliment of you?" asked Miss Incledon, +looking at her in surprise; "I did not know that you were on such +intimate terms." + +Mrs. Smith smiled in conscious superiority. "Ah, Cousin Sabina!" said +she, "you are very unsophisticated. Don't you know that a party goes +off with much more _eclat_ for being associated with some name of +importance. Now Julia Goldsborough, from her beauty and vivacity, and +the fashion and fortune of her family, is to be the belle of the +season, and a party got up for her must necessarily make a sensation. +All her friends, and they are at the head of society, will attend on +her account, if for nothing else, and everybody else will be glad to +go where they do. Then the Pendletons and the Longacres and the Van +Pelts, several of them, will give her parties--so it is +understood--and it will be worth an effort to make mine one of the +series." + +A faint expression of sarcastic humor passed over the placid +countenance of Miss Incledon, but she made no comment. + +Mrs. Pelby Smith entered the brilliant rooms of Mrs. Goldsborough that +night with an elated spirit, seeing in herself the future hostess of +the fashionable throng there assembled. Instead of standing in a +corner, listening with unctuous deference or sympathy to any who +chanced to come against her, as was her wont, proffering her fan, or +her essence-bottle, or in some quiet way ministering to their egotism, +she now stepped freely forth upon the field of action, nodding and +smiling at the young men to whom she might have been at some time +introduced; whispering and jesting with some marked young lady, while +she made an occasion to arrange her _berthe_ or her ringlets, and +adding herself, as if by accident, to any trio or quartette of +pre-eminent distinction. She had at length the anxiously desired +opportunity to put out her feelers at Mrs. Goldsborough. + +"What a lovely creature Julia has become, Mrs. Goldsborough!" she +exclaimed; "it seems but a few months since she was a little fairy +only _so_ high, and now she is so well grown and so commanding in her +figure! and her manners, they are as pronounced and _distingue_ as if +she were twenty-five; they appear the more remarkable for her sweet, +youthful face. I have been watching her the whole evening, and seeing +every one offering her their tribute, I have gotten quite into the +spirit of it myself. I'm sure you will smile at me, for you well know +that I am not at all in the habit of such things, but I really must +give her a party. I have known her so long, almost since she could +first run about, and I always loved the little creature so much! I +feel as if I have almost a right to be proud of her myself. Have you +any engagements for the beginning of next week? If not, unless you +positively forbid it, I shall send out invitations at once." + +"You are very kind, indeed, Mrs. Smith," said Mrs. Goldsborough, +smiling cordially, for she was a fond mother, and also was full of +courtesy and amiability; "it will be an unexpected compliment to +Julia. She will be flattered that your partiality for her is as warm +as ever. We have no engagements for the first of next week. The +parties with which my friends will try to spoil Julia do not come on +so soon." + +Her scheme having been not unfavorably received, Mrs. Smith whispered +it to one and another, until it was known to half the company before +they dispersed that Miss Goldsborough was to be _feted_ next by Mrs. +Pelby Smith. + +Our heroine ought to have overheard the conversation which took place +at the late breakfast of Mrs. Goldsborough the following morning. + +"You could hardly guess whom you have charmed into party intentions +toward you, Julia," said Mrs. Goldsborough; "I suppose you have not +heard? Mrs. Pelby Smith." + +"Defend me from Mrs. Pelby Smith!" laughed Julia; "but are you in +earnest, mamma?" + +"Certainly, my dear; she told me last night that she intended to give +you a party in the beginning of next week." + +"That intolerable, toadying Mrs. Pelby Smith!" exclaimed young Frank +Goldsborough; "I would not allow her to cover the iniquities of her +ambition with my name, Julia, if I were you. Depend upon it, she has +some sinister design in this thing." + +"I agree with Frank," rejoined Miss Pendleton, Mrs. Goldsborough's +sister; "such as elevating herself in society on your shoulders, +Julia, or rather those of your family." + +"Charity, charity! you know I don't like such remarks," interposed +Mrs. Goldsborough, but with little show of severity; "we have no +reason to decide that Mrs. Smith does not really mean a kindness. She +always seemed very fond of Julia when a child." + +"And so she would have appeared, mamma, of any other that might have +happened to be a grandchild of General Pendleton and Judge +Goldsborough. I had sense enough to understand her even then. She used +to call me in on my way to school, to warm my hands, when they did not +need it, and inquire after the health of my mother and grandmothers +and grandfathers and aunts and uncles, and admire my clothes, and wish +her little Jane was old enough to run to school with me, and flatter +me on the beauty of my hair and eyes and complexion, in such a way +that very few children would have been so stupid as not to have seen +through it. Could you not have said something to discourage the new +idea, ma'ma?" + +"Not without rudeness, Julia, though, I confess, I would rather it +could have been done. Even presuming that she is sincere in her +professions of regard, I do not like the thought of a person in her +circumstances going to what to her must be serious trouble and expense +on our account. The easiest way to reconcile myself to it would be by +believing with you all, that she has some personal motive in it." + +At that same hour Mrs. Smith was immersed in her preliminary +arrangements. + +"I shall have to ask you to write some of the invitations, Cousin +Sabina," said she to Miss Incledon; "I am not much in the habit of +writing, even notes; and Pelby, who has not time to attend to it, says +that you write a very pretty hand. Here are pen and paper to make out +the list--I will give you the names. In the first place, there are all +the Goldsboroughs and Pendletons, and Longacres, and Van Pelts--" + +"You forget," interrupted Miss Incledon, "that it is necessary to name +them individually." + +"True, I had forgotten--I have so many things to think about. +Beginning with the Goldsboroughs--Mrs., Miss, and Mr.; then General +and Mrs. Pendleton, Miss Pendleton, Mr. and Mrs. John, Mr. and Mrs. +Henry, and Mr. and Mrs. James Pendleton;" and so Mrs. Smith kept on in +continuous nomenclature for a considerable time. It was only as she +came down into the lower ranks of fashion, after a regular gradation, +that she hesitated for a moment--and then her pauses grew longer and +longer. + +"Perhaps I can assist your memory, Cousin Sarah," said Miss Incledon; +"I have seen several of your acquaintances, and have heard of a good +many more; there is Mrs. Wills, with whom you were taking tea the +evening of my arrival." + +"I have reflected upon that, and conclude that I shall not ask Mrs. +Wills," replied Mrs. Smith; "she is a plain person, and seldom goes to +parties, which I can make a sufficient excuse for leaving her out, +though, to be sure, she would come to mine, if I invited her; and to +prevent her from being offended, I shall send for her a few days after +to come socially to tea, with a few others of the same set. There +will, of course, be plenty of refreshments left, and it will, +therefore, be no additional expense." + +"Then Mrs. Salisbury and her two daughters, who called yesterday." + +"I believe not; they are not decidedly and exclusively of the first +circle, though, as you seemed to consider them, quite superior +women--very accomplished and agreeable. They have not much fortune, +however, and have no connections here. On the whole, I do not see that +any thing could be gained by inviting the Salisburys." + +"I have not your neighbor, Mrs. Streeter down," observed Cousin +Sabina. + +"No; I don't see the necessity for having Mrs. Streeter; she is a good +creature--very obliging when one needs a neighbor, in cases of +sickness, or the like, but would be far from ornamental. I can have an +excuse for omitting her in never having received an invitation from +her--she does not give parties. She will be very well satisfied, I +dare say, if I send her a basket of fragments afterward. You must +understand, Cousin Sabina, that as this is my first party, I mean it +to be very select." + +"Then you will also, I presume, leave out Mrs. Brownell." + +"By no means; I calculate a great deal on Mrs. Brownell. She has the +greatest quantity of elegant china and cut-glass, which it will be +necessary for me to borrow. My own supply is rather limited, and I +must depend chiefly on my acquaintances. It was on that account that I +set down the Greelys. They have the largest lot of silver forks and +spoons of any family I know--owing, it is whispered, to their having, +where they came from, kept a fashionable boarding-house. Also, you may +put down Mrs. Crabbe." + +"Mrs. Crabbe?--did I not hear you describe her as a very low person?" + +"Peculiarly so in her manners--but what am I to do? I must have +persons to assist me; and Mrs. Crabbe makes the most beautiful jellies +and the most delicious Charlotte-Russe I ever tasted. She has a +natural talent for all sorts of nice cookery, and with my little +experience in it, she will be of the greatest service to me. It saves +a great deal to make every thing except the confectionary at home; and +I shall go at once and ask Mrs. Crabbe if she will prepare the +materials for my fruit-cake, and mix it up." + +"You have said nothing about your Aunt Tomkins, of whom Cousin Pelby +has talked to me, and of the different members of her family--they are +to have invitations, of course?" suggested Miss Incledon. + +"No--that is--I shall attend to it myself--I mean you need not mind;" +and Mrs. Smith hurried to the door, beginning to perceive something +she would rather escape in the countenance and interrogatories of +Cousin Sabina. "Bless me!" she exclaimed, turning back, "I almost +forgot--and what a mistake it would have been! put down Miss Debby +Coggins; I should never have been forgiven if I had neglected her. She +has a great many oddities, but she is related to all the first +families, and one must keep on her right side. Have you the +name?--Miss Deborah Coggins." + +We shall not follow Mrs. Smith into the turmoil of her preparations, +which would have been much more wearisome and bewildering, from her +inexperience in getting up a large entertainment, had it not been for +the good judgment and quiet activity of Miss Incledon, and which the +night of fruition at last terminated. + +All was ready, even the lighting of the rooms, when Mrs. Smith, before +commencing her own toilette, entered the apartment of her guest. Miss +Incledon, who considered herself past the time of life for other than +matronly decorations of the person, was laying out a handsome +pelerine, and a tasteful cap, to wear with a rich, dark silk dress. + +"My dear Cousin Sabina," said Mrs. Smith, "do help me out of a +difficulty; I have no one to remain on duty in the supper-room, and +there certainly ought to be some one to sit there and see that nothing +is disturbed--for there is a great quantity of silver there, mostly +borrowed, and with so many strange servants about, I feel uneasy to +leave it a moment." + +"Are you not able to get some one for that service?" asked Miss +Incledon. + +"No, indeed; I thought of Aunt Tomkins, but the truth is, I could not +request her to do it without sending invitations to the whole family, +which I concluded would not be advisable: there are so many of them, +and as they would not be acquainted with the rest of the company, it +seemed best not to have any of them. I thought, too, of old Mrs. +Joyce, who sometimes does quilting and knitting for me, but she has a +large family of grandchildren, some of whom she always drags with her +when she goes to where there is any thing good to eat; and it would +never do to have them poking their fingers into the refreshments. So +it struck me that perhaps you might oblige me. You don't appear to +care for parties, and as you would be a stranger in the room, it is +not likely you would have much enjoyment. Of course, if I believed you +would prefer the trouble of dressing, and taking your chance among the +company, I would not ask it of you." + +Nothing daunted by the glow of indignation which followed a look of +astonishment on the face of Cousin Sabina, she paused for a reply. +After a moment's reflection, Miss Incledon answered calmly, "I am your +guest, Sarah--dispose of me as you please;" and returning her cap and +white gloves to their boxes, she refastened her wrapper to enter upon +the office assigned to her. + +The party passed off with the crowding, crushing, talking and eating +common to parties. The supper was a handsome one--for Mr. Smith wisely +decided that if the thing must be done at all, it should be done +well--and therefore he had hinted no restrictions to his wife as to +the expense. Many "regrets" had been sent in, but still Mrs. Smith was +at the post she had coveted for years--that of receiving a fashionable +assemblage in her own house; and if her choicest guests courted her +notice as little as they would have done any where else, she was too +much elated and flustered, and overheated to think about it. One of +her principal concerns was to keep her eye on her husband, who, being +a shy, timid man, with very little tact, was not much calculated for +playing the host on such an occasion. He had, however, been doing +better than she expected, when, a little before supper, he wandered +through the crowd to where she was standing, for the moment, alone, +and asked, "Where is Cousin Sabina?" + +"In the supper-room. It is necessary at such times to have some one +behind the scenes, and I had to get her to remain in the supper-room, +to watch that things went on properly; and, in particular, to see that +none of the silver was carried off, nor the refreshments wasted after +supper." + +Mr. Smith looked disturbed, and exclaimed, rather too loudly, "Is it +possible that you could ask a woman like Sabina Incledon to do such a +thing! one of my most respectable relations, and a visiter in my +house?" + +"Don't speak so loudly. I left out all my own relations, and I dare +say they would, any of them, have looked as creditably as Sabina +Incledon. When we have established our own standing, Mr. Smith, it +will be time enough for us to bring out such people as your Cousin +Sabina. To be sure, if I had had any one to trust in her place, I +should not have objected at all to her coming in." + +Mrs. Smith was turning away, when she saw, at her elbow, Mrs. +Goldsborough and Miss Pendleton, who must have overheard the +conversation. To her it was the mortification of the evening. + +The next morning at the breakfast-table Mrs. Smith was too much +occupied in descanting upon the events of the night, describing the +dresses, and detailing the commendations on different viands of the +supper, to notice that Miss Incledon spoke but little, and when she +did, with more dignity and gravity than usual. On rising from the +table, she unlocked the sideboard, and taking from it a basket of +silver, she said, "I would thank you, Cousin Sabina, to assort these +forks and spoons for me. It will be something of a task, as they have +to go to half a dozen different places. When you have got through I +will look over them to see that all is right;" and she was hurrying +off to commence some of the multifarious duties of the day. + +"Excuse me, Sarah," said Miss Incledon; "I'll expect that a carriage +will be here in a few minutes to take me into the country." + +"Dear me!" exclaimed Mrs. Smith, looking disappointed and somewhat +displeased; "I thought I should have your assistance in putting away +things--I had no idea of your leaving us to-day." + +"You may remember my telling you, Cousin Pelby," said Miss Incledon, +addressing Mr. Smith, "that I would be but a few days with you. I took +advantage of traveling in this direction to renew our old family +intercourse; but the principal object of my journey was to visit a +very particular friend, Mrs. Morgan Silsbee." + +"Mrs. Morgan Silsbee!" said Mrs. Smith--"are you not mistaken, Cousin +Sabina? I presume you mean Mrs. Edward Silsbee. Mrs. Morgan Silsbee +lives ten or twelve miles out; their place is said to be magnificent, +and I know that she and her husband drives a coach-and-four on state +occasions. Mrs. Goldsborough made a splendid dinner for them a short +time ago. Mrs. Edward Silsbee I have met often; I didn't know that you +were acquainted with her." + +"I am _not_ acquainted with Mrs. Edward Silsbee," said Miss Incledon, +with dignity; "I mean her sister-in-law, Mrs. Morgan Silsbee. She is +an old friend of mine, and I have been under engagement to her since I +met her last summer, at the Springs, to make this visit. I had a note +from her last night, written from one of the hotels, saying that she +would stop for me this morning at nine or ten o'clock--your party +preventing her from calling in person." + +Had a halo suddenly appeared around the head of Cousin Sabina, Mrs. +Smith could hardly have changed her countenance and manner more +markedly. "If I had only known it," she exclaimed, "how gratified I +should have been to have had an invitation, with my card, sent to her, +and to have had her at my party. But, surely, Cousin Sabina, you will +soon return to us?" + +"I shall certainly pass through town on my way homeward, but will stop +at a boarding-house," said Miss Incledon. + +The conscious Mrs. Smith reddened violently, but was relieved by the +interruption of a handsome carriage, though not the coach-and-four, +stopping before her house. Miss Incledon stepped to the parlor-door, +to answer the footman, who inquired for her. + +"Mrs. Morgan Silsbee's compliments, ma'am," said the man, "and the +carriage is at your service whenever you are ready. We are to take her +up at Mrs. Goldsborough's, where she got out to wait for you." + +It took but a moment for Cousin Sabina to reappear bonneted and +shawled, and to have her baggage put on the carriage. Then kindly +bidding Mr. Smith farewell, she gave her hand to his wife, escaping +the embrace in preparation for her, and was rapidly driven away. + +"You see there are some persons who can appreciate Cousin Sabina," +said Mr. Smith; and afraid to wait for a reply, he hastened to his +place of business. + +"And so Cousin Sabina is the friend of Mrs. Morgan Silsbee, the friend +of Mrs. Goldsborough!" said Mrs. Smith to herself, while a series of +not very satisfactory reflections ran through her mind. But her +attention was claimed by other things. What with putting away and +distributing the fragments of the feast, washing and sending home +table-furniture, gathering up candle ends, and other onerous duties, +the day wore on. At last, late in the afternoon, with aching head and +wearied limbs, she sat down in her rocking-chair in the dining-room to +rest. A ring at the door-bell soon disturbed her. "Say I'm engaged, +unless it is some person very particular," said she to the servant. + +"It is Miss Debby Coggins, ma'am," said the colored girl, returning, +with a grin; "I let her in, because she's very partic'lar." + +Miss Deborah Coggins, from being connected in some way or other with +each of the great families of the town, and having money enough not to +be dependent on any of them, was what is called a privileged +character--a class of individuals hard to be endured, unless they +possess the specific virtue of good-nature, to which Miss Debby had no +claim. She talked without ceasing, and her motto was to speak "the +truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth." She was of a thin +figure, always dressed in rusty black silk, which must sometimes have +been renewed or changed, though no one could ever tell when, and a +velvet bonnet, of the same hue, with a peculiar lateral flare, which, +however, was really made to look something like new once every three +or four years. She wore a demi-wreath of frizzly, flaxen curls close +above her shaggy eyebrows, which were of the same color; and her very +long, distended nose was always filled with snuff, which assisted in +giving a trombone sound to as harsh a voice as ever passed through the +lips of a woman. + +She had drawn up the blinds, and opened the sash of the windows when +Mrs. Smith entered the front parlor. "How're you this evening, Mrs. +Smith?" said she, in answer to the bland welcome she received; "I was +just telling your black girl that if you ever should happen to have a +party again, she should open the rooms and have the air changed better +the next day; and as you are not used to such things yourself, I +thought I might as well let you know it, too. I raised the windows +myself. Now," she added, "the room is too cold to sit in, and I would +prefer going to your dining-room, or wherever you were when I came +in." + +"Certainly, certainly, Miss Debby," said Mrs. Smith, marshaling the +way. + +"Stop!" said Miss Debby, "I want to take a look at your wall paper--I +never noticed it before. I can't say I like your taste; though, no +doubt, you took it for the sake of economy--ugly papers sometimes go +very cheap." + +"You are quite mistaken, I assure you, Miss Debby," began Mrs. Smith, +eagerly. + +"Well, it's of no consequence," interrupted Miss Debby, "only I heard +Matilda Shipley say yesterday, that there would be no use in dressing +much for Mrs. Pelby Smith's party, as her low rooms, with their dingy, +dirt-colored paper, could never be lighted up to make any one look +well." + +Mrs. Smith cleared her throat, but said nothing, recollecting by this +time that all retort or explanation was lost upon Miss Deborah +Coggins. To change the subject she remarked, "How disappointed I was +at your not coming last night, my dear Miss Debby--one of the friends +I most wished to see." + +"I have been rather sorry myself that I did not come, since I heard +that the party turned out better than could have been expected. I +supposed that there would have been a great many here that I did not +know, and that my own set, mostly, would have stayed away, like +myself, not caring much to meet them." + +"What an idea, Miss Debby! there was scarcely one in the room that you +did not know. My company was very select." + +"So I was told to-day. Mrs. William Van Pelt said that you had invited +every body that would not thank you, and, as she had been told, had +left out those that had the best right to expect invitations. I should +like to have had a share of the supper," continued Miss Debby. "I +heard that you had worried yourself nearly to death preparing it, and +that it was really good, considering that you were not used to such +things. Young John Pendleton said that it made him some little amends +for being forced to go to a place where he made a mistake every time +he addressed his entertainers and called them Joneses." + +Sorely wincing as Mrs. Smith was, she did not forget Miss Debby's +notoriety for following close upon the heels of a party for a share of +the good things left. Accordingly, she opened her sideboard, and +produced a choice variety of her store. + +"I suppose it is too late to get some of the ice cream?" said Miss +Debby, losing no time in attacking what was set before her; "you have +used it, or let the ice run out, I dare say?--though, now that I think +of it, I made up my mind that I would not care to have any of it, for +old Mrs. Longacre told me that what she got was bitter, from being +made partly of milk, she supposed, that had been burnt in boiling." + +This was more than Mrs. Smith could stand. "It is totally erroneous!" +she exclaimed; "I used none but the purest cream, and that without +boiling; I don't know how the old lady could have made such a mistake, +unless it was that she got some of the almond, which, perhaps, had too +much of the bitter-almond flavor for her taste." + +"Perhaps so; and she said that she did not venture to taste the +Charlotte-Russe, fearing it might turn out to be nothing but +sponge-cake and custard, without jelly or whipped cream. But if it was +all like this, nobody could complain of it;" and, absorbed in the +gratification of her palate, Miss Debby gave her auditor a few minutes +respite. + +"Your party, on the whole, made something of a talk, Mrs. Smith," she +resumed. + +Mrs. Smith bowed and smiled, taking the observation for a compliment. + +"I was out making calls the day the invitations went round. You know +making calls is a business with me, when I undertake it. I commence +directly after breakfast, and keep on till night, eating my dinner +wherever I suppose dinner chances to be ready. Well, the first I heard +of your intentions was from Mrs. Harvey, who said she wondered you +could think yourself under obligations to give a party to Julia +Goldsborough, though, to be sure, like some other of your devices, she +supposed that was only a _ruse_; and she was surprised that the +Goldsboroughs were willing to be cat's paws to help you along in +'society.'" + +Mrs. Smith's face grew as red as the _bon bon_ paper she was nervously +twisting. + +"That was to Mrs. Nicolas and me," pursued Miss Debby; "and Mrs. +Nicolas wondered how upon earth the Pelby Smiths could afford to give +a party at all. She concluded that you would have to live on bacon and +potatoes for the remainder of the season, to retrieve the cost, and +would have to turn that changeable silk of yours the third time." + +"Oh, I don't mind what people say," observed Mrs. Smith, with a +distorted smile. + +"I know you don't, or, at least, that you don't resent any thing +toward persons of such standing as those two, or I would not have +repeated the conversation. But, is it true, that you had some trouble +to get the party out of your husband?" + +"Mr. Smith and I always act in concert," said Mrs. Smith, looking +dutiful. + +"Do you? well, that's a happy thing. I understood quite the contrary, +though, that you always carried the day, from what Mrs. Joe Culpepper +said. I was at her house when your invitation came in, and after she +had opened it, she exclaimed, with her sly laugh, 'Only think, Miss +Debby, that manoeuvring, pushing Mrs. Pelby Smith has at last worried +her poor husband into giving a party!' and from the way she pitied Mr. +Smith, I inferred she must have some reason to believe that if you did +not wield a pretty high hand, he would not be quite such a man of wax +as he seems." + +Had Miss Debby been any thing less than a relation in common to the +"Goldsboroughs, the Pendletons, the Longacres, and the Van Pelts," +Mrs. Smith would have been tempted to request her to leave the house; +but as it was, her policy taught her to endure whatever Miss Debby +might choose to inflict. So she leaned back hopelessly in her chair, +while the old lady snapped and cracked a plate of candied fruits with +a vigor of which her teeth looked incapable. + +"Had you any of your borrowed things broken?--for I heard that you had +to borrow nearly every thing," resumed her torturer. + +"Not any thing at all but two or three plates, which can easily be +replaced," replied Mrs. Smith, not knowing what next to expect on that +point. But Miss Debby tacked about. + +"I believe," said she, "you had a visiter staying with you for a few +days?" + +"Yes--a cousin of Mr. Smith's--Miss Sabina Incledon--" + +"That's the name," interrupted Miss Debby, nodding; "the person that +went out home with Mrs. Morgan Silsbee, this morning, I presume?" + +"The same," replied Mrs. Smith, feeling her consequence looking up; +"Cousin Sabina is a very particular friend of Mrs. Morgan Silsbee, who +for a long time had been soliciting the visit." + +"Then, surely, she could not have been the person you set to watching +the kitchen and supper-room! Susan Goldsborough and Lydia Pendleton +were talking about it, and repeating to each other what they overheard +of a conversation between yourself and your husband, who seemed +greatly shocked that you had done it. Susan Goldsborough remarked that +if she had known that you had so little sense as to undervalue such a +woman in that way, or so little feeling and good-breeding as to +violate the laws of common hospitality and politeness so grossly, she +would assuredly have declined the party for Julia when you proposed it +to her." + +Mrs. Smith had grown quite pale, and could only answer tremulously, +"What a misconstruction!--dear me--it was Cousin Sabina's wish--how +strange a mistake." + +"It certainly is strange if they were so mistaken, and stranger still +that a woman of so much dignity, and so accustomed to society as Miss +Incledon, should have preferred watching your servants to taking her +proper place among your guests. I thought to myself whilst they were +talking, that it seemed hardly consistent with your usual way of doing +things, to put upon such duty a person who in all probability would +soon be Mrs. Colonel Raynor, and the aunt of Mrs. Morgan Silsbee. I +shouldn't wonder if the match came off in a month." + +"Cousin Sabina likely to be married in a month!--and to Colonel +Raynor!" exclaimed Mrs. Smith, startled out of her usual tact, and her +lips growing yet bluer. + +"Bless me! didn't you know the story?" said Miss Debby, in her turn +looking surprised; "they met last summer at the Springs, and the +colonel was so pleased with her unpretending good sense, excellent +principles, and superior mental cultivation, that he proposed to her +before she went away. She deferred her answer until she and his +children should have become acquainted. You know he is a widower with +three daughters--two of them married. She has been in correspondence +ever since with Mrs. Morgan Silsbee, the colonel's niece, who has been +trying to make the match, and who, that her cousins may meet her, has +insisted upon the present visit. They are lovely young women, the +daughters, whom she cannot fail to like, and as they know how to +appreciate such a woman as Miss Incledon, there is no doubt of the +marriage taking place. It will be a great thing for you, Mrs. Smith; +the connection will do more for you than a dozen parties. And such a +charming place as you will have to visit! The colonel lives like a +prince, and at only a few hours' drive from here. You can go there in +the summer with your children, and meet a constant run of company more +choice than at a watering-place, and all without any expense. When +your cousin comes back to town, be sure to let me know, that I may +call upon her. Susan Goldsborough is fretted enough that she was not +apprised of her being here, and so are some of the Longacres; they +blame you with it all." + +Mrs. Smith did not attempt to reply, and Miss Debby rose to go. + +"It is getting late," said she, "and I must walk. If you have no +objection I will take those slices of fruit and almond cake, and a +paper of candied fruit and _bon bons_ with me--and perhaps you can +spare some more Malaga grapes--or could you send them home for me by +one of your servants? I should like to stop at Susan Goldsborough's to +tell her that you knew nothing about the good fortune in prospect for +your cousin, and it is probable she will wish me to stay for tea." + +Mrs. Smith restrained herself until she had escorted her visiter to +the door, and then returning to her rocking-chair, she indulged in a +fit of weeping that looked very much like hysterics. Her most +prominent thought was, "If I had only given the party to Cousin +Sabina!" + +This she had ample opportunity to reiterate--for time proved to her +that the prime object of her grand effort had failed--those who +comprised her select party never including her in any of theirs. More +particularly did it recur to her, when, some months afterward, Mrs. +Colonel Raynor, though she sometimes stopped to exchange a few kindly +words with Mr. Smith at his place of business, evaded every invitation +to his dwelling, while she went the rounds of sumptuous feting among +the Goldsboroughs, Pendletons, Longacres & Co. + + + + +SPIRIT-VOICES. + +BY CHARLES W. BAIRD. + + +"Hast thou heard ever a spirit-voice, + As in morning's hour it stole +Speaking to thee from the home of its choice, + Deep in the unfathomed soul: +Telling of things that the ear hath not heard, + Neither the mind conceived; +Bringing a balm in each gentle word + Unto the heart bereaved?" + +O, I have heard it in days of the spring, + When gladness and joy were rife. +'Twas a voice of hope, that came whispering + Its story of strength and life. +It told me that seasons of vigor and mirth + Follow the night of pain; +And the heaven-born soul, like the flowers of earth, + Withers, to live again! + +"Hast thou heard ever a spirit-voice, + At the sunny hour of noon; +Bidding the soul in its light rejoice, + For the darkness cometh soon; +Telling of blossoms that early bloom + And as early pine and fade; +And the bright hopes that must find a tomb + In the dark, approaching shade?" + +Yes, I have heard it in summer's hour, + When the year was in its strength: +'T was a voice of faith, and it spoke with power + Of joys that shall come at length. +It told how the holy and beautiful gain + Fruition of peace and love; +And the blest ones, freed from this world of pain, + Flourish and ripen above. + +"Hast thou heard ever a spirit-voice, + At the solemn noon of night, +When the fair visions of memory rise + Robed in their fancied light. +When the loved forms that are cold and dead + Pass in their train sad and slow; +And the waking soul, from its pleasures fled, + Turns to its present wo?" + +Oft have I heard it when day was o'er; + And the welcome tones I knew: +Like the voices of those who have gone before, + The Beautiful and the True. +And it turned my thoughts to that blissful time + When ceaseth cold winter's breath; +When the free spirit shall seek that clime + Where there is no more death. + + + + +THE ISLETS OF THE GULF; + +OR, ROSE BUDD. + + Ay, now I am in Arden; the more fool + I; when I was at home I was in a better place; but + Travelers must be content. AS YOU LIKE IT. + +BY THE AUTHOR OF "PILOT," "RED ROVER," "TWO ADMIRALS," "WING-AND-WING," +"MILES WALLINGFORD," ETC + + +[Entered, according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1846, by J. +Fenimore Cooper, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the +United States, for the Northern District of New York.] + +(_Concluded from page 98_.) + + +PART XVII. + + The trusting heart's repose, the paradise + Of home, with all its loves, doth fate allow + The crown of glory unto woman's brow. + MRS. HEMANS. + + +It has again become necessary to advance the time; and we shall take +the occasion thus offered to make a few explanations touching certain +events which have been passed over without notice. + +The reason why Capt. Mull did not chase the yawl of the brig in the +Poughkeepsie herself, was the necessity of waiting for his own boats +that were endeavoring to regain the sloop-of-war. It would not have +done to abandon them, inasmuch as the men were so much exhausted by +the pull to windward, that when they reached the vessel all were +relieved from duty for the rest of the day. As soon, however, as the +other boats were hoisted in, or run up, the ship filled away, stood +out of the passage and ran down to join the cutter of Wallace, which +was endeavoring to keep its position, as much as possible, by making +short tacks under close-reefed luggs. + +Spike had been received on board the sloop-of-war, sent into her sick +bay, and put under the care of the surgeon and his assistants. From +the first, these gentlemen pronounced the hurt mortal. The wounded man +was insensible most of the time, until the ship had beat up and gone +into Key West, where he was transferred to the regular hospital, as +has already been mentioned. + +The wreckers went out the moment the news of the calamity of the Swash +reached their ears. Some went in quest of the doubloons of the +schooner, and others to pick up any thing valuable that might be +discovered in the neighborhood of the stranded brig. It may be +mentioned here, that not much was ever obtained from the brigantine, +with the exception of a few spars, the sails, and a little rigging; +but, in the end, the schooner was raised, by means of the chain Spike +had placed around her, the cabin was ransacked, and the doubloons were +recovered. As there was no one to claim the money, it was quietly +divided among the conscientious citizens present at its revisiting +"the glimpses of the moon," making gold plenty. + +The doubloons in the yawl would have been lost but for the sagacity of +Mulford. He too well knew the character of Spike to believe he would +quit the brig without taking the doubloons with him. Acquainted with +the boat, he examined the little locker in the stern-sheets, and found +the two bags, one of which was probably the lawful property of Capt. +Spike, while the other, in truth, belonged to the Mexican government. +The last contained the most gold, but the first amounted to a sum that +our young mate knew to be very considerable. Rose had made him +acquainted with the sex of Jack Tier since their own marriage; and he +at once saw that the claims to the gold in question, of this uncouth +wife, who was so soon to be a widow, might prove to be as good in law, +as they unquestionably were in morals. On representing the facts of +the case to Capt. Mull and the legal functionaries at Key West, it was +determined to relinquish this money to the heirs of Spike, as, indeed, +they must have done under process, there being no other claimant. +These doubloons, however, did not amount to the full price of the +flour and powder that composed the cargo of the Swash. The cargo had +been purchased with Mexican funds; and all that Spike or his heirs +could claim, was the high freight for which he had undertaken the +delicate office of transporting those forbidden articles, contraband +of war, to the Dry Tortugas. + +Mulford by this time was high in the confidence and esteem of all on +board the Poughkeepsie. He had frankly explained his whole connection +with Spike, not even attempting to conceal the reluctance he had felt +to betray the brig after he had fully ascertained the fact of his +commander's treason. The manly gentlemen with whom he was now brought +in contact entered into his feelings, and admitted that it was an +office no one could desire, to turn against the craft in which he +sailed. It is true, they could not and would not be traitors, but +Mulford had stopped far short of this; and the distinction between +such a character and that of an informer was wide enough to satisfy +all their scruples. + +Then Rose had the greatest success with the gentlemen of the +Poughkeepsie. Her youth, beauty, and modesty, told largely in her +favor; and the simple, womanly affection she unconsciously betrayed +in behalf of Harry, touched the heart of every observer. When the +intelligence of her aunt's fate reached her, the sorrow she manifested +was so profound and natural, that every one sympathized with her +grief. Nor would she be satisfied unless Mulford would consent to go +in search of the bodies. The latter knew the hopelessness of such an +excursion, but he could not refuse to comply. He was absent on that +melancholy duty, therefore, at the moment of the scene related in our +last chapter, and did not return until after that which we are now +about to lay before the reader. Mrs. Budd, Biddy, and all of those who +perished after the yawl got clear of the reef, were drowned in deep +water, and no more was ever seen of any of them; or, if wreckers did +pass them, they did not stop to bury the dead. It was different, +however, with those who were first sacrificed to Spike's selfishness. +They were drowned on the reef, and Harry did actually recover the +bodies of the Senor Montefalderon, and of Josh, the steward. They had +washed upon a rock that is bare at low water. He took them both to the +Dry Tortugas, and had them interred along with the other dead at that +place. Don Juan was placed side by side with his unfortunate +country-man, the master of his equally unfortunate schooner. + +While Harry was absent and thus employed, Rose wept much and prayed +more. She would have felt herself almost alone in the world, but for +the youth to whom she had so recently, less than a week before, +plighted her faith in wedlock. That new tie, it is true, was of +sufficient importance to counteract many of the ordinary feelings of +her situation; and she now turned to it as the one which absorbed most +of the future duties of her life. Still she missed the kindness, the +solicitude, even the weaknesses of her aunt; and the terrible manner +in which Mrs. Budd had perished, made her shudder with horror whenever +she thought of it. Poor Biddy, too, came in for her share of the +regrets. This faithful creature, who had been in the relict's service +ever since Rose's infancy, had become endeared to her, in spite of her +uncouth manners and confused ideas, by the warmth of her heart, and +the singular truth of her feelings. Biddy, of all her family, had come +alone to America, leaving behind her not only brothers and sisters, +but parents living. Each year did she remit to the last a moiety of +her earnings, and many a half-dollar that had come from Rose's pretty +little hand, had been converted into gold, and forwarded on the same +pious errand to the green island of her nativity. Ireland, unhappy +country! at this moment what are not the dire necessities of thy poor! +Here, from the midst of abundance, in a land that God has blessed in +its productions far beyond the limits of human wants, a land in which +famine was never known, do we at this moment hear thy groans, and +listen to tales of suffering that to us seem almost incredible. In the +midst of these chilling narratives, our eyes fall on an appeal to the +English nation, that appears in what it is the fashion of some to term +the first journal of Europe(!) in behalf of thy suffering people. A +worthy appeal to the charity of England seldom fails; but it seems to +us that one sentiment of this might have been altered, if not spared. +The English are asked to be "_forgetful_ of the past," and to come +forward to the relief of their suffering fellow-subjects. We should +have written "_mindful_ of the past," in its stead. We say this in +charity, as well as in truth. We come of English blood, and if we +claim to share in all the ancient renown of that warlike and +enlightened people, we are equally bound to share in the reproaches +that original misgovernment has inflicted on thee. In this latter +sense, then, thou hast a right to our sympathies, and they are not +withheld. + +As has been already said, we now advance the time eight-and-forty +hours, and again transfer the scene to that room in the hospital which +was occupied by Spike. The approaches of death, during the interval +just named, had been slow but certain. The surgeons had announced that +the wounded man could not possibly survive the coming night; and he +himself had been made sensible that his end was near. It is scarcely +necessary to add that Stephen Spike, conscious of his vigor and +strength, in command of his brig, and bent on the pursuits of worldly +gains, or of personal gratification, was a very different person from +him who now lay stretched on his pallet in the hospital of Key West, a +dying man. By the side of his bed still sat his strange nurse, less +peculiar in appearance, however, than when last seen by the reader. + +Rose Budd had been ministering to the ungainly externals of Jack Tier. +She now wore a cap, thus concealing the short, gray bristles of hair, +and lending to her countenance a little of that softness which is a +requisite of female character. Some attention had also been paid to +the rest of her attire; and Jack was, altogether, less repulsive in +her exterior than when, unaided, she had attempted to resume the +proper garb of her sex. Use and association, too, had contributed a +little to revive her woman's nature, if we may so express it, and she +had begun, in particular, to feel the sort of interest in her patient +which we all come in time to entertain toward any object of our +especial care. We do not mean that Jack had absolutely ever ceased to +love her husband; strange as it may seem, such had not literally been +the case; on the contrary, her interest in him and in his welfare had +never ceased, even while she saw his vices and detested his crimes; +but all we wish to say here is, that she was getting, in addition to +the long-enduring feelings of a wife, some of the interest of a nurse. + +During the whole time which had elapsed between Jack's revealing her +true character, and the moment of which we are now writing, Spike had +not once spoken to his wife. Often had she caught his eyes intently +riveted on her, when he would turn them away, as she feared, in +distaste; and once or twice he groaned deeply, more like a man who +suffered mental than bodily pain. Still the patient did not speak once +in all the time mentioned. We should be representing poor Jack as +possessing more philosophy, or less feeling, than the truth would +warrant, were we to say she was not hurt at this conduct in her +husband. On the contrary, she felt it deeply; and more than once it +had so far subdued her pride, as to cause her bitterly to weep. This +shedding of tears, however, was of service to Jack in one sense, for +it had the effect of renewing old impressions, and in a certain way, +of reviving the nature of her sex within her--a nature which had been +sadly weakened by her past life. + +But the hour had at length come when this long and painful silence was +to be broken. Jack and Rose were alone with the patient, when the last +again spoke to his wife. + +"Molly--poor Molly!" said the dying man, his voice continuing full and +deep to the last, "what a sad time you must have had of it after I did +you that wrong!" + +"It is hard upon a woman, Stephen, to turn her out, helpless, on a +cold and selfish world," answered Jack, simply, much too honest to +affect reserve she did not feel. + +"It was hard, indeed; may God forgive me for it, as I hope _you_ do, +Molly." + +No answer was made to this appeal; and the invalid looked anxiously at +his wife. The last sat at her work, which had now got to be less +awkward to her, with her eyes bent on her needle, and her countenance +rigid, and, so far as the eye could discern, her feelings unmoved. + +"Your husband speaks to you, Jack Tier," said Rose, pointedly. + +"May _yours_ never have occasion to speak to you, Rose Budd, in the +same way," was the solemn answer. "I do not flatter myself that I ever +was as comely as you, or that yonder poor dying wretch was a Harry +Mulford in his youth; but we were young and happy, and respected once, +and loved each other; yet you see what its all come to!" + +Rose was silenced, though she had too much tenderness in behalf of her +own youthful and manly bridegroom to dread a fate similar to that +which had overtaken poor Jack. Spike now seemed disposed to say +something, and she went to the side of his bed, followed by her +companion, who kept a little in the back-ground, as if unwilling to +let the emotion she really felt be seen, and, perhaps, conscious that +her ungainly appearance did not aid her in recovering the lost +affections of her husband. + +"I have been a very wicked man, I fear," said Spike, earnestly. + +"There are none without sin," answered Rose. "Place your reliance on +the mediation of the Son of God, and sins even far deeper than yours +may be pardoned." + +The captain stared at the beautiful speaker, but self-indulgence, the +incessant pursuit of worldly and selfish objects for forty years, and +the habits of a life into which the thought of God and the dread +hereafter never entered, had encased his spiritual being in a sort of +brazen armor, through which no ordinary blow of conscience could +penetrate. Still he had fearful glimpses of recent events, and his +soul, hanging as it was over the abyss of eternity, was troubled. + +"What has become of your aunt?" half whispered Spike--"my old +captain's widow. She ought to be here; and Don Wan Montezuma--where is +he?" + +Rose turned aside to conceal her tears--but no one answered the +questions of the dying man. Then a gleaming of childhood shot into the +recollection of Spike, and, clasping his hands, he tried to pray. But, +like others who have lived without any communication with their +Creator through long lives of apathy to his existence and laws, +thinking only of the present time, and daily, hourly sacrificing +principles and duty to the narrow interests of the moment, he now +found how hard it is to renew communications with a being who has been +so long neglected. The fault lay in himself, however, for a gracious +ear was open, even over the death-bed of Stephen Spike, could that +rude spirit only bring itself to ask for mercy in earnestness and +truth. As his companions saw his struggles, they left him for a few +minutes to his own thoughts. + +"Molly," Spike at length uttered, in a faint tone, the voice of one +conscious of being very near his end, "I hope you will forgive me, +Molly. I know you must have had a hard, hard time of it." + +"It is hard for a woman to unsex herself, Stephen; to throw off her +very natur', as it might be, and to turn man." + +"It has changed you sadly--even your speech is altered. Once your +voice was soft and womanish--more like that of Rose Budd's than it is +now." + +"I speak as them speak among whom I've been forced to live. The +forecastle and steward's pantry, Stephen Spike, are poor schools to +send women to l'arn language in." + +"Try and forget it all, poor Molly! Say to me, so that I can hear you, +'I forget and forgive, Stephen.' I am afraid God will not pardon my +sins, which begin to seem dreadful to me, if my own wife refuse to +forget and forgive, on my dying bed." + +Jack was much mollified by this appeal. Her interest in her offending +husband had never been entirely extinguished. She had remembered him, +and often with woman's kindness, in all her wanderings and sufferings, +as the preceding parts of our narrative must show; and though +resentment had been mingled with the grief and mortification she felt +at finding how much he still submitted to Rose's superior charms, in a +breast as really generous and humane as that of Jack Tier's, such a +feeling was not likely to endure in the midst of a scene like that she +was now called to witness. The muscles of her countenance twitched, +the hard-looking, tanned face began to lose its sternness, and every +way she appeared like one profoundly disturbed. + +"Turn to Him whose goodness and marcy may sarve you, Stephen," she +said, in a milder and more feminine tone than she had used now for +years, making her more like herself than either her husband or Rose +had seen her since the commencement of the late voyage; "my sayin' +that I forget and forgive cannot help a man on his death-bed." + +"It will settle my mind, Molly, and leave me freer to turn my thoughts +to God." + +Jack was much affected; more by the countenance and manner of the +sufferer, perhaps, than by his words. She drew nearer to the side of +her husband's pallet, knelt, took his hands, and said solemnly, + +"Stephen Spike, from the bottom of my heart, I _do_ forgive you; and I +shall pray to God that he will pardon your sins as freely and more +marcifully than I now pardon all, and try to forget all that you have +done to me." + +Spike clasped his hands, and again he tried to pray; but the habits of +a whole life are not to be thrown off at will; and he who endeavors to +regain, in his extremity, the moments that have been lost, will find, +in bitter reality, that he has been heaping mountains on his own soul, +by the mere practice of sin, which were never laid there by the +original fall of his race. Jack, however, had disburthened her spirit +of a load that had long oppressed it, and, burying her face in the +rug, she wept. + +"I wish, Molly," said the dying man, several minutes later, "I wish I +had never seen the brig. Until I got that craft, no thought of +wronging human being ever crossed my mind." + +"It was the Father of Lies that tempts all to do evil, Stephen, and +not the brig which caused the sins." + +"I wish I could live a year longer--_only_ one year; that is not much +to ask for a man who is not yet sixty." + +"It is hopeless, poor Stephen. The surgeons say you cannot live one +day." + +Spike groaned; for the past, blended fearfully with the future, +gleamed on his conscience with a brightness that appalled him. And +what is that future, which is to make us happy or miserable through an +endless vista of time? Is it not composed of an existence, in which +conscience, released from the delusions and weaknesses of the body, +sees all in its true colors, appreciates all, and punishes all? Such +an existence would make every man the keeper of the record of his own +transgressions, even to the most minute exactness. It would of itself +mete out perfect justice, since the sin would be seen amid its +accompanying facts, every aggravating or extenuating circumstance. +Each man would be strictly punished according to his talents. As no +one is without sin, it makes the necessity of an atonement +indispensable, and, in its most rigid interpretation, it exhibits the +truth of the scheme of salvation in the clearest colors. The soul, or +conscience, that can admit the necessary degree of faith in that +atonement, and in admitting, _feels_ its efficacy, throws the burthen +of its own transgressions away, and remains forever in the condition +of its original existence, pure, and consequently happy. + +We do not presume to lay down a creed on this mighty and mysterious +matter, in which all have so deep an interest, and concerning which so +very small a portion of the human race think much, or think with any +clearness when it does become the subject of their passing thoughts at +all. We too well know our own ignorance to venture on dogmas which it +has probably been intended that the mind of man should not yet +grapple with and comprehend. To return to our subject. + +Stephen Spike was now made to feel the incubus-load, which +perseverance in sin heaps on the breast of the reckless offender. What +was the most grievous of all, his power to shake off this dead weight +was diminished in precisely the same proportion as the burthen was +increased, the moral force of every man lessening in a very just ratio +to the magnitude of his delinquencies. Bitterly did this deep offender +struggle with his conscience, and little did his half-unsexed wife +know how to console or aid him. Jack had been superficially instructed +in the dogmas of her faith, in childhood and youth, as most persons +are instructed in what are termed Christian communities--had been made +to learn the Catechism, the Lord's Prayer, and the Creed--and had been +left to set up for herself on this small capital, in the great concern +of human existence, on her marriage and entrance on the active +business of life. When the manner in which she had passed the last +twenty years is remembered, no one can be surprised to learn that Jack +was of little assistance to her husband in his extremity. Rose made an +effort to administer hope and consolation, but the terrible nature of +the struggle she witnessed, induced her to send for the chaplain of +the Poughkeepsie. This divine prayed with the dying man; but even he, +in the last moments of the sufferer, was little more than a passive +but shocked witness of remorse, suspended over the abyss of eternity +in hopeless dread. We shall not enter into the details of the +revolting scene, but simply add that curses, blasphemy, tremulous +cries for mercy, agonized entreaties to be advised, and sullen +defiance, were all strangely and fearfully blended. In the midst of +one of these revolting paroxysms Spike breathed his last. A few hours +later his body was interred in the sands of the shore. It may be well +to say in this place, that the hurricane of 1846, which is known to +have occurred only a few months later, swept off the frail covering +and that the body was washed away to leave its bones among the wrecks +and relics of the Florida Reef. + +Mulford did not return from his fruitless expedition in quest of the +remains of Mrs. Budd, until after the death and interment of Spike. As +nothing remained to be done at Key West, he and Rose accompanied by +Jack Tier, took passage for Charleston in the first convenient vessel +that offered. Two days before they sailed, the Poughkeepsie went out +to cruise in the gulf, agreeably to her general orders. The evening +previously Capt. Mull, Wallace, and the chaplain, passed with the +bridegroom and bride, when the matter of the doubloons found in the +boat was discussed. It was agreed that Jack Tier should have them; and +into her hands the bag was now placed. On this occasion, to oblige the +officers, Jack went into a narrative of all she had seen and suffered, +from the moment when abandoned by her late husband down to that when +she found him again. It was a strange account, and one filled with +surprising adventures. In most of the vessels in which she had +served, Jack had acted in the steward's department, though she had +frequently done duty as a fore-mast hand. In strength and skill she +admitted that she had often failed; but in courage, never. Having been +given reason to think her husband was reduced to serving in a vessel +of war, she had shipped on board a frigate bound to the Mediterranean, +and had actually made a whole cruise as a ward-room boy on that +station. While thus employed she had met with two of the gentlemen +present; Capt. Mull and Mr. Wallace. The former was then first +lieutenant of the frigate, and the latter a passed-midshipman; and in +these capacities both had been well known to her. As the name she then +bore was the same as that under which she now "hailed," these officers +were soon made to recollect her, though Jack was no longer the light, +trim-built lad he had then appeared to be. Neither of the gentlemen +named had made the whole cruise in the ship, but each had been +promoted and transferred to another craft, after being Jack's shipmate +rather more than a year. This information greatly facilitated the +affair of the doubloons. + +From Charleston the travelers came north by railroad. Harry made +several stops by the way, in order to divert the thoughts of his +beautiful young bride from dwelling too much on the fate of her aunt. +He knew that home would revive all these recollections painfully, and +wished to put off the hour of their return, until time had a little +weakened Rose's regrets. For this reason, he passed a whole week in +Washington, though it was a season of the year that the place is not +in much request. Still, Washington is scarce a town, at any season. It +is much the fashion to deride the American capital, and to treat it as +a place of very humble performance with very sounding pretensions. +Certainly, Washington has very few of the peculiarities of a great +European capital, but few as these are, they are more than belong to +any other place in this country. We now allude to the _distinctive_ +characteristics of a capital, and not to a mere concentration of +houses and shops within a given space. In this last respect, +Washington is much behind fifty other American towns, even while it is +the only place in the whole republic which possesses specimens of +architecture, on a scale approaching that of the higher classes of the +edifices of the old world. It is totally deficient in churches, and +theatres, and markets; or those it does possess are, in an +architectural sense, not at all above the level of village or +country-town pretensions, but one or two of its national edifices do +approach the magnificence and grandeur of the old world. The new +Treasury Buildings are unquestionably, on the score of size, +embellishments and finish, _the_ American edifice that comes nearest +to first class architecture on the other side of the Atlantic. The +Capitol comes next, though it can scarce be ranked, relatively, as +high. As for the White House, it is every way sufficient for its +purposes and the institutions; and now that its grounds are finished, +and the shrubbery and trees begin to tell, one sees about it something +that is not unworthy of its high uses and origin. Those grounds, +which so long lay a reproach to the national taste and liberality, are +now fast becoming beautiful, are already exceedingly pretty, and give +to a structure that is destined to become historical, having already +associated with it the names of Jefferson, Madison, Jackson, and +Quincy Adams, together with the _ci polloi_ of the later Presidents, +an _entourage_ that is suitable to its past recollections and its +present purposes. They are not quite on a level with the parks of +London, it is true; or even with the Tuileries, or Luxembourg, or the +Boboli, or the Villa Reale, or fifty more grounds and gardens, of a +similar nature, that might be mentioned; but, seen in the spring and +early summer, they adorn the building they surround, and lend to the +whole neighborhood a character of high civilization, that no other +place in America can show, in precisely the same form, or to the same +extent. + +This much have we said on the subject of the White House and its +precincts, because we took occasion, in a former work, to berate the +narrow-minded parsimony which left the grounds of the White House in a +condition that was discreditable to the republic. How far our +philippic may have hastened the improvements which have been made, is +more than we shall pretend to say, but having made the former +strictures, we are happy to have an occasion to say (though nearly +twenty years have intervened between the expressions of the two +opinions) that they are no longer merited. + +And here we will add another word, and that on a subject that is not +sufficiently pressed on the attention of a people, who, by position, +are unavoidably provincial. We invite those whose gorges rise at any +stricture on any thing American, and who fancy it is enough to belong +to the great republic to be great in itself, to place themselves in +front of the State Department, as it now stands, and to examine its +dimensions, material and form with critical eyes; then to look along +the adjacent Treasury Buildings, to fancy them completed, by a +junction with new edifices of a similar construction to contain the +department of state; next to fancy similar works completed for the two +opposite departments; after which, to compare the past and present +with the future as thus finished, and remember how recent has been the +partial improvement which even now exists. If this examination and +comparison do not show, directly to the sense of sight, how much there +was and is to criticise, as put in contrast with other countries, we +shall give up the individuals in question, as too deeply dyed in the +provincial wool ever to be whitened. The present Trinity church, New +York, certainly not more than a third class European church, if as +much, compared with its village-like predecessor, may supply a +practical homily of the same degree of usefulness. There may be those +among us, however, who fancy it patriotism to maintain that the old +Treasury Buildings were quite equal to the new, and of these intense +Americans we cry their mercy! + +Rose felt keenly on reaching her late aunt's very neat dwelling in +Fourteenth Street, New York. But the manly tenderness of Mulford was +a great support to her, and a little time brought her to think of that +weak-minded, but well-meaning and affectionate relative, with gentle +regret, rather than with grief. Among the connections of her young +husband, she found several females of a class in life certainly equal +to her own, and somewhat superior to the latter in education and +habits. As for Harry, he very gladly passed the season with his +beautiful bride, though a fine ship was laid down for him, by means of +Rose's fortune, now much increased by her aunt's death, and he was +absent in Europe when his son was born; an event that occurred only +two months since. + +The Swash, and the shipment of gunpowder, were thought of no more in +the good town of Manhattan. This great emporium--we beg pardon, this +great _commercial_ emporium--has a trick of forgetting; condensing all +interests into those of the present moment. It is much addicted to +believing that which never had an existence, and of overlooking that +which is occurring directly _under its nose_. So marked is this +tendency to forgetfulness, we should not be surprised to hear some of +the Manhattanese pretend that our legend is nothing but a fiction, and +deny the existence of the Molly, Capt. Spike, and even of Biddy Noon. +But we know them too well to mind what they say, and shall go on and +finish our narrative in our own way, just as if there were no such +raven-throated commentators at all. + +Jack Tier, still known by that name, lives in the family of Capt. +Mulford. She is fast losing the tan on her face and hands, and every +day is improving in appearance. She now habitually wears her proper +attire, and is dropping gradually into the feelings and habits of her +sex. She never can become what she once was, any more than the +blackamoor can become white, or the leopard change his spots; but she +is no longer revolting. She has left off chewing and smoking, having +found a refuge in snuff. Her hair is permitted to grow, and is already +turned up with a comb, though constantly concealed beneath a cap. The +heart of Jack, alone, seems unaltered. The strange, tiger-like +affection that she bore for Spike, during twenty years of abandonment, +has disappeared in regrets for his end. It is succeeded by a most +sincere attachment for Rose, in which the little boy, since his +appearance on the scene, is becoming a large participator. This child +Jack is beginning to love intensely; and the doubloons, well invested, +placing her above the feeling of dependence, she is likely to end her +life, once so errant and disturbed, in tranquillity and a home-like +happiness. + + + + +THE BELLE. + +BY MARY L. LAWSON. + + +She stands before the mirror--she is fair, + And soft the light within her beaming eyes, +But unshed tears are slowly gathering there, + Like passing clouds that float o'er summer skies; +Her cheek is wan, as blanched by thoughts of pain, + And on her snowy brow a shadow sleeps: +Are such surpassing gifts bestowed in vain?-- + The pale, sad beauty turns aside and weeps! + +Long, long in anguish flows the burning tide-- + Dark storms of feeling sweep across her breast-- +In loneliness there needs no mask of pride-- + To nerve the soul, and veil the heart's unrest, +Amid the crowd her glances brightly beam, + Her smiles with undimmed lustre sweetly shine: +The haunting visions of life's fevered dream + The cold and careless seek not to divine. + +Night after night unheeded glides away + 'Mid mirth and music, flattery's whispered tone, +Her dreary penance--ever to be gay, + Yet longing, oh! how oft--to be alone; +But when all other hearts seek needful rest, + And heavy sleep the saddest eyelids close, +Her dreams are those the wretched only know, + As memory o'er her soul its shadow's throw. + +Friends that had shared her girlhood's happier day, + And forms now mingling with the dust arise, +The early loved recalled with pensive tears, + Though once in pride half scorned and lightly prized; +Fair pictured scenes long vanished from her sight, + Soft tones of songs and voices loved of yore. +And words of tenderness and looks of light, + And fresh young hopes that bloom for her no more. + +But this one hour has crowned in deep despair + The many sorrows of life's galling chain, +Yet mid those sighs that rend her aching soul + The heart's wild struggle is not felt in vain, +For she has turned to Him whose smile can cheer + The darkened mind and hopes lost light reveal, +And learns to feel 'mid trembling doubt and fear-- + That HE whose power can wound is strong to heal. + +While loftier thoughts to nobler purpose given + Than those long wasted amid fashion's glare, +And deep resolves the future shall be fraught + With holy deeds, her earnest musings share-- +Though in the dance her step no more may glide, + The glittering circle miss its chosen queen, +Around the vacant place a closing tide + Will leave no record where her form was seen. + +But where the widow's tear-drop may be dried, + And where the orphan wanders sad and lone, +Where poverty its grieving head may hide, + Will breathe the music of her voice's tone; +And if her face was blest with beauty rare + 'Mid gilded sighs and worldly vanity, +When heavenly peace has left its impress there + Its loveliness from earthly stain is free. + + + + +LE PETIT SOULIER. + +A STORY: IN TWO PARTS. + +BY IK. MARVEL. + + +PART I. + +I have said that the Abbe G---- had a room in some dark corner of a +hotel in the Rue de Seine, or Rue de la Harpe--which of the two it was +I really forget. At any rate, the hotel was very old, and the street +out of which I used to step into its ill-paved, triangular court, was +very narrow, and very dirty. + +At the end of the court, farthest from the heavy gateway, was the box +of the _concierge_, who was a brisk little shoemaker, forever +bethwacking his lap-stone. If I remember right, the hammer of the +little _cordonnier_ made the only sound I used to hear in the court; +for though the house was full of lodgers, I never saw two of them +together, and never heard them talking across the court from the upper +windows, even in mid-summer. + +At this distance of time, I do not think it would be possible for me +to describe accurately all the windings of the corridor which led to +the abbe's door. I remember that the first part was damp and low, and +after it I used to mount a crazy stone staircase, and at the top +passed through a passage that opened on one side upon a narrow court; +then there was a little wicket of iron, which, when it turned, tinkled +a bell. Sometimes the abbe would hear the bell, and open his door down +at the end of the corridor; and sometimes a lodger, who occupied a +room looking into the last-mentioned court, would draw, slyly, a +corner of his curtain, and peep out, to see who was passing. Sometimes +I would loiter myself to look down upon the lower windows in the +court, or to glance up at story resting above story, and at the peaked +roof, and dot of a loop-hole at the top. + +A single small door opened into the court, and occasionally an old +woman, or bustling, shabbily-dressed man would shuffle across the +pavement; the faces at the windows seemed altogether sordid and +every-day faces, so that I came to regard the quarters of the abbe, +notwithstanding the quaint-fashioned windows and dim stairway, and +suspicious quiet, a very matter of fact, and so, very uninteresting +neighborhood. + +As the abbe and myself passed out sometimes together through the +open-sided corridor, I would point into the court, and ask who lived +in the little room at the top. + +"Ah, _mon cher_, I do not know," the abbe would say. + +Or, "who lives in the corner, with the queer narrow window and the +striped curtain?" + +"I cannot tell you, _mon cher_." + +Or, "whose is the little window with so many broken panes, and an old +placard pinned against the frame?" + +"Ah, who knows! perhaps a _chiffonier_, or a shopman, or perhaps--" +and the abbe lifted his finger, and shook his head expressively, and +continued, + +"It is a strange world we live in, _mon ami_." + +What could the abbe mean? I looked up at the window again; it was +small, and the panes were set in rough metal casing; it was high up on +the fourth or fifth floor. I could see nothing through but the dirty +yellow placard. + +"Is it in the same hotel with you?" said I. + +"_Ma foi_, I do not know." + +I tried to picture satisfactorily to my own mind the appearance of the +chamber to which the little window belonged. Small it must be, I knew, +for in that quarter few were large even upon the first floor, and +looking upon the street. Dirty, too, it should surely be, and +comfortless, and tenanted by misery, or poverty, or sin, or, very +likely, all together. Possibly some miserly old wretch lived there, +needing only a little light to count up his hoard, and caring little +for any intrusive wind, if it did not blow away his treasure. I +fancied I could see him running over the tale of his coin by a feeble +rushlight--squat, perhaps, on the dirty tile-floor--then locking his +box, and placing it carefully under the pillow of his straw pallet, +then tip-toeing to the door to examine again the fastening, then +carefully extinguishing the taper, and after, dropping into an +anxious, fevered sleep. + +I even lingered very late at the abbe's room, to see if I could detect +the old man; but there was never any light to be seen. + +Perhaps it was the home of some poor gentleman who had seen better +days, and whom necessity obliged to deny himself the poor luxury of a +centime light. Possibly it was a little shopman, as the abbe had +suggested, struggling with fortune--not scrupulous in honesty, and +shunning observation; or it might be (who could tell) a sleek-faced +villain, stealing about in the dusk, and far into the night, making +the dim chamber his home only when more honest lodgers were astir in +the city. + +All sorts of conjectures came thronging on me, and I cast my eyes up, +day after day, at the little window, hoping some change of appearance +might give plausibility to some one of my fancies. + +Week after week, however, the corridor wore its old quietude; the +striped curtain in the wing window, and the yellow placard in the +suspicious window at the top, still kept their places with provoking +tenacity; and I could never, with all my art, seduce the good-natured +abbe into any bugbear story about the occupant of the dim chamber on +the court. + +I dare say I might soon have neglected to look up at all, had I not +observed one day, after my glances had grown very careless, and almost +involuntary, a rich lace veil hanging against the same little window +where had hung the placard. There was no mistaking it--the veil was of +the richest Mechlin lace. I knew very well that no lady of elegance +could occupy such apartment, or, indeed, was to be found (I mean no +disrespect to the abbe) in that quarter of Paris. The window plainly +belonged to some thievish den, and the lace formed a portion of the +spoils. I began to be distrustful of late visits to the abbe's +quarters, and full of the notion of thievish eyes looking out from the +strange window--I used half to tremble as I passed along the corridor. +I told the abbe of the veil, and hinted my suspicions. + +"It is nothing," said he, "princes have lived in worse corners." + +"And yet you are not curious to know more?" + +"_Mon cher_, it is dangerous to be too curious, _je suis un pretre_." + +Some days after--it was on a winter's morning, when a little snow had +fallen--I chanced to glance over into the court on which the +mysterious window looked, and saw the beautiful foot-mark of a lady's +slipper. It was scarce longer than my hand--too narrow and delicately +formed for a child's foot, least of all the foot of such children as +belonged to the Rue de Seine. I could not but associate the +foot-track--so small, so beautiful, and so unlocked for in such +scene--with the veil I had seen at the window. + +Through all of my morning's lesson--I was then reading _La Grammaire +des Grammaires_--I could think of nothing but the pretty foot-track in +the snow. No such foot, I was quite sure, could be seen in the dirty +Rue de Seine--not even the shop-girls of the Rue de la Paix, or the +tidiest Llorettes could boast of one so pretty. + +I asked the abbe to walk with me; and as we passed the corridor, I +threw my eye carelessly into the court, as if it were only my first +observation, and said as quietly as possible, "_Mon cher abbe_, the +snow tells tales this morning." + +The abbe looked curiously down upon the foot-marks, ran his eye +rapidly over the windows, turned to me, shook his head expressively, +and said, as he glanced down again, "_O'etait un fort joli petit +soulier._" (It was a very pretty little shoe.) + +"Whose was it?" said I. + +"_Mon cher_, I do not know." + +I still kept up, day after day, my watch upon the window. It shortly +supplied me with an important link in the chain of observations. I saw +lying within the glass, against which the veil yet hung, nothing more +nor less than the same little shoe, I thoroughly believed, which had +made the delicate foot-marks on the snow in the court. Not a prettier +shoe could be seen on the Boulevards, and scarce one so small. It +would have been very strange to see such delicate articles of dress at +any hotels of the neighborhood, and stranger still to find them in +the humblest window of so dismal a court. + +There was a mystery about the matter that perplexed me. Every one +knows, who knows any thing about Paris, that that part of the city +along the Rue de Seine, between the Rues Jacob and Bussy, and though +very reputable in its way, is yet no place for delicate ladies, not +even as a promenade, and much less as a residence. It is assigned +over, as well by common consent as custom, to medical students, +shop-men, attorneys, physicians, priests, lodging-house keepers, +market-men, sub-officials, shop-women, second-class milliners, and +grisettes. + +Indeed a delicate lady--and such only, I was sure, could have left the +foot-print in the court, and be the owner of the shoe I had +seen--could hardly pass through the Rue de Seine without drawing the +eyes of all the lodgers on the street. Dried up hag faces would have +met the apparition with a leer; the porters would have turned to +stare, and she would have had very suspicious followers. + +I loitered about the outer court of the hotel, under pretence of +waiting for the abbe, in hope of seeing something which would throw +light upon the mysterious occupant of the chamber. But the comers and +goers were all of the most unobtrusive and ordinary cast. I ventured +to question the concierge concerning his lodgers. They were all _bons +gens_. + +"Were there any ladies?" + +The little shoemaker lifted his hammer a moment while he eyed me--"But +one, monsieur; the wife of the old tobacconist at the corner." + +I asked about the windows in the little court, beside which I +passed--did they belong to his hotel? + +He did not think it. + +I prevailed on him to step with me a moment into the corridor, and +pointed out to him the window which had drawn so much of my attention. +I asked if he knew the hotel to which it belonged? + +He did not. It might be the next, or the next after, or down the +little alley branching out of the Rue de Seine. I asked him of the +character of the neighborhood. + +It was a good neighborhood, he said--a very reputable neighborhood. He +believed the lodgers of the quarter to be all _honnetes gens_. + +I took occasion to loiter about the courts of the adjoining houses, +frequently passing the opposite side of the way, with my eye all the +time upon the entrance gates. The lodgers seemed to be even inferior +to those who passed in at the court where the abbe resided. + +One individual alone had attracted my attention. He was a tall, pale +man, in the decline of life, dressed in a sort of half-uniform; he +walked with a stooping gait, and seemed to me (perhaps it was a mere +fancy) as much weighed down by care as years. Several times I had seen +him going in or coming out of the court that opened two doors above +the abbe's. He was unlike most inhabitants of the neighborhood in both +dress and air. + +I ventured to step up to the brisk little concierge in the court one +day, and ask who was the tall gentleman with the tarnished lace who +had just entered? + +"It is _un Monsieur Very_," said the concierge. + +"And poor Monsieur Very lives alone?" said I. + +"How should I know, monsieur?" + +"He always walks alone," said I. + +"It is true," said the concierge. + +"He has children, perhaps?" said I. + +"_Tres probable_," said the concierge. + +He was little disposed to be communicative, yet I determined to make +another trial. + +"You have very pretty lodgers," said I. + +"Pardon, monsieur," said he, "I do not understand you." + +"Pretty--very pretty lodgers," said I. + +"You are facetious, monsieur," said the concierge, smiling. + +"Not at all," said I; "have I not seen (a sad lie) a very pretty face +at one of the windows on the back court?" + +"I do not think it, monsieur." + +"And then there are no female lodgers?" + +"_Pardon, monsieur_--there are several." + +Here the little concierge was interrupted by a lodger, and I could ask +no more. + +I still, however, kept up my scrutiny of the attic window--observed +closely every female foot that glanced about the neighboring courts, +and remitted sadly my attention to the _Grammaire des Grammaires_, in +the quiet room of my demure friend the abbe. + +Sometimes, in my fancies, the object of wonder was a young maiden of +the _noblesse_, who, for imputed family crimes, had hid herself in so +humble a quarter. Sometimes I pictured the occupant of the chamber as +the suffering daughter of some miserly parent, with trace of noble +blood--filial, yet dependent in her degradation. Sometimes I imagined +her the daughter of shame--the beloved of a doating, and too late +repentant mother--shunning the face of a world that had seduced her +with its smiles, and that now made smiles the executioners of its +punishment. + +In short, form what fancies I would, I could not but feel a most +extraordinary interest in clearing the mystery that seemed to me to +hang about the little window in the court. Unconnected with the +foot-track and the slipper, the window on the court would have been +nothing more than half the courts to be seen in the old quarters of +Paris. Or, indeed, the delicate foot-prints, and articles of female +luxury would have hardly caught attention, much less sustained it with +so feverish curiosity, in any one of the courts opening upon the Rue +de Rivoli, or Rue Lafitte. + +The concierge next door, I was persuaded, knew more of his inmates +than he cared to say. I still, as I have said, glanced my eye, each +morning, along the upper angles of the court, and sidled now and then +by the gate of the neighboring hotel; but the window wore its usual +look--there was the veil, and the placard, and the disjointed, +rattling sash; and in the neighboring court was, sometimes, the tall +gentleman picking his way carefully over the stones, and sometimes the +stumpy figure of a waiting woman. + +Some ten days after my chat with the neighbor concierge, I reached +the hotel of the abbe an hour earlier than my usual morning visit, and +took the occasion to reconnoitre the adjoining courts. The concierge, +my acquaintance of the week before, was busy with a bowl of coffee and +a huge roll; and, just as I had sidled up to his box for a word with +him, who should brush past in great apparent haste, but the pale, thin +gentleman who had before attracted my observation. + +I determined to step around at once into the open corridor of the +abbe's hotel, and see if I could detect any movement--so slight even +as the opening or shutting of a door in the chamber of the narrow +window. + +It was earlier by a half hour at the least than I had ever been in the +corridor before. The court was quiet; my eye ran to the little +window--at a glance I saw it had not its usual appearance. A light +cambric handkerchief, with lace border, was pinned across it from side +to side; and just at the moment that I began to scrutinize what seemed +to me like a coronet stitched on the corner, a couple of delicate +fingers reached over the hem, removed the fastening, first on one +side, then on the other--the handkerchief was gone. + +It was the work of an instant, and evidently done in haste; but I +still caught a glimpse of a delicate female figure--sleeve hanging +loose about the arm a short way below the elbow, hair sweeping, half +curled and half carelessly over a cheek white as her dress, and an +expression, so far as I could judge, of deep sadness. + +I shrunk back into a shadow of the corridor, and waited; but there was +no more stir at the window. The yellow placard dangled by one +fastening; a bit of the veil was visible, nothing else, to tell me of +the character of the inmate. + +I told the abbe what I had seen. + +The abbe closed his grammar, (keeping his thumb at the place,) shook +his head slowly from side to side, smiled, lifted his finger in +playful menace, and--went on with his lesson. + +"Who can it be?" said I. + +"Indeed, I cannot tell you, _mon ami_," said the abbe, laying down his +book with a look of despair. + +The morning after I was again in the corridor a full half hour before +my usual time, but the window wore its usual air. The next day, again +I was an hour beforehand, and the abbe had not put off his priest +robe, in which he goes to morning mass; still there was no +handkerchief at the little window--no wavy mesh of hair--no taper +arm--no shadowy form moving in the dim chamber. + +I had arranged to leave for the south in a few days, and was more than +ever anxious for some explication of the mystery. A single further +mode only occurred to me; I would go to the concierge next door, and +under pretence of looking for rooms, would have him conduct me through +his hotel. + +It had dismal corridors, and steeper stairways than even the abbe's. I +was careless about the second and the third floors; and it was not +till we had mounted a half dozen crazy pair of stairs, that I began to +scrutinize narrowly the doors, and sometimes to ask if this or that +chamber was occupied. I made my way always to the windows of the rooms +shown me, in hope of seeing the little court I knew so well, and the +abbe's half-open corridor, and yet in half fear, that I might, after +all, be looking from the very window about which hung so perplexing +mystery. + +It was long before I caught sight of my old point of observation in +the neighboring corridor. The room was small, and was covered with +singular ancient hangings, with a concealed door, which the concierge +opened into a charming little cabinet. How many more concealed doors +there might have been I do not know. I put my head out the window, and +looked down in search of the strange casement; it was not below. Then +I looked to one side--there was the long window with a striped +curtain. I looked to the other side--another long window. I looked +up--there at length it was, over my left shoulder. I could see plainly +the yellow placard, and heard it flapping the casement. + +I asked the concierge if he had no rooms above. + +"_Oui, monsieur_--a single one; but it is too high for monsieur." + +"Let me see," said I--and we mounted a miserably dim staircase. There +were three doors; the concierge opened the nearest to the landing. + +"_La voici, monsieur._" It was a sad little affair, and looked out by +just such a loop-hole as was the object of my curiosity, upon a court +I did not know. + +"It will never do," said I, as I came out of the room. "But what is +here?" continued I, brushing up to the next door. + +The concierge caught me by the arm, and drew me back. Then he raised +himself forward on tip-toe, and whispered, "_C'nt le Monsieur Very._" + +I knew from its position it must have been the little casement which +looked upon the corridor. There was another door opposite; I brushed +up to this, and was again drawn back by the concierge. + +"Who is here?" said I. + +"_La Mademoiselle Marie_," said the concierge, and put his finger on +his lip. + +"Is she young?" said I, following the concierge down the stairway. + +"_Oui, monsieur._" + +"And pretty?" + +"_Oui, monsieur._" + +"I have never seen her," said I. + +"_Ma foi_, that is not strange, monsieur." + +"And she has been here--?" + +"A month." + +"Perhaps she is rich," said I. + +"_Mon Dieu!_" said the concierge, turning round to look at me, "and +live in such a chamber?" + +"But she dresses richly," said I. + +"_Eh bien!_ you have seen her, then!" exclaimed briskly the little +concierge. + +By this time we were in the court again. My search had only stimulated +my curiosity tenfold more. I half fancied the concierge began to +suspect my inquiries. Yet I determined to venture a single further +one. It was just as I was carelessly leaving the court--"_Mais_, _la +mademoiselle_, is, perhaps, the daughter of Monsieur Very, eh, +monsieur?" + +"_Ma foi_, I cannot tell you, monsieur," said the little +concierge--and he closed his door. + +I told the abbe of my search. He smiled, and shook his head. + +I described to him the person of Monsieur Very, and told him he must +keep his eye upon him, and, if possible, clear up the strange mystery +of the window in the court. + +The abbe shook his finger doubtingly, yet gave me a half promise. + +Three days only were left to me; I cast up anxious glances each +morning of my stay, but there was nothing but the placard and a bit of +the veil to be seen--the little shoe was gone. My last evening I +passed with the abbe, and came away late. I stopped five minutes on +the corridor, just outside the wicket; the moon was shining bright, +and the stars were out, but the window at the top of the court was +dark--all dark. + + +PART II. + +Poor Clerie! but I have told his story,[A] so I will not tell it +again. It made a sad greeting for me on the lips of the abbe, when I +first came back to the city after a half year's absence; and it will +not, I am sure, seem strange that seeing the abbe in his priest-robes, +and hearing his sad tale of poor Clerie, I should forget entirely to +ask about the little shoe, or the tall gentleman of the attic. +Nevertheless I did, as I went out, throw a glance up to the window of +the court--alas! there were more panes broken, the placard was gone, +the veil was gone--there was nothing but a flimsy web which a bold +spider had stretched across one of the comers. I felt sure that the +last six months had brought its changes to other houses, as well as +the house of Clerie. + +I thought I would just step round to the conciergerie of the +neighboring hotel, and ask after Monsieur Very; but before I had got +fairly into the court I turned directly about, and walked away--I was +afraid to ask about Monsieur Very. I felt saddened by the tale I had +already heard; it had given, as such things will, a soft tinge of +sadness to all my own thoughts, and fancies, and hopes. Everybody +knows there are times in life when things joyful seem harsh; and there +are times, too--Heaven knows!--when a saddened soul shrinks, fearful +as a child, from any added sadness. God be blessed that they pass, +like clouds over the bright sky of His Providence, and are gone! + +I was afraid to ask that day about Monsieur Very; so I walked +home--one while perplexing myself with strange conjectures; and +another while the current of my thought would disengage itself from +these hindering eddies, and go glowing quick, and strong, and +sad--pushed along by the memory of poor Clerie's fate. + +I knew the abbe would tell me all next day--and so he did. + +We dined together in the Palais Royal, at a snug +restaurant up-stairs, near the Theatre Francais. We look a little +cabinet to ourselves, and I ordered up a bottle of Chambertin. + +[Footnote A: Fresh Gleanings, pp. 132, 133.] + +The soup was gone, a nice dish of _filet de veau_, _aux epinards_, was +before us, and we had drank each a couple of glasses, before I +ventured to ask one word about Monsieur Very. + +"_Ah, mon cher,_" said the abbe--at the same time laying down his +fork--"_il est mort!_" + +"And mademoiselle--" + +"_Attendez_," said the abbe, "and you shall hear it all." + +The abbe resumed his fork; I filled up the glasses, and he commenced: + +"You will remember, _mon cher_, having described to me the person of +the tall pale gentleman who was our neighbor. The description was a +very good one, for I recognized him the moment I saw him. + +"It was a week or more after you had left for the south, and I had +half forgotten--excuse me, _mon ami_--the curiosity you had felt in +the little window in the court; I happened to be a half hour later +than usual in returning from mass, and as I passed the hotel at the +corner, I saw coming out a tall gentleman, in a cloak trimmed with a +little tawny lace, and with an air so different from that of most +lodgers in the neighborhood, that I was sure it must be Monsieur +Very." + +"The very same," said I. + +"Indeed," continued the abbe, "I was so struck with his +appearance--added to your interest in him--(here the abbe bowed and +sipped his wine) that I determined to follow him a short way down the +street. He kept through the Rue de Seine, and passing under the +colonnade of the Institute, crossed the Pont de Fer, continued along +the quay as far as the gates of the garden--into the Rue de Rivoli, +and though I thought he would have stopped at some of the _cafes_ in +the neighborhood, he did not, but kept steadily on, nor did I give up +pursuit until he had taken his place in one of the omnibuses which +pass the head of the Rue de la Paix. + +"A week after, happening to see him, as I came home from Martin's, +under the Odeon, I followed him again: I took a place in the same +omnibus at the head of the Rue de la Paix. Opposite the Rue de Lancry +he stopped. I stopped a short way above, and stepping back, soon found +the poor gentleman picking his feeble paces along the dirty sideway. + +"You remember, _mon cher_, wandering with me in the Rue de Lancry; you +remember that it is crooked and long. The poor gentleman found it so; +for before he had reached the end he leaned against the wall, +apparently overcome with fatigue. I offered him assistance; at first +he declined; he told me he was going only to the Hopital St. Louis, +which was now near by. I told him I was going the same way, upon which +he took my arm, and we walked together to the gates. The poor +gentleman seemed unable or unwilling to talk with me, and at the gates +he merely pulled a slip of paper from his pocket to show the +concierge, and passed in. I attended him as far as the middle hall in +the court, when he kindly thanked me, and turned into one of the male +wards. I took occasion presently to look in, and saw my companion half +way down the hall, at the bed-side of a very feeble-looking patient of +perhaps seven or eight-and-twenty. + +"There seemed a degree of familiarity between them, more than would +belong to patient and physician. I noticed too that the attendants +treated the old gentleman with marked respect; this was, I fancy, +however, owing to the old gentleman's air, for not one of them could +tell me who he was. + +"I left him in the hospital, more puzzled than ever as to who could be +the occupant of your little chamber. He seemed to me to have seen +better days; and as for your lady of the slipper, it was so long +before I saw any female with Monsieur Very, that I began to think she +had no existence, save in your lively imagination." + +Here the abbe sipped his wine. + +"You saw her at length, then?" said I. + +"_Attendez._ One evening I caught a glimpse of the tall gentleman +going into the court of his hotel, with a lady closely muffled in +black upon his arm." + +"And she had a pretty foot?" + +"Ah, _mon ami_, it was too dark to see." + +"And did you see her again?" + +"_Attendez._ (The abbe sipped his wine.) For a month I saw neither +monsieur nor mademoiselle. I passed the court early and late; I even +went up to St. Louis, but the sick man was gone. The whole matter had +nearly dropped from my mind, when one night--it was late, and very +dark--the little bell at the wicket rung, and presently there was a +loud rap at my door. It was the concierge of the next court; a man he +said was dying, and a priest was wanted. + +"I hurried over, and followed the concierge up, I know not how many +stairs, into a miserable little chamber. There was a yellow placard at +the window--" + +I filled the abbe's glass and my own. + +"Poor Monsieur Very," continued the abbe, "was on the couch before me, +dying! The concierge had left the chamber, but there was still a third +person present, who scarce seemed to belong to such a place." + +The abbe saw my earnestness, and provokingly sipped his wine. + +"This is very good wine, monsieur," said the abbe. + +"Was she pretty?" said I. + +"Beautiful," said the abbe, earnestly. + +I filled the abbe's glass. The garcon had taken away the _fricandeau_, +and served us with _poulet roti_. + +"Had she a light dress, and long, wavy ringlets?" said I. + +"She was beautiful," said the abbe, "and her expression was so sweet, +so gentle, so sad--ah, _mon ami_--_ah, pauvre_--_pauvre fille!_" + +The abbe had laid down his fork; he held his napkin to his face. + +"And so poor Very died?" said I. + +"It was a sad sight," said the abbe. + +"And he confessed to you?" + +"I was too late, _mon ami_; he murmured a word or two in my ear I +could not understand. He confessed to God." + +"And mademoiselle--" + +"She sat at the foot of the couch when I went in, with her hands +clasped in her lap, and her eyes fixed on the poor gentleman's face; +now and then a tear rolled off her cheeks--but she did not know it. + +"Presently the dying man beckoned to her. She stole softly to the head +of the couch, and laid her little white hand in his withered fingers. + +"'Marie,' said he, 'dear Marie, I shall be gone--soon.' + +"The poor girl burst into tears, and gathered up the palsied hand of +the old man in both hers, as if she would not let him go. + +"'Marie,' continued he, very feebly, 'you will want a friend.' + +"Again the poor girl answered by a burst of tears. She could say +nothing. + +"'I have seen Remy,' continued the old man, still addressing the girl, +who seemed startled at the name, notwithstanding her grief. 'He has +suffered like us; he has been ill, too--very ill; you may trust him +now, Marie; he has promised to be kind. Marie, my child, will you +trust him?' + +"'Dear father, I will do what you wish,' said the girl, weeping. + +"'Thank you, Marie,' said the old man, and he tried to carry the white +hand to his lips, but he could not. 'And now, Marie--the little +locket?' + +"Marie stepped softly across the chamber, and brought a small gold +locket, very richly wrought, and put it in the old man's hand; the old +man raised it toward his face. + +"'A little more light, dear Marie,' said he. + +"Marie stepped to the window and removed the yellow placard. + +"'A little more--light, Marie,' said the old man, feebly. He was +getting lower and lower. + +"Marie set the door ajar, and, stepping to the window, she pulled a +little handkerchief from her pocket, and tried to rub some of the dust +from the glass. + +"'Light, Marie; dear Marie--more light!' He said it scarce above his +breath, but she heard it, and looked at me. I shook my head. She saw +how it was, and caught the stiffening hand of the old man. + +"'Dear, dear father!' and her tears streamed over it. Her sobs roused +the old man for a moment. + +"'Marie,' said he, and he raised his hand with a last effort, till it +rested on her head, 'Marie--God bless you!' + +"I could hear nothing now but the poor girl's sobs. The hand of the +old man grew heavier and heavier on her head. She sunk down till her +knees touched the rough floor of the chamber, and her face rested on +the couch. Gradually the hand of the old man slipped down and lay upon +her white, smooth neck. + +"Presently she lifted her eyes timidly till they looked on the eyes of +the old man--they must have looked strangely to her. + +"'Father, dear father!' said she. There was a little clock at the +foot of the couch, and it ticked very--very loud. + +"The poor girl gave a quick, frightened glance at me, and another +hurried look into the fixed eyes of the old man. She thought how it +must be; ah, _mon ami_, if you had heard her cry, '_Mon Dieu! il est +mort!_--_il est mort!_'" + +For a moment the abbe could not go on. + +"She was right," continued he, presently, "the old man was dead!" + +The garcon removed the chicken, and served us with a dozen or two of +oysters, in the shell. For ten minutes the abbe had not touched his +wine--nor had I. + +"He was buried," resumed the abbe, "just within the gates of Pere la +Chaise, a little to the right of the carriage way. A cypress is +growing by the grave, and there is at the head a small marble tablet, +very plain, inscribed simply, '_a mon pere_, 1845.' + +"I was at the burial. There were very few to mourn." + +"You saw mademoiselle?" + +"Yes, I saw her; she was in deep black. Her face was covered with a +thick black veil--not so thick, though, but I could see a white +handkerchief all the time beneath; and I saw her slight figure +tremble. I was not near enough to hear her sobs, when they commenced +throwing down the earth upon the coffin. + +"_Oui_, _mon ami_, I saw her walk away--not able to support herself, +but clinging for very weakness to the arm of the man whose face I had +seen at St. Louis. They passed slowly out of the gates; they entered a +carriage together, and drove away." + +"It was Remy, I suppose?" said I. + +"I do not know," said the abbe. + +"And when did you see her again?" + +"Not for months," said the abbe; and he sipped his wine. + +"Shall I go on, _mon cher_?--it is a sad story." + +I nodded affirmatively, and filled the abbe's glass, and took a nut or +two from the dish before us. + +"I called at the hotel where monsieur had died; mademoiselle had gone, +the concierge could not tell where. I went to the hospital, and made +inquiries for a Monsieur Remy--no such name had been entered within a +year. I sometimes threw a glance up at the little window of the court; +it was bare and desolate, as you see it now. Once I went to the grave +of the old man--it was after the tablet had been raised; a rose-tree +had been put at the foot of the grave. I did not know, but thought who +must have set it there. I gave up all hope of seeing the beautiful +_Marie_ again. + +"You remember, _mon ami_, the pretty little houses along the Rue de +Paris, at Passy, with the linden trees in front of them, and the clear +marble door-steps?" + +"_Tres bien, mon cher abbe._" + +"It is not many months since I was passing by them, and saw at the +window of one, the same sad face which I saw last at the grave. I went +in, _mon ami_. I made myself known as the attendant on her father's +death. She took my hand at this--ah, the soft white hand." + +The abbe sipped his wine. + +"She seemed sadly in want of friends, though there were luxuries +around her. She was dressed in white, her hair twisted back, and +fastened with a simple gold pin. Her sleeves were loose, and reached +but a little way below the elbow; and she wore a rose on her bosom, +and about her neck, by a little gold chain, a coral crucifix. + +"I told her I had made numerous inquiries for her. She smiled her +thanks. + +"I told her I had ventured to inquire, too, for the friend, Remy, of +whom her father had spoken; at this she put both hands to her face, +and burst into tears. + +"I begged pardon; I feared she had not found her friend. + +"'_Mon Dieu!_' said she, looking at me earnestly, '_il est_--_il etait +mon mari!_' + +"She burst into tears. What could I say? He is dead, too, then?" + +"'_Ah, non, non, monsieur_--worse--_Mon Dieu! quel mariage!_' and she +buried her face in her hands. + +"What could I do, _mon cher_? The _friend_ had betrayed her. They told +me as much at Passy." + +Again the abbe stopped. + +"She talked with a strange smile of her father; she wanted to visit +his grave again. She took the rose from her bosom--it was from his +grave--and kissed it, and then--crushed it in her hand--'Oh, God! +what should I do now with flowers?' said she. + +"I never saw her again. She went to her father's grave--but not to +pick roses. + +"_She is there now_," said the abbe. + +There was a long pause. The abbe did not want to speak--nor did I. + +At length I asked if he knew any thing of Remy. + +"You may see him any day up the Champs Elysiens," said the abbe. "Ah, +_mon ami_, there are many such. Poverty and shame may not come on him +again; wealth may pamper him, and he may fatten on the world's smiles; +but there is a time coming--it is coming, _mon cher_, when he will go +away--where God judgeth, and not man." + +Our dinner was ended. The abbe and myself took a _voiture_ to go to +Pere la Chaise. Just within the gateway, a little to the right of the +carriage-track, were two tablets, side by side--one was older than the +other. The lesser one was quite new; it was inscribed simply--"Marie, +1846." There were no flowers; even the grass was hardly yet rooted +about the smaller grave--but I picked a rose-bud from the grave of the +old man. I have it now. + +Before I left Paris, I went down into the old corridor again, in the +Rue de Seine. I looked up in the court at the little window at the +top. + +A new occupant had gone in; the broken glass was re-set, and a dirty +printed curtain was hanging over the lower half. I had rather have +seen it empty. + +I half wished I had never seen _Le Petit Soulier_. + + + + +EARLY ENGLISH POETS. + +BY ELIZABETH J. EAMES. + + + MILTON. +Learned and illustrious of all Poets thou, + Whose Titan intellect sublimely bore +The weight of years unbent; thou, on whose brow + Flourish'd the blossom of all human lore-- +How dost thou take us back, as 't were by vision, + To the grave learning of the Sanhedrim; +And we behold in visitings Elysian, + Where waved the white wings of the Cherubim; +But, through thy "Paradise Lost," and "Regained," + We might, enchanted, wander evermore. +Of all the genius-gifted thou hast reigned + King of our hearts; and, till upon the shore +Of the Eternal dies the voice of Time, + Thy name shall mightiest stand--pure, brilliant, and sublime. + + + DRYDEN. +Not dearer to the scholar's eye than mine, + (Albeit unlearned in ancient classic lore,) + The daintie Poesie of days of yore-- +The choice old English rhyme--and over thine, + Oh! "glorious John," delightedly I pore-- +Keen, vigorous, chaste, and full of harmony, + Deep in the soil of our humanity + It taketh root, until the goodly tree +Of Poesy puts forth green branch and bough, + With bud and blossom sweet. Through the rich gloom +Of one embowered haunt I see thee now, + Where 'neath thy hand the "Flower and Leaflet" bloom. +That hand to dust hath mouldered long ago, +Yet its creations with immortal life still glow. + + + ADDISON. +Thou, too, art worthy of all praise, whose pen, + "In thoughts that breathe, and words that burn," did shed, + A noontide glory over Milton's head-- +He, "Prince of Poets"--thou, the prince of men-- + Blessings on thee, and on the honored dead. +How dost thou charm for us the touching story + Of the lost children in the gloomy wood; +Haunting dim memory with the early glory, + That in youth's golden years our hearts imbued. +From the fine world of olden Poetry, + Life-like and fresh, thou bringest forth again + The gallant heroes of an earlier reign, +And blend them in our minds with thoughts of thee, +Whose name is ever shrined in old-world memory. + + + + +DISSOLVING VIEWS. + +OR, A BELLE IN A NEW LIGHT. + +BY F. E. F., AUTHOR OF "AARON'S ROD," "TELLING SECRETS," ETC. + + +CHAPTER I. + + +"You had better leave Harry alone about that girl," said Tom Leveredge +to his sisters, who were talking very fast, and sometimes both +together, in the heat and excitement of the subject under discussion. +"You only make Harry angry, and you do no good. Take my advice, and +say no more to him about her." + +"And let him engage himself without one word of remonstrance," +exclaimed Miss Leveredge, despairingly. + +"You don't know that he means to engage himself," argued Tom; "and if +he does, opposition wont prevent him. On the contrary, it may settle a +passing fancy into a serious feeling; and if he does not mean it now, +you are enough to put it into his head, with all the talk you make +about it." + +"_She'll_ put it into his head," ejaculated Miss Leveredge, +scornfully. "Leave her alone for that. She'll get him--I know she +will," she continued, almost in tears at the thought. "It's too bad!" + +"What do you think about it, Tom?" inquired Mrs. Castleton, earnestly. +"Do you think with Emma, that it will end in his having her?" + +"I should not be surprised," replied Tom, coolly. + +"Then you think he is in love with her?" continued his sister, +mournfully. + +"There's no telling," replied Tom. "He's a good deal with her; and if +he is thwarted at home, and flattered by her, I think it very possible +he may fancy himself so, whether he is or not." + +"Oh!" exclaimed Mrs. Castleton, "that would be melancholy, indeed--to +be taken in without even being attached to her!" + +"Don't be in such a hurry," said Tom. "I don't know that he is not in +love with her, or that he is going to be taken in; but I do say, that +Emma's course is very injudicious." + +"What is that?" inquired Mrs. Castleton. + +"Oh, abusing the girl so--saying she is vulgar, and--" + +"I am sure I did not say any thing that is not true," said Emma, with +some spirit. | + +"Perhaps not," replied Tom; "but it is not always wise to be forcing +the truth upon people at all times, and in all tempers." + +"Where on earth did Harry become acquainted with her?" asked Mrs. +Castleton. + +"That's more than I can tell you," replied Tom. "He told me that +Jewiston introduced him." + +"I never could bear that Jewiston," remarked Miss Leveredge; "I always +thought him very under-bred and vulgar. Why will Harry have any thing +to do with him?" + +"Who--Jewiston? He's a clever fellow enough," said Tom. + +"Oh, Tom! how can you say so!" + +"So he is," persisted the young man. "He's not very refined or +elegant, I grant you--but still a very good fellow." + +"And so you think, Tom," continued Mrs. Castleton, still intent on the +main theme, "that in all probability Miss Dawson will be our +sister-in-law?" + +Emma shivered. + +"I don't think it probable, but very possible," replied the young man, +"particularly under the present system of family politics." + +"And it would be very bad." pursued Mrs. Castleton, inquiringly. + +"Oh, dreadful!" ejaculated Emma. + +"There's nothing very _dreadful_ about it," remonstrated Tom; "it +would not be pleasant, certainly--but that's all. There's no use in +making the matter worse than it is." + +Emma looked as if that were impossible, but said nothing, while Mrs. +Castleton continued with-- + +"What kind of a set is she in--and what are the family?" + +"Very low, vulgar people," said Emma. + +"Now, Emma, there again you are exaggerating," rejoined Tom. "They are +_not_ a low set--vulgar, I admit." + +"The same thing," persisted Emma. + +"It's not the same thing, Emma," said the young man, decidedly. "They +are very far from being _low_ people. Her father is a highly +respectable man, and, indeed, so are all the family--not fashionable, +I grant you." + +"Fashionable!" ejaculated Emma, with a smile full of scornful meaning. + +"But I admit," continued Tom, "that it is not a connection that would +altogether suit us. I should be as sorry, perhaps, as any of you to +see the thing take place." + +"And what is the girl in herself," pursued Mrs. Castleton. + +"A vulgar, forward, ugly thing," said Emma, speaking quickly, as if +she could not help herself--the words must out, let Tom say what he +would. + +Tom said nothing, however. + +"Is she?" said Mrs. Castleton, looking very much distressed, and +turning to her brother. + +"Emma will have it that she is," he replied. + +"Now, Tom, you know she is," expostulated Emma. + +"No, Emma," said Tom, "if you will permit me, I know no such thing." + +"You surely don't admire her, too," said Emma, with a look of mingled +alarm and disgust. + +"No," said Tom, "she is as you say, vulgar, and somewhat forward--but +not ugly. On the contrary, she is decidedly handsome." + +"Handsome!" repeated Miss Leveredge. "Do you call her handsome, with +all those hanging curls, and that _feroniere_, and her hat on the very +back of her head; with her short petticoats and big feet--and such +bright colors, and quantity of tawdry jewelry as she wears, too." + +"You women never can separate a girl from her dress," said Tom, +laughing. "Miss Dawson dresses execrably, I grant you; but give her +one half of the advantages of the girls that you see around you in +society, and she would be not only pretty, but beautiful." + +"Then she may be improved," said Mrs. Castleton, hopefully. + +"Not much of that," said Tom. "She is very well satisfied with +herself, I imagine." + +"Oh, it's evident she's a public belle and beauty in her own set," +said Emma. "She's full of airs and graces." + +Mrs. Castleton sighed. + +"It's a bad business, I am afraid," she said, mournfully. + +"No," said Tom, stoutly, "it's not pleasant, and that's all. The girl +may make a very good wife, though she does dress badly. She looks +amiable, and I dare say has sense enough." + +"It's not her dress only," persisted Emma, "but her manners are so +bad." + +"Well, many a flirty girl has settled into a very respectable married +woman," continued Tom. + +"Where have you seen her, Emma?" asked Mrs. Castleton. + +"Tom pointed her out to me one night at the theatre; and I have since +seen her in the street frequently." + +"Then you do not know her at all?" continued Mrs. Castleton, with some +surprise in her tone. "How, then, do you know any thing about her +manners, Emma?" + +"It's not necessary to know her to know what her manners are," replied +Emma. "One glance across the theatre is enough for that. She had two +or three beaux with her--indeed, I believe she was there only with +them--" + +"Her mother was with her, Emma," interposed Tom, decidedly. + +"Well," continued Emma, a little provoked at being set right, "she +ought to have made her behave herself, then." + +"But how did she behave, Emma?" pursued Mrs. Castleton, who had been +absent from the city during the rise and progress of this flirtation, +and was now anxious for as much information as could be obtained on +the subject. + +"Oh, laughing, and flirting, and shaking her long curls back, and +looking up to their faces--perfectly disgusting!" + +Mrs. Castleton looked at her brother in the hopes of some amendment +here on his part; but he only smiled, and shook his head, and said, + +"Pretty much so, Emma." + +"And then, dressed--oh, you never saw a girl so bedizzened!" + +"Strange!" said Mrs. Castleton. "that Harry should admire such a girl. +He is generally rather critical--hates particularly to see you at all +over-dressed, Emma. He never would admire Fanny Lewis, you know, +because she had something of that manner. I wonder he should admire +this girl." + +"Oh, it all depends very much upon the _clique_ in which a man sees a +girl how she strikes him," said Tom. "Miss Dawson's manners are very +much those of the girls around her, quite as good, if not better; then +she is really handsome--moreover, very much admired, the belle of the +set; and Harry's vanity is rather flattered, I suppose, by the +preference she shows him." + +"You think, then, she likes him?" said Mrs. Castleton. + +"I know nothing more about it than you do," replied Tom. "I suppose +she must, for she certainly could marry richer men than Harry if she +wanted to. She has the merit, at least, of disinterestedness." + +"Harry would be a great match for her," said Emma, indignantly--"and +she knows it. She might get more money, perhaps, but think of the +difference of position." + +"Yes, I suppose that has something to do with it," replied Tom. "You +women all think so much of such things." + +"Strange!" repeated Mrs. Castleton, "I don't know how Harry can fancy +such a girl." + +"Don't you know all objects vary according to the light they are in," +said Tom. "If Harry saw Miss Dawson among young ladies of a different +style and stamp, the changes of the 'dissolving views' would not be +greater. The present picture would fade away, and a new, and in all +probability a very different one, would take its place." + +"That's a good idea!" exclaimed Mrs. Castleton, suddenly, and clapping +her hands joyfully. "I'll call and ask her to my party for the bride." + +Emma looked at her for a moment aghast, as if she thought she had +suddenly gone crazy. + +"What do you mean, Laura?" she exclaimed. + +"Why, to follow out Tom's idea," she said. "It's excellent! I'm going +to give Mrs. Flemming a party. I'll make it very select, and not +large; invite all the prettiest and most elegant girls, and then play +amiable to Harry, by telling him I'll call upon his Miss Dawson and +invite her." + +Emma looked very dubious, and said, + +"I don't like our countenancing the thing in this way." + +"You need have nothing to do with it," returned her sister. "As it +seems you and Harry have had words about it, you had better not; but +_I_'ll call--I'll have her. And it shall be such an elegant, select +little affair that it will show her off to charming advantage," she +continued, with much animation, delighted with her own cleverness in +the scheme. "He can't help but be ashamed of her. Don't you think so, +Tom?" + +The young man laughed. + +"Now, Tom," said she, a little disappointed, "don't you think so?" + +"There's a good chance of it, certainly," he replied. "You can but try +it." + +"Then why do you laugh," she continued, still dissatisfied. + +"Only to see what spiteful creatures you women are," he continued, +smiling. "To see the pains you'll take to put down a girl you don't +happen to fancy." + +"Surely, you yourself, Tom," commenced Mrs. Castleton, seriously, and +"I am sure, Tom," chimed in Emma, in the same breath, "you have always +said--" and then they both poured forth such a torrent of reminiscences +and good reasons for wishing to prevent the match, that he was glad to +cry for mercy, and ended by saying seriously, + +"I am sure I hope you may succeed." + + +CHAPTER II. + + +"Harry," said Mrs. Castleton, in her prettiest and most winning +manner, "I am going to call on your friend, Miss Dawson, and invite +her for Thursday evening." + +Harry looked up very much astonished, hardly knowing whether to be +pleased or not, and said, + +"What put that in your head?" + +"I want to know her," continued Mrs. Castleton. "They tell me you +admire her, Harry; and if she is to be my future sister, as people +say--" + +"People say a great deal more than they know," said Harry, hastily. + +"Well," rejoined his sister, playfully, "be that as it may, Harry, I +should like to see the young lady; and beside, I want as many pretty +girls as I can get, they always make a party brilliant--and you say +she is pretty, don't you, Harry?" + +"Beautiful," he replied, with an earnestness that startled Mrs. +Castleton. "You'll have no prettier girl here, I promise you that, +Laura," he added, presently, more quietly. "But what will Emma say," +he continued, bitterly. "She'll never give her consent, depend upon +it, to your calling." + +"It's not necessary that she should," said Mrs. Castleton, good +humoredly; "so perhaps I had better not ask her." + +"Emma gives herself airs," continued Harry, angrily. "She thinks that +all the world are just confined to her one little _clique_; that +there's neither beauty, nor sense, nor any thing else out of her +particular set. Now I can tell her that there's more beauty among +those who don't give themselves half the airs, and who she looks down +upon, than there is to be found among her 'fashionables.' But Emma is +perfectly ridiculous with her 'exclusive' nonsense," he continued, +with much feeling, evidently showing how deeply he resented his +sister's reflections upon the style and stamp of his present +admiration, Miss Dawson. + +"Oh," said Mrs. Castleton, soothingly, "it's a mistake all very young +girls make, Harry. They know nothing out of one circle. Of course, +they disparage all others." + +But Harry was not to be quieted so easily. He was not satisfied until +he had poured forth all his complaints against Emma; and Mrs. +Castleton found it best not to take her part, but trust to the result +of her experiment of the next week with putting him in good humor with +her again. + +"Will you call with me?" she continued, presently. "I have ordered the +carriage at one." + +He looked pleased, and said he would. But after a little while he +seemed to grow nervous and fidgetty--walked about the room--asked a +good many questions, without seeming to attend much to the answers, +and at last said, hurriedly, + +"Well, Laura, it's rather late, and I have an engagement down town--do +you care about my calling with you? You know it's only necessary for +you to leave your card. You need not go in even, if you don't care +about it." + +"Oh, certainly," she replied. "No, don't wait for me." + +And he took his hat and darted off like light, as if he had made an +escape from he hardly knew what. + +Mrs. Castleton could not but laugh as she heard him shut the +hall-door, almost before she was aware he had left the room, well +pleased with this indication of susceptibility on his part, which she +took as a good omen of the future, fully believing that "future events +cast their shadows before." "If Harry were nervous already, what would +he be on Thursday evening." + +The call was made. Miss Dawson was out. A card was left, with an +invitation, which, in due time, was accepted. + +"Are you going to ask the Hazletons," inquired Emma. + +"No," said Mrs. Castleton; "I don't want to have too large a party. I +want just enough to fill my rooms prettily, so that you can see +everybody, and how they are dressed--just one of those small, select, +pretty parties, where everybody is noticed. I have hardly asked a +person--I don't know one--who is not in some way distinguished for +either dress, manner, air, or beauty. I have taken pains to cull the +most choice of my acquaintance. The rooms will be beautifully +lighted--and I expect it to be a brilliant affair." + +"If it were not for that Miss Dawson to spoil all," said Emma, +dejectedly--for she had never liked the scheme, though she did not +oppose it. "I declare, Laura, I wonder at your moral courage in having +her. I don't think _I_ could introduce her among such a set, even to +be sure of breaking it off. You will be terribly ashamed of her. You +don't know, I think, what you have undertaken." + +Mrs. Castleton could not but laugh at the earnestness, not to say +solemnity, of Emma's manner. + +"Not I, Emma--why should I be ashamed of her. If she were Harry's +wife, or if even he were engaged to her, the case would be +different--I should blush for her then, if she is vulgar. But merely +as a guest, how can her dress or manners affect _me_. My position is +not to be altered by my happening to visit a girl who dresses vilely, +and flirts _a discretion_." + +But still Emma looked very dubious, and only said, "Well, don't +introduce me." + +"Don't be alarmed," replied her sister. "I don't mean to. Come, come, +Emma," she continued, laughing, "I see you are nervous about it, but I +think you may trust me for carrying it off well," to which her sister +replied, + +"Well, Laura, if any one _can_ get out of such a scrape gracefully, +you will." + +Mrs. Castleton laughed, and the subject dropped. + +What Emma had said was true. There was an airy grace, a high-bred ease +about Mrs. Castlelon, that could carry her through any thing she chose +to undertake. + +Thursday evening arrived at last. Mrs. Castleton's rooms were lighted +to perfection, and she herself dressed with exquisite taste, looking +the fitting priestess of the elegant shrine over which she presided. +Emma, with her brothers, came early--and one glance satisfied Mrs. +Castleton. The simplicity and elegance of Emma's _toilette_ were not +to be out-done even by her own. Tom looked at them both with great +pride; and, certainly, two prettier or more elegant specimens of +humanity are not often to be met with. + +He made some playful observation to his sister, expressive of his +admiration of her taste, and looking about, said, + +"Your rooms are very well lighted. There's nothing like wax, after +all." + +"They are too hot," said Harry, pettishly. + +"Bless you, man," replied Tom, "how can you say so. I am downright +chilly; but as there is to be dancing, it is better it should be so." + +"If you find this room warm, Harry," said Mrs. Castleton, "you had +better go in the dancing-room--there is not a spark of fire there." + +Harry walked off, and Emma said, + +"I don't know what is the matter with him--he's so cross. He has been +so irritable all day that I have hardly dared to speak to him." + +Tom only laughed. + +Mrs. Castleton gave him a quick look of intelligence, but before she +had time to speak, she was called upon to receive her guests, who +began to come. + +At every fresh arrival Harry's face was to be seen peeping in +anxiously from the dancing-room, and it wore something of a look of +relief as he turned off each time to resume his restless wanderings in +the still empty apartment. + +Miss Dawson, meaning to be very fashionable, came late. The bride for +whom the party was ostensibly given had arrived; and Mrs. Castleton +was about giving orders to have the dancing-room thrown open, and just +at the pause that frequently precedes such a movement in a small +party, the door was thrown open, and Miss Dawson entered, leaning on +the arm of a gentleman whom she introduced as Mr. Hardwicks. Now this +Mr. Hardwicks was something more than Mrs. Castleton had bargained +for; and Harry hastened forward with a look of some embarrassment and +vexation as he perceived the mistake his fair friend had made in +taking such a liberty with his high-bred sister. Miss Dawson had often +taken _him_ to parties with her, and somehow it had not struck him +then as strange. Perhaps it was because he saw it was the style among +those around him. But these were not the "customs of Branksome Hall;" +and Harry was evidently annoyed. Moreover, this Mr. Hardwicks was a +forward, under-bred looking individual, with a quantity of black +whisker, and brass buttons to his claret-colored coat, altogether a +very different looking person from the black-coated, gentlemanly-looking +set that Mrs. Castleton had invited. She received him with a graceful +but distant bow, somewhat annoyed, it is true; but as she never +allowed trifles to disturb her, she turned calmly away, and never gave +him a second thought during the evening. + +Miss Dawson she received with _empressement_. She was dressed to her +heart's delight, with a profusion of mock pearl and tinsel; her hair +in a shower of long curls in front, with any quantity of bows and +braids behind, and a wreath!--that required all Mrs. Castleton's +self-possession to look at without laughing. Her entrance excited no +little sensation--for she was a striking-looking girl, being tall, and +full formed, with a very brilliant complexion. Simply and quietly +dressed, and she would have been decidedly handsome; but as it was, +she was intensely _showy_ and vulgar. + +"Harry, the music is just beginning; you will find a place for Miss +Dawson in the dancing-room," and so, whether he would or no, he had to +ask her to dance. Probably he would have done so if his sister had let +him alone; but as it was, he felt as if he _had_ to. + +She danced very badly. Harry had not been aware of it before; but she +jumped up and down--and if the truth must be told, with an air and +spirit of enjoyment not just then the fashionable style. + +"How in earnest your fair friend dances," said a young man, with a +smile, to Harry, as they passed in the dance. + +Harry colored. + +"Who on earth have you there, Harry?" asked another, with rather a +quizzical look. "Introduce me, wont you?" But Harry affected not to +hear the request. + +"Who is the young lady your brother is dancing with, Mrs. Castleton?" +he heard asked several times; to which his sister answered in her +sweetest and most winning manner, "Miss Dawson--a friend of Harry's;" +and to some of her brother's particular friends, he heard her say, +"Oh, that's Harry's _belle_. Don't you know Miss Dawson--let me +introduce you." + +Harry felt quite provoked, he did not know why, at hearing his sister +couple _him_ always with Miss Dawson; and if he thought the room hot +at the beginning of the dance, he did not feel it any cooler before it +was over. + +Mrs. Castleton introduced a gentleman just as the dance finished, who +asked her for the next, when Harry said quickly, + +"You are fatigued, are you not? Perhaps you had better go with me and +get an ice." + +"Do you go and bring Miss Dawson one," said his sister. "I hope," she +continued, "you are not fatigued already?" + +"Oh, no," replied the young lady, with an animation and energy that +proclaimed she had a dancing power within not to be readily exhausted. +"Oh, no, indeed; I could dance all night." + +"I am glad to hear it," said Mrs. Castleton, graciously, as if she +felt her dancing a personal compliment. And before the dance was over +she had introduced half a dozen young men to her. + +Feeling herself a decided belle, Miss Dawson was in high spirits (that +trying test to an unrefined woman.) She considered Mrs. Castleton's +visit and invitation as a marked compliment, (as she had every right +to do,) and her attentions now, and the admiration she received, +excited her to even more than her ordinary animation, which was +always, to say the least of it, sufficient. She laughed, and she +talked, and shook her long curls about, and flirted in a style that +made the ladies look, and the gentlemen smile. Moreover, Mr. +Hardwicks, who knew no one else, (for Mrs. Castleton had no idea of +forcing _him_ on any of her friends,) never left her side; and the +easy manner in which he spoke to her, and took her fan from her hand +while she was talking, and even touched her sleeve to call her +attention when her head was turned away, all of which she seemed to +think quite natural, made Harry color, and bite his lip more than once +with mortification and vexation. + +"You are not going to waltz?" he said, justly distrusting the waltzing +of a lady who danced so. + +"Yes," she said, "with Mr. Hardwicks;" and in a moment they were +whirling round in a style quite peculiar, and altogether new to the +accomplished waltzers then and there assembled. + +People looked, and some smiled--and then couple after couple paused in +the dance to gaze on the strangers who had just taken the floor--and +soon they had it all to themselves, and on they whirled like mad ones. +Harry could not stand it--he left the room. + +Presently some of his young friends followed him, who seemed +excessively amused, and one of them exclaimed, + +"Harry, where on earth did you pick up those extraordinary waltzers. +Mrs. Castleton tells me they are friends of yours?" + +Harry muttered something, and said, + +"Hardwicks should not ask any woman to waltz. He did not know how; no +man should, if he could not waltz himself." + +"Are you dancing, Francis?" asked another, of a fashionable looking +young man standing near. + +"No," he replied, languidly, "I am exhausted. I danced with Harry's +fair friend the last dance, and it requires no small degree of +physical power to keep pace with her efforts." + +Harry was excessively annoyed. He heartily wished he had never seen +her; and was quite angry with Mrs. Castleton for having invited her. +And just then, irritated and cross as he was, Mrs. Castleton met him +with, + +"Harry, Miss Dawson says you have carried off her bouquet." + +"I have not got her bouquet," he answered, angrily. + +"Well, go and make your own apology," and before he had time to know +what she was about, she had her arm in his, and had taken him up to +Miss Dawson, saying, + +"Here is the culprit, Miss Dawson--but he pleads not guilty;" +whereupon the young lady tapped him with her fan, and declared he was +a "sad fellow," and shook her curls back, and looked up in his face, +and flirted, as she thought, bewitchingly, while he with pleasure +could have boxed her ears. + +"Your carriage is at the door," Mrs. Castlelon heard him say soon +after. + +"Why, Harry!" exclaimed his sister, looking almost shocked at his +evident desire to hurry away her guest. "You surely don't think of +going yet. Miss Dawson?" said she, in her most persuasive manner. "You +will dance this polka." + +A polka! Harry was in despair. He would have preferred dancing on hot +ploughshares himself. + +"The scheme works to admiration," said Mrs. Castleton to Emma, as they +met for a moment in the crowd. + +"But it has spoiled your party," replied the other. + +"Not at all," she answered, laughing, "what it has withdrawn in +elegance, it has made up in spirit. The joke seems to take +wonderfully." + +But Emma did not like such "jokes." Mrs. Castleton's _hauteur_ was of +a more flexible kind. To spoil a match she was willing to spoil her +party. + +"Was I right?" she said to Tom, toward the close of the evening. + +He nodded and laughed, and said, "I congratulate you." + +Harry had in vain attempted to persuade Miss Dawson that she was +heated and tired, and had better not polka; but the young lady thought +him over-careful, and chose to dance. + +"A willful thing!" muttered Harry, as he turned off. "Trifles show the +temper--preserve me from an unamiable woman." + +Now Miss Dawson was not unamiable, but Harry was cross. If he were +ashamed of her, she was hardly to be expected to know that. At any +rate he walked off and left her to take care of herself. Mr. Hardwicks +took her home as he had brought her--and Harry hardly looked at her +again. + +He was thoroughly out of humor. Mrs. Castleton had discretion enough +not to follow up her victory. She saw she was successful, and so left +things to their own course. + +Never was a "dissolving view" more perfect. Harry had really imagined +Miss Dawson not only very beautiful, but thought she would grace any +drawing-room in Europe. He now saw her hoydenish, flirty, and +ungraceful, with beauty of a very unrefined style--in fact, a +different person. Such is the power of contrast, and the effect of a +"new light." + +The spell was broken--for when a lover is mortified, ashamed of his +choice, the danger is over. + +Fortunately, his honor was no deeper pledged than his heart. Miss +Dawson had not flirted more with him than with two or three others; +and though she would have preferred him, one of the others would do. + + * * * * * + +"What did Harry say of my party last night?" asked Mrs. Castleton of +her sister. + +"He merely said 'it was a great bore, this going out,' and seemed +quite cross, and took his light and walked off to his room +immediately; and, in fact, it seemed such a delicate point with him, +that I did not dare to make any allusion to it this morning." + +"Poor fellow! I don't wonder," said Mrs. Castleton, laughing. "How she +did look beside the Claverings and Lesters." + +"Like a peony among moss rose-buds," said Emma. + + * * * * * + +"Laura," said Harry, a few days after, "I am going to New Orleans for +the rest of the winter." + +"Are you?" she said, in surprise. + +"Yes. My father is anxious about that business of his, and I am going +for him." + +"I thought you had declined, and that he was going to send Tom," she +said. + +"I've changed my mind," he replied. "In fact it is very dull here, and +as Tom don't want to go, I think I shall like the trip." + +"I've no doubt you will find it very pleasant," she said, cheerfully, +amused at his proposing himself the very thing they had all been so +anxious to have him do, and which he had negatived so decidedly some +weeks back. + + * * * * * + +"Ah, Tom," said Mrs. Castleton, laughing, "that was a bright idea of +yours. There's nothing like a new light for bringing out new colors. I +think that party of mine finished Miss Dawson." + +"You need not crow too much, Laura," replied Tom, "for, in all +probability, if you had left Harry alone in the beginning, the party +never would have been required. You women never learn not to thwart +and oppose a man until it is too late. _Then_, you'll move heaven and +earth to undo your own work. If you would only govern that 'unruly +member' in the beginning, you would have required no 'dissolving +views, in the end." + + + + +THE VOICE OF THE FIRE. + +BY J. BAYARD TAYLOR. + + +They sat by the hearth-stone, broad and bright, +Whose burning brands threw a cheerful light +On the frosty calm of the winter's night. + +Her radiant features wore the gleam +Which childhood learns from an angel-dream, +And her bright hair stirred in the flickering beam. + +Those tresses soft to his lips were pressed, +Her head was leaned on his happy breast, +And the throb of the bosom his soul expressed; + +And ever a gentle murmur came +From the clear, bright heart of the wavering flame, +Like the faltering thrill of a worshiped name. + +He kissed her on the warm, white brow, +And told her in fonder words, the vow +He whispered under the moonlit bough; + +And o'er them a steady radiance came +From the shining heart of the mounting flame, +Like a love that burns through life the same. + +The maiden smiled through her joy-dimmed eyes, +As he led her spirit to sunnier skies, +Whose cloudless light on the future lies-- + +And a moment paused the laughing flame, +And it listened awhile, and then there came +A cheery burst from its sparkling frame. + +He visioned a home by pure love blest, +Clasping their souls in a calmer rest, +Like woodland birds in their leafy nest. + +There slept, foreshadowed, the bliss to be, +When a tenderer life that home should see, +In the wingless cherub that climbed his knee. + +And the flame went on with its flickering song, +And beckoned and laughed to the lovers long, +Who sat in its radiance, red and strong. + +Then broke and fell a glimmering brand +To the cold, dead ashes it fed and fanned, +And its last gleam leaped like an infant's hand. + +A sudden dread to the maiden stole, +For the gloom of a sorrow seemed to roll +O'er the sunny landscape within her soul. + +But, hovering over its smouldering bed, +Its ruddy pinions the flame outspread, +And again through the chamber its glory shed; + +And ever its chorus seemed to be +The mingled voices of household glee, +Like a gush of winds in a mountain tree. + +The night went on in its silent flow, +While through the waving and wreathed glow +They watched the years of the Future go. + +Their happy spirits learned the chime +Of its laughing voice and murmured rhyme-- +A joyous music for aftertime. + +They felt a flame as glorious start, +Where, side by side, they dwelt apart, +In the quiet homestead of the heart. + + + + +MARGINALIA. + +BY EDGAR A. POE. + + +One of the happiest examples, in a small way, of the +carrying-one's-self-in-a-hand-basket logic, is to be found in a London +weekly paper called "The Popular Record of Modern Science; a Journal +of Philosophy and General Information." This work has a vast +circulation, and is respected by eminent men. Sometime in November, +1845, it copied from the "Columbian Magazine" of New York, a rather +adventurous article of mine, called "Mesmeric Revelation." It had the +impudence, also, to spoil the title by improving it to "The Last +Conversation of a Somnambule"--a phrase that is nothing at all to the +purpose, since the person who "converses" is _not_ a somnambule. He is +a sleep-waker--_not_ a sleep-walker; but I presume that "The Record" +thought it was only the difference of an _l_. What I chiefly complain +of, however, is that the London editor prefaced my paper with these +words:--"The following is an article communicated to the Columbian +Magazine, a journal of respectability and influence in the United +States, by Mr. Edgar A. Poe. _It bears internal evidence of +authenticity._"! + +There is no subject under heaven about which funnier ideas are, in +general, entertained than about this subject of internal evidence. It +is by "internal evidence," observe, that we decide upon the mind. + +But to "The Record:"--On the issue of my "Valdemar Case," this journal +copies it, as a matter of course, and (also as a matter of course) +improves the title, as in the previous instance. But the editorial +comments may as well be called profound. Here they are: + + "The following narrative appears in a recent number of + _The American Magazine_, a respectable periodical in + the United States. It comes, it will be observed, from + the narrator of the 'Last Conversation of a + Somnambule,' published in The Record of the 29th of + November. In extracting this case the _Morning Post_ of + Monday last, takes what it considers the safe side, by + remarking--'For our own parts we do not believe it; and + there are several statements made, more especially with + regard to the disease of which the patient died, which + at once prove the case to be either a fabrication, or + the work of one little acquainted with consumption. The + story, however, is wonderful, and we therefore give + it.' The editor, however, does not point out the + especial statements which are inconsistent with what we + know of the progress of consumption, and as few + scientific persons would be willing to take their + pathology any more than their logic from the _Morning + Post_, his caution, it is to be feared, will not have + much weight. The reason assigned by the Post for + publishing the account is quaint, and would apply + equally to an adventure from Baron Munchausen:--'it is + wonderful and we therefore give it.'...The above case + is obviously one that cannot be received except on the + strongest testimony, and it is equally clear that the + testimony by which it is at present accompanied, is not + of that character. The most favorable circumstances in + support of it, consist in the fact that credence is + understood to be given to it at New York, within a few + miles of which city the affair took place, and where + consequently the most ready means must be found for its + authentication or disproval. The initials of the + medical men and of the young medical student must be + sufficient in the immediate locality, to establish + their identity, especially as M. Valdemar was well + known, and had been so long ill as to render it out of + the question that there should be any difficulty in + ascertaining the names of the physicians by whom he had + been attended. In the same way the nurses and servants + under whose cognizance the case must have come during + the seven months which it occupied, are of course + accessible to all sorts of inquiries. It will, + therefore, appear that there must have been too many + parties concerned to render prolonged deception + practicable. The angry excitement and various rumors + which have at length rendered a public statement + necessary, are also sufficient to show that _something_ + extraordinary must have taken place. On the other hand + there is no strong point for disbelief. The + circumstances are, as the Post says, 'wonderful;' but + so are all circumstances that come to our knowledge for + the first time--and in Mesmerism every thing is new. An + objection may be made that the article has rather a + Magazinish air; Mr. Poe having evidently written with a + view to effect, and so as to excite rather than to + subdue the vague appetite for the mysterious and the + horrible which such a case, under any circumstances, is + sure to awaken--but apart from this there is nothing to + deter a philosophic mind from further inquiries + regarding it. It is a matter entirely for testimony. + [So it is.] Under this view we shall take steps to + procure from some of the most intelligent and + influential citizens of New York all the evidence that + can be had upon the subject. No steamer will leave + England for America till the 3d of February, but within + a few weeks of that time we doubt not it will be + possible to lay before the readers of the _Record_ + information which will enable them to come to a pretty + accurate conclusion." + +Yes; and no doubt they came to one accurate enough, in the end. But +all this rigmarole is what people call testing a thing by "internal +evidence." The _Record_ insists upon the truth of the story because of +certain facts--because "the initials of the young men _must_ be +sufficient to establish their identity"--because "the nurses _must_ be +accessible to all sorts of inquiries"--and because the "angry +excitement and various rumors which at length rendered a public +statement necessary, are sufficient to show that _something_ +extraordinary _must_ have taken place." + +To be sure! The story is proved by these facts--the facts about the +students, the nurses, the excitement, the credence given the tale at +New York. And now all we have to do is to prove these facts. +Ah!--_they_ are proved _by the story_. + +As for the _Morning Post_, it evinces more weakness in its disbelief +than the _Record_ in its credulity. What the former says about +doubting on account of inaccuracy in the detail of the phthisical +symptoms, is a mere _fetch_, as the Cockneys have it, in order to make +a very few little children believe that it, the Post, is not quite so +stupid as a post proverbially is. It knows nearly as much about +pathology as it does about English grammar--and I really hope it will +not feel called upon to blush at the compliment. I represented the +symptoms of M. Valdemar as "severe," to be sure. I put an extreme +case; for it was necessary that I should leave on the reader's mind no +doubt as to the certainty of death without the aid of the +Mesmerist--but such symptoms _might_ have appeared--the identical +symptoms _have appeared_, and will be presented again and again. Had +the Post been only half as honest as ignorant, it would have owned +that it disbelieved for no reason more profound than that which +influences all dunces in disbelieving--it would have owned that it +doubted the thing merely because the thing was a "wonderful" thing, +and had never yet been printed in a book. + + + + +LETHE. + +BY HENRY B. HIRST. + + _Agressi sunt mare tenebrarum id in eo exploraturi esset._ + NUBIAN GEOGRAPHER. + + _Looking like Lethe, see! the lake_ + A conscious slumber seems to take, + And would not for the world awake. "_The Sleepers_." POE. + + +There is a lake whose lilies lie + Like maidens in the lap of death, + So pale, so cold, so motionless + Its Stygian breast they press; +They breathe, and toward the purple sky + The pallid perfumes of their breath +Ascend in spiral shapes, for there +No wind disturbs the voiceless air-- +No murmur breaks the oblivious mood +Of that tenebrean solitude-- +No Djinn, no Ghoul, no Afrit laves +His giant limbs within its waves +Beneath the wan Saturnian light +That swoons in the omnipresent night; +But only funeral forms arise, +With arms uplifted to the skies, +And gaze, with blank, cavernous eyes +In whose dull glare no Future lies,-- +The shadows of the dead--the Dead +Of whom no mortal soul hath read, +No record come, in prose or rhyme, +Down from the dim Primeval Time! +A moment gazing--they are gone-- +Without a sob--without a groan-- +Without a sigh--without a moan-- +And the lake again is left alone-- +Left to that undisturbed repose +Which in an ebon vapor flows +Among the cypresses that stand +A stone-cast from the sombre strand-- +Among the trees whose shadows wake, +But not to life, within the lake, +That stand, like statues of the Past, +And will, while that ebony lake shall last. + +But when the more than Stygian night +Descends with slow and owl-like flight, +Silent as Death (who comes--we know-- +Unheard, unknown of all below;) +Above that dark and desolate wave, +The reflex of the eternal grave-- +Gigantic birds with flaming eyes +Sweep upward, onward through the skies, +Or stalk, without a wish to fly, +Where the reposing lilies lie; +While, stirring neither twig nor grass, +Among the trees, in silence, pass +Titanic animals whose race +Existed, but has left no trace +Of name, or size, or shape, or hue-- +Whom ancient Adam never knew. + +At midnight, still without a sound, +Approaching through the black Profound, +Shadows, in shrouds of pallid hue, +Come slowly, slowly, two by two, +In double line, with funeral march, +Through groves of cypress, yew and larch, +Descending in those waves that part, +Then close, above each silent heart; +While, in the distance, far ahead, +The shadows of the Earlier Dead +Arise, with speculating eyes, +Forgetful of their destinies, +And gaze, and gaze, and gaze again +Upon the long funereal train, +Undreaming their Descendants come +To make that ebony lake their home-- +To vanish, and become at last +A parcel of the awful Past-- +The hideous, unremembered Past +Which Time, in utter scorn, has cast +Behind him, as with unblenched eye, +He travels toward Eternity-- +That Lethe, in whose sunless wave +Even he, himself, must find a grave! + + + + +EPITAPH ON A RESTLESS LADY. + + +The gates were unbarred--the home of the blest + Freely opened to welcome Miss C----; +But hearing the chorus that "Heaven is Rest," + She turned from the angels to flee, +Saying, "Rest is no Heaven to me!" + + + + +MY LADY-HELP. + +OR AUNT LINA'S VISIT. + +BY ENNA DUVAL. + + +"You are in want of an efficient person to assist you in taking charge +of your domestic affairs, Enna," said a maiden aunt of mine to me one +evening. I pulled my little sewing-table toward me with a slight +degree of impatience, and began very earnestly to examine the contents +of my work-box, that I might not express aloud my weariness of my +aunt's favorite subject. I had been in want of just such an article as +an "efficient person" ever since I had taken charge of my father's +_menage_; and after undergoing almost martyrdom with slip-shod, +thriftless, good-for-nothing "_help_," as we Americans, with such +delicate consideration, term our serving maids, I had come to the +conclusion that indifferent "_help_" was an unavoidable evil, and that +the best must be made of the poor, miserable instruments of assistance +vouchsafed unto the race of tried, vexed housekeepers. + +"I have just thought," continued my aunt, "of a very excellent person +that will suit you in every way. Lizzie Hall, the one I was thinking +of, has never been accustomed to living out. Her father is a farmer in +our place, but having made a second marriage, and with a young family +coming up around him, Lizzie very properly wishes to do something for +herself. I remember having heard her express such a desire; and I have +no doubt I could persuade her to come to you. She is not very +young--about eight-and-twenty, or thereabouts." + +I listened to my Aunt Lina's talk with, it must be confessed, +indifference, mingled with a little sullenness, and quieted my +impatience by inward ejaculations--a vast deal of good do those inward +conversations produce, such mollifiers of the temper are they. "So, +so," said I to myself, "my Aunt Lina's paragon is a '_lady-help_.' Of +all kinds 'of help' the very one I have endeavored most to avoid; it +is such a nondescript kind of creature that lady-help;" and as I +soliloquized, recollections of specimens of the kind I had been +afflicted with, came in sad array before my memory--maids with +slip-shod French kid slippers, that had never been large enough for +their feet--love-locks on either side of their cheeks, twirled up +during the day in brown curl-papers--faded lawn dresses, with dangling +flounces and tattered edging; then such sentimental entreaties that I +should not make them answer the door-bell if Ike, the black boy, might +happen to be away on some errand, or expose them to the rude gaze of +the multitude in the market-house; and I groaned in spirit as I +thought what a troublesome creature the "lady-help" was to manage. +During this sympathizing colloquy with myself, my aunt went on +expatiating most eloquently on the merits of her _protege_, Lizzie +Hall. Some pause occurring--for want of breath, I really believe, on +my aunt's side--good-breeding seemed to require a remark from me, and +I faltered out some objection as to the accommodations a city +household afforded for a person of Lizzie Hall's condition. + +"Of course," said my aunt, "she will not wish to sit at the same table +with the black servants you may happen to have; but Lizzie will not +cause you any trouble on the score of accommodations, I'll answer for +it, Enna; she is too sensible a person not to fully understand the +difference between town and country habits--and if you say so, I will +engage her for you when I return to Rockland." + +My father, who had been dozing over his paper, gradually aroused +himself as this conversation progressed, and as my aunt made the last +proposition, he entered into it most cordially, and begged she would +endeavor to procure the young woman, and send her by the earliest +opportunity. I remained quiet--for I could not say any thing heartily, +seeing nothing but vexation and annoyance in the whole affair for me. +The young woman was evidently a favorite with my Aunt Lina; and should +she not prove a very useful or agreeable maid to me, I would receive +but little sympathy from my immediate family. My father is as ignorant +as a child of what we poor housekeepers require in a domestic; and my +Aunt Lina, though kind-hearted and well-wishing, is in equally as +blissful a state. A very indifferent servant, who happened to please +her fancy, she would magnify into a very excellent one; then, being +rather opinionative and "_set_," as maiden ladies are apt to be when +they pass the fatal threshold of forty, I despaired of ever convincing +her to the contrary. "However," said I to myself, "I will not +anticipate trouble." + +I had just recovered from a dangerous fit of illness, through which my +kind, well-meaning aunt had patiently nursed me. At the first news of +my sickness she had, unsummoned, left her comfortable home in +Rockland, in mid-winter, and had crossed the mountains to watch beside +the feverish pillow of her motherless niece. Careful and kind was her +nursing; and even the physicians owned that to her patient +watchfulness I owed my life. How grateful was I; and with what looks +of love did I gaze on her trim, spinster figure, as she moved +earnestly and pains-taking around my chamber; but, alas! the kitchen +told a different story when I was well enough to make my appearance +there. Biddy, a raw, bewildered-looking Irish girl, with huge red arms +and stamping feet, had quite lost her confused, stupid expression of +countenance, and was most eloquent in telling me, with all the +volubility of our sex, of the "quare ways of the ould maid." + +"Sure, and if the ould sowl could only have had a husband and a parcel +of childthers to mind, she wouldn't have been half so stiff and +concated," exclaimed Biddy. + +Even poor little roguish Ike, with mischief enough in his composition +to derange a dozen well-ordered houses, looked wise and quiet when my +prim, demure aunt came in sight. Complaints met me on all sides, +however, for my Aunt Lina was quite as dissatisfied as the rest. + +"I found them all wrong, my dear," she said, "no order, no regulation, +every thing at sixes and sevens; and as for the woman Biddy, she is +quite, quite incorrigible. I showed her a new way of preparing her +clothes for the wash, by which she could save a deal of labor; but all +in vain, she persisted most obstinately to follow the old troublesome +way. Then she confuses her work altogether in such a manner that I +never can tell at which stage of labor she has arrived; and when I put +them all _en traine_, and leave them a few instants, I find on my +return every thing as tangled as ever. Method is the soul of +housekeeping, Enna. You will never succeed without order. I fear you +are too easy and indulgent; although I have never kept a house, I know +exactly how it should be done. A place for every thing--every thing in +its place, as your grandpapa used to say. If you insist upon your +servants doing every thing at a certain hour, and in a certain way, +your affairs will go on like clock-work." + +I could not but assent to all these truisms--for I felt +conscience-stricken. I knew I had always depended in all my +housekeeping emergencies too much on my "talent for improvising," as +Kate Wilson merrily entitles my readiness in a domestic tangle and +stand-still. I had been in the habit of letting things go on as easily +as possible, scrupulously avoiding domestic tempests, because they +deranged my nervous system; and if I found a servant would not do a +thing in my way, I would let her accomplish it in her own manner, and +at her own time--so that it was done, that was all I required. I felt +almost disheartened as the remarks of my precise aunt proved to me how +remiss I had been, and resolved in a very humble mood to reform. Bat +when Aunt Lina continued her conversations about the mismanagement +before my father, then I felt the "old Adam" stir within me. There she +surely was wrong. I could not bear he should have his eyes opened; he +had always fancied me a little queen in my domestic arrangements--why +should he think differently--what good did it do? If he found his +dinner nicely cooked and served, his tea and toast snugly arranged in +the library, in the evening, when he returned wearied from his office, +with his dressing-gown and slippers most temptingly spread out; then +awakened in the morning in a clean, well-ordered bed-room, with Ike at +his elbow to wait his orders, and a warm, cozy breakfast to strengthen +him ere he started out on his daily labors--if all this was carefully +and quietly provided for him, what need of his knowing how it was +done, or what straits I might be driven to sometimes, from my own +thoughtlessness or forgetfulness to accomplish these comforts for him. +I had always scrupulously avoided talking of my household affairs +before him; but when Aunt Lina discoursed so eloquently and learnedly +in his presence, slipping in once in a while such high-sounding words +as "domestic economy," "well-ordered household," "proper distribution +of time and labor," &c., &c., he began to prick up his ears, and fancy +his thrifty little daughter Enna was not quite so excellent in her +management as he had blindly dreamed. Poor man! his former ignorance +had surely been bliss, for his unfortunate knowledge only made him +look vexed and full of care whenever he entered the house. He even +noted the door-handles, as to their brightness, rated poor Ike about +the table appointments, and pointed out when and how work should be +done--told how he managed in his business, and how we should manage in +ours. I was almost distraught with annoyance; and, kind as my aunt had +been, I wished for the time of her departure silently, but as +earnestly as did my servants. Heaven pardon me for my inhospitality +and ingratitude. + +"Now, Lina," said my father, the morning she left, "don't forget the +woman you were speaking of. Enna needs some experienced person to keep +things in order. We shall have to break up housekeeping if affairs go +on in this disordered state. I do not know how we have stood it thus +long." + +I opened my eyes but said not a word. Three months before and my +father had been the happiest, free-from-care man in the city; now the +little insight he had gained into domestic affairs--the peep behind +the curtain given him by my mistaken maiden aunt, had served to +embitter his existence, surrounding his path with those nettles of +life, household trifles, vulgar cares and petty annoyances. I almost +echoed Biddy's ejaculation as the carriage drove from the door with my +aunt and her numberless boxes, each one arranged on a new, orderly, +time-saving plan. + +"Sure, and it's glad I am, that the ould craythur is fairly off--for +divil a bit of comfort did she give the laste of us with her +time-saving orderly ways. And it's not an owld maid ye must ever be, +darlint Miss Enna, or ye'll favor the troublesome aunty with her tabby +notions." + +Ike shouted with glee, and turned somersets all the way through the +hall into the back entry, regardless of all I could say; and the +merriment and light heartedness that pervaded the whole house was most +cheering. Biddy stamped and put her work in a greater confusion than +ever; and Ike dusted the blinds from the top to the bottom in a +"wholesale way," as he called it, and cleaned the knives on the wrong +side of the Bath-brick to his heart's content. Every one, even the +dumb animals, seemed conscious of Aunt Lina's departure. My little pet +kitten, Norah, resumed her place by the side of the heater in the +library, starting once in a while in her dreams and springing up as +though she heard the rustle of Aunt Lina's gown, or the sharp, clear +notes of her voice--but coiled herself down with a consoling "pur," as +she saw only "little me" laughing at her fears--and my little darling +spaniel Flirt laid in my lap, nestled on the foot of my bed, and +romped all over the house to his perfect satisfaction. I should have +been as happy as the rest also, if it had not been for the +anticipation that weighed down on me, of the expected pattern-card--my +lady-help. + +Soon after my aunt's return home I received a letter from her, +announcing with great gratification her success. The letter was filled +with a long _preachment_ on household management, which my father read +very seriously, pronouncing his sister Lina a most excellent, sensible +woman, possessing more mind and judgment than did most of her sex. My +aunt wound up her letter, saying-- + +"But you will have little order and regulation about your house so +long as you keep that thriftless Biddy in it. Take my advice and tramp +her off bag and baggage before Lizzie comes, for, from my account of +her, Lizzie is not very favorably disposed toward her." + +Here was a pretty state of affairs to be sure, not very agreeable to a +young housekeeper who had hitherto been her own mistress--my new maid +was to dictate to me even my own domestic arrangements. My father was +earnest in wishing to dispose of Biddy--but on that point, though +quiet, I was resolute in opposition. Poor warm-hearted Biddy, with all +her stupid thriftless ways, I could not find in my heart to turn away, +and as my chambermaid wanted to go to her relations in the "back +states," as she called the great West, I proposed to Biddy to take her +place, so soon as the new woman should make her appearance. + +"If she's like the aunty of ye," said Biddy when we concluded this +arrangement and were talking of the expected new comer, "I'll wish her +all the bad luck in the world, for it's hot wather she'll kape us in +all the time with her painstakings." + +Not in a very pleasant frame of mind I awaited the arrival of my new +domestic. Poor girl, there was no one to welcome her when she at last +came, and she stepped into the kitchen without one kind feeling +advancing to greet her. Biddy's warm Irish heart was completely closed +against her, and Ike, the saucy rogue, pursed up his thick lips in a +most comical manner when she appeared. But how my heart smote me when +I first looked at the pale, care-worn, sad-looking creature. She was +not pretty--her face bore the marks of early care and trial. She might +have been well-favored in girlhood, but if so, those good looks had +completely vanished. Her eyes were dim, her cheek hollow, and her brow +was marked with lines stamped by endurance; her whole person thin and +spare, with hard, toil-worn hands, and large feet, showed that labor +and sorrow had been her constant companions. And how unjust had been +our hasty judgment of her--for so far from proving to be the +troublesome, fault-finding, airs-taking, lady-help I had fearfully +anticipated, I found her amiable, yielding and patiently industrious. +She had no regular set ways about her, but worked unceasingly from +morning till night in every department in the house. Not a week passed +before I heard Biddy, with her Irish enthusiasm, calling on Heaven to +bless the "darlint." She was always ready to excuse Biddy's +thriftlessness and Ike's mischief, helping them on in their duties +constantly. Good Lizzie Hall! every one in the house loved her. Yes, +indeed, my dear housekeeping reader, all doubtful as you look, I had +at last obtained that paragon, so seldom met with--a good, efficient +servant. Lizzie lived with me many years, and when I parted with her, +as I had to at last, I felt certain, I had had my share of good +"help"--that her place would never be supplied. + +Lizzie grew very fond of me, and ere she had lived with us many months +told me her whole history. Poor girl, without beauty, without mental +attractions, of an humble station, and slender abilities, her +life-woof had in it the glittering thread of romance--humble romance, +but romance still it was. Lizzie's father was a farmer, owning a small +farm in the part of the country where my Aunt Lina resided. His first +wife, Lizzie's mother, was an heiress according to her station, +bringing her husband on her marriage some hundreds of dollars, which +enabled him to purchase his little farm, and stock it. They labored +morning, noon, and night, unceasingly. Lizzie's mother was a thrifty, +careful body; but, unfortunately, she had more industry than +constitution; and when Lizzie was seventeen, her mother was fast +sinking into the grave, a worn-out creature, borne down by hard labor +and sickness. Nine children had she, and of them Lizzie was the eldest +and only girl. What sorrow for a dying mother! Before her mother's +last sickness, Lizzie was "wooed and won" by the best match in the +place. James Foster, her lover, was a young farmer, an orphan, but +well off in life. He owned a handsome, well-stocked farm, and was a +good-looking, excellent young man. Both father and mother cheerfully +gave their consent, but insisted that their engagement should last a +year or so, until Lizzie might be older. As Mrs. Hall felt death +approaching, she looked around on the little family she was to leave +motherless behind her; and with moving, heart-rending entreaties, +besought of Lizzie not to leave them. + +"Stay with your father, my child," she urged; "James, if he loves you, +will wait for you. Don't marry until the boys are all old enough to be +out of trouble. Think, Lizzie, of the misery a step-mother might cause +with your brother Jack's impetuous temper, and Sam's hopeless, +despairing disposition--each one would be hard for a step-mother to +guide. Be a mother to them, my girl; down on your knees, and to make +your mother's heart easy, promise before God that you will guide them, +and watch over them as long as you are needed. Stay with your father, +and Heaven will bless you, as does your dying mother." + +Willingly did the almost heart-broken girl give the required +promise--and James Foster loved her all the better for it. She wept +bitter, heart-aching tears over her dear mother's grave, but turned +steadily to the hard path traced out before her; but she was young and +beloved, and a bright star beamed before her--the star of love--to +gild her toilsome path; and a mother's smile seemed blended with its +bright rays. A year or two rolled around--years of hard labor, which +made Lizzie, who toiled untiringly, as her mother had done, old before +her time. She was noted, however, all over the village for a thrifty, +industrious, excellent girl. James Foster was a pattern for lovers; +every spare moment he gave to her. What few amusements she had time to +enjoy he procured for her; and as the village people said, they went +as steadily together as old married people. + +Lizzie's father was a narrow-minded, selfish man, caring very little +for any one's comfort but his own, and at times was exceedingly cross +and testy. Unfortunately, he took great interest in politics, and was +quite an oracle in the village bar-room. He was bigoted and "set" in +his opinions, considering all who differed from him as enemies to +their country, and called them rascals and hypocrites freely. His wife +had been dead about two years, when a presidential election came on. +James Foster, unluckily, had been brought up with different political +opinions from Mr. Hall; but, being very quiet and retiring in his +disposition, he never had rendered himself obnoxious. Of course, Mr. +Hall took great interest in the approaching election. He became very +ambitious of his township giving a large vote on the side to which he +belonged--and he used every means to obtain votes. Elated with fancied +success, he swore one day in the tavern bar-room, that he would make +James Foster abandon his party, and vote to please him. Some, who knew +Foster's quiet but resolute disposition, bantered and teased Hall, +which wrought him to such a pitch of excitement that, on meeting James +Foster a little while after in front of the tavern, he made the demand +of him. Foster at first treated it as a jest; then, when he found Hall +was in earnest, decidedly, but civilly, refused; and in such a manner +as to put at rest all further conversation. Enraged, Hall instantly +turned, swearing to the laughing politicians that surrounded the +tavern steps, and who had witnessed his discomfiture, that he would +punish Foster's impudent obstinacy. Accordingly, full of ill, +revengeful feelings, he returned home, and forbade his daughter ever +permitting Foster to step over the threshold of the door--commanding +her instantly to break the engagement. She used every entreaty, +expostulated, temporized--all was of no avail; indeed, her entreaties +seemed but to heighten her father's anger; and at last, with a fearful +oath, he declared, if she did not break the engagement with the +purse-proud, hypocritical rascal, she should leave his house +instantly. She looked on the terrified children, the youngest only +five years old, and who clung weeping to her knees, as her father +threatened to turn her out of doors, never to see them again; and she +thought of her mother's last words--her decision was made; and with a +heavy heart she performed the self-sacrifice. + +"Don't say you will never marry me, Lizzie," urged her lover; "I can +wait ten years for you, darling." + +But Lizzie was conscientious; her father had expressly stipulated +there should be no "half-way work--no putting off;" all hope must be +given up, she never could be his--and forever she bid him farewell. +James tried to argue with and persuade her father; but the selfish, +obstinate old man would listen to nothing from him. Poor James, +finding both immovable, at last sold off his farm, and all his +property, and moved away into a distant state; he could not, he said, +live near Lizzie, and feel that she never would be his wife. Men are +so soon despairing in love affairs, while women hope on, even to +death. Poor Lizzie, how her heart sunk when the sight of her lover was +denied to her; and she felt even more wretched than she did at the +moment of her mother's death. Nothing now remained to her in life but +the performance of stern, rigid duty. Two or three years passed by, +and one by one her charges departed from her. One brother was placed +with a farmer, and the others were apprenticed to good trades. The +little white-headed Willie, who at his mother's death was a tiny, +roly-poly prattler, only two years old, was becoming a slender, tall +youth. Lizzie felt proud as she looked at her crowd of tall boys, when +once or twice a year they would assemble at home; and on a Sunday's +afternoon, at twilight, on her way to the evening meeting, she would +steal down into the quiet church-yard, and kneeling beside her +mother's grave, ask, with streaming eyes, if she had not done well. +Such moments were fraught with bitter anguish; but a heavenly peace +would descend on her, and she said her trials, after the agony was +over, seemed lighter to bear. + +"But I was blessed in one thing, dear Miss Enna," she would exclaim, +"not one of those darling boys was taken from me, and all bid fair to +turn out well. God surely smiled on the motherless, and gave me +strength to perform my labor of love." + +At last there moved to the village a woman of the name of Pierce; she +opened a little milliner's shop, and soon made herself busy with the +affairs of others, as well as her own, becoming quite a considerable +person amongst the villagers. She was a widow with two or three +children--a girl or two, and a boy--little things. She was a stout, +healthy, good-looking woman, "rising forty," with a clear, shrill +voice, and good, bright black eyes in her head. She soon steadied +these bonnie eyes at the widower, Lizzie's father, and not in vain; +for after hailing him industriously, as he passed the door of her +shop, with questions about the weather, or the crops, he at last +managed to stop without the hailing; and after a short courtship +brought her and her children to his own home. How Lizzie rejoiced that +her brothers were now all out of the way. Her last pet, Willie, had, a +few months previous to the new marriage, been sent to a printer in the +neighboring city. She never thought of herself, but commenced with +redoubled industry to assist in taking care of the new family. But her +constant industry and thrifty habits were a silent reproach to the +step-mother, I fancy, for she left no stone unturned to rid herself +of the troublesome grown up daughter. She tried every means, threw out +hints, until at last Lizzie perceived her drift. Even her father +seemed restrained and annoyed by her presence; and when she proposed +to him that she should do something now for herself, in the way of +support, he made no opposition; on the contrary, seemed relieved, +saying the times were hard, and he had always had an expensive family. +At this time my dear Aunt Lina obtained her for me. Blessed Aunt Lina! +how we all loved her for this good act; even Biddy said, + +"Well, the owld toad wasn't so bad, afther all. She had some good in +her, for she sent the angel to our door--good luck to her forever." + +And what parted Lizzie from us? Ah, there is the romance of my +story--the darling little bit of sentiment so dear to my woman's +heart. Lizzie lived with me five years. In the meantime her father had +died; the thriftless wife had broken his heart by her extravagant +habits, and Lizzie and her brothers never received a penny of their +mother's little fortune. One evening, my father, on handing me the +letters and papers, said, "Amongst those, Enna, you will find a letter +for Lizzie, which has come from the far West, clear beyond St. +Louis--what relations has she there?" + +I could not tell him, but gave the letter to Ike, now grown into quite +a dandy waiter, to take to her. I did not feel much curiosity about +the letter, thinking it might be from some cousin of hers; but when I +retired to bed that evening, she came into my room, and throwing +herself down on the soft rug beside my bed, by the dim light of my +night-lamp, told me all her happiness. The letter was from James +Foster--he still loved her as dearly as ever. He had heard by chance +of her father's death, and her situation, and said if she was ready to +marry him, he was still waiting. He wrote of his handsome farm he had +cleared with his own hands, and the beautiful wild country he lived +in, telling her he hoped her future life would be free from all care. +All this, and even more, dear reader, he told her--in plain, homely +words, it is true; but love's language is always sweet, be it in +courtly tongue or homely phrase. + +And James Foster came for her; and in our house was she married. My +father presented the soft mull dress to the bride, which Kate Wilson +and I made, and assisted in dressing her, and stood as her +bride-maids. Aunt Lina, Biddy, the stamping, good-hearted Biddy, and +dandy Ike, were all there, rejoicing in her happiness. Her husband was +a stout, strong, hard-featured, but kind-hearted man, and looked upon +his poor, care-worn, slender Lizzie as if she were an angel. We all +liked him; and her whole troop of brothers, who were present at the +ceremony, greeted him with hearty words of friendship. Three he +persuaded to accompany them out to the "new home"--the farmer, the +shoemaker, and the little white-headed Willie, Lizzie's pet--declaring +all the time that his house and heart, like the wide western valley +where he lived, was large enough to hold them all. They all went out +one after another; and when I last heard from Lizzie, she was very +happy, surrounded by all her brothers; and she told me of a little +darling girl, whom she had named after her dear Miss Enna. My father +and I often talk during the winter evenings, when sitting very cozily +together in the warm library, of taking a summer's jaunt to Lizzie's +western home. I wish we could, that I might see my lady-help as +mistress of her own household; and what is still better, a happy wife, +mother, and sister. + + + + +LINES + + _Addressed to a friend who asked "How would you be remembered + when you die?"_ + + +How would I be remembered?--not forever, + As those of yore. +Not as the warrior, whose bright glories quiver + O'er fields of gore; +Nor e'en as they whose song down life's dark river + Is heard no more. + +No! in my veins a gentler stream is flowing + In silent bliss. +No! in my breast a woman's heart is glowing, + It asks not this. +I would not, as down life's dark vale I'm going + My true path miss. + +I do not hope to lay a wreath undying + On glory's shrine, +Where coronets from mighty brows are lying + In dazzling shine: +Only let love, among the tomb-stones sighing, + Weep over mine. + +Oh! when the green grass softly waves above me + In some low glen, +Say, will the hearts that now so truly love me + Think of me then; +And, with fond tones that never more can move me, + Call me again? + +Say, when the fond smiles in our happy home + Their soft light shed, +When round the hearth at quiet eve they come, + And mine has fled, +Will any gentle voice then ask for room-- + _Room for the dead?_ + +Oh! will they say, as rosy day is dying, + And shadows fall, +"Come, let us speak of her now lowly lying, + She loved us all!" +And will a gentle tear-drop, then replying, + From some eye fall? + +Give me, oh! give me not the echo ringing + From trump of fame; +Be mine, be mine the pearls from fond eyes springing, + _This_, would I claim. +Oh! may I think such memories _will_ be clinging +Around my name. + GRETTA. + + + + +GAME-BIRDS OF AMERICA.--NO. IX. + +[Illustration: PASSENGER PIGEON.] + + +This bird, the marvel of the whole Pigeon race, is beautiful in its +colors, graceful in its form, and far more a child of wild nature than +any other of the pigeons. The chief wonder, however, is in its +multitudes; multitudes which no man can number; and when Alexander +Wilson lays the mighty wand of the enchanter upon the Valley of the +Mississippi, and conjures it up to the understanding and the feeling +of the reader, with far more certain and more concentrated and +striking effect than if it were painted on canvas, or modeled in wax, +these pigeons form a feature in it which no one who knows can by +possibility forget. It is probable that the multitudes may not be more +numerous than those of the petrels in Bass's Strait, of which Captain +Flinders--who also was a kind of Wilson in his way--gives a graphic +description. But vast as the multitude of these was, it was only as a +passing cloud to the captain; he was unable to follow it up; and even +though he had, the flight of birds over the surface of the sea is tame +and storyless, as compared with the movements of the unnumbered +myriads of these pigeons in the great central valley of our continent. +None of the names which have been bestowed upon this species are +sufficiently, or at all, descriptive of it. Passenger, the English +expression, and _Migratoria_, the Latin name, fall equally short, +inasmuch as every known pigeon is to a greater or less extent +migratory as well as this one. The "swarm" pigeon, the "flood" pigeon, +or even the "deluge" pigeon would be a more appropriate appellation; +for the weight of their numbers breaks down the forest with scarcely +less havoc than if the stream of the Mississippi were poured upon it. + +Birds so numerous demand both a wide pasture and powerful means of +migration, and the Passengers are not stinted in either of those +respects. In latitude, their pasture extends from the thirtieth to the +sixtieth degree, which is upward of two thousand miles; and the +extensive breadth in longitude cannot be estimated at less than +fifteen hundred. Three millions of square miles is thus the extent of +territory of which the Passenger pigeon has command; and that +territory has its dimensions so situated as that the largest one is +the line upon which the birds migrate. + +In Canada their numbers are so great, and the ravages which they +commit upon the cultivated ground so extensive, that instances are +recorded in which the bishop has been seriously and earnestly implored +to exorcise them "by bell, book, and candle"--to cast them out of the +land by the same means used in days of yore against spirits +troublesome to other individuals, men and women. But as the Passengers +were material and not spiritual, the bishop had the good sense not to +try the experiment upon them. At least, La Houton, who records the +matter, is perfectly silent as to the success or failure of the +proposition. + +Both sexes are beautiful birds; but their value, in an economical +point of view, is not, however, in any way equal to their numbers or +their beauty. The flesh of the old ones is dark, dry, hard and +unpalatable, as is very generally the case with birds which are much +on the wing; but the young, or _squabs_, as they are called, are +remarkably fat; and as in the places where the birds congregate, they +may be obtained without much difficulty, this fat is obtained by +melting them, and is used instead of lard. As they nestle in vast +multitudes at the same place, their resting-places have many +attractions for the birds of prey, which indiscriminately seize upon +both the old and the young. The eggs, like those of most of the +pigeon tribe, are usually two in number; but the number of birds at +one nesting-place is so great that the young, when they begin to +branch and feed, literally drive along the woods like a torrent. They +feed upon the fruits which at this time they procure at the middle +heights of the forests, and do not venture upon the open grounds. The +nests are far more closely packed together than in any rookery, and +are built one above another, from the height of twenty feet to the top +of the tallest trees. + +Wilson says that as soon as the young were fully grown, and before +they left the nests, numerous parties of the inhabitants from all +parts of the adjacent country came with wagons, axes, beds, cooking +utensils, many of them accompanied by the greater part of their +families, and encamped for several days at this immense nursery, near +Shelbyville, Kentucky, forty miles long, and several miles in breadth. +The noise in the woods was so great as to terrify their horses, and it +was difficult for one person to hear another speak without bawling in +his ear. The ground was strewed with broken limbs of trees, eggs, and +young squab pigeons, which had been precipitated from above, and on +which herds of hogs were fattening. Hawks, buzzards and eagles were +sailing about in great numbers, and seizing the squabs from their +nests at pleasure, while from twenty feet upward to the tops of the +trees, the view through the woods presented a perpetual tumult of +crowding and fluttering multitudes of pigeons, their wings roaring +like thunder, mingled with the frequent crash of falling timber, for +now the axe-men were at work cutting down those trees which seemed to +be most crowded with nests, and seemed to fell them in such a manner +that, in their descent, they might bring down several others, by which +means the falling of one large tree sometimes produced two hundred +squabs, little inferior in size to the old ones, and almost one mass +of fat. On some single trees upward of one hundred nests were found. +It was dangerous to walk under these flying and fluttering millions, +from the frequent fall of large branches, broken down by the weight of +the multitudes above, and which in their descent often destroyed +numbers of the birds themselves. This is a scene to which we are aware +of no parallel in the nesting-places of the feathered tribes. In the +select places where the birds only roost for the night, the +congregating, though not permanent, is often as great and destructive +to the forest. The native Indians rejoice in a breeding or a +roosting-place of the migratory pigeon, as one which shall supply them +with an unbounded quantity of provisions, in the quality of which they +are not particularly chary. Nor are these roosting-places attractive +to the Indians only, for the settlers near them also pay them +nocturnal visits. They come with guns, clubs, pots of suffocating +materials, and every other means of destruction that can well be +imagined to be within their command, and procure immense quantities of +the birds in a very short time. These they stuff into sacks and carry +home on their horses. + +The flocks being less abundant in the Atlantic States, the gun, decoy +and net are brought into operation against them, and very considerable +numbers of them are taken. In some seasons they may be purchased in +our markets for one dollar a hundred, and flocks have been known to +occupy two hours in passing, in New Jersey and the adjoining States. +Many thousands are drowned on the edges of the ponds to which they +descend to drink while on their aerial passage; those in the rear +alighting on the backs of those who touched the ground first, in the +same manner as the domestic pigeon, and pressing them beneath the +surface of the water. Nuttall estimates the rapidity of their flight +at about a mile a minute, and states among other data for this result, +that there have been wild pigeons shot near New York, whose crops were +filled with rice that must have been collected in the plantations of +Georgia, and to digest which would not require more than twelve hours. + +[Illustration: SHORE LARK.] + +Usually fat, much esteemed as food, and not uncommon in our markets, +this beautiful bird may be seen in different seasons ranging from +Hudson's Bay to Mexico, and from New England to the Rocky Mountains. +They arrive in the Northern and Middle States late in the fall, and +many remain through-out the winter. As the weather grows colder in +the north, however, they become quite common in South Carolina and +Georgia, frequenting the plains, commons and dry ground, keeping +constantly upon the ground, and roving about in families under the +guidance of the old birds, whose patriarchal care extends over all, to +warn them by a plaintive call of the approach of danger, and instruct +them by example how to avoid it. They roost somewhat in the same +manner as partridges, in a close ring or circle, keeping each other +warm, and abiding with indifference the frost and the storm. They +migrate only when driven by want of food; this appears to consist of +small round compressed black seeds, oats, buckwheat, &c., with a large +proportion of gravel. Shore Lark and Sky Lark are the names by which +they are usually known. They are said to sing well, rising in the air +and warbling as they ascend, after the manner of the sky-lark of +Europe. + + + + +TRIUMPHS OF PEACE. + +BY WILLIAM H. C. HOSMER. + + + From palace, cot and cave + Streamed forth a nation, in the olden time, + To crown with flowers the brave, + Flushed with the conquest of some far-off clime, + And, louder than the roar of meeting seas, + Applauding thunder rolled upon the breeze. + Memorial columns rose + Decked with the spoils of conquered foes, +And bards of high renown their stormy paeans sung, + While Sculpture touched the marble white, + And, woke by his transforming might, + To life the statue sprung. + The vassal to his task was chained-- + The coffers of the state were drained + In rearing arches, bright with wasted gold, + That after generations might be told + A thing of dust once reigned. + + Tombs, hallowed by long years of toil, + Were built to shrine heroic clay, + Too proud to rest in vulgar soil, + And moulder silently way; + Though treasure lavished on the dead + The wretched might have clothed and fed-- + Dragged merit from obscuring shade, + And debts of gratitude have paid; + From want relieved neglected sage, + Or veteran in battle tried; + Smoothed the rough path of weary age, + And the sad tears of orphanage have dried. + + Though green the laurel round the brow + Of wasting and triumphant War, + Peace, with her sacred olive bough, + Can boast of conquests nobler far: + Beneath her gentle sway + Earth blossoms like a rose-- + The wide old woods recede away, + Through realms, unknown but yesterday, + The tide of Empire flows. + Woke by her voice rise battlement and tower, + Art builds a home, and Learning finds a bower-- + Triumphant Labor for the conflict girds, + Speaks in great works instead of empty words; + Bends stubborn matter to his iron will, + Drains the foul marsh, and rends in twain the hill-- + A hanging bridge across the torrent flings, + And gives the car of fire resistless wings. + Light kindles up the forest to its heart, + And happy thousands throng the new-born mart; + Fleet ships of steam, deriding tide and blast, + On the blue bounding waters hurry past; + Adventure, eager for the task, explores + Primeval wilds, and lone, sequestered shores-- + Braves every peril, and a beacon lights + To guide the nations on untrodden heights. + + +[Illustration: EXPECTATION J. Addison +Engraved expressly for Graham's Magazine] + + +EXPECTATION. + +BY LOUISA M. GREEN. + +[SEE ENGRAVING.] + + +Why comes he not? He should have come ere this: + The promised hour is past: he is not here! +I love him--yes, my maiden heart is his; + I sigh--I languish when he is not near. +The truant! Wherefore tarries he? His love, + Were it like mine, would woo him to my side-- +Or does he--dares he--merely seek to prove + The doubted passion of his promised bride? +Do I not love him? But does he love me? + He swore so yester-eve, when last we met +Down in the dell by our old trysting-tree: + Can he be false? If so, my sun is set! +No; he will come--I feel--I know he will; + And he shall never dream that once I sighed; +I hear his step--behold his form: be still, + Warm heart; he comes--to clasp his bride. + + + + +WOMAN'S LOVE. + +POETRY BY ANON. + +MUSIC BY MATHIAS KELLER. + +COPYRIGHTED BY J. C. SMITH, NO. 215 CHESNUT STREET, PHILADELPHIA. + +[Music/Illustration: + +Allegretto. + +Fine. + +A Wo-man's love, deep in the heart, Is like the vio-let + +flow'r, That lifts its mo-dest head a-part, In + +some se-ques-ter'd bow'r. And blest is he who + +Ritardando. A tempo. + +finds that bloom, Who sips its gen-tle sweets; He + +heeds not life's op-pres-sive gloom, Nor all the care he meets + + D. C.] + + +SECOND VERSE. + +A woman's love is like the spring + Amid the wild alone; +A burning wild o'er which the wing + Of cloud is seldom thrown; +And blest is he who meets that fount, + Beneath the sultry day; +How gladly should his spirit mount, + How pleasant be his way. + + +THIRD VERSE. + +A woman's love is like the rock, + That every tempest braves, +And stands secure amid the shock + Of ocean's wildest waves; +And blest is he to whom repose + Within its shade is given-- +The world, with all its cares and woes, + Seems less like earth than heaven. + + + + +YEARS AGO.--A BALLAD. + +WRITTEN EXPRESSLY FOR MRS. C. E. HORN. + +BY GEORGE P. MORRIS. + + +On the banks of that sweet river + Where the water-lilies grow, +Breathed the fairest flower that ever + Bloomed and faded years ago. + +How we met and loved and parted, + None on earth can ever know, +Nor how pure and gentle-hearted + Beamed the mourned one years ago. + +Like the stream with lilies laden, + Will life's future current flow, +Till in heaven I meet the maiden + Fondly cherished years ago. + +Hearts that truly love forget not-- + They're the same in weal or wo-- +And that star of memory set not + In the grave of years ago. + + + + +TO MY WIFE. + +BY ROBT. T. CONRAD. + + +When that chaste blush suffused thy cheek and brow, + Whitened anon with a pale maiden fear, + Thou shrank'st in uttering what I burned to hear: +And yet I loved thee, love, not then as now. +Years and their snows have come and gone, and graves, + Of thine and mine, have opened; and the sod + Is thick above the wealth we gave to God: +Over my brightest hopes the nightshade waves; +And wrongs and wrestlings with a wretched world, + Gray hairs, and saddened hours, and thoughts of gloom, + Troop upon troop, dark-browed, have been my doom; +And to the earth each hope-reared turret hurled! +And yet that blush, suffusing cheek and brow, +'Twas dear, how dear! then--but 'tis dearer now. + + + + + +ISOLA. + +BY JOHN TOMLIN. + + +I dreamed that thou a lily wast, + Within a lowly valley blest; +A winged cherub flying past, + Plucked thee, and placed within his breast, +And there by guardian angel nurst, + Thou took'st a shape of human grace, +Until, a lowly flower at first, + Thou grew'st the first of mortal race. +Alas! if I who still was blessed + When thou wast but a lowly flower-- +To pluck thy image from my breast, + Though thus thou will'st it, have no power; +Thou still to me, though lifted high + In hope and heart above the glen, +Where first thou won my idol eye, + Must spell my worship just as then. + + + + +CONTEMPLATION. + +BY JANE R. DANA. + +[ILLUSTRATING AN ENGRAVING.] + + +Strange! that a tear-drop should o'erfill the eye +Of loveliness that looks on all it loves! +Yet are there moods, when the soul's wells are high +With crystal waters which a strange fear moves, +To doubt if what it joys in, be a joy; +Fear not, thou fond and gentle one! though life +Be but a checkered scene, where wrong and right, +Struggle forever; there is not a strife +Can reach thy bower: the future, purely bright, +Is round about thee, like a summer sky. +And there are those, brave hearts and true, to guard +Thy walks forever; and to make each hour +Of coming time, by fond and faithful ward, +Happy as happiest known within thy bridal bower. + + +[Illustration: J. W. Wright J. Addison + +CONTEMPLATION + +Engraved expressly for Graham's Magazine] + + + + +REVIEW OF NEW BOOKS. + + + _Practical Physiology: for the use of Schools and + Families. By Edward Jarvis. Philadelphia: Thomas, + Cowperthwaite & Co._ + + +The popular and practical study of physiology is too much neglected in +this country, and we rejoice to see this effort to commend its +important truths to public attention. Perhaps no people existing are +in greater need of a heedful regard to the lessons of this work than +the over-fed, over-worked, and over-anxious people of the United +States. The pursuit of wealth, honor, and power, the absorbing and +health-sacrificing devotion to advancement, impels our people from the +moment they first enter the school-house until they are snatched from +the scene of their over-wrought strugglings. At the school, the child +is treated as a man. The fresh air, the blue sky, the bright and happy +hilarity of boyhood are too often proscribed indulgences. And this is +called, not murder, but education. Those who survive it, having been +taught that an American youth should never be satisfied with the +present, that _excelsior_ should be the only motto, and that all +pleasure should be denied, health sacrificed, and time unremittingly +devoted to win the eminence struggled for, rush into the business of +life before their time. They win wrinkles before they attain manhood, +and graves before the wild ambition thus kindled and inflamed can +receive its first chaplet. All our literature teaches this unquiet and +discontented spirit as to the present, and this rash and impatient +determination to achieve immediate success. Now, this is a peculiarity +of our country, the land of all others which should cherish a +disposition to be gratefully contented with the unequaled blessings +with which it is endowed. There is no necessity for this forcing +system to expand properly and in due time the real energies of our +people. The truly great in every walk of science and literature have +been generally patient students, and have lived, in tranquillity, to a +good old age. The impatient ambition which scourges our people on to +the farthest stretch of their energies in any adopted pursuit, is +inconsistent with the permanent and healthful character of a race. It +made Rome great; but it left her people, as a race, so physically +exhausted that the weakest tribes of the North dictated to her the +terms of her degradation. The physical character of a nation moulds +its intellectual nature, and shapes its destinies. The study of health +is therefore the great study, and it will be found in all things +accordant with those loftier truths taught by the Great Physician. +Strangers of intelligence often remark that, with unbounded means of +happiness, affluence for every reasonable want, security against every +danger, and the high prerogatives of conscious and elevated freedom, +we are still the most unhappy of the sons of Adam. They assert that we +grow old before our time; are restless, excitable, and ever worrying +for an attainment, in reference to some ruling passion beyond our +reach. Comfort, health, calmness, and content, are sacrificed to grasp +at something more. Our cheeks grow pale, our brows wrinkled, our +hearts clouded, from a settled, taught, established habit of +discontent with any position that is not the highest. There is much of +truth in all this, as every one who treads our crowded marts and finds +each man, however prosperous, cankered with the thought that he is not +prosperous enough, will admit. All this constitutes American energy; +all this renders our country great in the world's eye; but does it +constitute happiness? It may be gravely doubted. The study of health +is essentially the study of happiness. Life is with our people, as a +general rule, a thing of little value. Those who think, in a better +spirit, and remember its duties and its ends, will come to a different +conclusion, and regard the conservation of the even and steady +physical energies of the body as superior in importance to any result +to be gained by the forced and unnatural efforts from which more is +attained than nature sanctions. + +A work like the one before us is calculated to be of great service, +and especially so if it be placed in the hands of children. It claims, +and certainly deserves, no praise as an original work of science; but +it has this merit--no ordinary one--that it communicates the most +important truths of physiology in language which any intelligent child +can understand; and does so in a manner that every moralist will +commend. + + + _The Fruits and Fruit Trees of America. By A. J. + Downing. Published by Wiley & Putnam, New York._ + + +This work has been known to every scientific horticulturist and +pomologist for many years. Its author has devoted a vigorous and +enlightened intellect to this purest and noblest of pursuits; and has +won a reputation of which this work will form the coronal wreath. The +past editions of this work, and they have been many, have elicited the +strongest praise here and abroad. The classic poets of every land have +valued the praise which rewarded their dedication of the first +triumphs of the muse to subjects connected with the cultivation of the +soil, to the arts that rendered the breast of our common mother +lovely, and wedded the labors which sustain life with the arts that +render it happy. The work before us has an established reputation. It +is written by one whose labors upon this subject are known as well +abroad as here, and who has won the applause of all who regard +pomology as worthy of an earnest support. He is the Prose Virgil of +our country. This work contains eighty-four colored engravings of +apples, pears, cherries, apricots, peaches, plums, raspberries, and +strawberries. These plates have been, at great expense, executed at +Paris, and are worthy of all commendation. Among those that seem to us +worthy of especial commendation are, in the plums, the Columbia, the +Coe's Golden Drop, and the Jefferson; among the pears, the Bartlett, +the Bosc, the Flemish Beauty, the Frederick of Wurtemburg; among the +apples, the Gravenstein, the Yellow Belle Fleur, the Dutch Mignonne, +Ladies' Sweet, and Red Astrochan. All the plates are, however, good; +and the work is, to all who love nature, invaluable. + +The leading horticultural societies of this country have recently +endeavored to counteract the confusion which has heretofore prevailed +in pomological nomenclature, by adopting this work as the American +standard; and we learn that it has been so recognized and adopted, in +reference to this country, in London. Horticulture is greatly indebted +for the advances it has made within the last few years to the author +of this work. He is well known to all those who cherish the science of +the soil, as the popular editor of the Horticulturist, and as one of +the ablest, most scientific and enthusiastic horticulturists and +pomologists in the country. + + +_Tristram Shandy._--Original or not, Sterne gave to the literature of +this language that which must last and should last. This edition, +published by Grigg, Elliott & Co., is cheap, and should be cheap, for +it is got up for universal distribution. It is well illustrated by +Darley. + + + _The Medical Companion, or Family Physician, Treating + of the Diseases of the United States, &c. By James + Ewell._ + + +This is a work long and well known to the nation; and the edition +before us, being the tenth, is an enlargement and improvement on those +which have heretofore appeared. Dr. Chapman has pronounced it to be +indisputably the most useful popular treatise on medicine with which +he is acquainted; and a large number of the most celebrated professors +of the country, as Caldwell, Shippen, Barton, Woodhouse, and others, +have very emphatically commended it to the confidence of the public. +The edition before us is a great improvement upon those which have +preceded it, having, in addition to corrections resulting from the +advance of the science, a treatise on Hydropathy, Homoepathy, and the +Chronothermal system. It is published by Thomas, Cowperthwaite & Co., +Philadelphia, and does, in general appearance and character, great +credit to those enterprizing publishers. + + + _General Scott and his Staff. Comprising Memoirs of + Generals Twiggs, Smith, Quitman, Shields, Pillow, Lane, + Cadwallader, Patterson, and Pierce, and Colonels + Childs, Riley, Harney and Butler, and Other + Distinguished Officers Attached to General Scott's + Army; Together with Notices of Gen. Kearney, Col. + Doniphan, Fremont, and Others. Philadelphia: Grigg, + Elliot & Co._ + + +This work embodies the floating intelligence which has reached us in +relation to the present Mexican war, and is illustrated by wood-cuts +worthy of the text. We can say no more. This book is not inferior to +others which the curiosity of the community has invited, and will +doubtless sell, as they have sold, well. + + + _General Taylor and his Staff. Comprising Memoirs of + Generals Taylor, Worth, Wool, and Butler, Cols. May, + Cross, Clay, Hardin, Yell, Hays, and Other + Distinguished Officers Attached to Gen. Taylor's Army. + Philadelphia: Grigg, Elliot & Co._ + + +This volume seems to be as picturesque and as veritable as other works +of a like character, and is as well written and as well printed as the +best. Perhaps this is not saying much; but can we say more? + + + _Lectures on the Physical Phenomena of Living Beings. + By Carlo Matteuci, Professor in the University of Pisa. + Translated by Jonathan Pereira, M. D., F. R. S. Phila.: + Lea & Blanchard._ + + +This work has passed through two editions in Italy, and one in France. +A hasty examination of the volume has excited a degree of curiosity +and admiration which a more careful perusal than we can now give it +will enable us hereafter to do justice to. + + + _Three Hours, or the Vigil of Love, and Other Poems. By + Mrs. S. J. Hale. Carey & Hart, Philadelphia._ + + +This beautiful volume is dedicated to the readers of the Lady's Book, +(why not to its amiable proprietor?) of which she has long been an +able and successful editor. We have not found time to examine the +volume page by page--that is a happiness reserved to us, and we feel, +in so much, the richer in our capital of future enjoyment; but we know +that Mrs. Hale is one of the purest, most powerful, truthful, and +tasteful of our writers; and we are certain that the volume before us +is worthy of more than praise. + + +_Evangeline._--This beautiful poem has been beautifully complimented +by an artist-poet whose contributions enrich our pages, Thomas +Buchanan Read, or, as he has been aptly characterized by a +contemporary, "the Doric Read." The painting is worthy the subject, +the artist, and the poet; and is one of the richest productions of +American art. + + + _A Campaign in Mexico, or a Glimpse at Life in Camp. By + one who has seen the Elephant. Phila.: Grigg & + Elliott._ + + +This work, though, perhaps, beneath the dignity of a formal review, is +still good reading, and we have gone through its pages with pleasure. + + + _Principles of Physics and Meteorology. By J. Mueller. + First American edition, Revised and Illustrated with + 538 engravings on wood, and two colored plates. Phila.: + Lea & Blanchard._ + + +This treatise on Physics, by Professor Mueller, is the first of a +series of works, on the different branches of science, now passing +through the press of Bailliere, in London. The American editor has +made many additions and improvements; and the work, as presented to +the public, is worthy of all praise and all patronage. + + + _The Primary School Reader--Parts First, Second, and + Third. By Wm. D. Swan, Principal of the Mayhew Grammar + School, Boston. Philadelphia: Thomas, Cowperthwaite & + Co._ + + +These volumes have been prepared to supply the want of a system for +teaching reading in Primary Schools. The task has been well performed, +and the series will be found of value both to the teacher and the +taught. + + + _Greene's Analysis. A Treatise on the Structure of the + English Language, or the Analysis and Classification of + Sentences and their Component Parts. With Illustrations + and Exercises adapted to the use of schools. By Samuel + J. Greene, A. M., Principal of the Phillip's Grammar + School, Boston. Published by Thomas, Cowperthwaite & + Co._ + + +The title of this volume sufficiently indicates its purposes and +character. It is a work calculated to contribute, in a considerable +degree, to improve the methods of teaching the English language. + + + _The Grammar School Reader, consisting of Selections in + Prose and Poetry, with Exercises in Articulation. By + William D. Swan. Thomas, Cowperthwaite & Co., + Philadelphia._ + + +This work is well designed to correct prevailing vices of +articulation. There is much room for reform in this branch of +education, even our best public speakers being guilty of provincial +errors, and faulty enunciation. The rules are lucidly explained, and +the selections made with taste. + + + _Swan's District School Reader. Same Publishers._ + + +This is a more advanced and more valuable branch of the same series of +class books, and is designed for the highest classes of public and +private schools. + + +THE HOME JOURNAL.--This admirable periodical maintains and advances +its enviable reputation. With Morris & Willis as its editors, it needs +no endorsement from its contemporaries. It must be, with such genius, +tact and experience, all that a weekly periodical can be. We invite +attention to the advertisement upon the cover of this number of the +Magazine. Those who know the Journal will complain that the +advertisers have not told half its merits. + + +Transcriber's Note: + +1. page 133--corrected typo 'mizzen-rroyal' to 'mizzen-royal' + +2. page 135--corrected typo 'them erchant' to 'the merchant' + +3. page 137--punctuation mark at end of paragraph '...not gone the + voyage.,' corrected to " + +4. page 139--period in sentence '...of a Kentucky rifleman. I + brought...' corrected to a comma + +5. page 139--typo in '...I get acquaiuted with her?' corrected to + 'acquainted' + +6. page 139--typo in '...I beg you wont get out' corrected to 'won't' + +7. page 140--typo in sentence "'Sartainly, sartainly," said he... + changed to "'Sartainly, sartainly,' said he... + +8. page 140--typos in sentence '...expect you early, gentlemem. + Adieu--and with...' corrected to '...expect you early, gentlemen. + Adieu'--corrected spelling mistake and added single quote mark + +9. page 140--comma at end of sentence '...Is she so handsome, Ben,' + changed to period + +10. page 140--single quotes added in sentence "Egad! you don't say so!", + so resulting sentence reads "'Egad! you don't say so!'" + +11. page 140--later same sentence, corrected typo 'thonght' to 'thought' + +12. page 142--added missing single quote at start of sentence + "Mr. Stewart,' said Don Pedro... + +13. page 143--removed extraneous single quote in sentence ...and answer + me frankly. 'Do you really love... sentence is part of a continuing + quotation + +14. page 144--typo '...make love a la mode?...' corrected to 'a la + mode...' + +15. page 144--typo 'wont' corrected to 'won't' + +16. page 145--single quote added at start of sentence "What!' cried + Clara... + +17. page 145--double quotes changed to single in sentence "'Oh + Pedro!" continued his sister... + +18. page 146--corrected typo 'an' in sentence '...but to cut an + run, and favored...' to 'and' + +19. page 148--typo 'Giacoma' corrected to 'Giacomo' + +20. page 158--typo 'hour's' in sentence '...only a few hour's drive + from...' corrected to 'hours'' + +21. page 158--colon at end of line 'At the sunny hour of noon:' + changed to semi-colon + +22. page 162--typo 'interpretaion' corrected to 'interpretation' + +23. page 163--typo 'wtth' in sentence '...much, compared wtth its + village-like...' corrected to 'with' + +24. page 166--typos in sentence '...je sins un pr[=e]tre.' corrected + to '...je suis un pretre.' + +25. page 167--typo in sentence '..."How should I know, monsieur?,' + corrected to '"How should I know, monsieur?"' + +26. page 167, later--double quote added to sentence "Pretty--very + pretty lodgers, said I. + +27. page 168--extraneous double quote removed from sentence 'I knew + from its position...' + +28. page 168--missing initial double quote added to sentence Oui, + monsieur." + +29. page 169--period substituted for comma at end of sentence '...at + length, then?" said I, + +30. page 169--same error at end of '...black upon his arm," + +31. page 169--extraneous double quote removed from sentence '...before + me, dying!" The concierge...' + +32. page 170--added missing quote at end of sentence '...cher?--it is + a sad story.' + +33. page 171--extraneous " removed at end of sentence '...had not found + her friend.' + +34. page 171--extraneous " removed at end of sentence '...He is dead, + too, then?' + +35. page 171--changed comma to period at end of line '..enchanted, + wander evermore,' + +36. page 172--added quote at start of sentence 'Emma will have it that...' + +37. page 173--removed extra 's' from 'disinterestednesss' + +38. page 175--added missing quote at end of '...flirts a discretion.' + +39. page 180--added 't' to word 'eloquenly' + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Graham's Magazine Vol XXXII. No. 3. +March 1848, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GRAHAM'S MAGAZINE, MARCH 1848 *** + +***** This file should be named 29236.txt or 29236.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/9/2/3/29236/ + +Produced by David T. Jones, Juliet Sutherland and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Canada Team at +http://www.pgdpcanada.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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