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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Graham's Magazine, Vol. XXXII No. 4, April
+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. 4, April 1848
+
+Author: Various
+
+Editor: George R. Graham
+        Robert T. Conrad
+
+Release Date: June 25, 2009 [EBook #29239]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GRAHAM'S MAGAZINE ***
+
+
+
+
+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, APRIL, 1848. NO. 4.
+
+JACOB JONES.
+
+OR THE MAN WHO COULDN'T GET ALONG IN THE WORLD.
+
+BY T. S. ARTHUR.
+
+
+Jacob Jones was clerk in a commission store at a salary of five
+hundred dollars a year. He was just twenty-two, and had been receiving
+this salary for two years. Jacob had no one to care for but himself;
+but, somehow or other, it happened that he did not lay up any money,
+but, instead, usually had from fifty to one hundred dollars standing
+against him on the books of his tailors.
+
+"How much money have you laid by, Jacob?" said one day the merchant
+who employed him. This question came upon Jacob rather suddenly; and
+coming from the source that it did, was not an agreeable one--for the
+merchant was a very careful and economical man.
+
+"I havn't laid by any thing yet," replied Jacob, with a slight air of
+embarrassment.
+
+"You havn't!" said the merchant, in surprise. "Why what have you done
+with your money?"
+
+"I've spent it, somehow or other."
+
+"It must have been somehow or other, I should think, or somehow else,"
+returned the employer, half seriously, and half playfully. "But
+really, Jacob, you are a very thoughtless young man to waste your
+money."
+
+"I don't think I _waste_ my money," said Jacob.
+
+"What, then, have you done with it?" asked the merchant.
+
+"It costs me the whole amount of my salary to live."
+
+The merchant shook his head.
+
+Then you live extravagantly for a young man of your age and condition.
+How much do you pay for boarding?"
+
+"Four dollars a week."
+
+"Too much by from fifty cents to a dollar. But, even paying that sum,
+four more dollars per week ought to meet fully all your other
+expenses, and leave you what would amount to nearly one hundred
+dollars per annum to lay by. I saved nearly two hundred dollars a year
+on a salary no larger than you receive."
+
+"I should like very much to know how you did it. I can't save a cent;
+in fact, I hardly ever have ten dollars in my pocket."
+
+"Where does your money go, Jacob? In what way do you spend a hundred
+dollars a year more than is necessary?"
+
+"They are spent, I know; and that is pretty much all I can tell about
+it," replied Jacob.
+
+"You can certainly tell by your private account book."
+
+"I don't keep any private account, sir."
+
+"You don't?" in surprise.
+
+"No, sir. What's the use? My salary is five hundred dollars a year,
+and wouldn't be any more nor less if I kept an account of every half
+cent of it."
+
+"Humph!"
+
+The merchant said no more. His mind was made up about his clerk. The
+fact that he spent five hundred dollars a year, and kept no
+private account, was enough for him.
+
+"He'll never be any good to himself nor anybody else. Spend his whole
+salary--humph! Keep no private account--humph!"
+
+This was the opinion held of Jacob Jones by his employer from that
+day. The reason why he had inquired as to how much money he had saved,
+was this. He had a nephew, a poor young man, who, like Jacob, was a
+clerk, and showed a good deal of ability for business. His salary was
+rather more than what Jacob received, and, like Jacob, he spent it
+all; but not on himself. He supported, mainly, his mother and a
+younger brother and sister. A good chance for a small, but safe
+beginning, was seen by the uncle, which would require only about a
+thousand dollars as an investment. In his opinion it would be just
+the thing for Jacob and the nephew. Supposing that Jacob had four or
+five hundred dollars laid by, it was his intention, if he approved of
+the thing, to furnish his nephew with a like sum, in order to join him
+and enter into business. But the acknowledgment of Jacob that he had
+not saved a dollar, and that he kept no private account, settled the
+matter in the merchant's mind, as far as he was concerned.
+
+About a month afterward, Jacob met his employer's nephew, who said,
+
+"I am going into business."
+
+"You are?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"What are you going to do?"
+
+"Open a commission store."
+
+"Ah! Can you get any good consignments?"
+
+"I am to have the agency for a new mill, which has just commenced
+operations, beside consignments of goods from several small concerns
+at the East."
+
+"You will have to make advances."
+
+"To no great extent. My uncle has secured the agency of the new mill
+here without any advance being required, and eight hundred or a
+thousand dollars will be as much as I shall need to secure as many
+goods as I can sell from the other establishments of which I speak."
+
+"But where will the eight hundred or a thousand come from?"
+
+"My uncle has placed a thousand dollars at my disposal. Indeed, the
+whole thing is the result of his recommendation."
+
+"Your uncle! You are a lucky dog. I wish I had a rich uncle. But there
+is no such good fortune for me."
+
+This was the conclusion of Jacob Jones, who made himself quite unhappy
+for some weeks, brooding over the matter. He never once dreamed of the
+real cause of his not having had an equal share in his young friend's
+good fortune. He had not the most distant idea that his employer felt
+nearly as much regard for him as for his nephew, and would have
+promoted his interests as quickly, if he had felt justified in doing
+so.
+
+"It's my luck, I suppose," was the final conclusion of his mind; "and
+it's no use to cry about it. Any how, it isn't every man with a rich
+uncle, and a thousand dollars advanced, who succeeds in business, nor
+every man who starts without capital that is unsuccessful. I
+understand as much about business as the old man's nephew, any day;
+and can get consignments as well as he can."
+
+Three or four months after this, Jacob notified the merchant that he
+was going to start for himself, and asked his interest as far as he
+could give it, without interfering with his own business. His employer
+did not speak very encouragingly about the matter, which offended
+Jacob.
+
+"He's afraid I'll injure his nephew," he said to himself. "But he
+needn't be uneasy--the world is wide enough for us all, the old
+hunks!"
+
+Jacob borrowed a couple of hundred dollars, took a store at five
+hundred dollars a year rent, and employed a clerk and porter. He then
+sent his circulars to a number of manufactories at the East,
+announcing the fact of his having opened a new commission house, and
+soliciting consignments. His next move was, to leave his
+boarding-house, where he had been paying four dollars a week, and take
+lodgings at a hotel at seven dollars a week.
+
+Notwithstanding Jacob went regularly to the post office twice every
+day, few letters came to hand, and but few of them contained bills of
+lading and invoices. The result of the first year's business was an
+income from commission on sales of seven hundred dollars. Against this
+were the items of one thousand dollars for personal expenses, five
+hundred dollars for store-rent, seven hundred dollars for clerk and
+porter, and for petty and contingent expenses, two hundred dollars;
+leaving the uncomfortable deficit of seventeen hundred dollars, which
+stood against him in the form of bills payable for sales effected, and
+small notes of accommodation borrowed from his friends.
+
+The result of the first year's business of his old employer's nephew
+was very different. The gross profits were three thousand dollars, and
+the expenses as follows: personal expense, seven hundred dollars--just
+what the young man's salary had previously been, and out of which he
+supported his mother and her family--store-rent, three hundred
+dollars; porter, two hundred and fifty, petty expenses one hundred
+dollars--in all, thirteen hundred and fifty dollars, leaving a net
+profit of sixteen hundred and fifty dollars. It will be seen that he
+did not go to the expense of a clerk during the first year. He
+preferred working a little harder, and keeping his own books, by which
+an important saving was effected.
+
+At the end of the second year, notwithstanding Jacob Jones' business
+more than doubled itself, he was compelled to wind up, and found
+himself twenty-five hundred dollars worse than nothing. Several of his
+unpaid bills to eastern houses were placed in suit, and as he lived in
+a state where imprisonment for debt still existed, he was compelled to
+go through the forms required by the insolvent laws, to keep clear of
+durance vile.
+
+At the very period when he was driven under by adverse gales, his
+young friend, who had gone into business about the same time, found
+himself under the necessity of employing a clerk. He offered Jones a
+salary of four hundred dollars, the most he believed himself yet
+justified in paying. This was accepted, and Jacob found himself once
+more standing upon _terra firma_, although the portion upon which his
+feet rested was very small, still it was _terra firma_--and that was
+something.
+
+The real causes of his ill success never for a moment occurred to the
+mind of Jacob. He considered himself an "unlucky dog."
+
+"Every thing that some people touch turns to money," he would
+sometimes say. "But I wasn't born under a lucky star."
+
+Instead of rigidly bringing down his expenses, as he ought to have
+done, to four hundred dollars, if he had had to live in a garret and
+cook his own food, Jacob went back to his old boarding-house, and
+paid four dollars a week. All his other expenses required at least
+eight dollars more to meet them. He was perfectly aware that he was
+living beyond his income--the exact excess he did not stop to
+ascertain--but he expected an increase of salary before long, as a
+matter of course, either in his present situation or in a new one. But
+no increase took place for two years, and then he was between three
+and four hundred dollars in debt to tailors, boot-makers, his
+landlady, and to sundry friends, to whom he applied for small sums of
+money in cases of emergency.
+
+One day about this time, two men were conversing together quite
+earnestly, as they walked leisurely along one of the principal streets
+of the city where Jacob resided. One was past the prime of life, and
+the other about twenty-two. They were father and son, and the subject
+of conversation related to the wish of the latter to enter into
+business. The father did not think the young man was possessed of
+sufficient knowledge of business, or experience, and was, therefore,
+desirous of associating some one with him who could make up these
+deficiencies. If he could find just the person that pleased him, he
+was ready to advance capital and credit to an amount somewhere within
+the neighborhood of twenty thousand dollars. For some months he had
+been thinking of Jacob, who was a first-rate salesman, had a good
+address, and was believed by him to possess business habits eminently
+conducive to success. The fact that he had once failed, was something
+of a drawback in his mind, but he had asked Jacob the reason of his
+ill-success, which was so plausibly explained, that he considered the
+young man as simply unfortunate in not having capital, and nothing
+else.
+
+"I think Mr. Jones just the right man for you," the father said, as
+they walked along.
+
+"I don't know of any one with whom I had rather form a business
+connection. He is a man of good address, business habits, and, as far
+as I know, good principles."
+
+"Suppose you mention the subject to him this afternoon."
+
+This was agreed to. The two men then entered the shop of a fashionable
+tailor, for the purpose of ordering some clothes. While there, a man,
+having the appearance of a collector, came in, and drew the tailor
+aside. Their conversation was brief but earnest, and concluded by the
+tailor's saying, so loud that he could be heard by all who were
+standing near,
+
+"It's no use to waste your time with him any longer. Just hand over
+the account to Simpson, and let him take care of it."
+
+The collector turned away, and the tailor came back to his customers.
+
+"It is too bad," he said, "the way some of these young fellows do
+serve us. I have now several thousand dollars on my books against
+clerks who receive salaries large enough to support them handsomely,
+and I can't collect a dollar of it. There is Jacob Jones, whose
+account I have just ordered to be placed in the hands of a lawyer, he
+owes me nearly two hundred dollars, and I can't get a cent out of
+him. I call him little better than a scamp."
+
+The father and son exchanged glances of significance, but said
+nothing. The fate of Jacob Jones was sealed.
+
+"If that is the case," said the father, as they stepped into the
+street, "the less we have to do with him the better."
+
+To this the son assented. Another more prudent young man was selected,
+whose fortune was made.
+
+"When Jacob received lawyer Simpson's note, threatening a suit if the
+tailor's bill were not paid, he was greatly disturbed.
+
+"Am I not the most unfortunate man in the world?" he said to himself,
+by way of consolation. "After having paid him so much money, to be
+served like this. It is too bad. But this is the way of the world. Let
+a poor devil once get a little under the weather, and every one must
+have a kick at him."
+
+In this dilemma poor Jacob had to call upon the tailor and beg him for
+further time. This was humiliating, especially as the tailor was
+considerably out of humor, and disposed to be hard with him. A threat
+to apply for the benefit of the insolvent law again, if a suit was
+pressed to an issue, finally induced the tailor to waive legal
+proceedings for the present, and Jacob had the immediate terrors of
+the law taken from before his eyes.
+
+This event set Jacob to thinking and calculating, what he had never
+before deemed necessary in his private affairs. The result did not
+make him feel any happier. To his astonishment he ascertained that he
+owed more than the whole of his next year's salary would pay, while
+that was not in itself sufficient to meet his current expenses.
+
+For some weeks after this discovery of the real state of his affairs,
+Jacob was very unhappy. He applied for an increase of salary, and
+obtained the addition of one hundred dollars per annum. This was
+something, which was about all that could be said. If he could live on
+four hundred dollars a year, which he had never yet been able to do,
+the addition to his salary would not pay his tailor's bill within two
+years; and what was he to do with boot-maker, landlady, and others?
+
+It happened about this time that a clerk in the bank where his old
+employer was a director, died. His salary had been one thousand
+dollars. For the vacant place Jacob made immediate application, and
+was so fortunate as to secure it.
+
+Under other circumstances, Jacob would have refused a salary of
+fifteen hundred dollars in a bank against five hundred in a
+counting-room, and for the reason that a bank, or office clerk, has
+little or no hope beyond his salary all his life, while a
+counting-house clerk, if he have any aptness for trade, stands a fair
+chance of getting into business sooner or later, and making his
+fortune as a merchant. But a debt of four hundred dollars hanging over
+his head, was an argument in favor of a clerkship in the bank, at a
+salary of a thousand dollars a year, not to be resisted.
+
+"I'll keep it until I get even with the world again," he consoled
+himself by saying, "and then I'll go back into a counting-room. I've
+an ambition above being a bank clerk all my life."
+
+Painful experience had made Jacob a little wiser. For the first time
+in his life he commenced keeping an account of his personal expenses.
+This acted as a salutary check upon his bad habit of spending money
+for every little thing that happened to strike his fancy, and enabled
+him to clear off his whole debt within the first year. Unwisely,
+however, he had, during this time, promised to pay some old debts,
+from which the law had released him. The persons holding these claims,
+finding him in the receipt of a higher salary, made an appeal to his
+honor, which, like an honest, but not a prudent man, he responded to
+by a promise of payment as soon as it was in his power. But little
+time elapsed after these promises were made, before he found himself
+in the hands of constables and magistrates, and was only saved from
+imprisonment by getting friends to go his bail for six and nine
+months. In order to secure them, he had to give an order in advance
+for his salary. To get these burdens off of his shoulders, it took
+twelve months longer, and then he was nearly thirty years of age.
+
+"Thirty years old!" he said, to himself on his thirtieth birth-day.
+"Can it be possible? Long before this I ought to have been doing a
+flourishing business, and here I am, nothing but a bank clerk, with
+the prospect of never rising a step higher as long as I live. I don't
+know how it is that some people get along so well in the world. I am
+sure I am as industrious, and can do business as well as any man; but
+here I am still at the point from which I started twenty years ago. I
+can't understand it. I'm afraid there's more in luck than I'm willing
+to believe."
+
+From this time Jacob set himself to work to obtain a situation in some
+store or counting-room, and finally, after looking about for nearly a
+year, was fortunate enough to obtain a good place, as book-keeper and
+salesman, with a wholesale grocer and commission merchant. Seven
+hundred dollars was to be his salary. His friends called him a fool
+for giving up an easy place at one thousand a year, for a hard one at
+seven hundred. But the act was a much wiser one than many others of
+his life.
+
+Instead of saving money during the third year of his receipt of one
+thousand dollars, he spent the whole of his salary, without paying off
+a single old debt. His private account-keeping had continued through a
+year and a half. After that it was abandoned. Had it been continued,
+it might have saved him three or four hundred dollars, which were now
+all gone, and nothing to show for them. Poor Jacob! experience did not
+make him much wiser.
+
+Two years passed, and at least half a dozen young men here and there
+around our friend Jacob, went into business, either as partners in
+some old houses, or under the auspices of relatives or interested
+friends. But there appeared no opening for him. He did not know, that
+many times during that period, he had been the subject of conversation
+between parties, one or both of which were looking out for a man of
+thorough business qualifications against which capital would be
+placed; nor the fact, that either his first failure, his improvidence,
+or something else personal to himself, had caused him to be set aside
+for some other one not near so capable.
+
+He was lamenting his ill-luck one day, when a young man with whom he
+was very well acquainted, and who was clerk in a neighboring store,
+called in and said that he wanted to have some talk with him about a
+matter of interest to both.
+
+"First of all, Mr. Jones," said the young man, after they were alone,
+"how much capital could you raise by a strong effort?"
+
+"I am sure I don't know," replied Jacob, not in a very cheerful tone.
+"I never was lucky in having friends ready to assist me."
+
+"Well! perhaps there will be no need of that. You have had a good
+salary for four or five years--how much have you saved? Enough,
+probably, to answer every purpose--that is, if you are willing to join
+me in taking advantage of one of the best openings for business that
+has offered for a long time. I have a thousand dollars in the savings
+bank. You have as much, or more, I presume?"
+
+"I am sorry to say I have not," was poor Jacob's reply, in a
+desponding voice. "I was unfortunate in business some years ago, and
+my old debts have drained away from me every dollar I could earn."
+
+"Indeed! that is very unfortunate. I was in hopes you could furnish a
+thousand dollars."
+
+"I might borrow it, perhaps, if the chance is a very good one."
+
+"Well, if you could do that, it would be as well, I suppose," returned
+the young man. "But you must see about it immediately. If you cannot
+join me at once, I must find some one who will, for the chance is too
+good to be lost."
+
+Jacob got a full statement of the business proposed, its nature and
+prospects, and then laid the matter before the three merchants with
+whom he had at different times lived in the capacity of clerk, and
+begged them to advance him the required capital. The subject was taken
+up by them and seriously considered. They all liked Jacob, and felt
+willing to promote his interests, but had little or no confidence in
+his ultimate success, on account of his want of economy in personal
+matters. It was very justly remarked by one of them, that this want of
+economy, and the judicious use of money in personal matters, would go
+with him in business, and mar all his prospects. Still, as they had
+great confidence in the other man, they agreed to advance, jointly,
+the sum needed.
+
+In the meantime, the young man who had made the proposition to Jacob,
+when he learned that he had once failed in business, was still in
+debt, and liable to have claims pushed against him, (this he inferred
+from Jacob's having stretched the truth, by saying that his old debts
+drained away from him every dollar, when the fact was he was freed
+from them by the provisions of the insolvent law of the state,) came
+to the conclusion that a business connection with him was a thing to
+be avoided rather than sought after. He accordingly turned his
+thoughts in another quarter, and when Jones called to inform him that
+he had raised the capital needed, he was coolly told that it was too
+late, he having an hour before closed a partnership arrangement with
+another person, under the belief that Jones could not advance the
+money required.
+
+This was a bitter disappointment, and soured the mind of Jacob against
+his fellow man, and against the fates also, which he alledged were all
+combined against him. His own share in the matter was a thing
+undreamed of. He believed himself far better qualified for business
+than the one who had been preferred before him, and he had the
+thousand dollars to advance. It must be his luck that was against him,
+nothing else; he could come to no other conclusion. Other people could
+get along in the world, but he couldn't. That was the great mystery of
+his life.
+
+For two years Jacob had been waiting to get married. He had not wished
+to take this step before entering into business, and having a fair
+prospect before him. But years were creeping on him apace, and the
+fair object of his affections seemed weary of delay.
+
+"It is no use to wait any longer," he said, after this dashing of his
+cup to the earth. "Luck is against me. I shall never be any thing but
+a poor devil of a clerk. If Clara is willing to share my humble lot,
+we might as well be married first as last."
+
+Clara was not unwilling, and Jacob Jones entered into the estate
+connubial, and took upon him the cares of a family, with a salary of
+seven hundred dollars a year to sustain the new relation. Instead of
+taking cheap boarding, or renting a couple of rooms, and commencing
+housekeeping in a small way, Jacob saw but one course before him, and
+that was to rent a genteel house, go in debt for genteel furniture,
+and keep two servants. Two years was the longest that he could bear up
+under this state of things, when he was sold out by the sheriff, and
+forced "to go through the mill again," as taking the benefit of the
+insolvent law was facetiously called.
+
+"Poor fellow! he has a hard time of it. I wonder why it is that he
+gets along so badly. He is an industrious man, and regular in his
+habits. It is strange. But some men seem born to ill-luck."
+
+So said some of his pitying friends. Others understood the matter
+better.
+
+Ten years have passed, and Jacob is still a clerk, but not in a store.
+Hopeless of getting into business, he applied for a vacancy that
+occurred in an insurance company, and received the appointment, which
+he still holds, at a salary of twelve hundred dollars a year. After
+being sold out three times by the sheriff, and having the deep
+mortification of seeing her husband brought down to the humiliating
+necessity of applying as often for the benefit of the insolvent law,
+Mrs. Jones took affairs, by consent of her husband, into her own
+hands, and managed them with such prudence and economy that,
+notwithstanding they have five children, the expenses, all told, are
+not over eight hundred dollars a year, and half of the surplus, four
+hundred dollars, is appropriated to the liquidation of debts
+contracted since their marriage, and the other half deposited in the
+savings' bank, as a fund for the education of their children in the
+higher branches, when they reach a more advanced age.
+
+To this day it is a matter of wonder to Jacob Jones why he could never
+get along in the world like some people; and he has come to the
+settled conviction that it is his "luck."
+
+
+
+
+THE DARLING.
+
+BY BLANCHE BENNAIRDE.
+
+
+    When first we saw her face, so dimpled o'er
+      With smiles of sweetest charm, we said within
+    Our inmost heart, that ne'er on earth before
+      Had so much passing beauty ever been:
+    So full of sweetest grace, so fair to see--
+    This treasure bright our babe in infancy.
+
+    Like blush of roses was the tint of health
+      O'erspread her lovely cheeks; and they might vie
+    In beauty with the fairest flower--nor wealth,
+      Though told in countless millions, e'er could buy
+    The radiance of this gem, than aught more bright
+    Which lies in hidden mine, or saw the light.
+
+    The dawn of life was fair; so was its morn;
+      For with each day new beauties met our view,
+    And well we deemed that she, the dear first-born,
+      Might early fade, like flowers that earth bestrew
+    With all their cherished beauty, leaving naught
+    But faded leaves where once their forms were sought.
+
+    She smiled upon us, and her spirit fled
+      To taste the pleasures of that fairer land,
+    Where angels ever dwell--she is not dead;
+      But there with them her beauteous form doth stand,
+    Arrayed in flowing light, before the throne
+    Of Him whose name is Love--the Holy One.
+
+    She was our choicest bud, our precious flower;
+      But now she blooms in that celestial place,
+    Where naught can spoil the pleasure of an hour,
+      Nor from its beauty one bright line efface--
+    Where all is one perpetual scene of bliss,
+    Unmixed with sin; all perfect happiness.
+
+    The darling then is safe, secure from ill;
+      Why should we mourn that she hath left this earth,
+    When in that brighter land she bloometh still,
+      A flower more perfect, of celestial birth?
+    Let us submit, and own His righteous care
+    Who doeth well; striving to meet her there.
+
+
+
+
+BATTLE OF FORT MOULTRIE.[1]
+
+BY CHARLES J. PETERSON.
+
+When the news of the battle of Lexington reached Charleston, South
+Carolina rose in commotion. The provincial Congress, which had
+adjourned, immediately re-assembled. Two regiments of foot and one of
+horse were ordered to be raised; measures were taken to procure
+powder; and every preparation made for the war which was now seen to
+be inevitable. A danger of a vital character speedily threatened the
+colony. This was its invasion by the British; a project which had long
+been entertained by the royal generals. To provide in time for
+defeating it, Congress had dispatched General Lee to the South. It was
+not until the beginning of the summer of 1776, however, that the
+enemy's armament set sail from New York, consisting of a large fleet
+of transports with a competent land force, commanded by Sir Henry
+Clinton, and attended by a squadron of nine men-of-war, led by Sir
+Peter Parker. On the arrival of this expedition off the coast, all was
+terror and confusion among the South Carolinians. Energetic measures
+were, however, adopted to repel the attack.
+
+To defend their capital the inhabitants constructed on Sullivan's
+Island, near the entrance of their harbor, and about four miles from
+the city, a rude fort of palmetto logs, the command of which was given
+to Col. Moultrie. Never, perhaps, was a more inartificial defence
+relied on in so great an emergency. The form of the fort was square,
+with a bastion at each angle; it was built of logs based on each other
+in parallel rows, at a distance of sixteen feet. Other logs were bound
+together at frequent intervals with timber dove-tailed and bolted into
+them. The spaces between were filled up with sand. The merlons were
+faced with palmetto logs. All the industry of the Carolinians,
+however, was insufficient to complete the fort in time; and when the
+British fleet entered the harbor, the defences were little more than a
+single front facing the water. The whole force of Col. Moultrie was
+four hundred and thirty-five, rank and file; his armament consisted of
+nine French twenty-sixes, fourteen English eighteens, nine twelve and
+seven nine pounders. Finding the fort could be easily enfiladed, Gen.
+Lee advised abandoning it; but the governor refused, telling Moultrie
+to keep his post, until he himself ordered the retreat. Moultrie, on
+his part, required no urging to adopt this more heroic course. A
+spectator happening to say, that in half an hour the enemy would knock
+the fort to pieces. "Then," replied Moultrie, undauntedly, "we will
+lie behind the ruins, and prevent their men from landing." Lee with
+many fears left the island, and repairing to his camp on the main
+land, prepared to cover the retreat of the garrison, which he
+considered inevitable.
+
+[Footnote 1: From a work now in press, and shortly to be published,
+entitled "_The Military Heroes of the United States. By C. J.
+Peterson. 2 vols. 8vo. 500 pp._"]
+
+There was, perhaps, more of bravado than of sound military policy in
+attacking this fort at all, since the English fleet might easily have
+run the gauntlet of it, as was done a few years later. But Fort
+Moultrie was destined to be to the navy what Bunker Hill had been to
+the army. It was in consequence of excess of scorn for his enemy, that
+Sir Peter Parker, disdaining to leave such a place in his rear,
+resolved on its total demolition. He had no doubt but that, in an hour
+at the utmost, he could make the unpracticed Carolinians glad to sue
+for peace on any terms. Accordingly on the 28th of June, 1776, he
+entered the harbor, in all the parade of his proud ships, nine in
+number, and drawing up abreast the fort, let go his anchors with
+springs upon his cables, and began a furious cannonade. Meanwhile
+terror reigned in Charleston. As the sound of the first gun went
+booming over the waters toward the town, the trembling inhabitants who
+had been crowding the wharves and lining the house-tops since early
+morning, turned pale with ominous forebodings. Nor were the feelings
+of the defenders of the fort less anxious. Looking off, over the low
+island intervening between them and the city, they could see the
+gleaming walls of their distant homes; and their imaginations conjured
+up the picture of those dear habitations given to the flames, as
+another Charlestown had been, a twelve-month before, and the still
+dearer wives that inhabited them, cast houseless upon the world. As
+they turned from this spectacle, and watched the haughty approach of
+the enemy, at every motion betraying confidence of success, their eyes
+kindled with indignant feelings, and they silently swore to make good
+the words of their leader, by perishing, if need were, under the ruins
+of the fort.
+
+One by one the British men-of-war gallantly approached the stations
+assigned them, Sir Peter Parker, in the Bristol, leading the van. The
+Experiment, another fifty gun ship, came close after, and both dropped
+their anchors in succession directly abreast the fort. The other
+frigates followed, and ranged themselves as supports. The remaining
+vessels were still working up to their stations, when the first gun
+was fired, and instantly the battle begun. The quantity of powder on
+the island being small, five thousand pounds in all, there was an
+absolute necessity that there should be no waste. Accordingly, the
+field-officers pointed the pieces in person, and the words "look to
+the commodore--look to the two-deckers!" passed along the line. The
+conflict soon grew terrific. The balls whistled above the heads of
+the defenders, and bombs fell thick and fast within the fort; yet, in
+the excitement of the moment, the men seemed totally unconscious of
+danger. Occasionally a shot from one of their cannon, striking the
+hull of the flag-ship, would send the splinters flying into the air;
+and then a loud huzza would burst from those who worked the guns; but,
+except in instances like this, the patriots fought in stern and solemn
+silence. Once, when it was seen that the three men-of-war working up
+to join the conflict, had become entangled among the shoals, and would
+not probably be enabled to join in the fight, a general and prolonged
+cheer went down the line, and taken up a second and third time, rose,
+like an exulting strain, over all the uproar of the strife.
+
+The incessant cannonade soon darkened the prospect, the smoke lying
+packed along the surface of the water; while a thousand fiery tongues,
+as from some hundred-headed monster, shot out incessantly, and licking
+the air a moment, were gone forever. Occasionally this thick, cloudy
+veil concealed all but the spars of the enemy from sight, and then the
+tall masts seemed rising, by some potent spell, out of nothing;
+occasionally the terrific explosions would rend and tear asunder the
+curtain, and, for an instant, the black hulls would loom out
+threateningly, and then disappear. The roar of three hundred guns
+shook the island and fort unremittingly: the water that washed the
+sand-beach, gasped with a quick ebb and flow, under the concussions.
+Higher and higher, the sun mounted to the zenith, yet still the battle
+continued. The heat was excessive; but casting aside their coats, the
+men breathed themselves a minute, and returned to the fight. The city
+was now hidden from view, by low banks of smoke, which extending right
+and left along the water, bounded the horizon on two sides. Yet the
+defenders of the fort still thought of the thousands anxiously
+watching them from Charleston, or of the wives and mothers, trembling
+at every explosion for the lives of those they loved. One of their
+number soon fell mortally wounded. Gasping and in agony, he was
+carried by. "Do not give up," he had still strength to say; "you are
+fighting for liberty and country." Who that heard these words could
+think of surrender?
+
+Noon came and went, yet still the awful struggle continued. Suddenly a
+shot struck the flag-staff, and the banner, which had waved in that
+lurid atmosphere all day, fell on the beach outside the fort. For a
+moment there was a pause, as if at a presage of disaster. Then a
+grenadier, the brave and immortal Serjeant Jasper, sprang upon the
+parapet, leaped down to the beach, and passing along nearly the whole
+front of the fort, exposed to the full fire of the enemy, deliberately
+cut off the bunting from the shattered mast, called for a sponge staff
+to be thrown to him, and tying the flag to this, clambered up the
+ramparts and replaced the banner, amid the cheers of his companions.
+Far away, in the city, there had been those who saw, through their
+telescopes, the fall of that flag; and, as the news went around, a
+chill of horror froze every heart, for it was thought the place had
+surrendered. But soon a slight staff was seen uplifted at one of the
+angles: it bore, clinging to it, something like bunting: the breeze
+struck it, the bundle unrolled, it was the flag of America! Hope
+danced again through every heart. Some burst into tears; some laughed
+hysterically; some gave way to outcries and huzzas of delight. As the
+hours wore on, however, new causes for apprehension arose. The fire of
+the fort was perceived to slacken. Could it be that its brave
+defenders, after such a glorious struggle, had at last given in? Again
+hope yielded to doubt, almost to despair; the feeling was the more
+terrible from the late exhilaration. Already, in fancy, the enemy was
+seen approaching the city. Wives began trembling for their husbands,
+who had rendered themselves conspicuous on the patriotic side: mothers
+clasped their infants, whose sires, they thought, had perished in the
+fight, and, in silent agony, prayed God to protect the fatherless.
+Thus passed an hour of the wildest anxiety and alarm. At last
+intelligence was brought that the fire had slackened only for want of
+powder; that a supply had since been secured; and that the cannonade
+would soon be resumed. In a short time these predictions were
+verified, and the air again shook with distant concussions. Thus the
+afternoon passed. Sunset approached, yet the fight raged. Slowly the
+great luminary of day sank in the west, and twilight, cold and calm,
+threw its shadows across the waters; yet still the fight raged. The
+stars came out, twinkling sharp and clear, in that half tropical sky:
+yet still the fight raged. The hum of the day had now subsided, and
+the cicada was heard trilling its note on the night-air: all was quiet
+and serene in the city: yet still the fight raged. The dull, heavy
+reports of the distant artillery boomed louder across the water, and
+the dark curtain of smoke that nearly concealed the ships and fort,
+grew luminous with incessant flashes. The fight still raged. At last
+the frequency of the discharges perceptibly lessened, and gradually,
+toward ten o'clock, ceased altogether. The ships of the enemy were now
+seen moving from their position, and making their way slowly, as if
+crippled and weary, out of the harbor: and, at that sight, most of the
+population, losing their anxiety, returned to their dwellings; though
+crowds still lined some of the wharves, waiting for authentic
+messengers from the fight, and peering into the gathering gloom, to
+detect the approach of the first boat.
+
+The loss of the enemy had been excessive. The flag-ship, the Bristol,
+had forty-four men killed, and thirty wounded: the Experiment, another
+fifty gun ship, fifty-seven killed, and thirty wounded. All the ships
+were much cut up: the two-deckers terribly so; and one of the
+frigates, the Acteon, running aground, was burnt. The last shot fired
+from the fort entered the cabin of Sir Peter Parker's ship, cut down
+two young officers who were drinking there, and passing forward,
+killed three sailors on the main-deck, then passed out and buried
+itself in the sea. The loss on the American side was inconsiderable:
+twelve killed, and about twenty-five wounded. During the battle, the
+earnest zeal of the men was occasionally relieved by moments of
+merriment. A coat, having been thrown on the top of one of the
+merlons, was caught by a shot, and lodged in a tree, at which sight a
+general peal of laughter was heard. Moultrie sat coolly smoking his
+pipe during the conflict, occasionally taking it from his mouth to
+issue an order. Once, while the battle was in progress, General Lee
+came off to the island, but, finding every thing so prosperous, soon
+returned to his camp. The supply of powder which was obtained during
+the battle, and which enabled the patriots to resume the fight, was
+procured, part from a schooner in the harbor, part from the city.
+Unbounded enthusiasm, on the side of the inhabitants, hailed the
+gallant defenders of the fort after the victory: Moultrie received the
+thanks of Congress, was elevated to the rank of brigadier-general, and
+was honored by having the post he had defended called after his name.
+A stand of colors was presented, by Mrs. Elliott, to the men of his
+regiment, with the belief, she said, "that they would stand by them,
+as long as they could wave in the air of liberty." It was in guarding
+these colors, and perhaps in the recollection of her words, that the
+brave Serjeant Jasper lost his life, subsequently, at the siege of
+Savannah.
+
+
+
+
+THE POET'S LOVE.
+
+BY HENRY B. HIRST.
+
+[THE POET COMMUNETH WITH HIS SOUL.]
+
+
+    "Thou hast a heart," my spirit said;
+    "Seek out a kindred one, and wed:
+    So passes grief, comes joy instead."
+
+    "True, Soul, I have," I quick replied;
+    "But in this weary world and wide
+    That other hath my search defied."
+
+    "Poet, thou hast an eye to see;
+    Thou knowest all things as they be;
+    The spheres are open books to thee.
+
+    "Thou art a missioned creature, sent
+    To preach of beauty--teach content:
+    In life's Sahara pitch thy tent!
+
+    "It is not good to be alone--
+    Not fit for any living one--
+    There's nothing single save the sun.
+
+    "Beasts, fishes, birds--yea, atoms mate,
+    Acknowledging an ordered fate:
+    What dost thou in a single state?"
+
+    "O, Soul!" I bitterly replied,
+    For I was full of haughty pride,
+    "Would in my birth that I had died!
+
+    "I feel what thou hast said is truth;
+    But I am past the bloom of youth,
+    And Beauty's eye has lost its ruth.
+
+    "I languish for some gentle heart
+    To throb with mine, devoid of art,
+    Perfect and pure in every part--
+
+    "Some innocent heart whose pulse's tone
+    Should beat in echo of mine own,
+    Where I might reign and reign alone."
+
+    "All this, and more, thy love might win,"
+    My spirit urged, "poor Child of Sin,
+    That sickenest in this rude world's din.
+
+    "Love is a way-side plant: go forth
+    And pluck--love has no thorns for worth--
+    The blossom from its place of birth.
+
+    "Perchance, on thee may Beauty's queen,
+    And Fortune's, look, with smiling mien--
+    With eyes, whose lids hold love between."
+
+    "Spirit, I am of little worth,"
+    Said I--"an erring child of earth:
+    Yet fain would own a happy hearth.
+
+    "Mere beauty, though it drowns my soul
+    With sunshine, may not be my goal;
+    And love despises gold's control.
+
+    "Better the riches of the mind--
+    A spirit toward the spheres inclined--
+    A heart that veers not with the wind.
+
+    "She might be beautiful, and gold
+    Might clasp her in its ruddy fold--
+    Have lands and tenements to hold:
+
+    "She might be poor--it were the same
+    If lofty, or of lowly name,
+    If famous, or unknown to fame:
+
+    "But she must feel the brotherhood
+    I feel for man--the love of good;--
+    Life is at best an interlude,
+
+    "And we must act our parts so here,
+    That, when we reach a loftier sphere,
+    Our memories shall not shed a tear.
+
+    "With such a one, if fair or brown--
+    Gracing a cottage, or a throne--
+    Soul, I could live and love unknown!
+
+    "Yes, gazing upward in her eye,
+    Scan what was passing in its sky,
+    And swoon, and dream, and, dreaming, die."
+
+    "There is none such," my spirit sighed.
+    "Seek glory: woo her for thy bride.
+    And perish, and be deified!"
+
+    "Why, Soul," I said, "the thought of fame,
+    Of winning an exalted name,
+    Might woo me, but my heart would blame
+
+    "The coldness that compelled me forth.
+    No: somewhere on this lower earth
+    The angel that I seek has birth.
+
+    "If not, I will so worship here
+    Her type, that I shall joy, not _fear_--
+    To meet her in her holier sphere."
+
+
+
+
+MARY WARNER.
+
+OR THE HEAD AND THE HEART.
+
+BY MRS. E. L. B. COWDERY.
+
+"What a happy girl is Mary Warner," said an elderly lady, as a bright
+laughing girl turned into another room.
+
+"And so exceedingly lively and cheerful, for one of her years,"
+rejoined another.
+
+"Years! How old is she?"
+
+"About twenty-four," said a third, who had hitherto been silent, "and
+yet no one, to see her, would think it."
+
+So thought the world, who in their most scrutinizing glance could
+detect no indication of care or gloom, in this, the object of their
+observations, who was one of those bright, intelligent beings, ever
+ready for conversation, and whose sallies of wit, never failed to
+excite the attention of those around her. "Little did they know of my
+aching heart," said Mary, that evening, to one in whom she had
+confided much of her former history; for years had passed since she
+had left the grave of her mother, and her native home, on "New
+England's rocky shore," to wander forth with her father to the western
+wilds. "Little did they know of the bitterness of soul I felt while
+making merriment for them."
+
+"How can you so control your feelings, while endeavoring to conceal
+them, with such an excess of gayety?" eagerly inquired Ella.
+
+"Ah! that is the work of time and necessity. Time has schooled my
+heart to hide behind the covering I might think best to wear. Were my
+history known, my name would be the theme of every tongue, the
+derision of the stoical, the pity of the simple, and exposed to the
+ridicule of a heartless and unfeeling world. The head must dictate and
+govern my actions, all else submitting. Yet nothing can equal the
+wretchedness of trying to conceal with smiles the bitter struggles of
+a wounded spirit, whose every hope hath perished. Eye may not pierce
+through the laughing cover, or ear catch the breathing of a sigh. Even
+sympathy seems like those cold blasts of a November night, seeking the
+hidden recess only to chill its peace forever."
+
+"But do you not," said Ella, "enjoy something of that mirth which you
+inspire in others?"
+
+"Sometimes the excitement is sufficient to make me forget, for a
+moment, the past, but then it is followed by such a depression that
+the feeble clay well nigh sinks beneath it. Misery pays her tribute to
+all my revelry."
+
+"Then never will I again wish for Mary Warner's light and joyous air,"
+said Ella, her cheek flushed with agitation, for being one of those
+sober ones, whose words were ever the thoughts of her heart, she had
+often wished for Mary's power to charm.
+
+Weeks and months had rolled away, until they had numbered years. The
+friends had parted. Ella's calm face still cheered the domestic
+fireside, and Mary was gliding in crowded halls, the gayest of the
+gay. No voice more musical than hers, or tones more sprightly; she
+moved as a creature of enchantment, her image fastening upon the minds
+and memories of all. But Ella was not forgotten or neglected; they
+often corresponded. Mary's letters told but too truly how much those
+scenes were enjoyed by her. In answer to an invitation to come and
+spend the summer in the retirement of Ella's home, she says, "Even in
+this giddy place my heart is full to bursting; should I allow myself
+more time for meditation it would surely break, and pour forth its
+lava streams on the thirsty dust of human pride. In the dark,
+cheerless hour of midnight, my burning, throbbing brain still keeps
+its restless beating, scarce bestowing the poor refreshment of a
+feverish dream to strengthen the earthly tenement. My health is
+failing; there will soon be nothing left for me but the drifts of
+thought and memory, which gather around a weary past and blighted
+future."
+
+It was in vain that Ella tried to place on parchment words of soothing
+and consolation--to draw her thoughts from lingering around the ruined
+wreck of her affections, and direct them to the "hope set before" her,
+of obtaining through the merits of the Savior a home "where the wicked
+cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest." Every letter she
+received came burthened with its own weight of wo.
+
+The summer passed--its roses bloomed and died. Another autumn came and
+whistled by; but ere the winter's snow had melted, there were anxious
+thoughts concerning Mary Warner. Never before had so long a time
+elapsed without a letter from her to Ella. The first crocuses of
+spring had just begun to smile when a letter came, written by a
+stranger's hand! It told of Mary's being sick even unto death, and
+begged of Ella, as she loved her friend, to come and remain with her
+while yet life's taper burned. It was a fearful summons thus to break
+the suspending spell. That evening saw Ella sitting in the cabin of
+one of those large steamers which ply the western waters, anxiously
+wending her way to a retired yet pleasant village near the Ohio, for
+Mary's sadly declining health could no more mingle in the excitement
+of the city, and she had retreated to this lonely place to lay down
+her shattered frame in peace. The night of the second day brought Ella
+to the place of destination. She entered the house where Mary was,
+almost unconscious of the manner in which she introduced herself as
+Mary Warner's friend. That was enough; an elderly lady clasped her
+hand and bade her welcome. "Oh!" said she, "'tis a strange sight to be
+in her sick room. Poor thing! she is nearly gone, and still so lively;
+and, too, this morning when I went in, I know she had been weeping."
+
+"Did she ever mention me?" said Ella.
+
+"Last night she said if you would come, that she could die contented."
+
+"Then lead me to her quickly."
+
+They silently bent their steps to the sick chamber, and coming to the
+door, both made an involuntary pause.
+
+"She is sleeping," said the old lady, softly; but Ella was too much
+struck to make reply. She was thinking of the dreadful changes which
+had come over that frail being since last they met. Worn down to a
+skeleton, her lips compressed, as if in agony, her dark hair thrown
+back upon her shoulders, while her cheeks were pale as the marble so
+soon to be raised in her memory, which, with the glimmering of the
+lights, served to make it a too dismal scene. Staggering forward to a
+chair, she sat down quickly, but in the agitation there was a slight
+noise--it awakened the sleeper; a moment passed--they were in each
+others arms. When the first wild burst of joy had passed away, Mary
+spoke.
+
+"Sit down here, Ella--I want to be alone with you; I feared that I
+might die before you came;" a convulsive shuddering passing over her,
+as she spoke of death. "I want to give you my history. 'T is? a dark
+picture, and yet it has all been mine."
+
+"But are you not too weak and agitated?" asked the warm-hearted
+friend.
+
+"Oh, no! that sweet, quiet sleep has so refreshed me, that I feel
+almost like another being--and I shall be very brief. But to my story.
+You recollect my having often told you that I never set my heart on an
+earthly object but I was doomed to bear a bitter disappointment. That
+wary, stubborn rock, encircled by the whirl of youthful and
+enthusiastic feeling, which, in life's earlier years, drew within its
+circled waves my frail bark of love and hope, then cast it forth--a
+wreck forever.
+
+"In the village in which I was raised, lived one who shared with me
+the sports of childhood; and as we grew older, partook of the
+recreations and amusements of the young together. There was a strange
+similarity in our tastes and dispositions; and we consequently spent
+much of our time in each others society. There were those who
+sometimes smiled to see a young and sunny-haired youth so constantly
+with the sensitive, shrinking Mary Warner; but then they knew we were
+playmates from childhood, and thought no more. Mother was dead, and I
+was under the guidance of my remaining parent, an only child--an
+idolized and favored one; and in my sixteenth year, claimed as the
+bride of Samuel Wayland. Parental judgment frowned, and called it
+folly. What could I do? Our faith had long been plighted, but filial
+respect demanded that should be laid aside; yet what was I to find in
+the future, that would ever repay for the love so vainly wasted. It
+was all a blank. I nerved my heart for our last meeting--but the
+strings were fibrous, and they broke.
+
+"'I shall go to the West, and then you must forget me,' said I, when
+we came to part.
+
+"'Never, Mary, will you, can you be forgotten!'
+
+"We parted there, forever. He is still living, a lone wanderer on the
+earth; we have never had any communications; but there is a unity of
+feeling, a oneness of spirit, that at times make me feel as if we were
+scarcely separated. I enjoy a pleasure in thinking of his memory, a
+confidence that would trust him any where in this wide world; and I
+now believe that wherever he is, his heart is still true to me. As for
+me, I have hurried through life like a 'storm-stricken bird,' no rest
+from the busy scenes in which I mingled. Since then, there have been
+proposals in which honor, wealth, and distinction were connected; and
+once I had well nigh sold myself for interest, and to please my
+father. We were promised, and I was congratulated on my happy
+prospects; but, alas! alas, for me; the more memory reverted to the
+past, my feelings revolted from the present. I sometimes used to stand
+where I could see him pass in the street, and exclaim 'oh, heaven! can
+I marry that man! can I stand before God's altar, and promise to love
+and honor him, when I abhor his presence.' Time was hasting; one night
+I went down into the study; father was sitting there.
+
+"'Well, Mary,' said he, 'I suppose you will leave us soon.'
+
+"That was enough for my pent-up feelings to break forth. 'I suppose
+so,' said I, 'but, oh! father, I would rather see my grave open
+to-morrow, than to think of uniting my destiny with that man. My very
+soul detests him."
+
+"Mary, sit down now, and write a letter to Mr. M----, that you cannot
+keep your promise, and the reason why. Far would it be from me to
+place in the hands of my only daughter, the cup of misery unmixed. My
+judgment and your feelings differ.'
+
+"It was late that night when I sealed the fated letter for M----; but
+I retired and slept easy, there was a burden removed which had
+well-nigh crushed me. What I have experienced since, words may never
+tell; the young have deemed me impenetrable to the natural
+susceptibilities of our natures, while the old have called me
+trifling. But, Ella, depend upon it, a heart once truly given, can
+never be bestowed again. I have erred in trying to conceal my history
+in the manner I have. Instead of placing my dependance on the goodness
+of the Most High, and seeking for that balm which heals the wounded
+spirit, and acquiring a calmness of mind which would render me in a
+measure happy, I plunged into the vortex of worldly pleasure. But it
+is all over now; they say I have the consumption, and pity me, to
+think one so joyous should have to die. To-day has been spent mostly
+in meditation; and I have tried to pray that my Savior would give me
+grace for a dying hour; and, Ella, will you kneel at my bedside and
+pray as you used to, when a young, trembling girl?"
+
+"Yes, I will pray for you again," said Ella; "but take this cordial to
+revive your exhausted frame."
+
+As the friend raised the refreshing draught, she marked such a change
+in Mary's countenance, that her heart quailed at the thought of the
+terrible vigil she was keeping, in the silence of night, alone. She
+kneeled by the sick, and offered up her prayer with an energy unknown
+to her before, such a one as a heart strong in faith, and nerved by
+love and fear alone could dictate; a pleading, borne on high by the
+angel of might, for the strengthening of the immortal soul in
+prison-clay before her. There was a sigh and a groan; she rose hastily
+and bent over the couch--there was a gasping for breath, and all was
+still. Ella's desolate shriek of anguish first told the tale, that
+Mary was dead.
+
+Thus passed again to the Giver, a mind entrusted with high powers, and
+uncontrolled affections, who, in the waywardness of youth, cast
+unreservedly at the shrine of idolatrous love, her all of earthly
+hopes, then wandered forth with naught but their ashes, in the
+treasured urn of past remembrance, seeking to cover that with the
+mantle of the world's glittering folly.
+
+
+
+
+TO THE AUTHOR OF "THE RAVEN."
+
+BY MISS HARRIET B. WINSLOW.
+
+
+    Leave us not so dark uncertain! lift again the fallen curtain!
+    Let us once again the mysteries of that haunted room explore--
+    Hear once more that friend infernal--that grim visiter nocturnal!
+    Earnestly we long to learn all that befalls that bird of yore:
+              Oh, then, tell us something more!
+
+    Doth his shade thy floor still darken? dost thou still, despairing, hearken
+    To that deep sepulchral utterance like the oracles of yore?
+    In the same place is he sitting? Does he give no sign of quitting?
+    Is he conscious or unwitting when he answers "Nevermore?"
+              Tell me truly, I implore!
+
+    Knows he not the littlenesses of our nature--its distresses?
+    Knows he never need of slumber, fainting forces to restore?
+    Stoops he not to eating--drinking? Is he never caught in winking
+    When his demon eyes are sinking deep into thy bosom's core?
+              Tell me this, if nothing more!
+
+    Is he, after all, so evil? Is it fair to call him "devil?"
+    Did he not give friendly answer when thy speech friend's meaning bore?
+    When thy sad tones were revealing all the loneness o'er thee stealing,
+    Did he not, with fellow-feeling, vow to leave thee nevermore?
+              Keeps he not that oath he swore?
+
+    He, too, may be inly praying--vainly, earnestly essaying
+    To forget some matchless mate, beloved yet lost for evermore.
+    He hath donned a suit of mourning, and, all earthly comfort scorning,
+    Broods alone from night till morning. By thy memories Lenore,
+              Oh, renounce him nevermore.
+
+    Though he be a sable brother, treat him kindly as another!
+    Ah, perhaps the world has scorned him for that luckless hue he wore,
+    No such narrow prejudices can _he_ know whom Love possesses--
+    Whom one spark of Freedom blesses. Do not spurn him from thy door
+              Lest Love enter nevermore!
+
+    Not a bird of evil presage, happily he brings some message
+    From that much-mourned matchless maiden--from that loved and lost Lenore.
+    In a pilgrim's garb disguis�d, angels are but seldom priz�d:
+    Of this fact at length advis�d, were it strange if he forswore
+              The false world for evermore?
+
+    Oh, thou ill-starred midnight ranger! dark, forlorn, mysterious stranger!
+    Wildered wanderer from the eternal lightning on Time's stormy shore!
+    Tell us of that world of wonder--of that famed unfading "Yonder!"
+    Rend--oh rend the veil asunder! Let our doubts and fears be o'er!
+              Doth he answer--"Nevermore?"
+
+
+
+
+SONG OF THE ELVES.
+
+BY ANNA BLACKWELL.
+
+
+    When the moon is high o'er the ruined tower,
+    When the night-bird sings in her lonely bower,
+    When beetle and cricket and bat are awake,
+    And the will-o'-the-wisp is at play in the brake,
+    Oh then do we gather, all frolic and glee,
+    We gay little elfins, beneath the old tree!
+    And brightly we hover on silvery wing,
+    And dip our small cups in the whispering spring,
+    While the night-wind lifts lightly our shining hair,
+    And music and fragrance are on the air!
+    Oh who is so merry, so happy as we,
+    We gay little elfins, beneath the old tree?
+
+
+
+
+THE FIRE OF DRIFT-WOOD.
+
+BY HENRY W. LONGFELLOW.
+
+
+    We sat within the farm-house old,
+      Whose windows looking o'er the bay,
+    Gave to the sea-breeze, damp and cold,
+      An easy entrance, night and day.
+
+    Not far away we saw the port,--
+      The strange, old-fashioned, silent town,--
+    The light-house,--the dismantled fort,--
+      The wooden houses, quaint and brown.
+
+    We sat and talked until the night
+      Descending filled the little room;
+    Our faces faded from the sight,
+      Our voices only broke the gloom.
+
+    We spake of many a vanished scene,
+      Of what we once had thought and said,
+    Of what had been, and might have been,
+      And who was changed, and who was dead.
+
+    And all that fills the hearts of friends,
+      When first they feel, with secret pain,
+    Their lives thenceforth have separate ends,
+      And never can be one again.
+
+    The first slight swerving of the heart,
+      That words are powerless to express,
+    And leave it still unsaid in part,
+      Or say it in too great excess.
+
+    The very tones in which we spake
+      Had something strange, I could but mark;
+    The leaves of memory seemed to make
+      A mournful rustling in the dark.
+
+    Oft died the words upon our lips,
+      As suddenly, from out the fire
+    Built of the wreck of stranded ships,
+      The flames would leap, and then expire.
+
+    And, as their splendor flashed and failed,
+      We thought of wrecks upon the main,--
+    Of ships dismasted, that were hailed,
+      And sent no answer back again.
+
+    The windows rattling in their frames,
+      The ocean, roaring up the beach--
+    The gusty blast--the bickering flames--
+      All mingled vaguely in our speech;
+
+    Until they made themselves a part
+      Of fancies floating through the brain--
+    The long lost ventures of the heart,
+      That send no answers back again.
+
+    O flames that glowed! O hearts that yearned!
+      They were indeed too much akin--
+    The drift-wood fire without that burned,
+      The thoughts that burned and glowed within.
+
+
+
+
+SONG FOR A SABBATH MORNING.
+
+BY THOMAS BUCHANAN READ.
+
+
+    Arise ye nations, with rejoicing rise,
+    And tell your gladness to the listening skies;
+    Come out forgetful of the week's turmoil,
+    From halls of mirth and iron gates of toil;
+    Come forth, come forth, and let your joy increase
+    Till one loud p�an hails the day of peace.
+    Sing trembling age, ye youths and maidens sing;
+    Ring ye sweet chimes, from every belfry ring;
+    Pour the grand anthem till it soars and swells
+    And heaven seems full of great celestial bells!
+    Behold the Morn from orient chambers glide,
+    With shining footsteps, like a radiant bride;
+    The gladdened brooks proclaim her on the hills
+    And every grove with choral welcome thrills.
+    Rise ye sweet maidens, strew her path with flowers,
+    With sacred lilies from your virgin bowers;
+    Go youths and meet her with your olive boughs,
+    Go age and greet her with your holiest vows;--
+    See where she comes, her hands upon her breast
+    The sainted Sabbath comes, smiling the world to rest.
+
+
+
+
+CITY LIFE.
+
+BY CHARLES W. BAIRD.
+
+
+    Forgive me, Lord, that I so long have dwelt
+      In noisome cities, whence Thy sacred works
+      Are ever banished from my sight; where lurks
+    Each baleful passion man has ever felt.
+    Here human skill is shown in shutting out
+      All sight and thought of things that God hath made;
+      Lest He should share the constant homage paid
+    To Mammon, in the hearts of men devout.
+      O, it was fit that he[2] upon whose head
+    Weighed his own brother's blood, and God's dread curse,
+      Should build a city, when he trembling fled
+    Far from his Maker's face. And which was worse,
+      The murder--or departing far from Thee?
+      Great God! impute not either sin to me!
+
+[Footnote 2: Cain.--Genesis iv. 17.]
+
+
+
+
+THE CRUISE OF THE GENTILE.
+
+BY FRANK BYRNE.
+
+(_Concluded from page_ 147.)
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+_In which there is a Storm, a Wreck, and a Mutiny._
+
+
+When I came on deck the next morning, I found that the mate's
+prediction had proved true. A norther, as it is called in the Gulf,
+was blowing great guns, and the ship, heading westward, was rolling in
+the trough of the tremendous sea almost yard-arm under, with only
+close-reefed top-sails and storm foretopmast-staysail set. We wallowed
+along in this manner all day, for we were lying our course, and the
+skipper was in a hurry to bring our protracted voyage to an end. We
+made much more leeway than we reckoned, however, for just at sunset
+the high mountains of Cuba were to be seen faintly looming up on the
+southern horizon.
+
+"Brace up, there," ordered Captain Smith, when this fact was
+announced. "Luff, my man, luff, and keep her as near it as you may."
+
+The old ship came up on the wind, presenting her front most gallantly
+to the angry waves, which came on as high as the fore-yard,
+threatening to engulf her in the watery abyss. We took in all our
+top-sails but the main, and with that, a reefed fore-sail and
+foretopmast-staysail set, the old ship shook her feathers, and
+prepared herself for an all-night job of clawing off an iron-bound
+lee-shore.
+
+The hatches were battened down, the fore-scuttle and companion closed,
+and all the crew collected aft on deck and lashed themselves to some
+substantial object, to save themselves from being washed over-board by
+the immense seas which constantly broke over our bows, and deluged our
+decks. The night closed down darker than pitch, and the wind increased
+in violence. I have scarcely ever seen so dismal a night. Except when
+at intervals a blinding flash of lightning illumined the whole heavens
+and the broad expanse of raging ocean, we could distinguish nothing at
+a yard's distance, save the glimmer of the phosphorescent binacle
+light, and the gleam which flashed from the culmination of the huge
+seas ahead of us, resembling an extended cloud of dull fire suspended
+in the air, and blown toward us, till, with a noise like thunder, as
+it dashed against the bows, it vanished, and another misty fire was to
+be seen as if rising out of some dark gulf. At midnight it blew a
+hurricane; the wind cut off the tops of the waves, and the air was
+full of spray and salt, driving like sleet or snow before the wintry
+storm. I had ensconced myself under the lee of the bulwarks, among a
+knot of select weather-beaten tars, and notwithstanding the danger we
+were in, I could not help being somewhat amused at their
+conversation.
+
+"Jack," said Teddy, an Irish sailor, to the ship's oracle, old Jack
+Reeves, "do you think the sticks will howld?"
+
+"If they don't," growled Jack, "you'll be in h--l before morning."
+
+"Och, Jasus!" was the only reply to this consolatory remark--and there
+was an uneasy nestling throughout the whole circle.
+
+"Well, Frank," said old Jack to me, after a most terrific gust, during
+which every man held his breath to listen whether there might not be a
+snapping of the spars, "well, Frank, what do you think of that?"
+
+"Why, I think I never saw it blow so hard before," I replied. "'Tisn't
+a very comfortable berth, this of ours, with a lee-shore not thirty
+miles off, and a hurricane blowing."
+
+"No danger at all, Frank, if them spars only stay by us--and I guess
+they will. They're good sticks, and Mr. Brewster is too good a
+boatswain not to have 'em well supported. The old Gentile is a
+dreadful critter for eatin' to windward in any weather that God ever
+sent; but I hope you don't call this blowin' hard, do you? Why, I've
+seen it blow so that two men, one on each side of the skipper,
+couldn't keep his hair on his head, and they had to get the cabin-boy
+to tail on to the cue behind, and take a turn round a belaying-pin."
+
+"An' that nothin' to a time I had in a brig off Hatteras," observed
+Teddy, who had somewhat recovered his composure; "we had to cut away
+both masts, you persave, and to scud under a scupper nail driv into
+the deck, wid a man ready to drive it further as the wind freshened."
+
+"Wasn't that the time, Teddy," asked another, "When that big sea
+washed off the buttons on your jacket?"
+
+"Faix, you may well say that; and a nigger we had on board turned
+white by reason of the scare he was in."
+
+"Wal, now," interposed Ichabod Green, "Teddy, that's a lie; it's agin
+all reason."
+
+"Pooh! you green-horn!" said Jack Reeves, "that's nothing to a yarn I
+can spin. You see that when I was quite a boy, I was in a Dutch
+man-o'-war for a year and thirteen months; and one day in the Indian
+Ocean, it came on to blow like blazes. It blowed for three days and
+nights, and the skipper called a council of officers to know what to
+do. So, when they'd smoked up all their baccy, they concluded to
+shorten sail, and the bo'sn came down to rouse out the crew. He
+ondertook to whistle, but it made such an onnateral screech, that the
+chaplain thought old Davy had come aboard; and he told the skipper he
+guessed he'd take his trick at prayin'. 'Why,' says the skipper,
+'we've got on well enough without, ever since we left the Hague,
+hadn't we better omit it now?' ''Taint possible,' says the parson. Now
+you all know you can't larn seamanship to a parson or passenger--and
+the bloody fool knelt down with his face to wind'ard. 'Hillo!' says
+the skipper, 'you'd better fill away, and come round afore the wind,
+hadn't you?' 'Mynheer captain,' says the parson, 'you're a dreadful
+good seaman, but you don't know no more about religious matters than a
+horse.' 'That's true,' answered the skipper; 'so suit yourself, and
+let fly as soon as you feel the spirit move, bekase that main-sail
+wants reefin' awfully.' Well, the parson shuts his eyes, takes the
+pipe out of his mouth, and gets under-weigh; but, onluckily, the first
+word of the prayer was a Dutch one, as long as the maintop-bowline,
+and as crooked as a monkey's tail, and the wind ketchen in the kinks
+of it, rams it straight back into his throat, and kills him as dead as
+a herrin'. 'Blixem!' says the skipper, 'there'll be brandy enough for
+the voyage now.'"
+
+"Sail, ho-o-o!" shouted a dozen voices, as a vivid flash of lightning
+showed us the form of a small schooner riding upon the crest of a
+wave, not two cables length ahead.
+
+"Hard-a-lee!" shouted the skipper. "My God! make her luff, or we shall
+be into them."
+
+Slowly the ship obeyed her helm, and came up on the wind, trembling to
+her keel, as the canvas, relieved from the strain, fluttered and
+thrashed against the mast with immense violence, and a noise more
+deafening than thunder, while the great seas dashed against the bows,
+now in full front toward them, with the force and shock of huge rocks
+projected from a catapult, and the wind shrieked and howled through
+the rigging as if the spirits of the deep were rejoicing over our
+dreadful situation.
+
+Again the fiery flash shot suddenly athwart the sky.
+
+Good God! the schooner, her deck and lower rigging black with human
+beings, lay broadside to, scarcely ten rods from before our bows. A
+cry of horror mingled with the rattling thunder and the howl of the
+storm. I felt my blood curdle in my veins, and an oppression like the
+nightmare obstructed my voice.
+
+The schooner sunk in the trough, and, as the lightning paled,
+disappeared from sight. The next moment our huge ship, with a headlong
+pitch, was precipitated upon her. One crash of riven timbers, and a
+yell of despairing agony, and all was over; the ship fell off from the
+wind, and we were again driving madly forward into the almost palpable
+darkness, tearing through the mountain seas.
+
+"Rig the pumps and try them," cried Captain Smith, in a hoarse voice,
+"we may have started a plank by the shock."
+
+To the great joy of all, the ship was found to make no more water than
+usual. All hands soon settled down quietly again, wondering what the
+run-down schooner could have been, and pitying her unfortunate crew,
+when a faint shout from the forecastle was heard in a lull of the
+storm.
+
+"Lord save us! what can that be?" exclaimed a dozen of the crew in a
+breath.
+
+"_In nomine Pathris_--" began Teddy, crossing himself in a fright.
+
+"Silence there!" cried the skipper; "Mr. Stewart, can it be one of the
+schooner's crew, who has saved himself by the bowsprit rigging?"
+
+"Plaze yer honor," said Teddy, "it's more likely it's one of their
+ghosts."
+
+"Silence, I tell you! who gave you liberty to tell your opinion. Mr.
+Brewster, hail 'em, whoever they be."
+
+"Folk'stle, ahoy!" sung out the second mate; "who's there?"
+
+"Help! help! for God's sake!" faintly answered the mysterious voice.
+
+"Go forward, there, two hands," ordered the captain; "'t is one of the
+schooner's crew."
+
+After a moment's hesitation, the second mate and Jack Reeves started
+on this mission of mercy, and were soon followed by nearly all the
+crew. Upon reaching the forecastle we found the body of a man lying
+across the heel of the bowsprit, jammed against the windlass pawl. The
+insensible form was lifted from its resting place, and, by the
+captain's order, finally deposited in the cabin on the transom. The
+skipper, steward, and myself, remained below to try and resuscitate
+the apparently lifeless body. The means we used were effectual; and
+the wrecked seaman opened his eyes, and finally sat up.
+
+"I must go on deck now," said the captain. "Stay below, Frank, and
+help the steward undress him, and put him into a berth."
+
+Our benevolent darky had by this time concocted a glass of brandy
+grog, very stiff, but, alas! not hot, which I handed to the object of
+our care, who, after drinking it, seemed much better; and we then
+proceeded to help him strip. I noticed that his clothes were very
+coarse, and parti-colored; there were also marks of fetters on his
+ancles, and his back was scarred by the lash. I conjectured from these
+circumstances that our new shipmate was not of the most immaculate
+purity of character, and after I had got him into a berth, between two
+warm woollen blankets, I made free to ask him a few questions, not
+only about himself, but also about his vessel. I could get no reply
+but in Spanish, as I took his lingo to be, though, from his hailing
+for help in English, I knew that he must understand that language.
+When I went upon deck I reported myself to the officers, who concluded
+to defer any examination until morning. The gale began to abate about
+midnight, and at nine o'clock in the morning it had so far subsided
+that the cabin mess, leaving Mr. Brewster in charge of the deck, went
+below to get breakfast.
+
+"The swell is tremendous," said the skipper, as we were endeavoring to
+get seated around the table. "I think I never saw a much heavier sea
+in any part of the world. Look out, there!"
+
+But the caution was given too late; the ship had risen on an enormous
+wave as the skipper had spoken, and when she plunged, the steward
+pitched headlong over the cabin table, closely followed by the third
+mate, who had grasped his camp-stool for support, and still clung
+pertinaciously to it. The ship righted, leaving Langley's corpus
+extended at full length among a wreck of broken crockery.
+
+"Well, Mr. Langley," said the skipper, "I hope you enjoy your
+breakfast."
+
+"Bill," added the mate, as Langley gathered himself up, "as you've got
+through your breakfast so expeditiously, hadn't you better go on deck
+and let Mr. Brewster come down?"
+
+"Beg your pardon, sir; but don't you see I'm laid on the table--there
+can be no action about me at present."
+
+"Well, sit down and try to preserve your gravity. I hope to see no
+more such flights of nonsense at this table."
+
+"Steward," asked the skipper, after we had nearly finished our meal,
+"how is your patient this morning?"
+
+"It's enough to make any body out of patience, sar, to fall ober de
+cabin table. So tan't werry first rate."
+
+"No, so I perceive; but I mean, how's the man who came on board us
+last night?"
+
+"Oh, dat's him--excuse me, sar. Well, sar, he's quite smart dis
+mornin'."
+
+"Fetch him out here, I wish to ask him some questions; give him a
+shirt and trowsers of mine, and fetch him out."
+
+The steward soon made his appearance again, in company with the
+stranger, who, now dressed clean, looked to be a stout, powerful man,
+apparently about thirty-five; but his long, tangled, black hair and
+whiskers so concealed his features, that their expression could not be
+discerned. He bowed as he entered the cabin, and in good English
+thanked the captain for his care.
+
+"Sit down upon the stool yonder," said the skipper, "and tell us the
+name and nation of your vessel, and by what miracle you escaped; and
+afterward you shall have some breakfast."
+
+"The name of the vessel, se�or, was the San Diego, the _guarda-costa_
+upon this station. I was on deck when your ship was first seen, and I
+climbed half way up the main shrouds to look out for you, by the
+captain's order. When you struck us, I found myself entangled in your
+jib-boom rigging, and held on, though much bruised, and half-drowned
+by the seas which ducked me every minute, until I succeeded in laying
+in upon your forecastle. I had had time to notice your rig, and knew
+you to be an American."
+
+"How many were your crew?" asked the mate.
+
+The sailor started, and for a moment eyed the querist closely. "Oh!
+se�or, only about fifty souls in all."
+
+"Good God!" cried the captain, "fifty lives lost--fifty souls sent
+into eternity with scarcely a moment's warning!"
+
+"Don't regret it, captain," said the sailor, bitterly, "many of them
+were only convicts; the government will be much obliged to you."
+
+"Were you a convict?" asked the mate.
+
+"I was, se�or, as my dress and appearance would have told you, even if
+I had been disposed to lie. I was drafted from the Matanzas chain-gang
+to the guarda-costa some six month ago."
+
+"The Matanzas chain-gang!" cried the mate, eagerly, "pray, my good
+fellow, do you know a convict by the name of Pedro Garcia?"
+
+The man rose to his feet--"Why, se�or, do you?" he inquired.
+
+"I do, indeed," answered Mr. Stewart, impatiently; "but tell
+me--answer my question, sir."
+
+The convict brushed back his long hair. "I was once called Don Pedro
+Garcia," said he; "tell me," he added, as all four of us rose
+involuntarily at this startling announcement, "with whom do I speak?"
+
+"Good God!" cried the mate, making one jump for the convict felon, and
+throwing his arms around him, "I'm Ben Stewart, alive and well."
+
+Very unluckily, at this moment the ship gave a violent lurch, and the
+two fell, and, locked in each others embrace, rolled over to leeward;
+the skipper, who was unguarded in his astonishment, followed Langley's
+former wake over the table, which, yielding to the impulse, fetched
+away, capsized, and with the captain, also rolled away to leeward; the
+steward, as in duty bound, ran to his superior's help.
+
+At this juncture, Brewster, hearing the unusual row, poked his head
+through the skylight slide, and demanded--"What's the matter? Mutiny!
+by G----d!" he shouted, catching sight of the prostrate forms of his
+fellow officers, struggling, as he thought, in the respective grasps
+of the rescued convict and the steward. Off went the scuttle, and down
+came the valiant Brewster square in the midst of the crockery,
+followed by three or four of his watch, stumbling over the bodies of
+the overthrown quartette. Langley and myself climbed into a berth and
+looked on.
+
+"It's the steward," shouted the mischievous third mate, whose love of
+fun could not be controled by fear of consequences; "he tried to stab
+the captain with the carving-knife."
+
+The scene now became exciting; the cry of mutiny was heard all over
+the vessel; and the skipper and mate hearing it, very naturally
+concluding that the mutineers were those who had so unceremoniously
+invaded the cabin, turned furiously upon them, and called loudly for
+assistance to us in the berth; but we were enjoying the fun too much
+to even speak and explain.
+
+"Are ye kilt, cap'n?" asked Teddy, who had pushed his way to his
+beloved commander.
+
+"No, you d----d mutinous scoundrel!" replied the enraged skipper,
+planting a tremendous blow between the eyes of the anxious
+interrogator; "take that!" and the Irishman rolled upon deck. In the
+meantime, Mr. Brewster, who had taken an especial spite against the
+convict, grabbed him by the throat. Pedro returned the compliment by a
+blow in the stomach, and Stewart aided the defeat of his colleague by
+taking him by the shoulders and dragging him off. Transported beyond
+reason by the pain of the blow he had received, and what he supposed
+to be the black ingratitude of Mr. Stewart, Brewster gave a scream of
+rage and clinched in with the mate with all his force.
+
+It was fast getting to be past a joke.
+
+"Come, Langley," said I, "let's put a stop to this--somebody will be
+killed."
+
+"Sure enough! but how are we going to do it? Oh! here are the mate's
+pistols; draw the charges, Frank, and you take one and I the other,
+and we'll soon proclaim peace."
+
+"They're not loaded," said I, after trying them with the ramrod.
+
+"All right, then--follow me."
+
+"We jumped down from our roost, leveled our pistols at the crowd, and
+threatened to fire if hostilities should not instantly cease on both
+sides.
+
+"Langley, hand me those pistols," cried the frenzied skipper, who was
+the more angry because nobody would fight with him.
+
+"Please, sir, I can't; I daren't trust myself without 'em. Disperse,
+ye rebels! lay down your arms and disperse--die, base and perjured
+villain," shouted Langley, holding the muzzle of his pistol to
+Brewster's ear, while I, by poking my shooting-iron in everybody's
+face, obtained partial order. After a deal of difficulty the mutiny
+was explained; and the crestfallen Brewster withdrew his forces,
+followed by the mate, who conciliated his irate colleague, and gave
+him an inkling as to the real name and character of the rescued
+convict.
+
+After the steward had cleared away the wreck of the breakfast things,
+a conclave of the cabin-mess was called, to which the black steward
+was _ex officio_ and _ex necessitate_ admitted; and it was determined,
+after much debate, that the voyage should be continued, and that
+during our stay in Matanzas my cousin Pedro should remain hidden on
+board. The next mooted point was whether to conceal the matter from
+the crew, and decided in the negative; so the men were called aft, and
+the truth briefly stated to them. One and all swore to be faithful and
+discreet--and so they proved. With one or two exceptions our crew were
+Yankees, and of a far higher grade than the crews of merchantmen
+generally.
+
+During these proceedings the gale had rapidly abated, and at noon we
+found ourselves rolling and pitching in a heavy sea, the sun shining
+brightly over our heads, and not a breath of air stirring. The
+skipper, mate, and Cousin Pedro were closeted together in the cabin
+during the afternoon, while the second and third mates, and ship's
+cousin, compared notes sitting under the awning on the booby-hatch. I
+enlightened Brewster more fully as to Mr. Stewart's former adventures
+in Cuba; and we finally concluded that our running down the Spanish
+guarda-costa was the most lucky thing in the world.
+
+"Half my plan is now accomplished to hand," said I; "we must now get
+my Cousin Clara out of the nunnery."
+
+"You hadn't better try that, Frank," interposed Mr. Brewster,
+"because, for two reasons; in the first place, them Catholics are poor
+benighted heathen, and she wouldn't get out if she could--for she is
+a veiled nun; and the next place you'd get your neck into a certain
+machine called a _garrote_, or else make your cousin's place good in
+the chain-gang."
+
+"Nevertheless, I shall try; and if she only is willing to run away,
+there can some plan be contrived, I know."
+
+"And my part shall be to run old Alvarez through the body, if the
+devil hasn't taken him already," added Mr. William Langley.
+
+"Boys will be boys, that's a fact, call 'em what you're a mind to,"
+observed Mr. Brewster, very sapiently stroking his big red whiskers.
+
+The calm continued, and by evening the swell had in a great degree
+gone down. In the first dog-watch, my Cousin Pedro, sitting upon the
+companion, gave us an account of his long imprisonment. He had, as the
+reader already knows, been sentenced for the murder of the Count ----,
+and had toiled and slaved in the streets of Matanzas, till drafted,
+with many others, on board of the guarda-costa. He knew of Clara's
+fate, and had been undeceived by my father in the belief of Mr.
+Stewart's death.
+
+Langley and I stood the middle watch again that night. An easterly
+breeze, gentle, but steady, blew most of the night; and when we went
+below, and eight bells struck, the moon was silvering the lofty peak
+of the Pan of Matanzas, which lay far away on our larboard bow.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+_The Gentile arrives at Matanzas._
+
+
+I was waked in the morning by Mr. Stewart, who shook me by the
+shoulders, crying, "Come, Frank, turn out; it's seven bells, so rouse
+and bite; breakfast is almost ready, and a glorious prospect from
+deck."
+
+I turned out incontinently at this summons, slipped on my trowsers,
+ran up the companion-way, dipped my head in a bucket of water, by way
+of performing my morning ablutions, and then made my way aft again to
+join the circle on the quarter-deck. The watch had just finished
+washing down the decks, and were engaged in laying up the rigging on
+the belaying-pins; the boys were stowing away the detested holy-stone
+under the chocks of the long-boat; the watch below were performing
+their brief morning ablutions upon the forecastle; the steward was
+bringing aft the cabin breakfast, sadly incommoded by the mischievous
+Rover, who, wet as a sponge, capered about the deck, shaking himself
+against everybody who came in his way, and now seemed fully determined
+to dive between the lower spars of the unfortunate darkey; the
+officers were standing by my side, breathing the cool morning air,
+looking out upon the beautiful scene around us, and getting an
+appetite for breakfast.
+
+The ship lay about a league from the land, almost abreast the entrance
+of Matanzas bay; the land wind blew gently, bearing to us the
+delicious perfumes of orange and coffee-blossoms, and crowds of
+vessels were coming from the bay, taking advantage of it to gain an
+offing before the setting in of the sea-breeze. Half a mile from us a
+brig lay motionless upon the water, her yards swarming with men
+loosing the sails, which in a moment fell together with a precision
+that would have plainly told a sailor that the brig was a man-of-war,
+even without taking notice of the delicate white ribbon painted upon
+her side, pierced by a half-dozen ports, from which protruded as many
+saucy-looking guns, their red tompions contrasting prettily with the
+aforesaid white line and the black sides of the vessel. A flag hung
+negligently down from her gaff end, and, as a puff of wind stronger
+than the rest blew out its crimson folds, we saw emblazoned thereon
+the cross of St. George and merry England. The brig was the British
+cruiser on this station. To the northward stretched the broad blue
+expanse of the sea we had so recently sailed on, looking to be as
+quiet and peaceful as if there were no such things as hurricanes and
+angry waves, and dotted here and there by the glistening sails of
+inward bound vessels. Far away to the westward a long black wreath of
+smoke, following in the wake of a small speck on the water, announced
+the approach of the Havana steam packet; and close in, hugging the
+shore, glided a solitary American barque, apparently bound to Havana
+to finish her freight, her white sails gleaming in the sun. The land
+seemed strangely beautiful to our sea-going eyes; and we were never
+tired with gazing at the tall, graceful palms, sheltering with their
+grateful shade white villas, situate in the midst of fertile fields of
+sugar-cane, and surrounded by little hamlets of white-washed slave
+huts. The overhanging haze of the distant city could be seen rising
+beyond the intervening hills, and the back-ground of the picture was
+formed by a range of blue conical peaks, amidst which towered in
+majesty the flat summit of the celebrated Pan of Matanzas.
+
+"And I am once more in the West Indies!" murmured Mr. Stewart, half
+unconsciously. "How much has happened since my eyes first looked upon
+this landscape!"
+
+"True enough!" added Pedro, sighing.
+
+"Breakfas' gettin' cold, Cap'n Smiff," cried the steward, petulently,
+poking his head up the companion.
+
+"Ay, ay," returned the skipper; "come, gentlemen, don't get into the
+dumps this fine morning; you ought to be rejoiced that you have found
+each other. Let's go below and take breakfast, and after that, Don
+Pedro, we must stow you in the run until after the officers have
+boarded us."
+
+Breakfast being dispatched, all hands went busily to work preparing
+the ship for port. Our bends had been blacked in the two days of fair
+weather we had had off the Bahamas; and as our ship was a large,
+handsome, packet-built craft of seven hundred tons, we reckoned upon
+cutting a great swell among the brigs, barques, and small ships
+usually engaged in the sugar-freighting business. The brass of the
+capstan, wheel and ladder stanchions, were brightly polished by the
+steward and boys; fair leaders, Scotchmen and chaffing-gear taken off;
+ensign, signal and burgee-halyards rove; the accommodationladder got
+over the side; the anchor got ready, and the chain roused up from the
+locker. At ten o'clock we took the sea breeze and a pilot, passed
+Point Yerikos, and cracked gallantly up the bay with ensign, numbers,
+and private signal flying. Another point was turned, and the beautiful
+city came in view at the distance of a league, more than half the
+intervening space of water covered by ships of every nation, size, and
+rig, lying at anchor, from the huge British line-of-battle ship down
+to the graceful native felucca with latteen sails.
+
+"Pilot," said Captain Smith, "if you will give us a first-rate berth,
+as near to the town as a ship of our size can load, I'll give you five
+dollars beside your fee."
+
+"You shall have de ver fine berth, se�or el capitaine. I will anchor
+you under de castle yonder; ver deep water, tree, four fathoms, and
+only one mile and more from the end of the mole."
+
+The skipper exchanged glances with his mate.
+
+"Their old berth," whispered Langley, sticking his elbow into my side.
+
+We rapidly approached the castle, and the busy fleet at its foot; sail
+after sail was clewed up--the pilot's orders grew frequent and
+loud--the jib came fluttering down the stay--the anchor plunged into
+the water--the chain rattled swiftly through the hawsehole--we swung
+round with the tide, broadside to the fort, and "The voyage of the
+ship Gentile, Captain James Smith, commander, from Valetta toward
+Matanzas," as inscribed in the mate's log-book, was at an end.
+
+The pilot was dismissed--our sails furled--the royal and
+topgallant-yards sent down--the lower and topsail-yards squared with
+nautical and mathematical precision--our fair-weather lofty poles,
+surmounted by gilt balls, sent up--awnings were spread completely over
+the deck--our crack accommodation-stairs got over the side--the
+swinging-boom rigged out--the boats lowered and fastened thereto--the
+decks swept clean, and the rigging laid up--and, by the time the
+custom-house boat boarded us, we were in complete harbor-trim,
+ship-shape and Bristol fashion; and the Spanish officers complimented
+the fine appearance of the vessel until the worthy skipper was greatly
+pleased.
+
+An account was given of the running down of the San Diego, and of the
+miraculous escape of one of her crew, who, the skipper said, died the
+next day of his bruises. A name for this unfortunate man had been
+furnished by Pedro; and in our excess of caution, this was given to
+the officers as the name rendered by the survivor. The officers looked
+grave for a moment, but finally said that it was the act of God, and
+inevitable; and that as the crew had been principally convicts, it was
+not so much matter; and after drinking two or three bottles of wine,
+and taking bonds of the captain for the good behavior of our darkies,
+they departed.
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+_Third Mate and Ship's Cousin go ashore on liberty._
+
+
+Many shipmasters and owners will remember how very dull were freights
+for Europe, at Cuba, in the spring and summer of 1839; and Captain
+Smith had been in Matanzas but a day or two when he became convinced
+of the unwelcome truth. We lay day after day sweltering in the sun,
+until nearly a week had passed, and there was as yet no freight
+engaged. As our orders were to lay four weeks waiting, unless we
+should be loaded and ready to sail before that time had elapsed,
+Langley and I determined that, as I had plenty of money, we would beg
+a week's liberty of the skipper in this time of idleness, and take a
+cruise ashore; and we had secretly resolved that in some manner, not
+yet discovered, we would effect the escape of my Cousin Clara--Langley
+also, in full intention to take the life of Don Carlos Alvarez, should
+he run athwart his hawse. Mr. Stowe had been on board during the first
+day or two after our arrival, and had given us both pressing
+invitations to spend a week at his house, and to renew our
+acquaintance with the girls. So the Saturday night after our arrival,
+Langley and I preferred our petition to the skipper at the
+supper-table.
+
+"Why, boys," said our good-natured captain, "if I thought you wouldn't
+get into some confounded scrape, I'd as lief spare you awhile as not;
+we've nothing to do aboard ship, so--"
+
+"Beg your pardon, Captain Smith," interrupted Mr. Brewster, who had
+been on bad terms with my friend William for a day or two; "I beg your
+pardon, sir, but there can be plenty of work to do. It's a slick time
+to refit the rigging."
+
+"Why, Mr. Brewster," said the captain, "our rigging was thoroughly
+refitted at Valetta."
+
+"Yes, sir, I know that, sir," persisted Brewster, "but we had a rough
+trip from there, sir; that last blow we had gin' our standin' riggin'
+a devil of a strainin', sir."
+
+"Oh! well, Mr. Brewster," replied the skipper, "it'll take but a day
+or two to set up our shrouds, and I'm afraid we shall have plenty of
+time for that."
+
+"Very well, Captain Smith," resumed the second mate, "it is nothing to
+me, sir. I'd as lief they'd be ashore all the time, sir, but before
+you give Mr. Langley leave, I'd just wish to enter a complaint against
+him, sir. I shouldn't thought of saying nothin' about it, only to see
+him coming and asking for liberty so bloody bold, just as if he
+reckoned he desarved it, makes me feel a leetle riley, sir. He was
+guilty of using disrespectable language to his superior officer, to
+me, sir, and upon the quarter-deck, too, sir, d----n him. You see,
+that night afore last, in his anchor-watch, it was rather warm in my
+state-room, so I went between decks to walk and cool off a little, and
+I heard Bill sitting on the booby-hatch and a spoutin' poetry to
+his-self. Well, I just walks up the ladder, pokes my head through the
+slide and hails him; but instead of answering me in a proper manner,
+what does he do but jumps off the hatch and square off in this manner,
+as if he was agoin' to claw me in the face, and he sings out--'Are you
+a goose or a gobbler, d----n you?' I didn't want to pick a fuss
+before the rest of the watch, or by the holy Paul I'd a taught him the
+difference between his officer and a barn-yard fowl in a series of one
+lesson--blast his etarnal picter!"
+
+"Mr. Langley," said the skipper, "what have you to say for yourself?
+Such language upon the quarter-deck to your superior officer is very
+impertinent."
+
+"If you'll allow me," replied the accused, "I think I can give a
+version of the story which will sound a little different. You see, the
+second mate wears a night-cap, to keep the cockroaches or bugs out of
+his ears--"
+
+"That's a lie," roared Brewster. "I wears it because I've got a
+catarrh, which I ketched by doing my duty in all weathers, long afore
+you ever dipped your fingers in pitch, you lazy son of a gun."
+
+"Silence!" cried Captain Smith, suppressing a laugh. "Mr. Langley,
+never mind the night-cap, but go on with your story."
+
+"Well," resumed the third mate, "he does wear one, any how, and night
+before last I sat on the hatch, as he says, reading Shakspeare in the
+moonlight, and when the second mate's night-capped head rose through
+the slide, he looked so very spectral that I couldn't forbear hailing
+him with--'Art thou a ghost or goblin damned?' which he persists in
+rendering his own fashion. I'm sure I didn't intend to liken him to a
+barn-yard fowl of any kind; I should rather have gone into the stable
+in search of comparisons."
+
+To the great chagrin and astonishment of Mr. Brewster, all hands of us
+burst into a roar of laughter; but Langley, by the skipper's advice,
+finally begged pardon, and peace and amity were restored. Brewster
+withdrew his objections, and the skipper granted us a week's liberty.
+
+The next day, after dinner, the yawl was brought to the side and
+manned, and my chum and I prepared for our departure.
+
+"Remember," quoth my cousin Pedro, as I bade him good-bye, in the
+mate's state-room, where, from extreme caution, he generally lay
+_perdu_, "remember to see Clara; tell her who you are, and bring us
+word from her."
+
+"Yes," added the mate, "tell her of Pedro's escape, but do not
+undeceive her as to the belief of my death--that's too late now. God
+bless the dear girl!" and the voice of the usually stout-hearted
+seaman trembled as he spoke.
+
+"Good-bye, Frank; good-bye, Bill," said Mr. Brewster, as we came on
+deck again, and shaking hands with us; "kiss all the girls for me, and
+bring off some good cigars the first time you come on board. These
+d----d bumboatmen don't have the best quality."
+
+"Keep out of all manner of scrapes." added the captain, by way of
+climax. "However, I shall see you or hear of you every day, either at
+the house or counting-room."
+
+"Ay, ay; yes, sir; oh! certainly; of course, sir; good-bye, shipmates;
+good-bye, sir;" shouted we, right and left, in reply to the divers
+charges, injunctions and parting salutations, as the boat pushed off.
+
+"Now let fall, my men, give way," continued Bill. "By lightning!
+Frank, _pre_haps we wont have a spree!"
+
+The ship's cousin replied only by an expressive pantomime.
+
+Two Bowery clerks, driving a fast trotting-horse up the Third Avenue,
+may, in a measure, realize the feeling of intense pleasure which we
+experienced at this time.
+
+Away we went in crack style, till, as we neared the mole, Langley gave
+the order "unrow;" six oar-blades instantly glittered in the sun, the
+bow-man seized his boat-hook, and our stout crew forced our way
+through the jam of ship and shore-boats to the landing stairs, saluted
+by a volley of oaths and interjections, selected with no great care
+from the vocabularies of almost every European and African language.
+
+There is no place in the world which will seem, at first sight, more
+strange and foreign to a home-bred New Englander than the mole at
+Matanzas. It attracted even our eyes, which had last looked upon the
+picturesque groups in the streets and upon the quay of Valetta. Sunday
+is a holiday in Cuba, and a motley crowd had assembled under the cover
+of the immense shed which is built on the mole. Upon a pile of
+sugar-boxes near us were seated a group of Dutch sailors, gravely
+smoking, and sagely keeping silent, in striking contrast with a knot
+of Frenchmen, who were all talking at once and gesticulating like
+madmen. Here stalked a grave Austrian from Trieste, and yonder a
+laughing, lively Greek promenaded arm-in-arm with a Maltese.
+Hamburghers and Danes, Swedes and Russians, John Bulls by scores,
+Paddies without number, Neapolitans, Sicilians and Mexicans, all were
+there, each with fellows and some one to talk to. A group of
+emigrants, just landed from the Canary Islands, were keeping watch
+over their goods, and were looking with great interest and many
+earnest remarks upon this first appearance of their new home. Not far
+from them a collection of newly imported African negroes, naked, save
+a strip of cloth about their loins, were rivaling in volubility and
+extravagance of gesture even the Frenchmen. Native islanders, from the
+mountains, in picturesque, brigand-like dresses, with long knives
+stuck jauntily in their girdles, gazed with stupid wonder at the crowd
+of foreigners. Soldiers from the barracks, with most ferocious looking
+whiskers and mustaches, very humbly offered for sale little bunches of
+paper cigaritos. Black fruit women, whose whole dress consisted of a
+single petticoat of most laconic Fanny Ellslerish brevity, invited the
+passer by, in terms of the most affectionate endearment, to purchase
+their oranges, melons, and bananas. Young Spanish bloods, with
+shirt-bosoms bellying out like a maintop-sail in a gale, stalked along
+with great consequence, quizzing the strangers. Children, even of ten
+years of age, and of both sexes and all colors, naked as Job when he
+came into the world, excited the attention of no one but greenhorns
+like myself. Down East molasses drogher skippers, who, notwithstanding
+the climate, clothed themselves in their go-ashore long-napped black
+beaver hats, stiff, coarse broadcloth coats, thick, high bombazine
+stocks and cowhide boots, landed from their two-oared unpainted yawls,
+and ascended the stairs with the air of an admiral of the blue.
+Uniforms of Spanish, American, French and English navy officers were
+thickly scattered amidst the crowd, and here and there, making for
+itself a clear channel wherever it went, rolled the stalwart form of
+the Yankee tar.
+
+"This is a regular-built tower of Babel," said Langley, at last, "but
+come, let's work out of 'em."
+
+After some difficulty we gained the street, and our first move was to
+a _pulperia_, where I treated our boat's crew, and bought as many
+bananas, oranges and cigars as they could take down to the boat, to
+send to my shipmates aboard. The second was to charter a volante, in
+which we got under weigh for Mr. Stowe's house, which was situated
+about a half a mile from the mole, in a retired street running
+parallel with the Cabanas river, surrounded by a large garden, at the
+foot of which was a summer-house, overhanging the river, to which led
+a flight of steps. Upon our arrival we alighted from our vehicle, paid
+our driver and rang the gate-bell. A gray-headed negro gave us
+admission and conducted us to the house, where we were met by our
+host.
+
+"Ah! my dear boys," he cried, "I am delighted to see you, and so will
+be Mrs. Stowe and the girls. They associate with the natives but very
+little, and old friends like you will be a godsend."
+
+Half an hour afterward Langley and I were as much at home as could be,
+laughing and chatting with Mary and Ellen Stowe. Mary was a tall,
+handsome brunette of eighteen, and my chum had always preferred her to
+her sister, but my predilections were in favor of the gentle Ellen.
+While we were children the elders often predicted that when we grew up
+there would be a wedding some day, but her father had carried her with
+him when he moved from Boston to the West Indies, and there seemed an
+end to our intimacy. She was two years younger than I, and
+consequently, at the time I saw her in Matanzas, about sixteen. I wish
+I could describe her--perhaps I may be able to give you some idea of
+her. She was of the middle height, and bade fair to be exquisitely
+formed; her face was intellectual, a tolerably high forehead, straight
+nose, a small mouth with pretty rosy lips, white, even teeth, small
+and thorough bred hands and feet, and her eyes, which I have purposely
+left to the last, are, notwithstanding Mr. Stewart's encomiastic
+account of the dark orbs of the Creole girls, I think, the most
+beautiful in the world; they are large, dark-blue and loving, and when
+she looks up at you, even if you are the most wicked man in the world,
+it will calm your thoughts and make you still and quiet. Dear reader,
+imagine Ellen very beautiful, and take my word for it that your fancy
+will not deceive you. Ellen and I resumed our former friendship almost
+immediately, and after dinner we walked into the garden to talk over
+auld lang syne.
+
+"Do you remember, Ellen," said I, "how we both cried when I bade you
+good-bye?"
+
+"Did _I_?" asked Ellen, mischievously.
+
+"Yes, you little sinner, much more than I did, because I was fourteen
+and had the dignity of manhood to support."
+
+"Well," said Ellen, "I think I do remember something about it."
+
+"Is it possible! and does your memory serve you still farther; you
+said that if I would ever come to see you, you would never refuse to
+kiss me again."
+
+"Why, Frank Byrne, what a fertile invention you have got."
+
+"Not so," I replied, "only an excellent memory, come, now, own the
+truth, didn't you promise me so?"
+
+"But, Frank, I was a little girl then, and my contracts were not valid
+you know; however, if--"
+
+"If what?" demanded I, perceiving that she blushed and hesitated.
+
+"Why, if _you_ wish to kiss _me_, I don't know that I should object a
+great deal."
+
+Of course I did no such thing.
+
+"Why, Ellen," I said in a few moments, "you've grown very prudish;
+where did you learn to be?"
+
+"Oh! I don't know," she replied, "unless it was among the nuns."
+
+"The nuns!" I repeated, my thought taking a new turn."
+
+"Ay, the nuns, my lad, the nuns," cried Ellen, laughing immoderately
+at my abstracted look.
+
+"At what convent?" I asked.
+
+"The Ursuline. I went to school there immediately after our arrival,
+and, Frank, only think! my particular preceptress, Sister Agatha,
+father says is your own cousin. She understood English so much better
+than any of the rest that I was put under her immediate care."
+
+I was peculiarly interested in this piece of information, as the
+reader may suppose. I questioned Ellen closely, and finally told her
+the story of the loves and misfortunes of Mr. Stewart and Clara. The
+tears stood in the beautiful eyes of my auditor as I finished.
+"Langley and I have a plan for her escape," I added.
+
+"Oh! Frank, she would not escape; she has taken the veil; she will not
+break her vow."
+
+"Yes she will, when she hears that her brother is free and Stewart is
+alive."
+
+"Well," said Ellen, "I know what I would do in her place, but what is
+your plan? In case she is willing to escape how do you propose to
+manage?"
+
+"That's the difficulty; don't the nuns ever come out of the convent?"
+
+"Never alone; always by twos. Sister Agatha is a great saint, and has
+a deal of liberty, but she is always in company."
+
+"Well, well," said I, "we shall have to scale the walls then."
+
+"Pooh! you are as romantic as William."
+
+"Well, Miss Wisdom, wont you suggest something?"
+
+"Certainly. Frank," replied Ellen. "Sister Agatha always took quite a
+liking for me, because I was her scholar I suppose, and an American,
+and she and the Superior, who is a very good-natured person, came
+immediately to see me, when I was sick last summer, and afterward
+called very often. Now, if papa is willing, when your ship is ready to
+sail I'll fall sick again and send for Sister Agatha, who will be sure
+to come with some one else, but she can slip out through the court
+after awhile, and down the garden-walk here to the river, and go into
+your boat, which shall be waiting, and then you can take her off to
+the ship."
+
+"That is a capital plan, dear Ellen," said I, "but there is one grand
+objection to it."
+
+"What is that, Frank?"
+
+"You would get into trouble by it."
+
+"Oh, no! I think not; but yonder comes papa with mother, and William
+is saying fine things to Mary, behind them."
+
+"Ah, Frank!" cried Mr. Stowe, as we made our appearance, "we were
+looking for you. I did not know but that you had run away with Ellen."
+
+"No," said I, "not yet; but we were contriving the best plan to run
+away with a nun."
+
+"Hush! you fool!" whispered Langley, pinching my arm.
+
+"Go to thunder!" was the reply, "I know what I'm about." I then
+related to Mr. Stowe the story the reader well knows, and which I
+found Mr. Stowe knew very well also, and finally disclosed Ellen's
+very excellent plan for the deliverance of my cousin.
+
+"If," said Mr. Stowe, in reply, when I had finished, "if you can get
+sister Agatha's consent to elope at the proper time, Ellen may fall
+sick if she pleases. I may be suspected in having a hand in the
+matter; but if the affair is properly managed, they can do no more
+than suspect, and that I care nothing about, as I'm going to move back
+to Boston in the spring. But the grand difficulty you will find to be
+in persuading Sister Agatha to break her vow."
+
+"Let me alone for that," replied I, "if I can only have an interview
+with her."
+
+"That is easily done," said Mary Stowe, "the nuns are allowed to see
+their friends at the grate."
+
+"And I will go with you to the convent to-morrow, and engage the
+superior's attention while you talk with your cousin," added her
+father.
+
+In the evening Langley and I held a council of war, wherein it was
+decided, _nem. con_., that our plot was in a fair way to be
+accomplished.
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+_The Visit at the Convent._
+
+
+The next day Mr. Stowe and myself set out for the convent in that
+gentleman's carriage. Upon our arriving there we were shown into a
+spacious parlor, at one end of which was a larger grated window,
+opening into a smaller room. In a few moments the Lady Superior
+entered. She was a tall, handsome woman, and surprised my Protestant
+prejudices by receiving us very cordially, and immediately engaging
+with Mr. Stowe in a very lively, animated conversation in Spanish.
+Suddenly she turned toward me,
+
+"My good friend, Se�or Stowe, says that you wish to see Sister Agatha,
+who was your cousin."
+
+"Yes, se�ora."
+
+"Well, the se�or and myself are going to the school-room, and I will
+send her to you; but you must not make love to your cousin--she is
+very pretty, and you Americans have very sad morals;" and so saying,
+the lively superior led the way to the school-room, followed by Mr.
+Stowe.
+
+After they had retired I went up to the grate, and waited several
+minutes, until at last a door of the inner room opened, and a nun
+entered. Her face bore the traces of deep melancholy; but
+notwithstanding that, and the unbecoming dress which half concealed
+her form, I thought I had never seen a woman so lovely, so completely
+beautiful. I stood in mute wonder and admiration.
+
+"Did you wish to see me, se�or?" asked the nun, in a low, soft voice.
+
+"I did, madam," I replied. "If you are Clara Garcia, allow me to
+introduce myself as your cousin, Frank Byrne."
+
+"_Madre di Dios!_" cried the nun, her face lighting up with a smile of
+astonished delight, "can it be possible! How did you come here?"
+
+"In one of my father's ships," I replied. "I am a seaman on board of
+her."
+
+"What, the Cabot?" asked Sister Agatha, suddenly, with a color in her
+cheeks.
+
+"No, a new ship--the Gentile."
+
+The nun made many inquiries about my father and mother, and her
+cousins in Boston; and we chatted away quite merrily for some minutes.
+
+"You seem to take an interest in the world, after all," said I,
+striving to lead the conversation so that I might introduce the matter
+which was my business.
+
+"Not much, generally," sighed Sister Agatha. "I sometimes think of
+past times with regret, but I am for the most part very happy."
+
+This was a stumper. I determined to see if all this composure was
+real.
+
+"Can any one hear us?" I whispered.
+
+"No," answered the nun, opening her great eyes.
+
+"Well, then, I've a great deal to tell you. Let me ask you, in the
+first place, if you know where your brother Pedro is."
+
+I was frightened at the expression which my cousin's face assumed.
+"Yes!" she said, in a hoarse voice, "he is in the _Guarda-Costa_. My
+God! Frank! I saw him a year ago in the streets, toiling as a
+scavenger."
+
+I saw that there was yet deep feeling under the cold, melancholy
+exterior. I had but little time to work, and hastened to proceed.
+
+"Cousin Clara," I resumed, "you are mistaken; your brother has escaped
+from confinement, and is now on board my ship, the Gentile."
+
+"Thank God!" cried the nun, clasping her hands, "now am I willing to
+die."
+
+"And further," said I, immediately continuing my revelations, "can you
+repress your feelings?"
+
+"What more can you have to tell me?" whispered Sister Agatha. "Go on,
+I am not so nearly stone as I thought myself; but I can hear without
+any dangerous outbreak of emotion whatever you have to say."
+
+"Well," I resumed, "you were mistaken about Mr. Stewart's death--"
+
+I had been too abrupt. The nun turned deadly pale, and clung to the
+bars of the grate for support; but the emotion was momentary. "Go on,"
+said she, in a hoarse whisper.
+
+"Can you bear it?" I asked, anxiously.
+
+"Yes, no matter what it may be."
+
+"Command yourself, then; Mr. Stewart is not only alive, but well; he
+loves you yet most ardently, but without hope; he is now on board of
+the Gentile, he and Pedro--not three miles from you."
+
+While thus by piecemeal I doled out my information, I watched the
+effect on my auditor. There was no more fainting. Her lips parted, and
+displayed her white teeth firmly set against each other, and her
+little hands grasped the bars of the grate convulsively.
+
+Quickly and concisely I stated my plan for her escape; but still she
+maintained the same attitude; she did not even seem to hear me.
+
+"Clara, do you consent?" I cried, in despair, for I heard the steps of
+the Superior and Mr. Stowe.
+
+Suddenly she extended her hand through the grate and grasped mine. "I
+do," she said, "if I'm damned for it."
+
+"Right, then; you shall be warned in time. Go now, for your features
+are any thing but calm."
+
+The nun vanished as the Superior entered.
+
+"I have been taking advantage of your confidence, se�ora," said I; "I
+have been trying to persuade my cousin that she is discontented and
+unhappy, but without success."
+
+"Ah! no fear of that, se�or," cried the lady, with a smile, while Mr.
+Stowe stood aghast; "girls who have been disappointed in love make
+good nuns."
+
+"Then you will dare to trust me to see her again. I promised that I
+would call once more before I sail, with your permission."
+
+"_Si, Se�or_, whenever you please."
+
+After partaking of some very fine fruit and wine, we took our leave
+with many thanks.
+
+"Well, Frank, how you startled me," said Mr. Stowe, as we drove off.
+"You told the truth, I suppose; but the truth is not to be told at all
+times."
+
+"Oh!" said I, "I only told half the truth--"
+
+"Is it possible that Sister Agatha consents to escape?"
+
+"She has promised to do so," I replied.
+
+Mr. Stowe expressed so much surprise that I found that he had had no
+faith in my success--but the good gentleman was now overjoyed.
+"Capital, Frank!" said he, "you would make a splendid diplomatist. Now
+what do you say to going directly aboard ship and telling your tidings
+to the officers and Pedro? We will take a boat at the mole and get
+aboard in time for dinner."
+
+"Agreed; how happy we shall make Mr. Stewart and Don Pedro."
+
+Mr. Stowe prophesied correctly. The officers of the Gentile were at
+dinner in the cabin when we suddenly burst upon them. I need not say
+that all hands were no less surprised than delighted at the
+intelligence we had to communicate. I thought my hands would be wrung
+off, so severely were they shaken.
+
+After dinner Mr. Stowe and myself returned on shore, and in a family
+conclave there also stated the result of our visit to the convent.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+_Yellow Fever and Love-making._
+
+
+The succeeding three days passed most happily with me. I grew more and
+more in love with Ellen. We visited all the places of note in the
+neighborhood of the town, and were even projecting an excursion to
+Havana in the steamboat, when an event occurred that came very near
+sending me on a much longer voyage. One afternoon, while waiting for
+Captain Smith with Langley at the United States Caf�, I was suddenly
+taken with a distracting pain through my temples, though just
+previously I had felt as well as ever in my life. The agony increased,
+and Langley, to whom I complained, began to be frightened, when
+luckily Captain Smith arrived, who, upon looking at me, and hearing
+Langley's account of the matter, immediately called a volante, put me
+aboard, and drove to Mr. Stowe's house. During the ride I grew worse
+and worse every moment; the jolting of the carriage almost killed me,
+and by the time we had arrived at our destination I was nearly crazy.
+I just remember of being lifted out of the volante, and of seeing the
+pale, anxious face of Ellen somewhere--and I knew no more of the
+matter until some sixty hours afterward, one fine morning, when I all
+at once opened my eyes, and found myself flat on my back, weak as a
+cat, and my head done up in plaintain-leaves and wet towels. I heard
+low conversation and the rattle of dice, and casting my eyes toward
+the verandah, from whence the noise proceeded, I perceived Langley and
+Mary Stowe very composedly engaged in a game of backgammon. Ellen sat
+by the jalousie, just within the room, looking very pale, and with a
+book in her hand, which I judged by the appearance to be a
+prayer-book. I felt very weak, but perfectly happy, and not being
+disposed to talk, lay entirely still, enjoying the delicious languor
+which I felt, and the cool breeze which entered freely from the
+blinded windows, and listened to the conversation of my friends.
+
+"Come, come, Ellen," said Mary, looking up from the board, "don't look
+so wobegone--'t is your throw, William--Frank is doing well enough
+now. The doctor says that when he wakes he will be entirely out of
+danger, and free from pain. Psha! Will, you take me up. I don't see,
+my dear, why you should take so much more interest than any one
+else--is it not ridiculous, William?"
+
+"Perfectly so," replied Langley--"double sixes, by the Lord!--two of
+'em, three, four. Now Frank is my shipmate, and, in the main, a
+tolerable decent fellow; but he isn't worth shedding so many tears
+about."
+
+"Why, William!" exclaimed Ellen, "you know that you cried like a baby
+yourself night before last, when he was so very sick."
+
+"Ahem! so I did; but I was so vexed to see our pleasant party to
+Havana was broken up. Frank was very ill-natured to fall sick just at
+that time--I'll flog him for it when he gets well."
+
+"You can't do it, Bill Langley," cried I, as loudly as possible, for
+the first time taking a part in the conversation.
+
+The trio started to their feet at this unexpected display of my
+colloquial powers; down went backgammon-board, men, dice, prayer-book,
+and all upon the floor.
+
+"Hillo! Frank!" cried Langley, ranging alongside the bed, "how do you
+find yourself by this time, my little dear?"
+
+"Perfectly well, only very weak."
+
+"Does your head ache now, Frank?" asked Mary, laying her soft hand
+upon my forehead.
+
+"Not a bit, only I've got most confounded sore hair."
+
+"Eh! my lad, they talked of leaving you no hair at all," cried Bill,
+"they thought one spell of shaving your head. Egad! you'd have looked
+like a bald eagle!"
+
+"Why, what has been the matter with me?" I asked.
+
+"Matter with you! why, man, you have had the yellowest kind of a
+fever. Touch and go, it was; but you're worth ten dead men this
+morning."
+
+Ellen during this conversation had left the room, and now returned
+with her father and the physician, who had called with Captain Smith.
+I was pronounced in a fair way of speedy recovery. Everybody was very
+glad, but I noticed that Ellen said nothing; indeed, instead of being
+overjoyed like my good skipper or Langley, she had to wipe the tears
+from her eyes.
+
+"Frank," said Langley, when I was finally left alone with that worthy
+gentleman, "how little Nell did pipe her eye the other night, when we
+were all so fearful you were going to slip your wind; and just between
+you and I and the main-mast, I'm walking into her sister's young
+affections just as the monkey went up the back-stay, hand over hand.
+_Pre_haps she aint a darling. I've been writing a piece of poetry
+about her, don't you want to hear it?"
+
+"Oh! be off with your nonsense--I wish to go to sleep."
+
+"Well, go to sleep, and be--cured, you unfeeling wretch;" and Mr.
+Langley, in a huff, walked out on the verandah, and began to smoke.
+
+Under the kind care of my good friends I grew rapidly better, and at
+the end of a week was entirely well; but still I enjoyed the society
+of Ellen so much, that whenever the skipper called upon me, I feigned
+myself too weak to go to my duty, and pleaded that Langley might stay
+ashore to take care of me. Captain Smith, though not deceived by this
+artifice, granted us liberty from day to day; and Bill and I were the
+two happiest fellows in the world. But there is an end to every thing.
+One day while sitting in the back verandah with Ellen, her father and
+mother, in rushed the skipper, in great glee, rubbing his hands.
+
+"Good morning, all hands!" cried he. "How are you, Frank?"
+
+"Oh! I'm not quite so well this morning," I replied, telling a
+bouncer.
+
+"Well, sir, I've got some news that'll do you as much good as the
+whole stock in trade of an apothecary taken at one dose. Let's see,
+to-day is Wednesday, and Friday evening, if good weather for our
+little plans to work, we shall sail for Boston."
+
+"For Boston!" cried everybody.
+
+"Yes, for Boston! You see, Stowe, Mr. Byrne has heard how dull
+freights are here, and I have just got a letter from him by Gidding's,
+of the Duxbury, just arrived, in which he says--or I'll read that
+part--hum--let's see--oh--'if you have not already engaged a freight,
+you will immediately sail for Boston. I have an excellent opportunity
+to charter the Gentile for a China voyage; and I suppose you had as
+lief go to India again as to Russia.' Bless me if I hadn't! So, my
+dear fellow, if any of those higgling shippers apply to you, tell 'em
+to go to the devil with their ha'penny freights. Come, ride down
+street with me; Gidding's has some letters for you. Good morning, Miss
+Ellen! Morning, Frank! get well mighty fast, for we must use you a
+little, you know; and see Langley, and tell him to go aboard
+immediately after dinner."
+
+"Ay, ay, sir. Come, Ellen, let's walk into the garden and find William
+and Mary."
+
+We were very soon in the garden, sauntering along a little alley
+shaded by orange trees.
+
+"It seems to me," said Ellen, half pouting, "that you are mightily
+pleased about sailing next Friday, instead of staying in Matanzas a
+week longer."
+
+"Why, yes," I replied, "I must say that I am glad to go home, after an
+absence of eighteen months."
+
+"I wish I was going to dear old Boston," added Ellen, sighing.
+
+"You are to go this fall, you know."
+
+"Maybe so; but then, Frank, you will not be there, will you?"
+
+"Why, no," I replied, "not if I go with the ship to India; but what
+difference will that make?"
+
+Ellen made no answer, and I began to feel rather queer, and
+marvelously inclined to make love. I had always liked Ellen very much,
+and lately better than ever, but, being a novice in such matters, I
+was in doubt whether my predilection was really _bona fide_ love or
+not; it didn't seem like the love I had read about in novels; and yet
+I felt very miserable at the idea of Ellen's loving anybody else. I
+was in a desperate quandary.
+
+"Well," said Ellen, after the lapse of a quarter of an hour, "pray
+what can be the subject of your thoughts?"
+
+I am frank by nature as well as by name; and so, turning to my fair
+inquisitor, I said, "you know, Ellen, that I am very young yet."
+
+"Yes, Frank."
+
+"And that people at my age very often do not know their own minds."
+
+"Yes, Frank."
+
+"Well, Ellen, I think _now_ that I love you very dearly; and if I were
+five years older, and felt as I now do, and you were willing, I would
+marry you right away; but I am young, and may be deceived, and so may
+deceive you. Now, Ellen, if I should ask you if you loved me, would
+you tell me?"
+
+"Yes, Frank," said Ellen, very faintly.
+
+"And do you?" I asked; and, like Brutus, paused for a reply.
+
+"Yes, Frank, I like you very much."
+
+"Is that all? _Like_, is a very cold word. Do you love me?"
+
+"Yes, Frank," whispered Ellen, leaning her forehead against my
+shoulder. "I _think_ I do; _you_ wouldn't say any more than that."
+
+"That is all I wish you to say, my dear little girl," I replied,
+kissing her white neck and shoulders; "now then, listen. I shall
+return from India in about two years time, if then we are both of the
+same mind as now, we will begin to talk about the wedding-day. What do
+you say to that?"
+
+"Yes, dear Frank."
+
+"Thank you, dearest; now look up one minute."
+
+The reader, if he pleases, may supply in this place a few
+interjectional kisses from his imagination.
+
+With my arm around Ellen's slender waist, we walked down the shady
+alleys of the garden in search of Langley and Mary, but for a while
+were unsuccessful; at last I caught a sight of Mary's white dress in a
+distant arbor. We approached the bower unperceived by its occupants,
+and were upon the point of entering, but we luckily discovered in time
+that we should be altogether _de trop_. Langley was on his knees
+before the coquettish Mary, making love in his most grandiloquent
+style.
+
+"Most adorable creature," quoth my romantic shipmate, thumping his
+right side, "you lacerate my heart by your obdurate cruelty!"
+
+"Get up off your knees, you foolish boy," answered the mischievous
+girl; "you will certainly stain the knees of your white trowsers."
+
+"Oh! divine goddess! hear me!" persisted my chum, magnanimously
+disregarding the welfare of his unwhisperables in the present crisis.
+
+"You idolatrous sailor remember the first commandment."
+
+"The devil fly away with the first commandment!" cried poor Langley,
+sorely vexed. "Most lovely of human beings," he continued with a deep
+groan, which he intended to be a pathetic sigh, "my heart is on fire."
+
+"May be you've got the fever, William," suggested Mary; "are you in
+_much_ pain?"
+
+"Yes, great pain," said Bill, with another heart-rending groan.
+
+"Well, then, rise, I insist--Lord! if anybody should catch us in this
+predicament!"
+
+"Hadn't we better go away?" whispered Ellen, blushing for her sister's
+sake.
+
+"No, no," I replied, "let's stay and see the fun."
+
+"Not till I persuade you to relent," replied Langley to Mary's
+oft-repeated request.
+
+"Yes you will. Get up off your knees immediately, or I vow I'll box
+your ears."
+
+"Strike!" cried Langley, with a theatrical air and tone, at the same
+time unbuttoning his vest, "strike! and wound the heart which beats
+for you alone!"
+
+_Slap_--came Mary's delicate hand across the cheek of her disconsolate
+lover, with a force which brought an involuntary "ouch!" from his
+lips. "Get up, I say!" _Whack_--_slap_--came two more blows, first on
+one side of his head and then on the other.
+
+"By G----d! madam!" sputtered Langley, rising in a rage, "I wish you
+were a man for half a minute."
+
+"Why," said Mary, "in that case you couldn't make love to me with any
+sort of propriety. Hold, hold, Willy, dear! don't go off angry; sit
+down here, I insist; nay, now, I'll box your ears again if you don't
+obey me; there, you'll feel perfectly cool in a moment. For shame!
+Bill, to get angry at a love-tap from a lady!"
+
+"Love-tap, indeed," muttered Langley, rubbing his cheek. "See where
+your confounded ring scratched my face."
+
+"Did it? Oh! I'm so sorry!" said Mary. "Hold here, while I kiss the
+place to make it well; there now, don't it feel much better? See! I've
+got my lips all blood, haven't I? Shall I wipe it off with my
+handkerchief, or--"
+
+Langley took the hint and kissed the rich ripe lips of his lovely
+companion, red with nothing but her own warm blood.
+
+"By Jupiter!" cried my shipmate, "Mary, you are the strangest girl I
+ever saw. One minute I think you love me, the next that you care
+nothing at all for me; one minute the most teasing little devil, and
+the next the dearest creature in all the world."
+
+"What am I now?" asked Mary.
+
+"You are the most angelic, adorable--"
+
+"Take care, sir," cried Mary, shaking her finger; "don't have a
+relapse, or you'll catch it again."
+
+"Well, what shall I say then?" demanded poor Bill, in despair; "you
+are as hard to please as the skipper of a mud-scow."
+
+"Talk sensibly if you wish, but don't indulge in such lofty flights,
+unless you have a mind to soar out of hearing. Now, then, Will, what
+were you about to say?"
+
+"This," said my shipmate, taking the hand of his charming companion,
+and speaking like a frank, manly fellow, as he really was, "this, dear
+Mary, that I love you heartily and truly, and have loved you ever
+since we were children. At present I am a poor seaman, but I hope in a
+few years to rise in my profession, till I am able to support a wife
+in the style to which you have been accustomed, if then you will give
+me your hand I shall be more happy than I can express. Now, don't
+tease me any longer, but tell me if I have any chance."
+
+Mary's coquettish air was gone. While Langley had been speaking her
+face became suffused with a charming blush, which extended even to her
+heaving bosom, and when he finished she raised her eyes, bright and
+tearful, to his. "William," said she, "you have spoken candidly,
+without doubt, and deserve a candid answer. If when you become the
+mate of a ship you are willing to be burthened with me for a wife,
+dear Will, you can doubtless have me by asking papa."
+
+"Come, Ellen," said I, "let's go now."
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+_The Gentile loses her fore-topsail._
+
+
+The hours flew like lightning until Friday arrived. I went to the
+convent in the morning, and in an interview with Sister Agatha
+informed her that in the evening she would probably be called to the
+sick bed of Ellen. Mr. Stowe bade us good-bye and sailed in the Havana
+steamboat at noon, that his presence at the catastrophe might not
+seem suspicious. At sunset I bade farewell to dear little Ellen, who
+was indeed as pale as death, and in an hour afterward was on board the
+ship, where I found every thing in readiness for a hasty departure,
+the top-sails, jib and spanker were loosed, the anchor at the bows,
+and its place supplied by a small kedge, attached to the ship by a
+hawser, easily cut in case of need; the awnings were struck, and the
+decks covered with rigging and sails. The boat's crew who were to go
+on the expedition of the evening had already been selected, and were
+in high spirits at the probable danger, romance and novelty of the
+affair.
+
+"By thunder! Frank," said Jack Reeves, shaking my hand furiously when
+I appeared on the forecastle, "you're a trump and no mistake."
+
+"Arrah! now, Masther Frank, how yaller it is ye're lookin'; but it's
+you that's the boy to get the weather gage of Yaller Jack, let alone
+the nuns; wont we have a thumping time this night?"
+
+"Why, Teddy, are you going with us? You are the last man I should have
+thought to enlist in an expedition of this kind!"
+
+"Ay, ay, Masther Frank, its rather agen my conscience, to be sure; but
+it's the skipper's orders, and I alwus goes by that maxum, ''bey
+orders if you break owners.'"
+
+"Then the skipper has ordered you to go--"
+
+"Of coorse; in the first place he says that he'll send no man into
+danger widout tellin' him of it, the jewel, and then he just stated
+the case, and sez he, 'which of yees will go, b'ys?' an' wid that uz
+all stipt for'ard. 'What,' sez the owld man, sez he, 'Teddy, I thought
+you was a Catholic!' 'Faix! an' I am that, yer honor,' sez I, makin' a
+big sign of the cross, 'long life to the Pope and the clargy!' 'It's a
+nun we're goin' to abductionize to-night,' sez he, 'I thought you
+understood that.' 'I know that, yer honor,' sez I, 'but if you will
+jist plaze to order me to go, I can't help meself, and so your own
+sowl will be damned, beggin' yer honor's pardon,' sez I, 'and not
+mine.' The officers all laughed, and the owld man, sez he, 'Teddy,
+you're quite ingenuous!' 'Thank yer honor,' sez I, 'but I'll cotton
+to Ichabod Green in that line, since he invinted the new spun-yarn
+mill.'"
+
+Soon after sundown the land wind from the south set in smartly, and by
+eight o'clock we were not a little fearful lest our kedge might drag.
+The captain's gig was brought to the stairs, and the party chosen for
+the expedition took their places, the first mate and ship's cousin and
+six stout seamen, well armed. Stewart was very nervous and silent; the
+only remark he made after we left the ship was when we swept by the
+end of the mole.
+
+It was just nine o'clock when we hauled into the shade of the
+summer-house and its vines at the foot of Mr. Stowe's garden. I was
+commissioned to go to the house while the rest staid by the boat. On
+the stairs of the back verandah I met Mary Stowe.
+
+"Is it you, Frank?" she asked.
+
+"Ay, ay; is Cousin Clara here?"
+
+"Oh, yes! in Ellen's room, and the Superior is in the parlor with
+mother. Ellen has been terribly sick, but she was well enough to
+whisper just now, 'Give Frank my best love.'"
+
+"Here, Mary," said I, "give her this kiss a thousand times."
+
+"Oh, heavens! what a pretty one! But I must go and send Sister Agatha
+to you; we've got a hard part to act when her flight is discovered. I
+say, Frank, give Langley my love; don't wonder at it now, adieu! I'll
+see you in two years."
+
+"I waited impatiently for two minutes, which seemed two hours; at last
+I heard a light step on the stairs, and in a moment more held the
+runaway nun in my arms.
+
+"Courage!" said I, "you are safe."
+
+Throwing a cloak over her, we hastily ran down the orange-walk. I
+could not suppress a sigh as I passed the place where Ellen had told
+me that she thought she loved me. In a moment we reached the boat;
+Stewart stood upon the shore to receive us, caught the fainting form
+of Cousin Clara in his arms, and bore her apparently lifeless to the
+stern-sheets; the men shipped their oars, and I seized the
+rudder-lines, and gave the word of command.
+
+"Push off--let fall--give way--and now pull for your lives."
+
+The boat shot like lightning down the narrow river to its mouth, then
+across the broad bay, glittering in the first rays of the just risen
+moon. The band was playing as we rapidly shot past the barracks.
+
+I sat near the lovers in the stern-sheets, and heard Stewart whisper,
+"Dearest, do you remember that old Castilian air?" The answer was
+inaudible, but from the long kiss that Stewart pressed upon the lips
+which replied to him, I judged that the reply was in the affirmative.
+At last the ship was reached, and the passengers of the boat were
+safely transferred to the broad, firm deck of the old Gentile.
+
+The reader will excuse my describing the scene which ensued, for, as I
+have before said, and as the reader has probably assented, description
+is not my forte; beside, I am in a devil of a hurry to get the ship
+under weigh, or all will be lost.
+
+The hawser was cut, and we wore round under our jib; the top-sails
+were hoisted and filled out before the breeze, and we began our voyage
+toward home. Sail after sail was set, and the noble old ship danced
+merrily and swiftly along, leaving the scene of my cousin's suffering
+far astern; and, alas! every moment adding to the distance between
+Ellen and me. The lights of the distant city, shining through the mazy
+rigging of the shipping before it, grew dimmer and more faint, and
+finally, entirely disappeared; the wide ocean was before us.
+
+The next morning we were seventy miles from the nearest land of Cuba;
+and ten days afterward the marine lists of the Boston papers announced
+the arrival of the ship Gentile, Smith, from Matanzas.
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+_In which the fullness of the Gentiles is accomplished._
+
+
+Great was the joy of my father and mother, and good little sisters, at
+the unexpected appearance of Cousins Pedro and Clara. The money of the
+former, it may be recollected, had been brought to Boston in the
+Cabot, and placed in my father's hands, and though Pedro could not be
+called a rich man, still the sum now paid him by his uncle was very
+handsome. This, by advice, was invested in an India venture to send by
+the Gentile; and my Cousin Pedro, in consequence of this and my
+father's recommendation, was appointed supercargo of that ship by Mr.
+Selden, the merchant who had chartered her.
+
+Captain Smith was removed to a new and larger vessel; and the
+Gentile's list of officers, when she cleared for Canton, stood thus,
+Benjamin Stewart, master; Pedro Garcia, supercargo; Micah Brewster,
+1st officer; William Langley, 2nd do.; Frank Byrne, 3rd do. Jack
+Reeves was also in the forecastle, but Teddy staid by his old skipper.
+
+It was a very pleasant day when we sailed from the end of Long Wharf;
+but we had got nearly under weigh before Captain Stewart came on
+board.
+
+"That's always the way with these new married skippers," growled the
+pilot, as he gave orders to hoist the maintop-sail.
+
+    *    *    *    *    *
+
+About a month ago, the senior partner of the firm of Byrne & Co. was
+heard to say, that he had in his employ three sea captains who had
+each one wooed his wife in broad daylight, in a garden of the city of
+Matanzas.
+
+
+
+
+
+ILENOVAR.
+
+FROM A STORY OF PALENQUE.
+
+A FRAGMENT.
+
+BY WM. GILMORE SIMMS, AUTHOR OF "THE YEMASSEE," "RICHARD HURDIS," ETC.
+
+
+    Weary, but now no longer girt by foes,
+      He darkly stood beside that sullen wave,
+    Watching the sluggish waters, whose repose
+      Imaged the gloomy shadows in his heart;
+    Vultures, that, in the greed of appetite,
+    Still sating blind their passionate delight,
+    Lose all the wing for flight,
+      And, brooding deafly o'er the prey they tear,
+    Hear never the low voice that cries, "depart,
+      Lest with your surfeit you partake the snare!"
+    Thus fixed by brooding and rapacious thought,
+      Stood the dark chieftain by the gloomy stream,
+    When, suddenly, his ear
+      A far off murmur caught,
+    Low, deep, impending, as of trooping winds,
+      Up from his father's grave,
+    That ever still some fearful echoes gave,
+      Such as had lately warned him in his dream,
+    Of all that he had lost--of all he still might save!
+      Well knew he of the sacrilege that made
+    That sacred vault, where thrice two hundred kings
+      Were in their royal pomp and purple laid,
+    Refuge for meanest things;--
+      Well knew he of the horrid midnight rite,
+    And the foul orgies, and the treacherous spell,
+      By those dread magians nightly practiced there;
+    And who the destined victim of their art;--
+      But, as he feels the sacred amulet
+    That clips his neck and trembles at his breast--
+      As once did she who gave it--he hath set
+    His resolute spirit to its work, and well
+      His great soul answers to the threatning dread,
+      Those voices from the mansions of the dead!
+    Upon the earth, like stone,
+    He crouched in silence; and his keen ear, prone,
+      Kissed the cold ground in watchfulness, not fear!
+    But soon he rose in fright,
+      For, as the sounds grew near,
+    He feels the accents never were of earth:
+    They have a wilder birth
+      Than in the council of his enemies,
+    And he, the man, who, having but one life,
+    Hath risked a thousand in unequal strife,
+      Now, in the night and silence, sudden finds
+    A terror, at whose touch his manhood flies.
+      The blood grows cold and freezes in his veins,
+    His heart sinks, and upon his lips the breath
+    Curdles, as if in death!
+      Vainly he strives in flight,
+    His trembling knees deny--his strength is gone!
+      As one who, in the depth of the dark night,
+    Groping through chambered ruins, lays his hands
+      On cold and clammy bones, and glutinous brains,
+      The murdered man's remains--
+    Thus rooted to the dread spot stood the chief,
+      When, from the tomb of ages, came the sound,
+    As of a strong man's grief;
+      His heart denied its blood--his brain spun round--
+      He sank upon the ground!
+
+    'Twas but an instant to the dust he clung;
+      The murmurs grew about him like a cloud--
+    He breathed an atmosphere of spirit-voices,
+      Most sighing sad, but with a sound between,
+    As of one born to hope that still rejoices,
+      In a sweet foreign tongue,
+    That seemed exulting, starting from its shroud,
+      To a new rapture for the first time seen!
+    This better voice, as with a crowning spell,
+    On the chief's spirit fell;
+      Up starting from the earth, he cried aloud:
+    "Ah! thou art there, and well!
+      I thank thee, thou sweet life, that unto me
+    Art life no longer--thou hast brought me life,
+    Such as shall make thy murderers dread the strife.
+      But for thy ear a gentler speech be mine,
+    And I will wait until the terrible hour
+      Hath past, and I may wholly then be thine!
+    Now am I sworn unto a wilder power,
+    But none so clear, or precious, sweetest flower,
+    That ever, when Palenque possessed her tower
+      And white-robed priesthood, wert of all thy race
+      Most queenly, and the soul of truth and grace;--
+    Blossom of beauty, that I could not keep,
+      And know not to resign--
+    I would, but cannot weep!
+      These are not tears, my father, but hot blood
+    That fills the warrior's eyes;
+      For every drop that falls, a mighty flood
+    Our foemen's hearts shall yield us, when the dawn
+      Begins of that last day
+    Whose red light ushers in the fatal fray,
+      Such as shall bring us back old victories,
+    Or of the empire, evermore withdrawn.
+      Shall make a realm of silence and of gloom,
+      Where all may read the doom,
+    But none shall dream the horrid history!
+    I do not weep--I do not shrink--I cry
+    For the fierce strife and vengeance! Taught by thee,
+    No other thought I see!
+    My hope is strong within, my limbs are free.
+      My arms would strike the foe--my feet would fly,
+    Where now he rides triumphant in his sway--
+      And though within my soul a sorrow deep
+    Makes thought a horror haunting memory,
+      I do not, will not weep!"
+
+    Then swore he--and he called the tree whose growth
+      Of past and solemn centuries made it wear
+      An ancient, god-like air,
+    To register his deep and passionate oath.
+      Hate to the last he swore--a wild revenge,
+    Such as no chance can change,
+      Vowed he before those during witnesses,
+    Rocks, waters and old trees.
+      And, in that midnight hour,
+    No sound from nature broke,
+    No sound save that he spoke,
+      No sound from spirits hushed and listening nigh!
+    His was an oath of power--
+      A prince's pledge for vengeance to his race--
+      To twice two hundred years of royalty--
+    That still the unbroken sceptre should have sway,
+    While yet one subject warrior might obey,
+      Or one great soul avenge a realm's disgrace!
+    It was the pledge of vengeance, for long years,
+      Borne by his trampled people as a dower
+    Of bitterness and tears;--
+      Homes rifled, hopes defeated, feelings torn
+      By a fierce conqueror's scorn;
+    The national gods o'erthrown--treasure and blood,
+    Once boundless as the flood,
+      That 'neath his fixed and unforgiving eye
+      Crept onward silently;
+    Scattered and squandered wantonly, by bands,
+    Leaguered in shame, the scum of foreign lands,
+      Sent forth to lengthen out their infamy,
+    With the wild banquet of a pampered mood.
+
+    Even as he swore, his eye
+      Grew kindled with a fierce and flaming blight,
+    Red-lowering like the sky,
+      When, heralding the tempest in his might,
+    The muttering clouds march forth and form on high.
+    With sable banners and grim majesty.
+    Beneath his frowning brow a shaft of fire,
+    That told the lurking ire,
+    Shot ever forth, outflashing through the gloom
+    It could not well illume,
+    Making the swarthy cheeks on which it fell
+    Seem trenched with scarr�d lines of hate and hell.
+    Then heaved his breast with all the deep delight
+    The warrior finds in promise of the fight,
+      Who seeks for vengeance in his victory.
+    For, in the sudden silence in the air,
+    He knew how gracious was the audience there:
+    He heard the wings unfolding at the close,
+      And the soft voice that cheered him once before
+    Now into utterance rose:
+    One whispered word,
+      One parting tone,
+    And then a fragrant flight of wings was heard
+      And she was gone, was gone--
+      Yet was he not alone! not all alone!
+
+    Thus, having sworn--the old and witnessing tree
+    Bent down, and in his branches registered
+    Each dark and passionate word;
+    And on the rocks, trenched in their shapeless sides,
+    The terrible oath abides;
+    And the dark waters, muttering to their waves,
+    Bore to their secret mansions and dim caves
+      The low of death they heard.
+    Thus were the dead appeased--the listening dead--
+      For, as the warrior paused, a cold breath came,
+      Wrapping with ice his frame,
+    A cold hand pressing on his heart and head;
+      Entranced and motionless,
+    Upon the earth he lies,
+      While a dread picture of the land's distress
+    Rose up before his eyes.
+    First came old Hilluah's shadow, with the ring
+      About his brow, the sceptre in his hand,
+      Ensigns of glorious and supreme command,
+    Proofs of the conqueror, honored in the king.
+    "Ilenovar! Ilenovar!" he cried:
+    Vainly the chief replied;--
+    He strove to rise for homage, but in vain--
+    The deathlike spell was on him like a chain,
+    And his clogged tongue, that still he strove to teach,
+    Denied all answering speech!
+    The monarch bade him mark
+    The clotted blood that, dark,
+    Distained his royal bosom, and that found
+    Its way, still issuing, from a mortal wound,
+      Ghastly and gaping wide, upon his throat!
+    The shadow passed--another took his place,
+    Of the same royal race;
+    The noble Yumuri, the only son
+    Of the old monarch, heir to his high throne,
+    Cut off by cunning in his youthful pride;
+    There was the murderer's gash, and the red tide
+    Still pouring from his side;
+      And round his neck the mark of bloody hands,
+    That strangled the brave sufferer while he strove
+      Against their clashing brands.
+    Not with unmoistened eyes did the chief note
+      His noble cousin, precious to his love,
+    Brother of one more precious to his thought,
+      With whom and her, three happy hearts in one,
+    He grew together in their joys and fears--
+    And not till sundered knew the taste of tears;
+      Salt, bitter tears, but shed by one alone,
+    Him the survivor, the avenger--he
+    Who vainly shades his eyes that still must see!
+    Long troops came after of his slaughtered race,
+      Each in his habit, even as he died:
+    The big sweat trickled down the warrior's face,
+    Yet could he move no limb, in that deep trance,
+    Nor turn away his glance!
+
+    They melt again to cloud--at last they fade;
+      He breathes, that sad spectator,--they are gone;
+      He sighs with sweet relief; but lo! anon,
+    A deeper spell enfolds him, as a maid,
+    Graceful as evening light, and with an eye
+    Intelligent with beauty, like the sky,
+    And wooing as the shade,
+      Bends o'er him silently!
+    With one sweet hand she lifts the streaming hair,
+      That o'er her shoulders droops so gracefully,
+    While with the other she directs his gaze,
+    All desperate with amaze,
+    Yet with a strange delight, through all his fear!
+    What sees he there?
+    Buried within her bosom doth his eye
+    The deadly steel descry;
+    The blood stream clotted round it--the sweet life
+    Shed by the cruel knife!--
+    The keen blade guided to the pure white breast,
+    By its own kindred hand, declares the rest!
+    Smiling upon the deed, she smiles on him,
+    And in that smile the lovely shape grows dim.
+
+    His trance is gone--his heart
+    Hath no more fear! in one wild start
+    He bursts the spell that bound him, with a cry
+    That rings in the far sky;
+    He does not fear to rouse his enemy!
+    The hollow rocks reply;
+    He shouts, and wildly, with a desperate voice,
+    As if he did rejoice
+    That death had done his worst;
+      And in his very desperation blessed,
+    He felt that life could never more be cursed;
+      And from its gross remains he still might wrest
+      A something, not a joy, but needful to his breast!
+    His hope is in the thought that he shall gain
+    Sweet vengeance for the slain--
+    For her, the sole, the one
+    More dear to him than daylight or the sun,
+    That perished to be pure! No more! no more!
+    Hath that stern mourner language! But the vow,
+    Late breathed before those spectre witnesses,
+    His secret spirit mutters o'er and o'er,
+    As 't were the very life of him and his--
+    Dear to his memory, needful to him now!
+    A moment and his right hand grasped his brow--
+    Then, bending to the waters, his canoe,
+    Like some etherial thing that mocks the view,
+    Glides silent from the shore.
+
+
+
+
+THE LAST OF HIS RACE.
+
+BY S. DRYDEN PHELPS.
+
+
+      'Twas to a dark and solitary glen,
+        Amid New England's scenery wild and bold,
+      A lonely spot scarce visited by men,
+        Where high the frowning hills their summits hold,
+        And stand, the storm-beat battlements of old--
+      Returned at evening from the fruitless chase,
+        Weary and sad, and pierced with autumn's cold
+      And laid him mournful in his rocky place,
+    The grief-worn warrior chief--last of his once proud race.
+
+      He wrapt his mantle round his manly form,
+        And sighed as on his cavern floor he lay;
+      His bosom heaved with passion's varying storm,
+        While he to melancholy thoughts gave way,
+        And mused on deeds of many a by-gone day.
+      Scenes of the past before his vision rose--
+        The fearless clans o'er whom he once held sway,
+      The bloody battle-field and vanquished foes,
+    His wide extended rule, which few had dared oppose.
+
+      He sees again his glad and peaceful home,
+        His warlike sons and cherished daughters dear;
+      Together o'er his hunting-grounds they roam,
+        Together they their honored sire revere;
+        But trickles down his cheek the burning tear,
+      As fades the spectral vision from his eye:
+        Low at his shrine he bows with listening ear,
+      And up to the Great Spirit sends a cry,
+    To bear him to his rest, and bid his sorrows die.
+
+      Tired of the lonely world he longs to go
+        And join his kindred and the warrior band,
+      Where fruits for him in rich luxuriance grow,
+        Nor comes the pale-face to that spirit-land:
+        Ere he departs for aye, he fain would stand
+      Again upon his favorite rock and gaze
+        O'er the wide realm where once he held command,
+      Where oft he hunted in his younger days,
+    Where, in the joyful dance, he sang victorious lays.
+
+      Up the bold height with trembling step he passed,
+        And gained the fearful eminence he sought;
+      As on surrounding scenes his eye was cast,
+        His troubled spirit racked with frenzied thought,
+        And urged by ruin on his empire brought,
+      He uttered curses on the pale-faced throng,
+        With whom in vain his scattered warriors fought
+      And on the sighing breeze that swept along,
+    He poured the fiery words that filled his vengeful song:
+
+    Fair home of the red man! my lingering gaze
+    On thy ruin now rests, like the sun's fading rays;
+    'Tis the last that I give--like the dim orb of day,
+    My life shall go down, and my spirit away.
+
+    Loved home of the red man! I leave thee with pain,
+    The place where my kindred, my brothers were slain;
+    The graves of my fathers, whose wigwams were here;
+    The land where I hunted the swift-bounding deer.
+
+    No longer these hills and these valleys I roam,
+    No more are these mountains and forests my home,
+    No more, on the face of the beautiful tide,
+    Shall the red man's canoe in tranquillity glide.
+
+    The pale-face hath conquered--we faded away,
+    Like mist on the hills in the sun's burning ray,
+    Like the leaves of the forest our warriors have perished;
+    Our homes have been sacked by the stranger we cherished.
+
+    May the Great Spirit come in his terrible might,
+    And pour on the white man his mildew and blight
+    May his fruits be destroyed by the tempest and hail,
+    And the fire-bolts of heaven his dwellings assail.
+
+    May the beasts of the mountain his children devour,
+    And the pestilence seize him with death-dealing power;
+    May his warriors all perish and he in his gloom,
+    Like the hosts of the red men, be swept to the tomb.
+
+      Scarce had the wild notes of the chieftain's song
+        Died mournful on the evening breeze away,
+      Ere down the precipice he plunged along
+        Mid ragged cliffs that in his passage lay:
+        All torn and mangled by the fearful fray,
+      Naught save the echo of his fall arose.
+        The winds that still around that summit play,
+      The sporting rill that far beneath it flows,
+    Chant, where the Indian fell, their requiem o'er his woes.
+
+
+
+
+DECAY AND ROME.
+
+
+      Methinks I see, within yon wasted hall,
+        O'erhung with tapestry of ivy green,
+        The grim old king Decay, who rules the scene,
+      Throned on a crumbling column by the wall,
+      Beneath a ruined arch of ancient fame,
+        Mocking the desolation round about,
+        Blotting with his effacing fingers out
+      The inscription, razing off its hero's name--
+      And lo! the ancient mistress of the globe,
+        With clasp�d hands, a statue of despair,
+        Sits abject at his feet, in fetters bound--
+      A thousand rents in her imperial robe,
+        Swordless and sceptreless, her golden hair
+    Dishevelled in the dust, for ages gathering round!   R. H. S.
+
+
+
+
+THE LITTLE CAP-MAKER.
+
+OR LOVE'S MASQUERADE.
+
+BY MRS. CAROLINE H. BUTLER.
+
+
+PART I.
+
+Fair Ursula sits alone in an apartment which seems fitted up for the
+reception of some goddess. She is not weeping, but her dark eyes are
+humid with tears. An air of melancholy rests on her young face, like a
+shadow on a rose-leaf, while her little hands are folded despairingly
+on her lap. The hem of her snowy robe sweeps the rich surface of the
+carpet, from out which one dainty little foot, in its fairy slipper of
+black satin, peeps forth, wantonly crushing the beautiful bouquet
+which has fallen from the hands of the unhappy fair one.
+
+Every thing in this inviting apartment is arranged with the most
+exquisite taste and elegance. On tables of unique pattern are
+scattered the most costly gems of art and _vertu_--choice paintings
+adorn the walls--flowers, rare and beautiful, lift their heads proudly
+above the works of art which surround them, and in splendid Chinese
+cages, birds of gorgeous plumage have learned to caress the rosy lips
+of their young mistress, or perch triumphantly on her snowy finger.
+Here are books, too, and music--a harp--a piano--while through a half
+open door leading from a little recess over which a _multaflora_ is
+taught to twine its graceful tendrils, a glimpse may be caught of rosy
+silken hangings shading the couch where the queen of this little realm
+nightly sinks to her innocent slumbers.
+
+Eighteen summers have scarce kissed the brow of the fair maid, and
+already the canker worm of sorrow is preying upon her heart-strings.
+Poor thing, so young and yet so sad! What can have caused this
+sadness! Perhaps she loves one whose heart throbs not with answering
+kindness--perhaps loves one faithless to her beauty, or loves where
+cruel fate has interposed the barrier of a parent's frown!
+
+No--her heart is as free and unfettered as the wind.
+
+Ah! then perhaps her bosom friend, the chosen companion of her
+girlhood has proved unkind--some delightful project of pleasure
+perhaps frustrated, or, I dare say she has found herself eclipsed at
+Madame Raynor's _soir�e_ by some more brilliant belle--no, no, none of
+these surmises are true, plausible as they appear! Then what is it?
+Perhaps--but you will never guess, and you will laugh incredulously
+when I tell you that poor, poor dear darling Ursula weeps
+because--because--
+
+_She is an heiress!_
+
+That is it--yes, weeps because she is the uncontrolled mistress of one
+hundred thousand dollars in houses, lands and gold, bright gold!
+
+Poor little dear--looking upon fortune as a serious misfortune, and
+even envying those whose daily toil can alone bring them the
+necessaries of life; for, have they friends--they are true
+friends--there is no selfishness in the bond which unites them--while
+she, unhappy child that she is, owes to her rank and riches her
+thousand friends and the crowd of satellites worshiping before her!
+What a foolish notion to enter her little head! True, it is foolish.
+Lovers, too, in plenty sigh at her feet, and in the soft moonlight the
+air is tremulous with sighs and music, as from beneath her window
+steals the soft serenade. But Ursula curls her lip disdainfully, and
+orders her maid to shut out the sweet sounds. Ever that hateful gold
+comes between her and her lovers, and then she wishes her lot was
+humble, that she might be loved for herself alone!
+
+Do you wish a portrait of the unhappy little heiress? Behold her then:
+
+A perfect little sylph, resting on the tiniest of feet, with hands so
+charming that you would feel an almost irresistible desire to fold
+them caressingly within your own--the rich complexion of a brunette
+with the bloom of Hebe on her cheek--her hair like burnished jet--eyes
+large, lustrous and black--but (alas that there should be a _but_!)
+poor Ursula had an unfortunate cast in her left eye--in others words
+she squinted--yes, absolutely squinted!
+
+Dear, dear what a pity!
+
+Yet stop, don't judge the little heiress too hastily, for after all it
+was not a bad squint--indeed, if you knew her, you would say it was
+really a becoming squint, such a roguish, knowing look did it give
+her! Nevertheless, it was a squint, and poor Ursula, notwithstanding
+the bewitching form and features her mirror threw back, fancied this a
+deformity which cast aside all her graces. And here again the _gold_
+jaundiced her imagination and whispered, "were it not for _me_ what a
+horrible squint you would have in the straight forward eyes of the
+world!"
+
+When her parents died Ursula Lovel was but an infant, yet as tender
+and affectionate as parents had been the good uncle and aunt to whose
+love and guardianship she was bequeathed. They had no children, and
+gladly took the little orphan to their bosoms with pity and love--and
+Ursula required all their watchful care, for she was ever a feeble
+child, giving no indications of that sprightly beauty and perfect
+health she now exhibited. Then indeed the squint was truly a
+deformity, for her thin, sallow countenance only made it far more
+conspicuous.
+
+People should be more guarded what they say before children. One good
+old lady by a careless remark instilled into the mind of little
+Ursula a jealousy and distrust, which, but for the good sense maturer
+years brought to bear against such early impressions, would have
+rendered her unhappy for life. Propped up by pillows, she sat at a
+small table amusing herself by building little card houses, and then
+seeing them tumble down with all the kings and queens of her little
+city, when she heard her name mentioned in accents of pity by an old
+lady who had come to pay her aunt a morning visit.
+
+"She is very plain--is not she? What a great misfortune that her
+father should have left her so much money! Poor thing, it will only
+prove a curse to her, for if she lives she will doubtless become the
+prey of some fortune-hunter."
+
+Now what was meant by "fortune-hunter"--whether some giant or horrid
+ogress--the little girl could not tell, but that it was some dreadful
+thing waiting to devour her because she had money, haunted her mind
+continually. She was a child of fine capacity, and at school generally
+ranked the highest in her class--how many times her envious mates
+would say: "Well, well, it is a fine thing to be rich--it is your
+money, Miss Lovel, makes you so much favored--our teachers are both
+deaf and blind to your foibles!" What wonder, then, poor Ursula began
+to distrust herself, and to impugn the kindness of her teachers and
+friends, who really loved her for her sweet disposition, and were
+proud of her scholarship.
+
+But don't think that she has been hugging such unhappy thoughts to her
+bosom ever since, because you have just found her lamenting that she
+is an heiress!
+
+You shall hear. As childhood passed, health bloomed on her cheek, and
+shed its invigorating influence over the mind, and it was only when
+something occurred to arouse the suspicion of early childhood that she
+indulged in such feelings. She was intelligent and accomplished. Sang
+like a bird, painted to nature, and danced like a fairy. But there was
+something more than all this which contributed to her happiness--it
+was the power of doing good--a power which she possessed, and, through
+the judgment of her aunt, practiced. This excellent woman had taught
+her that money was not given her to be all lavished on self--that it
+was her duty, and ought to be her delight, to loose her purse-strings
+to the cries of the poor, and to scatter its glittering contents
+through the homes of the needy. And this did Ursula do--and was
+rewarded by the blessing of those she had relieved, and the happy
+consciousness of having mitigated the sorrows of her fellow mortals.
+
+But now this particular evening when you have seen little Ursula
+drooping under the weight of gold which Fortune it appears has so
+thanklessly showered upon her, she has met with an adventure which
+brings before her with all its tenacity the impression so early
+engendered. And now, as she sits there so sad and sorrowful, she is
+sighing to be loved for herself alone, and wishes her lot had been
+humble, that she might trust to professions, and not be forever
+reminded of that wealth which she fears will always mask the sincerity
+of those around her.
+
+Silly little girl! She would even exchange all the elegancies and
+luxuries of life to feed on love and roses!
+
+This unlucky evening she had shone as the most brilliant belle in the
+crowded assemblage of the fair and fashionable whom Madam Raynor had
+gathered into her splendid rooms. Tired at length with the gay scene
+around her, she had strolled off alone into the conservatory, and
+leaning against a pillar watched from a distance the giddy whirl of
+the waltz--the waving of feathers, the flashing of jewels, and the
+flitting of airy forms through those magnificent apartments. A few
+moments before she left the crowd, she had observed a stranger of very
+dashing air attentively regarding her, and then joining a friend of
+hers appeared to request an introduction. But young Allan was just
+about to join the dance, and ere it was finished Ursula had stolen
+away.
+
+While engaged as before described, she observed the same gentleman
+leaning on the arm of Allan strolling toward the conservatory.
+Concealed by the shadow of a large orange-tree, they passed her
+unobserved--they then paused in their walk, when Ursula suddenly heard
+her own name mentioned, and then the following conversation
+unavoidably fell on her ear:
+
+"Why she squints, Allan!"
+
+"Well, what of that--those that know her best never think of it."
+
+"Pardon me, I consider it a very great defect, and slight as this
+blemish appears in Miss Lovel, her money could never blind me to the
+fact if I knew her ever so well."
+
+"I do not mean to imply," answered Allan, "that being an heiress
+renders the blemish imperceptible--no, it is her truly amiable
+disposition, her goodness, and engaging manners which makes her so
+beautiful to her friends."
+
+"O, a pattern woman!" cried the other, "worse yet!"
+
+"What do you mean by a pattern woman?"
+
+"Why, one of those shockingly amiable, running round into dark alleys,
+charity-dispensing beings--patting white-headed beggar boys, and
+kissing dirt-begrimed babies--who speak in soft, lisping tones of duty
+and benevolence--read the Bible to sick paupers, go to sewing meetings
+and work on flannel--and--"
+
+"There, that will do, Fifield," interrupted Allan, "making some
+allowance, you have drawn Miss Lovel's character to the life. Shall I
+introduce you?"
+
+"O certainly, a cool hundred thousand outweighs all my objections
+against pattern women--I could swallow a sermon every morning with the
+best grace in the world, and even were she as ugly as Hecate, I could
+worship at her feet, and wear the yoke for the sake of the golden
+trappings!"
+
+The young men now passed on, leaving poor Ursula wounded to the quick
+by the heartless remarks of the fortune-hunter. She did not join the
+gay assembly again, but requesting a servant to call her carriage,
+immediately returned home. Now can you wonder at the cloud on her
+brow?
+
+But see, even while we are looking at her, it is clearing away--like
+a sunbeam, out peeps a smile from each corner of her rosy mouth, and
+hark! you may almost hear her merry laugh as clapping her bands she
+exclaims--
+
+"Yes, yes, I'll do it! What a capital idea--excellent, excellent!"
+Then rising and bounding lightly to the inner door she threw it wide,
+saying--
+
+"Here, Hetty, I have something to tell you--come quick."
+
+And at the summons a pretty young girl, seemingly about her own age,
+made her appearance from the chamber.
+
+"There, Hetty, I am better now," said Ursula, "how silly I am to let
+the remarks of such a person have power to move me! But I have such a
+grand project to tell you--come, while you are platting my hair, and,
+in the words of that same amiable youth, taking off all these
+_trappings_, I will let you into my secret."
+
+Hetty took the comb and thridded it through the long tresses of her
+young lady, which, released from the silver arrow so gracefully
+looping them on the top of her head, now fell around her nearly to the
+floor.
+
+"Hetty," exclaimed Ursula, suddenly throwing back her head and looking
+archly at the girl, "Hetty, do you want to see your mother?"
+
+"O, Miss Ursula," cried Hetty, the tears springing to her eyes,
+"indeed, indeed I do!"
+
+"Very well, I promise you then that in less than a week you shall be
+in her arms."
+
+"O, my dear Miss Ursula, do you really mean so?" said Hetty, bending
+over and kissing the glowing cheek of her mistress.
+
+"Yes, I really mean so--but dear, dear, you have run that hair-pin
+almost into my brain--never mind--only be quiet now--there, sit down,
+and I will tell you all about it." There was a roguish expression on
+Ursula's face as she continued: "Yes, you shall go home, and what's
+more, Hetty, I am going with you, and mean to live with you all
+summer, perhaps longer."
+
+"Why, Miss Ursula!"
+
+"Yes I do. And now you must assist me--you must promise me not to
+reveal to any one, not even to your mother, that I am the rich lady
+with whom you live. Remember I am a poor girl--poor as yourself--a
+friend of yours come into the country for--for her health--ha, ha, ha,
+Hetty, look at me--you must contrive to make me look paler, or shall
+this be a _hectic_?"
+
+"But, Miss Ursula--it will never do--you who have always had every
+thing so beautiful around you--you can never live in our humble way!"
+
+"Try me, try me, Hetty--for I am determined to lest my own individual
+merits, and see how far they may gain me the love and esteem of others
+when unsupported by the claims of wealth. Let me see, Hetty, I must
+have some employment aside from helping you to milk the cows and feed
+the pigs. Ah, I have it!" she cried, springing up and turning a
+pirouette--"listen--I will be a _milliner_! you know, aunt thinks I
+have a great knack at cap-making--O excellent idea--I will turn
+milliner for all the farmer's wives and daughters far and near." And
+catching up her embroidered mouchoir she began folding it into a
+turban, and then placing it gracefully on her little head, she turned
+to the laughing girl: "See there now--is not it exquisite--why my caps
+and turbans will turn the heads of all the swains in the village. You
+shall have one first, Hetty--you shall set _your_ cap, and heigh-ho
+for a husband!"
+
+"But your uncle and aunt, Miss Ursula?"
+
+"O, I shall tell them candidly my project. They will laugh at me, I
+know, and try, perhaps, to dissuade me; but, after all, they will let
+me do as I please."
+
+_Twelve_! chimed a beautiful Cupid running off with Time, which,
+exquisitely wrought in gold and pearl, stood on the dressing-table.
+
+In a few moments Hetty had drawn the rose-colored curtains around the
+couch of her young mistress, and left her to dreams as rosy.
+
+
+PART II.
+
+And now will you follow me to another scene--an apartment more
+spacious, and even more elegant, than the one we have just left, save
+that it savors more of the "sterner sex." For instance, we may see a
+brace of pistols, superbly mounted, crossed over the mantel-piece--a
+flute upon the table--a rifle leaning against the wall, and, I
+declare, fishing-tackle thrown carelessly down, all among those
+delicate knackeries so beautifully arranged on yonder marble
+slab--just like the men!
+
+Reclining upon a sofa of crimson satin, wrought with gold thread,
+wrapped in an elegant dressing-robe, with his feet thrust into
+embroidered slippers, is a young man of very pleasing exterior, whom
+we should judge to be about five-and-twenty. The long, slender fingers
+of one hand are half buried in the rich mass of dark-brown hair which
+waves over his temples, the other, hanging over the back of the sofa,
+seems to partake of the disturbance of its master, for it beats and
+thrums the silken covering most unmercifully. See how he knits his
+fine brow, and now waves his arm menacingly in the air--what can be
+the matter!
+
+Ah! you will laugh again when I tell you here is another discontented
+heir of wealth.
+
+There! now he suddenly starts up as if distracted. "_Yelp_, _yelp_!"
+Ah! poor Fido! although your master seems evidently out of humor, he
+would not have kicked your beautiful spotted coat had he seen you!
+There, he caresses you--so fold back your long ears, and wag your tail
+complacently, while we hear what this impatient youth has to say, as
+he strides so rapidly hither and thither.
+
+"Well, no doubt wealth is a very fine thing, if the world would let
+one enjoy it peaceably; but to be thus forever dined, and teaed, and
+courted, and flattered, and smiled at, and bowed at, and winked at,
+when, if it were not for my fortune, I very much doubt whether one of
+these, my exceeding good friends, would give me a dinner to save me
+from starvation. Why I had rather be the veriest boor that holds a
+plough, or a cobbler at his last, than to be, as Shakspeare says, 'the
+thing I am.' I am heartily sick of it, and could almost turn my back
+upon the world, and lead a hermit's life. To be always a mark for
+managing mothers, with great grown-up daughters; aimed at, like a
+target, by scores of black, grey, and blue eyes; to be forever forced
+to waltz with this one, and sing with another--and, ere I know it,
+find myself entrapped into a close _t�te-�-t�te_ with a third. I wish
+I _was_ married; then one-half at least of my troubles would be
+over--for I should shake off this swarm of female fortune-hunters!
+_Married_! ah! I wish I was! But where can I find one who will love me
+for myself alone, and not for the standing my wealth would give her?
+_Married_! ah! how delightful to come home and find a dear little wife
+waiting with open arms to welcome me, and the rosiest and sweetest of
+lips coaxingly pressed to mine; all my cares forgotten, all my
+vexations subdued by her soothing caresses and tender words. And then
+how enchanting as she warbles like a linnet for my ear alone; how
+enchanting to lean her bewitching little head on my shoulder, and
+inhale the balmy fragrance of her breath. O! I wish I was married!"
+
+And now, so enraptured does this reasonable youth seem with the
+picture he has sketched, that not having any thing else, you see, to
+hug, he throws his arms most lovingly around himself. There, now he
+frowns again, and--hark what more he has to say.
+
+"In fact, I am not sure I have a real friend in the world, for, gild a
+fool or a monkey, and mark what a troop of flatterers fawn around and
+follow admiringly at his heels! And as for choosing a wife, why, were
+I toothless, one-eyed, or deaf as a post, the magic of gold would
+transform me into an Adonis!"
+
+Now stopping before a full-length mirror, he appears to console
+himself for such suppositions, by very complacently regarding his
+truly elegant figure and classic countenance.
+
+A tap at the door, and an arch face, already shaded by the night-coif,
+peeps in.
+
+"What, not yet gone to bed, brother--why what are you studying, to be
+up so late?"
+
+"Studying human nature, Helen--a book with great pretensions to
+excellence, but--"
+
+"Hush, hush, Frank! not a word more," exclaimed Helen, placing her
+little hand over his mouth, "not a word more--you read with defective
+vision! I proclaim the book of human nature to be charming, every page
+teeming with interest, every line traced by the hand divine, a lesson
+for a lifetime. Ah! Frank, remove the film of distrust from your eyes,
+and read this book as it ought to be read, therein you will find
+truth, goodness, and beauty!"
+
+"Would I could think as you do, Helen. I tell you candidly, I am sick
+of the world as I find it, and would gladly give all my wealth and
+expectations to be sure there was one heart that truly loved me--loved
+me for myself alone."
+
+"A very pretty theory, indeed! Well, you must get married, Frank; I
+see no other way to cure you--then you will have a dear little book of
+your own to study--a choice edition of human nature, traced by the
+feather of Cupid."
+
+"Ah! the very thing I was thinking of; but tell me, Helen, where can
+I find that same beautiful work?"
+
+"Where you please, brother--there is no danger that you can sue in
+vain; there is sweet Anna De Kay, roguish little Laura C----, the
+pensive Sarah--"
+
+"O! don't mention them--pray don't name any more of these city
+belles!"
+
+"Well, Frank, human nature is most lovely in the simplicity of country
+life--you must seek some village maid to grace the name of Leland."
+
+"Helen," says Frank, taking her hand, and looking into the large blue
+eyes sparkling so mirthfully, "Helen, I tell you if I could find an
+amiable girl, brought up in all the beautiful simplicity of the
+country, no matter how unskillful in the world's ways--one who,
+ignorant of my wealth and standing, would unite her fate to mine for
+better or for worse--then, Helen, I could fall at her feet, and
+worship her as the star of my life and love."
+
+"Pray, remember, my sentimental brother, ere you squeeze my hand so
+devoutly, that I am not your artless country maid," exclaimed Helen,
+laughing; then, after a moment's pause, she cries, gayly, "ah! I have
+it, Frank; you must masquerade a little, that's all--win your bride
+under false colors, as a sailor would say."
+
+"Helen, you witch, you darling sister," says Frank, kissing her, "I
+will do it--yes, to-morrow I will set forth, like Coelebs, in search of
+a wife! Now you must help me farther with your lively imagination; you
+must choose me a profession to masquerade under. I must, of course,
+for the attainment of my object, sport the character of a poor
+gentleman, struggling with honest poverty to gain a livelihood. Come,
+what shall I be--school-master--singing-master--drawing-master--or--"
+
+"O, the last, by all means!" interrupted Helen. "You will have such a
+fine opportunity of developing the tastes of your fair scholars--ha!
+ha! ha! Frank, methinks I already see thee helping some blushing
+milk-maid, with her pail, or, perhaps, leaning against a rail-fence,
+sketching her, as with bare feet and scanty skirt, she trips through
+the morning dew to feed her feathery brood."
+
+"Well, you may laugh as much as you please," replies Frank, nothing
+daunted, "I am firm in my determination."
+
+"And when, most romantic Coelebs, do you set forth?"
+
+"To-morrow, or next day at furthest. We will talk this over again in
+the morning, it is too late now--so good night, dear Helen, and
+pleasant dreams!"
+
+"Good night. Frank!" and gayly kissing her hand, Helen trips out of
+the room.
+
+Frank Leland laid his head upon his pillow within the walls of a large
+brick mansion, where the hum of city life penetrated, even through the
+thick plate-glass and rich window-hangings. But a miracle; no sooner
+did soft sleep seal his eye-lids, than he found himself in Arcadian
+scenes--shepherdesses tripped gracefully before him with their flocks;
+beautiful maidens led him through flowery fields and shady groves;
+and the little birds _up_ in the trees, and the little romantic fishes
+_down_ in the brooks, all sang of love and happiness.
+
+
+PART III.
+
+Sit down with me under this spreading tree, and let us view the
+charming scene which surrounds us. O, never mind the cows, this is
+their pasture-ground; and see, mid-leg the brook yonder, just released
+from plough, stands the patient ox. Ah! the ducks and geese seem to
+dispute his right. Observe how they shake their wings, as if in
+defiance, and dip their beautiful crests within the sparkling ripples;
+now, how proudly they plume their feathers, and float with head erect
+so gracefully down the silver stream. Do you see yonder old
+farm-house, so old that it seems bending under the weight of years?
+Look at its low, brown eaves, its little narrow windows, half-hidden
+by ivy and honey-suckle; see the old-fashioned double door, and the
+porch, with its well-worn seats. Do you see the swallows skimming
+around the chimney; and don't you hear the hum of the bees--there,
+under that old elm you may see their hives, filled, too, with luscious
+honey. There is the well, with its old sweep, and the "moss-covered
+bucket," too; and look at the corn-crib, and the old barn--and what a
+noisy set of fowls around it, cackling, clucking and crowing, as if
+they owned the soil; and how the pigs are scampering through the
+clover-field; ah! the little wretches, they have stolen a march, or
+rather a caper; at them, old Jowler, at them, my fine fellow, you will
+soon turn them back to their pen, obstinate as they are.
+
+Do you not admire those venerable trees which seem to shelter the old
+house from the rude assaults of the tempest, and to keep out the glare
+of the sun-beams from its chambers. Through what a thicket of
+currant-bushes, and rose-bushes, and lilacs, and snow-balls, the path
+winds from the porch to the little gate--is it not a most charming
+spot? Now look over the brow of the hill--there, you can see the spire
+of the village church; and if you will walk a few paces further to
+yonder green knoll, you will see a cluster of pretty dwellings, and
+comfortable farm-houses, scattered through the valley.
+
+"Hark! don't you hear a merry laugh? so merry and joyous that it can
+only proceed, I am sure, from a happy heart. Keep still--for here
+comes two laughing country-girls--no, as I live, one of them is--no,
+it can't be--yes, it is, the rich young heiress, Ursula Lovel! quick,
+draw behind the tree, and let us hear what she says.
+
+"And so, Hetty, your mother thinks I am the most awkward child she
+ever saw, and wonders where I was brought up, not to know how to knead
+bread, and churn, and milk;" and again that merry laugh goes ringing
+through the air.
+
+"Yes, Miss Ursula; and she wishes--I declare I can hardly keep from
+laughing--she wishes you would stick to your cap-making, and not
+attempt to bake again, for you burned up three loaves."
+
+"Yes, and burned my fingers, too. Well, it is too bad; let me see,
+yesterday I let a pan of milk fall on the old cat, and fed the hens
+with beans, and old Jowler with meal and water; then, this morning I
+beat the eggs and put them into the bread, and the yeast into the
+pumpkin-pies. Too bad! too bad! Why at this rate, Hetty, I shall cost
+your good old parents a fortune!"
+
+"Never mind, Miss Ursula, for mother says, and so does father, that
+you are the dearest, prettiest, and best girl they ever knew; and they
+already love you almost as well as they do me--only they feel sorry
+for you; and mother says if you could not make caps, she don't know
+what _would_ become of you, you are so dreadful shiftless."
+
+Ursula clapped her hands and fairly danced with mirth.
+
+"After all, Hetty, your good mother is right. Let my fortune take
+wings, and with all my accomplishments to aid me, I feel I should be
+illy prepared for the reverse. Now if your mother would only have
+patience to instruct me a little--suffer me to spoil several batches
+of bread--(the pigs would like it, you know,)--burn up a few pounds of
+cake, and waste a quart or two of her rich cream, I declare, I think I
+should learn to be a nice little farmer's maid. What pleases you,
+Hetty--what are you smiling at?"
+
+"Nothing, only farmer Smith's oldest son is coming to see you--_a
+courting_, Miss Ursula; and Esquire Tompkins told father he hoped to
+see you before long the mistress of his beautiful new house; for he
+did not think he should disgrace himself by marrying such a girl as
+you, even if you was only a milliner."
+
+"Why the dear old soul! Come, my false impressions begin to wear away.
+I find I can be loved without the glitter of gold about me. Now let us
+go back to the house, for I have that cap to finish for Mrs. Jones;
+and mind, Hetty, you don't call me _Miss_ Ursula again, in the
+presence of your mother; and don't look so distressed when she chides
+me--it is all for my good, you know."
+
+Now, there they go into the old farm-house, and at the window you may
+see the demure face of Ursula, listening to the good dame, who, with
+snowy cap, and spectacles, seems to be giving her a lecture, while the
+hands of the little milliner are busily trimming a cap placed on the
+block before her.
+
+Over the brow of the hill, and down into the gentle sloping meadow, a
+youth comes walking leisurely. He has a portfolio under his arm, and a
+slight walking-stick in his hand, while the cool linen blouse and
+large straw hat shading him from the sun, bespeak an air of comfort
+really quite refreshing this warm summer day.
+
+What! don't you know him! Ah, yes--I see you recollect Frank Leland,
+our modern Coelebs.
+
+He seems struck by the appearance of the old farm-house; its repose
+is, no doubt, delightful to him; and now, choosing a favorable
+position within the shade of a fine old tree, opens his portfolio, and
+commences to sketch the charmingly rural scene. And, indeed, so intent
+is he upon his task that the sun has already sunk behind the trees,
+and gentle twilight steals on with her starry train ere he rests from
+his employment. Then the old farmer comes out on the porch to take
+his evening pipe; and the good dame sits by his side with her
+knitting, and the sweet voice of Ursula warbles a simple ballad to
+please the ears of the aged pair. The young man bares his brow to the
+delicious breath of evening, and carefully placing his sketch within
+the portfolio, saunters on toward the little gate. And now Ursula
+hushes her song, and the old man advances with friendly greeting,
+
+"Walk in, stranger--walk in. I should think you might be the young man
+I heard tell of to-day in the village--a teacher of something--I
+forget the name."
+
+"A teacher of drawing," said Leland, smiling, as he took a seat on the
+bench by the side of the old man.
+
+"Drawing, _eh_! And what may that be, young sir--some new-fangled
+notion, I'll be bound."
+
+"This may, perhaps, explain better than I can tell you," replied
+Leland, placing the sketch he had just taken in the hand of the old
+man.
+
+"Why, wife--why, bless my soul! why, if I should not think this was
+our old house! Why, stranger, if ever I see any thing so like in my
+born days!"
+
+"Goody gracious preserve me, if it an't, sure enough!" said the dame,
+putting on her spectacles, and eagerly looking over the old man's
+shoulder. "My stars and garters, Hetty, look here--for all the world
+just like it--did you ever!"
+
+The more practiced eye of Ursula detected at once a master-hand in the
+sketch before her; and looking admiringly upon it, she could not
+refrain from exclaiming, "How beautiful!" while Hetty gazed with
+silent wonder upon the stranger who by the magic of his pencil thus
+portrayed the home of her childhood.
+
+The contents of the portfolio were now spread out upon the grass, and
+our masquerading _millionaire_ was greatly amused at the _naivet�_ the
+old people displayed, and not a little flattered by the pleasure with
+which _one_ at least of the young girls appeared to look over his
+collection.
+
+"Am I mistaken," said he, at length, "in thinking I heard singing, as
+I came over the meadow?"
+
+"Well, I reckon not," said the old lady, "come, 'Sula, child, go on
+with your song--maybe the young man would like to hear you; it was Old
+Robin Gray she was singing."
+
+Ursula was at length prevailed on to repeat the ballad, which she did
+in a style so simple and unaffected, that, ere she had finished, the
+young artist had made up his mind, that listening to a sweet voice by
+moonlight, beneath a wide-spreading elm, with the stars peeping down
+between the dancing leaves, and the soft evening breeze fanning his
+temples, was far more delightful, than to recline in his
+soft-cushioned box at the Opera, listening even to the delicious notes
+of a Pico, with bright jewels, and still brighter eyes flashing around
+him, and his cheek kissed by the inconstant air wafted from the
+coquettish fan in the hands of smiling beauty. And, moreover, that the
+book of human nature, to be studied in the country, certainly opened
+very beautifully.
+
+The evening passed off pleasantly. Leland confided to the old man his
+poverty, and desire to obtain scholars in his art sufficient to
+enable him to pay his board while in the village; that he had been
+employed by several gentlemen to sketch scenes from nature, and that
+having heard much of the beautiful views in the neighborhood, he had
+been induced to visit the village.
+
+But the old man thought he had much better turn farmer, and offered to
+hire him for eight dollars a month, as he needed a hand in haying
+time. This offer, however, the young man could not accept, being, as
+he said, already engaged to complete the drawings. Then the old man
+told how his fathers had lived there before him, and how by hard labor
+he had been able to keep the old homestead his own; and that his
+daughter, Hetty, had been living with a great heiress, who was very
+fond of her, and who had given her leave to spend the summer at home;
+and how she had come, and brought a poor girl with her, who made caps,
+and such gim-cracks, and that (in a whisper) his old woman thought she
+had never had any bringing-up, poor thing!"
+
+When Leland returned to his lodgings, in the village, he thought over
+his evening adventure with great pleasure. The simplicity of the old
+people charmed him; Hetty he thought a modest, pretty girl; but it was
+the little cap-maker who somehow or other dwelt most forcibly in his
+mind.
+
+"She is certainly quite handsome, notwithstanding she is a little, a
+very little, cross-eyed--it is a pity!" And Leland leaned out the
+window, and whistled "Auld Robin Gray." "How pathetically she warbled
+the line,
+
+    But she looked in my face 'til my heart was like to break;"
+
+and Leland threw off one slipper, and stopped to hum it over again.
+"Her voice only wants a little cultivation"--off goes the other
+slipper, and out goes the head into the moonlight, and in it comes
+again. "Well, I must teach her to draw--her own patterns, at any rate.
+Pleasant old couple; the idea of hiring _me_ for eight dollars a
+month--capital!" and in a fit of laughter he threw himself upon the
+bed. "What a roguish pair of eyes, after all, the little cap-maker
+has!"
+
+Again the dreams of our hero were all Arcadian, and every shepherdess
+was a little cross-eyed, and warbled "Auld Robin Gray."
+
+In the bright moonlight, which, glancing through the flickering
+leaves, streams across the chamber-floor, filling it with her softened
+radiance, sits Ursula. But why so pensive; is it the influence of the
+hour, I wonder--has the gentle moon thus power to sadden her, or--
+
+"Hetty, he has a very fine countenance."
+
+There, you see her pensiveness has found a voice.
+
+"Who, Miss Ursula?"
+
+"Why, this young stranger. He has a fine figure, too; and his manners
+are certainly quite refined."
+
+"Yes, and what pretty pictures he makes."
+
+"True, Hetty, very pretty; he certainly has a genius for the art." A
+long silence. "What a pity he is poor."
+
+"What's a pity, Miss Ursula?" cries Hetty, half asleep.
+
+"O, nothing, nothing--go to sleep, Hetty."
+
+But Ursula still sits in the moonlight, and thinks of the handsome
+young artist. Her generous little heart has already smoothed his path
+to eminence. Yes, she resolves if, upon acquaintance, he proves as
+worthy as he appears--and does she doubt it--not she--that neither
+money nor patronage shall be wanting to his success. Generous little
+cap-maker! And when at length she sought her couch, young Love, under
+the harmless guise of honest Benevolence, perched himself at her
+pillow.
+
+
+PART IV.
+
+And now, every morning sees Leland taking his way to the farm-house;
+and the villagers, good people, have made up their minds that there
+must be some very pretty scenes in that neighborhood.
+
+And so there are, very fine scenes; for, reclining under the shady
+trees, the young artist may be seen, with crayons in hand, the little
+cap-maker in his eye, as, seated on a little bench, she busily plies
+her needle, and sings for his entertainment, meanwhile, some rustic
+ballad. Sometimes, forgetting herself, she executes a brilliant
+_roulade_; and when Leland starts, astonished, and expresses his
+delight, she blushes deeply, and says she _once_ went to the theatre.
+
+And the old dame wonders what on earth they can find to talk about day
+after day, "a sittin' under trees," and tells Hetty to mind her work,
+and not take up any such silly ways. And the old man thinks a hale,
+hearty fellow like that, had better lend a hand to the plough, and not
+sit there spoiling so much white paper; and Hetty roguishly watches
+her young mistress, and smiles slily, and thinks there will be a
+wedding before long.
+
+Ah! happy, satisfied Leland!
+
+For he has won the heart of the charming little cap-maker. He, the
+poor, unpretending artist, he has won her away from the rich Esquire,
+who came rolling down in his carriage to woo her; and from the pale
+young doctor, who knelt tremblingly before her; and from the honest
+farmer, who swore he loved her better than his cattle. He, without
+fortune, without friends, has won her. She loves him, and through
+poverty and hardship will share his fate. And then, when bearing her
+off a happy bride, he thought how she would blush and tremble with
+surprise and sweet timidity when he should reveal his rank, and place
+her in that sphere she was born to grace--what rapturous visions
+danced through his brain!
+
+And no less rapturous were the thoughts of Ursula. She was now
+beloved, truly loved for herself alone--she, a poor, friendless girl.
+No money had shed its enticements around her--there was nothing to
+gain but an innocent heart, and a portionless hand; and yet the
+gifted, but poor artist, who might, by the rank of genius, have
+aspired to the favor of any high-born lady; he has chosen her to share
+his fate and fortunes. How her heart throbs, when she thinks of the
+wealth her hand will confer upon him--of the pride with which she
+shall see him adorning that station for which he is so eminently
+qualified.
+
+Ah! after all, what happiness to be an heiress!
+
+Three months flew by, and brings us to the night before the wedding.
+The lovers are alone, and, for lovers, extremely taciturn--for their
+thoughts are doubtless far into the bright future, o'er which no cloud
+is floating. The countenance of Ursula beams with happiness, yet her
+manner is somewhat abstracted--she is evidently agitated. At length
+Leland speaks,
+
+"Dearest Ursula, it seems to me that no wealth could contribute to our
+happiness; we have youth, health, strength, and loving hearts to bear
+us on our life-journey, as hand-in-hand we meet its pains and
+pleasures. Ah! I can already fancy our pleasant fireside. No one's
+caps will find so ready a sale as yours, dear Ursula; and my pencil,
+too, will be inspired to greater effort by your praise." And Leland
+turned aside to conceal the smile which played round his mouth at the
+deception he was practicing. "But what is the matter, Ursula--what
+agitates you thus; you surely do not repent your promise, beloved
+one!"
+
+"O, no, no, dear Frank! but I have something to tell you, which,
+perhaps, may forfeit me your love."
+
+"Good heavens, Ursula! what mean you! tears, too--speak, speak, what
+is it! is not your heart mine, or have you loved another more truly!"
+
+"No! O, no! and yet, Frank, I am not what I seem--I have deceived you.
+You think me but a poor, friendless girl, dependent upon my needle for
+my maintenance, when, in fact, O, Frank, how shall I say it, I am--
+
+"Speak, dearest!"
+
+"I am an heiress."
+
+Frank sprang to his feet in amazement.
+
+"You--you--dear, artless girl that you are--you an heiress! It can't
+be--it is impossible! and--what a pity!" he adds, aside, as one half
+his airy castle fell to the ground.
+
+"Now, sit down, Frank, and when you have heard my story, and my
+motives for doing as I have done, you will, I trust, pardon the
+duplicity I have been guilty of toward you."
+
+And before she had finished her recital Frank's plans were formed; so,
+falling at her feet, he poured out his acknowledgments for her
+condescension in honoring with her hand one so far beneath her, and
+had the satisfaction--cunning dog--of having a pair of white arms
+thrown around his neck, and a sweet kiss, from sweeter lips, pressed
+upon his brow, as the generous girl assured him that were her fortune
+ten thousand times doubled, she should consider all as dross compared
+with his love.
+
+"Well, I am fairly caught," quoth Frank, in the privacy of his
+apartment, "for I swore I never would marry an heiress. That was a
+rash oath--let it pass. But what a pity dear Ursula has money. I wish
+to my soul her father had not left her a cent--why could not he have
+endowed a hospital. She is a dear, noble girl, willing to bestow it
+all upon one whom she believes struggling with poverty; never mind, I
+shall get the laugh on her yet."
+
+At an early hour the following morning the venerable village pastor
+pronounced the nuptial benediction; and with the hearty good wishes of
+the old farmer and the dame, and followed by the loving eyes of Hetty,
+the new married pair bade farewell to the spot consecrated to so many
+happy hours.
+
+A ride of a few miles brought them to the steamboat; and just as the
+rays of the setting sun gilded the spires and roofs of the city, the
+boat touched the wharf.
+
+And now Frank's heart beat almost audibly, as he thought how rapidly
+the moment was approaching when, throwing off all disguise, he should
+lead his lovely bride to his own princely dwelling.
+
+And Ursula, too, had never looked so beautiful--had never felt so
+proud and happy; proud to present her husband to her good uncle and
+aunt, who were waiting to welcome them; happy that her beloved Frank
+would no longer have to plod on life's dull round in poverty and
+loneliness.
+
+It certainly was happiness to be an heiress.
+
+"Ursula," said Frank, as the carriage rolled rapidly over the
+pavements, "will you do me a favor?"
+
+"Most certainly, dear Frank--what is it?"
+
+"My sister, poor girl," replied Leland, in some embarrassment,
+"resides on the route to _your_ residence; will you alight there just
+for one moment, that I may have the happiness of bringing together the
+two dearest objects of my heart?"
+
+"Order the carriage to stop when you please, Frank--I, too, am
+impatient to embrace your sister," replied the blushing Ursula.
+
+The carriage soon turned into a fashionable street, even at that early
+hour brilliant with gas lights. Elegant equipages rolled past; already
+lights streamed, and music sounded from many splendid dwellings. Soon
+the carriage drew up before one even more splendid--the steps were let
+down--the door thrown wide by a servant in livery, and, with mingled
+pride and tenderness irradiating his fine countenance, and meeting
+with a smile her perplexed and wondering glance, Frank led his fair
+bride into a spacious and beautiful apartment, taste and elegance
+pervading all its arrangements. A young girl sprang from the sofa, and
+came tripping to meet them.
+
+"My sister Helen, dearest Ursula. Helen, embrace your sister, and
+welcome her to the home she is henceforth to grace."
+
+Then leading the agitated girl to a seat, he threw himself on his
+knees before her, saying,
+
+"Pardon, pardon, my dearest wife! I, too, had my secret. No poor
+artist sought your love--I, too, am the heir of wealth; I, too, sought
+to be loved for myself alone. Say that you forgive me, dear one."
+
+Ursula could not speak, but wept her joy and happiness on his bosom.
+
+Helen laughs merrily, yet slily wipes a tear from her eye, then
+kissing them both, she says,
+
+"What think you now of the great book of human nature you went forth
+to study, you discontented ones? You favorites of fortune! ingrates
+that you have been--you foolish pair of lovers! Listen dear brother.
+As the rich Frank Leland you possessed the same attributes of goodness
+as did Frank Leland the poor artist; and you, dear sister, were no
+less lovely and amiable as the heiress of wealth, than as Ursula the
+little cap-maker. See you not, then, that true merit, whether it gilds
+the brow of the rich man or radiates around the poor man's path, will
+find its way to every pure and virtuous mind. Henceforth, you dear
+ones, look at human nature with more friendly eyes, and forget in the
+excellencies of the _many_, the errors of the _few_."
+
+
+
+
+NO, NOT FORGOTTEN.
+
+BY EARLE S. GOODRICH.
+
+
+          For Nature gives a common lot,
+          To live, to love, to be forgot. CONE.
+
+
+    No, not forgotten; there are memories clinging
+      Round every breast that beats to hope and fear
+    In this drear world, until the death's knell, ringing,
+      Chimes with heart-moanings o'er the solemn bier;
+    Then come love's pilgrims to the sad shrine, bringing
+      The choicest offering of the heart--a tear.
+
+    No, not forgotten; else bowed down with anguish
+      Were the brave hearts that mingle in the strife.
+    Patriot and Christian in their toil would languish--
+      Truth lie down-trodden--Error, then, stalk rife
+    Over the body she at last could vanquish--
+      So fond remembrance ceased along with life.
+
+    No, not forgotten; else the faithful beating
+      Of heart to genial heart, that beat again,
+    Were turned to throbbings; and each pulse repeating
+      But the sad echoings of pain to pain.
+    And the blest rapture of the longed for meeting,
+      Then be unsought, or would be sought in vain.
+
+    No, not forgotten; for though fame may fail thee,
+      And love's fond beamings change to glance of scorn--
+    Though those once trusted now may harsh assail thee--
+      Thy friend of yesterday, thy foe this morn--
+    There is, who holds thee dear--do not bewail thee
+      If His blest Book of Life thy name adorn.
+
+
+[Illustration: Sir W. C. Rofs               J. B. Adams
+
+PAULINE GREY
+
+_The Only Daughter_
+
+Engraved Expressly for Graham's Magazine]
+
+
+
+
+PAULINE GREY.
+
+OR THE ONLY DAUGHTER.
+
+BY F. E. F., AUTHOR OF "AARON'S ROD," "TELLING SECRETS," ETC.
+
+[WITH AN ENGRAVING.]
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+
+"Give her what she wants," said Mr. Grey impatiently. "How can you let
+the child cry so?"
+
+"But, my dear," expostulated his wife, "I am afraid it will hurt her."
+
+"Nonsense!" replied Mr. Grey, "it hurts her more to scream so. Here,
+my princess royal," he continued, "take that, and keep quiet, do"--but
+Pauline's spirit was not to be so easily appeased as the impatient
+father imagined, for imperiously spurning with her tiny foot the
+proffered gift, she screamed more indignantly than when it had first
+been refused.
+
+"Hey day, Pauline," said Mr. Grey angrily.
+
+"My darling," interrupted Mrs. Grey, hastily addressing the child,
+"let mamma peel it and put some sugar on it. Come Pauline," she said,
+as she stooped to pick up the orange.
+
+Pauline's cries subsided for a moment, as apparently taking the matter
+in consideration, or else, perhaps only holding her breath for a fresh
+burst, while the tears hung in heavy drops on her long black lashes,
+and her large eyes still sparkled with excitement.
+
+"Let mamma peel it nicely," continued Mrs. Grey. "Come, and we'll go
+and get some sugar."
+
+"Yes, yes, do," said Mr. Grey impatiently. "Now go, Pauline, with your
+mother;" to which the little lady consented, and, tears still upon her
+blooming cheeks, she withdrew with her mother, leaving Mr. Grey to the
+quiet possession of the parlor and tranquil enjoyment of his book.
+
+And thus it was generally with Pauline. What she was refused at first,
+she was coaxed to take at last, and between the indulgence of her
+mother and the impatience of her father, she seldom or never failed to
+have what she wanted.
+
+A passionate determination to have her own way marked her character
+perhaps rather more strongly than that of most spoiled children, for
+nature had endowed her with a strong will, which education had
+fostered, as it almost seemed, with sedulous care. For the fact was
+Mrs. Grey dreaded a contest with Pauline; she screamed so, and Mr.
+Grey got so angry, sometimes with her, and sometimes with the child,
+and altogether it was such a time, that she soon begun to think it was
+better not to thwart Pauline, which certainly was true; for every
+contest ended in a fresh victory on the part of Pauline, and the utter
+discomfiture of Mrs. Grey, and the vexation of Mr. Grey, who, more
+vexed at the contest than the defeat, usually said, "Pshaw! you don't
+know how to manage that child." Thus Pauline, an only child,
+beautiful, gifted and willful, idolized by both parents, soon ruled
+the household.
+
+"I'll not go to that school any more," said Pauline indignantly, as
+she tossed her books down, the second day of her first school
+experience.
+
+"Why not, my love?" asked her mother anxiously.
+
+"I don't like that Miss Cutter," said Pauline, her large black eyes
+dilating as she spoke, and flashing with excitement.
+
+"You don't like Miss Cutter," repeated Mrs. Grey. "Why don't you like
+Miss Cutter, Pauline?"
+
+"She put me on a high bench and said 'chut' to me," replied Pauline.
+"Nobody shall say 'chut' to me, and I wont go there again."
+
+"You'll go there if your mother says so, Pauline," said her father.
+But Pauline knew better than that, and so did Mr. Grey for that
+matter; but Mrs. Grey said, "well, we'll see about it, Pauline. Now go
+and be dressed for dinner."
+
+"I wont go again," said Pauline with determination, as she left the
+room.
+
+"I'm sorry," said Mrs. Grey anxiously, as the child left the room,
+"that Pauline has taken a dislike to Miss Cutter. It was injudicious
+in her to commence her school discipline so rigorously at once."
+
+"Just like those people," said Mr. Grey, testily; "they have no
+judgment--dressed in a little brief authority they make the most of
+it."
+
+"Pauline is such a peculiar child," continued Mrs. Grey, (for all
+people think their children "peculiar," unless they have half a dozen
+of them, and then they know better). "Pauline is such a peculiar child
+that I dislike driving her against her feelings. I am very sorry for
+this," she added, looking much perplexed and embarrassed. "I don't
+know what to do."
+
+Fortunately Pauline had a little cold the next day, or Mrs. Grey
+imagined she had, and so the question of school was dodged for a day
+or two, during which, however, Pauline continued firm in her
+determination of not returning.
+
+By the time she had recovered past all possibility of thinking she was
+not quite as well as usual, Mrs. Grey had reasoned herself into
+thinking, and talked Mr. Grey into believing, that there was so much
+that was injurious in the present mode of school education, that upon
+the whole she would prefer keeping Pauline at home. A governess, under
+her own eye, would do her greater justice and bring her on faster;
+and, above all, she would escape the contamination of indiscriminate
+contact with children of whose tempers and characters Mrs. Grey knew
+nothing.
+
+She need not have said half as much to convince Mr. Grey, for he was
+tired out with the subject, and ready to yield before she was one
+third through; but she was talking as much to satisfy herself that
+what she did was the result of mature reflection, and not to gratify,
+or rather pacify Pauline, as to convince Mr. Grey. Whether she was
+able to attain this point is somewhat doubtful, although the capacity
+people have for self deception is amazing. And to what perfection Mrs.
+Grey may have reached in the happy art, we are not able exactly to
+say.
+
+But the governess was engaged, (a day governess, for neither Mr. Grey
+nor Pauline could have borne the constant presence of even so
+necessary an evil,) and under her tuition Pauline made rapid progress
+in her studies. Miss Burton soon finding that the moral education of
+her little pupil was quite beyond her reach, Mrs. Grey generally
+evading any disputed point between them, and gently waiving what
+authority should have settled, very wisely confined herself to the
+task Mrs. Grey set before her, which was to give Pauline as much
+instruction and as little contradiction as could be combined.
+
+But spite of some drawbacks Pauline made wonderful progress. She was,
+in fact, a child of uncommon abilities, and every thing she applied
+herself to, she mastered almost at once. Her understanding rapidly
+developed, and springing into girlhood while others are yet looked
+upon almost as children, she was a daughter any parents might justly
+be proud of. She was singularly beautiful, too, and no eye could rest
+upon her girlish form and speaking face, her brilliant eye and glowing
+cheek, other than with delight. That Mr. and Mrs. Grey watched her
+with looks of something hardly short of adoration, is scarce to be
+wondered at. She was so animated, so joyous, so radiant with youth,
+health and beauty. There seemed such affluence of all life's best
+gifts, which she scattered so lavishly around her, that the very air
+seemed to grow brighter from her presence, and no one who came within
+the sphere of her influence, could escape the spell of her joyous
+power.
+
+To say that as her mind and person developed, she quite outgrew the
+faults of her childhood, would be rather hazardous. 'T is true, she no
+longer stamped her little foot and burst into passionate tears, as
+when we first made her acquaintance, but she bent her pretty dark
+brows, and said, "I must," in a tone that Mrs. Grey knew meant, "I
+will."
+
+But then who thought of disputing her wishes? Were they not the
+main-spring of the whole concern? What else did father or mother live
+for? Were not her wishes their wishes, her pleasures their pleasures?
+Was not she their idol--their all?
+
+If she would only wrap up warmer, and put thicker shoes on those
+little feet, Mrs. Grey would have asked nothing more. But she was
+slight, and coughed sometimes, and then Mr. Grey said she should not
+have _allowed_ Pauline to go out in those thin shoes, and charged her
+not to permit it another time--but never interfered himself--thus
+throwing all the responsibility, or rather impossibility, of making
+Pauline mind, upon his wife, who indeed always got all Pauline's
+scoldings; for though Mr. Grey might find fault when Pauline was
+absent, one bright smile and brilliant glance from Pauline present,
+was sure to dispel his displeasure.
+
+So Pauline had now reached her seventeenth year, beautiful, gifted,
+high-spirited and generous-hearted. And if willful--why, even that
+seemed to give a _prononc�_ shade to her character, that rather
+heightened the brilliancy of its tone.
+
+"You are going to Cecelia Howard's wedding I suppose, Mrs. Grey," said
+Mrs. Graham.
+
+"Of course. She is a niece of my husband's, you know."
+
+"Yes. And Pauline is to be bridemaid, I understand," continued the
+lady.
+
+"Well--I don't know about that," replied Mrs. Grey, hesitatingly.
+
+"But _I_ do," said Pauline in her pretty willful way. "I told Cecelia
+that she might depend on me."
+
+Mrs. Grey looked at her daughter without speaking, though she could
+not but smile at her animated face, while Mrs. Graham said, "Oh yes,
+why not, Mrs. Grey?"
+
+"Pauline is rather young," continued Mrs. Grey, "for such things."
+
+"True," replied the other, "if it were not in the connection. But
+family gayety is quite different."
+
+"Of course," said Mrs. Grey, "if it were not for that, I should not
+think of it."
+
+"Well, but I am going, mamma," said Pauline, "So you may make up your
+mind to that." And Mrs. Grey felt that she might as well at once. So
+after a little more talk about it, and Mr. Grey's saying, "Why,
+certainly, I see no objection to it--and as your cousin wishes it,
+Pauline--if your mother is willing, I am," it was settled.
+
+How beautiful Pauline looked when she came down stairs and presented
+herself before her delighted father, dressed for the wedding. It was
+the first time he had ever seen her in full dress; her white neck and
+round arms uncovered, her rich dark hair looking darker and more
+satinny for the wreath of pale, soft, delicate roses that bound
+it--even the little foot seeming more fairy-like in the small white
+satin slipper that inclosed it. If her father was accustomed to think
+her peerless in the plain, high-necked merino dress in which he
+usually saw her, what did he think of her now, when full dressed, or
+rather undressed, as she stood before him, brilliant in the glow of
+excitement, and fairer and fresher than even the flowers she wore?
+
+He looked at her speechless, and when she said,
+
+"Father, how do you like me?" could only kiss her fair forehead in
+silence.
+
+There was a reception after the wedding, and the beauty of the young
+bridemaid excited no small degree of sensation; for Pauline, having
+been brought up at home, was little known by the young people of her
+own age, and so took society rather by surprise.
+
+"Mrs. Grey," said Mrs. Livingston, "the bride has named Thursday
+evening for me. You will do me the favor, therefore, I hope, of
+considering yourself and your daughter engaged for that evening."
+
+"Not Pauline, my dear madam," said Mrs. Grey. "She does not go out
+this winter. She is so young that I hesitated much even letting her
+act as bridemaid this evening."
+
+"Oh, my dear Mrs. Grey," said Mrs. Livingston, much disappointed,
+"pray reverse your decision--surely for the bridal parties at least. I
+shall be so disappointed, for," with a smile, "I quite counted on the
+presence of your beautiful daughter for the brilliancy of my party;"
+and Pauline approaching just then, she said, "Pray, Miss Pauline, join
+your petitions to mine--I do so want you to come to my party for the
+bride."
+
+"Why, mamma, of course," said Pauline. "The bridemaids must attend the
+bride to the parties given for her--Cecelia says so."
+
+"But, my love," said her mother, "you know I told Cecelia when I
+consented to your being bridemaid, that you were not going out."
+
+"Not generally--no; but just to the bridal parties, mamma. Oh, I
+must"--and there was the little ominous bend of the brows at the words
+"I must," when Mr. Grey coming up, her mother, glad in her turn to
+throw the responsibility on him, said,
+
+"Well, ask your father; see what he says."
+
+"What is it, Pauline?" said Mr. Grey, smiling assent before she had
+spoken.
+
+"May I not, papa, attend the bridal parties with the rest of the
+bridemaids," she said, half pouting. "Cecelia says it will spoil the
+bridal cotillion if I am absent; and then--oh, papa, I must," she
+continued, in a tone of such earnest entreaty, entreaty that seemed to
+admit of no refusal, that he smiled as he said,
+
+"Well, if you _must_, I suppose you must."
+
+"Then I may, papa!" she exclaimed, her dark eyes dilating in their
+peculiar way when any thing particularly delighted or excited her.
+"Now, mamma!" turning triumphantly to her mother, "papa says I may.
+Yes, Mrs. Livingston, mamma _will_ come, and I too--hey, mamma!" and
+Mrs. Grey smiled her assent--and she and Pauline were in for the rest
+of the wedding gayeties.
+
+_Ce n'est que le premier pas qui coute._ Party followed party, and
+Mrs. Grey forgot to ask, or Pauline to care, whether they were bridal
+parties or not, for Pauline was fairly launched. And what a sensation
+she excited--so young--so brilliant--so beautiful. Mr. Grey, too, a
+man of handsome fortune, and Pauline an only daughter. There's a sort
+of charm in that, too, to young men's imaginations. It seems to make a
+girl more like a rare exotic, something of which there are few of the
+kind. And Pauline was a belle of the most decided stamp; and Mr. and
+Mrs. Grey's heads were more turned than was hers by the admiration she
+excited.
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+
+People may talk about young girls' heads being turned, but for my
+part, I think there are no heads so easily turned as old ones.
+Vanity, when it is fresh, like wine, is not as strong and intoxicating
+as when it grows old.
+
+Pauline enjoyed her triumphs like a girl, in all the effervescence of
+youthful spirits, thinking less of her beauty and more of her pleasure
+than her mother, who sat and followed her with her eyes, watching
+every movement, and absorbed almost to the exclusion of every other
+perception, in the surpassing loveliness of her daughter, and the
+admiration that flashed from every eye that turned upon her. And let
+not wise ones say that this was folly, and Mrs. Grey a weak woman for
+yielding to it, for it is human nature, which is too strong to be
+ruled by saws, be they ever so wise. The heart will spring to beauty,
+be it where it may, and no human being alive to poetry, can view God's
+fairest creation in its full perfection, and not feel a throb of
+pleasure. It is not wisdom, but an absence of ideality, of taste, of
+the highest of perceptions, the love of the beautiful, that can let
+any one look unmoved upon a young and beautiful woman. Who would not
+blush for themselves, and deny that they had walked through the halls
+of the Vatican without delight? And will the same person rave about
+the sculptured marble, and yet gaze coldly on the living, breathing
+model? No! and if it is high treason not to worship the one, it is
+false to human nature not to love the other; and the man, woman, or
+child, who affects to under-value beauty, only proclaims the want in
+their own mental constitution. To be without an eye for beauty, is as
+to be without an ear for music, to be wanting in the refinement of the
+higher and more delicate organization of our nature.
+
+Mr. Grey was not a man who usually took much pleasure in society, but
+his grave face lighted up as with a glance of sunshine, when he caught
+a glimpse of his beautiful child, as the crowd opened from time to
+time on the dancers in the thronged rooms, where, night after night,
+he was now condemned to pass his evenings; and when he approached her
+to tell her that the carriage was waiting, and her mother had sent to
+summon her to her side, he could not restrain his smiles when the
+young men crowded round to remind Pauline, one of a waltz, another of
+a polka, and pleading with Mr. Grey for more engagements than she
+could have fulfilled if they had staid all night; and his paternal
+pride had its share of gratification in the homage that even his
+presence could scarcely restrain.
+
+Among the group of idlers ever hovering round Pauline, was one who
+scarcely left her side, a Mr. Wentworth, a young man, and rather good
+looking. He seemed mightily taken with Pauline, and she smiled her
+brightest when she turned to him--but that she did when any one spoke
+to her--for she was in such a gale of spirits, she smiled on all who
+crossed her path.
+
+"Who is that young gentleman dancing with your daughter, Mrs. Grey?"
+asked a lady.
+
+"I don't know any thing about him but his name, which is Wentworth,"
+replied Mrs. Grey. "Mrs. Henderson introduced him to me at her own
+house, and I introduced him to Pauline. That's all I know about him."
+
+"Then I should say," replied the other, smiling, "that it was time you
+knew something more, for he has evidently lost his heart to your
+daughter."
+
+"Oh, I don't know that," replied Mrs. Grey, smiling in her turn, but
+carelessly, as if it was not a matter of much consequence if Pauline
+did break a few hearts more or less.
+
+"There's no doubt about his admiration," continued the lady; "so I
+warn you in time, Mrs. Grey."
+
+Mrs. Grey only smiled again. She did not think the warning worth much.
+Mr. Wentworth might be in love with Pauline--she dared say he
+was--indeed, she had no doubt of it. But what then? She could not be
+responsible for all the young men who fell in love with Pauline. It
+was very natural; and, to tell the honest truth, it rather pleased
+Mrs. Grey to see it. Not that she had the most distant idea that
+Pauline could ever feel any interest in any of the young men she with
+such quiet complacency thought hopelessly in love with her; but poor
+human nature is never weaker than on such subjects, and mothers look
+on amused, and may be, indignant with other mothers for allowing such
+things, till it comes to their turn, and then maternal vanity speaks
+louder than worldly wisdom, or any thing else; and so Mrs. Grey saw
+Mr. Wentworth's devotions with a quiet smile, and never thought it
+worth while to ask any questions about him. "He would not do," she saw
+that at a glance. As to what would, or who would, she had not yet made
+up her mind; but as Mr. Wentworth's pretensions did not seem of any
+decided stamp at all, she never thought there was any possibility of
+his being dangerous.
+
+"I wonder Mrs. Grey allows that young Wentworth to be so attentive to
+her daughter," Mrs. Remson said. "He's a dissipated young man, they
+say."
+
+"I am sorry to see that wild fellow, Wentworth, so much with that
+young beauty, Miss Grey," said another.
+
+"Yes, I am surprised at her parents encouraging it," said a third,
+"for they must see it."
+
+"What kind of a young man is he?" asked Mrs. Graham.
+
+"One that I should be sorry to see attentive to a daughter of mine,"
+replied a gentleman; but none of this reached Mrs. Grey's ears. No one
+told her Mr. Wentworth was wild or dissipated. He was too attentive,
+and they might get themselves in trouble, and be obliged to give
+authority, &c., for what they said--and what authority had they? a
+rumor--a vague report--an impression. Who knew, or ever knows, any
+thing more positive about a young man, except, indeed, young men--and
+they don't choose to tell.
+
+And so the thing went on, and people talked, and wondered, and found
+fault, and everybody but Mr. and Mrs. Grey, whom it most concerned,
+knew a great deal; and they, though they had eyes, saw not; and ears
+had they, but heard not; and understandings, and heeded not--deaf and
+blind, as parents always are, until too late.
+
+The thunderbolt fell at last, however. Mr. Wentworth, in form, asked
+Mr. Grey's consent to address Pauline, which Mr. Grey very decidedly
+refused, looking upon the young man as very presumptuous even to ask
+it; whereupon Mr. Wentworth informed the father that he was authorized
+by his daughter to address him on the subject, and her happiness being
+involved as well as his own, he trusted Mr. Grey would re-consider his
+proposal, and incline more favorably to his suit.
+
+Amazement was Mr. Grey's only feeling on first hearing this
+announcement. He could scarcely believe his ears, much less take in
+the subject-matter in all its bearings.
+
+Again, however, he refused his consent, and forbade Mr. Wentworth to
+think of his daughter.
+
+He immediately communicated the conversation to his wife, who was not
+less surprised than himself, but who relieved him excessively by
+saying at once that there must be some misunderstanding on the young
+man's part, for Pauline, she knew, took no interest in him whatever.
+That is, Mrs. Grey took it for granted that Pauline must see him with
+her eyes, and did not hesitate to answer for the fact.
+
+She went at once to Pauline's room, where she found her lying on the
+sofa, a book open in her hand, but evidently lost in a world of dreamy
+and pleasant revery. With very little circumlocution, for Mrs. Grey
+was too much excited to choose her words carefully, she repeated to
+Pauline her conversation with her father; whereupon Pauline rose, and
+sitting up, her color changing, but her eye clear and bright, said,
+
+"Surely, mother, you knew it all."
+
+"Knew what, Pauline?"
+
+"That Mr. Wentworth was attached to me, and that I--I--"
+
+"Surely, Pauline," exclaimed Mrs. Grey, hastily, "you are not
+interested in him."
+
+"Yes," answered Pauline, roused by her mother's tone and manner to
+something of her old spirit, and looking at her fully and clearly, all
+diffidence having now vanished in the opposition she saw before her,
+"I am--I love him, love him with my whole soul."
+
+"Pauline, my child, are you mad!" almost shrieked Mrs. Grey, shocked
+almost past the power of endurance by her daughter's tones and words.
+
+"_I_ am not mad, no mother," said Pauline, with an emphasis, as if she
+thought her mother might be. "And why do you speak thus to me? You
+introduced Mr. Wentworth yourself to me; you first invited him
+here--and why, mother, do you affect this surprise now?" and Pauline's
+color deepened, and her voice quivered as she thought, with a sense of
+her mother's inconsistency and injustice.
+
+"_I_ introduced him to you, Pauline! Yes, I believe I did--but what of
+that? Do you suppose--no, Pauline, you are a girl of too much sense to
+suppose that I must be willing you should marry every man I introduce
+or invite to the house."
+
+"What are your objections to Mr. Wentworth?" asked Pauline, firmly.
+
+"My objections, Pauline! My child, you drive me almost mad!" said Mrs.
+Grey, her daughter's manner forcing on her more and more the
+conviction of the earnestness of her present fancy--for Mrs. Grey
+could not think it more. "Why, Pauline, I have every objection to him.
+What pretensions has he that should entitle him to dream of you,
+Pauline? You, my child, with your talents and beauty, and
+acquirements, are not surely going to throw yourself away upon this
+young man, who is every way inferior to you."
+
+"Mother," said Pauline, with energy, "you don't know him."
+
+Mrs. Grey was silenced. She did not know him. There was that in his
+countenance, air, and manner, although what might be called rather a
+handsome young man, that is unmistakable to a practiced eye--traces of
+a common mind, a something that had satisfied Mrs. Grey "he would not
+do," when she had dismissed him from her mind. But what had she to say
+to Pauline now?
+
+She talked of her disappointment--of her hopes--her expectations; but
+Pauline said she was not ambitious, and wanted none of these things.
+
+Mrs. Grey was in despair. Pauline grew more and more resolute. Her eye
+flashed, and her color rose, and the brow was bent, as when she was a
+child. She and her mother talked long, and even warmly; and Mrs. Grey
+returned to her husband, leaving Pauline in a state of great
+excitement.
+
+Mr. Grey was much disturbed by what his wife told him; but still,
+though agitated, he was not as distressed as she was. The thing must
+not and should not be--there he was firm--though he was pained,
+exceedingly pained, that Pauline should be unhappy about it.
+
+He looked upon her grief as of course a temporary feeling, but still,
+even for her temporary sorrow he grieved exceedingly.
+
+He wrote that evening to Mr. Wentworth, desiring him to discontinue
+his visits, as he could not sanction his attachment, nor consent to a
+continuance of his attentions.
+
+The letter was dispatched, and both parents felt better for the step.
+They considered the thing as finally at an end; and though Pauline
+might rebel a little at not having been consulted; yet it was done,
+and they seemed to think it could not be undone.
+
+Much they knew about the matter. A letter from the young lover to
+Pauline herself, blew all these wise conclusions to the four winds of
+heaven.
+
+She protested--and with some show of reason--that her father and
+mother had no right to dismiss Mr. Wentworth in this summary way; that
+they had encouraged--certainly permitted his attentions; that her
+mother had introduced him herself--for she harped upon that
+string--and she poured forth such a torrent of words and tears at the
+same time, that Mr. Grey finally said,
+
+"Well, Pauline, to satisfy you, I will make inquiries relative to Mr.
+Wentworth's character and standing, and should the report be
+favorable, and your attachment lasting, I do not know that we should
+have any right to refuse our consent, although it's not a match, my
+child, that we can like. But on the other hand, Pauline, should I find
+him unworthy of you, as I am inclined to believe he is, you, on your
+part, must submit to what is inevitable, for I never will give my
+consent to your marrying a man whose character is not irreproachable."
+
+Partially appeased, Pauline retired to her room, where Mrs. Grey spent
+the rest of the day in trying to convince Pauline that even if Mr.
+Wentworth were respectable in point of character, he was not in mind,
+manner, or appearance, at all her equal. That, in fact, he was a very
+common sort of a person, which was the truth; but strange though the
+fact might be, and there was no more accounting for it than denying
+it, Pauline was desperately in love with this very same very common
+young man; and talk as Mrs. Grey would, she could not change her
+feelings, or make her see him with her eyes.
+
+She could only wait the result of Mr. Grey's investigations; and most
+devoutly she hoped they might prove unfavorable. The idea of his being
+respectable enough for them to be forced to a consent, drove her
+almost wild. Was this, then, to be the end of all her visions for her
+beautiful Pauline!
+
+She could only trust to his being a scamp as her only hope of escape.
+
+                                      [_Conclusion in our next._
+
+
+
+
+THE SAILOR-LOVER TO HIS MISTRESS.
+
+BY R. H. BACON.
+
+
+    When as our good ship courts the gale,
+      To swim once more the ocean,
+    The lessening land wakes in my heart
+      A sad but sweet emotion:
+    For, though I love the broad blue sea,
+      My heart's still true to thee, my love,
+         My heart's still true to thee!
+
+    And when, far out upon the main,
+      We plough the midnight billow,
+    I gaze upon the stars, that shine
+      And smile above thy pillow.
+    And though far out upon the sea,
+      My heart's still true to thee, my love,
+         My heart's still true to thee!
+
+    But when as homeward bound we speed,
+      The swift sea-bird outflying,
+    With throbbing heart I watch the land,
+      Its blue hills far descrying;
+    Impatient, now, to leave the sea.
+      And fold thee to my heart, my love!
+         My heart's still true to thee!
+
+
+
+
+THE PORTRAIT OF GEN. SCOTT.
+
+
+This plate is believed to be one of the most admirable and faithful
+specimens of portraiture ever presented, through the press, to the
+public. We know that it is derived from sources to be relied upon; and
+the reputation of the eminent artist who has executed it is evidence
+that, with such ample materials, his task could not have been illy
+performed.
+
+The events connected with the present war have excited so high a
+degree of interest in the life and character of Gen. Scott, that the
+country has been flooded with biographies good, bad, and indifferent.
+It would not, therefore, be desirable that we should enter into a
+detailed account of the events of a public career long and eventful,
+and every result of which has been honorable to the country.
+
+Gen. Scott was born in 1786, in Virginia. He was educated, for a time,
+at William and Mary College, and pursued the study of the law, until
+military propensities separated him from his profession. In 1808,
+Jefferson appointed him a captain in the army of the United States; in
+1812 he received the commission of lieutenant-colonel, and took post
+on the Canada frontier. In October of that year he greatly
+distinguished himself in the battle of Queenstown Heights. His courage
+was manifested by the most extraordinary daring throughout the entire
+and unequal contest; but his small force was compelled to surrender
+with the honors of war. The whole affair reflected credit upon his
+diminutive force, and upon the young hero who led them. His
+imprisonment was not without dangers that afforded opportunities of
+displaying his lofty courage and chivalrous humanity.
+
+Having been exchanged in May, 1813, he rejoined the army on the
+frontier as adjutant-general. He led the advanced guard, or forlorn
+hope, at the capture of Fort George, displaying extraordinary
+gallantry, and, though wounded, was the first to enter, and raise the
+American flag. His conduct upon this occasion elicited the highest
+praise. In July of the same year, Scott was promoted to the command of
+a double regiment. He was actively engaged in all the subsequent
+efforts of that and the following campaign, and in the intervals of
+service, was employed in instructing the officers in their duties, and
+in drilling the recruits. His eminent services secured him, in March,
+1814, the rank of brigadier general--and he joined General Brown, then
+marching to the Niagara frontier. On the 3d of July, Scott leading the
+van, the Americans crossed the river, and captured Fort Erie. On the
+4th he moved toward Chippewa, in advance of the army, driving the
+British before him. The 5th witnessed the severe and well-contested
+battle of Chippewa. This battle was fought within hearing of the roar
+of Niagara, silenced for a time, as was the earthquake at Cann�, by
+the stormier passions of human conflict. It was a contest between
+divided brethren of the same gallant race; the advantages in the
+battle were all against our country; the glories in the result were
+all with her. Circumstances rendered, in the absence of Gen. Brown,
+Scott, the hero of the field; and profound has been and is the
+gratitude that rewards him.
+
+The 25th of the same month witnessed the still more memorable conflict
+of Niagara. It is not our purpose to describe the battle; suffice it
+to say that it was a contest between warriors worthy of each other's
+steel. Each army, and the flower of the British veterans were present,
+struggled for many hours, and foremost in every daring was found Gen.
+Scott. We need not tell the American reader that we triumphed; but
+Scott, though upon the field throughout the fight, and then, as
+always, in advance, had two horses killed under him, was wounded in
+the side, and at length disabled by a musket-ball through the
+shoulder. After a doubtful and tedious illness he recovered. He
+received from Congress, from the state legislatures, and from the
+people, the amplest evidences of gratitude and admiration.
+
+After the close of the war, Gen. Scott visited Europe, by order of
+government, upon public business; and on his return took command of
+the seaboard. From this time till the Black Hawk War nothing of public
+interest occurred to demand his services. He embarked with a thousand
+troops to participate in that war, in July of 1832; but his operations
+were checked by the cholera. The pestilence smote his army, and he did
+not reach the field before the war was closed. During the prevalence
+of the pestilence he performed in his army every duty among the sick
+that could be expected from a brave, humane, and good man, winning,
+and worthy the title, of the warrior of humanity. He afterward acted
+prominently in effecting the pacification of the warring tribes of the
+North West, and received the official commendation of Secretary Cass.
+
+Gen. Scott was ordered the same year to the Southern Department; and
+during the nullification excitement, is said to have acted, under his
+orders, with great energy and prudence. In 1836 he was ordered to
+Florida, to command the army engaged against the Creeks and Seminoles.
+He spared no effort, and manifested much of enterprise and energy; but
+circumstances, which no skill could have surmounted, rendered his
+exertions ineffectual. His failure was made the subject of inquiry by
+court martial, and he was by the court not merely acquitted, but
+applauded. In 1837, he was ordered to the northern frontier, to meet
+and avert the evil effects of the Canadian rebellion. It is admitted,
+that his efforts were vigorous, wise, and successful, and manifested
+great energy and prudence. In 1838, Gen. Scott was intrusted by the
+government with the removal to the West of the Cherokees. This duty
+was performed with great humanity and ability, and elicited strong
+expressions of gratitude from them, and of praise from the country.
+
+From this duty, completed, he was called to the northern frontier. His
+course there was conciliatory and wise; and doubtless had some
+effect to prevent a conflict with Great Britain.
+
+[Illustration: _ENGRAVED BY T. B. WELCH PHILA^A FOR GRAHAM'S
+MAGAZINE FROM A DAGUERROTYPE BY M. A. ROOT._]
+
+On the commencement of the Mexican war, circumstances prevented
+General Scott from assuming the immediate command of the invading
+force. He was subsequently ordered to the seat of the war; and after a
+series of operations, admitted to be the most brilliant in point of
+science known to modern warfare, he won what were supposed to be
+impregnable, the castle and the town of Vera Cruz. This triumph was
+announced on the 29th of March. The siege occupied fifteen days, and
+was attended with little loss on the side of the Americans. On the
+17th of April, Scott, advancing upon Mexico, issued an order for the
+attack of Cerro Gordo--in which every event that was ordered and
+foreseen seems now to be prophecy; and on the next day he carried that
+Thermopyl� of Mexico. The battle was one of the most brilliant in the
+American annals. The orders of Scott, previously given, secure the
+glory of the triumph for himself and his army.
+
+On the 19th, Jalapa was occupied, and on the 22d Perote. In these
+triumphs the army acquired great quantities of munitions. The city of
+Puebla was occupied on the 15th of May: Ten thousand prisoners, seven
+hundred cannon, ten thousand stand of arms, and thirty thousand shells
+and shot were, in the course of these operations, the fruits of
+American skill and valor. But even these achievements were thrown into
+the shade by the glorious triumphs in the vicinity of Mexico. The
+bloody contests at the intrenchments of Contreras, the fortifications
+of Cherubusco and the castle of Chapultepec, and finally the capture
+of Mexico, are of so recent occurrence, and so familiar in all their
+details to the public, that we do not deem it necessary to narrate
+them. Cut off for fifty days from all communications with Vera Cruz,
+the veteran Scott won, with his feeble and greatly diminished force,
+and against defenses deemed impregnable, triumphs that have thrown
+immortal glory around the arms of his country.
+
+Thus segregated, shut out from the hope of home as completely as were
+the soldiers of Cortez when he burned his ships, this little band
+advanced to dangers such as were never before encountered and
+overcome. Science guided and protected the daring invasion; and true
+American hearts, at every bristling danger, supported it, with an
+ardent courage and a calm fortitude scarcely equaled in the wars of
+nations. On the 15th of August, General Scott, by a masterly movement,
+turned the strong works of the Penon and Mexicalzingo, on which the
+enemy had labored and relied. On the 17th the spires of Mexico were in
+sight. The attack upon Contreras took place. It was one of the most
+brilliant achievements of the American arms. San Antonio was also
+carried; and San Pablo assailed, and, after a contest of two hours,
+won. In this battle the general added another to his former scars,
+being wounded in the leg. The terrible conflict of Cherubusco
+succeeded; and again American valor proved invincible. This placed our
+force at the gates of Mexico. The contest was one against four, the
+four having every advantage that military science and superiority of
+position could confer. Having overcome every enemy that dared to
+dispute his path, he spared the city of Mexico. The entire campaign is
+most honorable to the American character and to the reputation of him
+who led it. The impetuosity of his campaigns in the war of 1812 seemed
+mingled with and subdued by the results of a profound study of the
+science of war, in this contest. He dared boldly, and executed
+cautiously, courageously and successfully. Erring in nothing, and
+failing in nothing, he encountered dangers, and passed through scenes
+that belong to romance, but which his iron intellect rendered a
+substantial reality.
+
+
+
+
+O, SCORN NOT THY BROTHER.
+
+BY E. CURTISS HINE.
+
+
+    O, scorn not thy brother,
+      Though poor he may be,
+    He's bound to another
+      And bright world with thee.
+    Should sorrow assail him,
+      Give heed to his sighs,
+    Should strength ever fail him,
+      O, help him to rise!
+
+    The pathway we're roaming,
+      Mid flow'rets may lie,
+    But soon will life's gloaming,
+      Come dark'ning our sky.
+    Then seek not to smother
+      Kind feelings in thee,
+    And scorn not thy brother,
+      Though poor he may be!
+
+    Go, cheer those who languish
+      Their dead hopes among.
+    In whose hearts stern anguish
+      The harp hath unstrung!
+    They'll soon in another
+      Bright land roam with thee,
+    So scorn not thy brother,
+      Though poor he may be!
+
+
+
+
+BEN BOLT.
+
+THE WORDS AND MELODY BY THOMAS DUNN ENGLISH.
+
+ARRANGED FOR THE PIANO FORTE, AND CORDIALLY DEDICATED TO
+
+CHARLES BENJAMIN BOLT, ESQ.
+
+COPYRIGHTED BY GEORGE WILLIG, NO. 171 CHESTNUT STREET, PHILADELPHIA.
+
+
+=Andante con espressione.=
+
+[Illustration: 2 sheets of musical notation]
+
+
+Don't you re-mem-ber sweet Al-ice, Ben Bolt--
+Sweet Al-ice whose hair was so brown--
+Who wept with de-light when you gave her a smile,
+And trem-bled with fear at your frown?
+In the old church yard in the val-ley, Ben Bolt,
+In a cor-ner ob-scure and a-lone,
+They have fit-ted a slab of the gran-ite so gray;
+And Al-ice lies un-der the stone.
+
+
+II.
+
+
+    Under the Hickory tree, Ben Bolt,
+      Which stood at the foot of the hill,
+    Together we've lain in the noonday shade,
+      And listened to Appleton's mill.
+    The mill-wheel has fallen to pieces, Ben Bolt,
+      The rafters have tumbled in,
+    And a quiet which crawls round the walls as you gaze,
+      Has followed the olden din.
+
+
+III.
+
+
+    Do you mind the cabin of logs, Ben Bolt,
+      At the edge of the pathless wood,
+    And the button-ball tree with its motley limbs,
+      Which nigh by the door step stood?
+    The cabin to ruin has gone, Ben Bolt,
+      The tree you would seek in vain;
+    And where once the lords of the forest waved,
+      Grow grass and the golden grain.
+
+
+IV.
+
+
+    And don't you remember the school, Ben Bolt,
+      With the master so cruel and grim,
+    And the shaded nook in the running brook,
+      Where the children went to swim?
+    Grass grows on the master's grave, Ben Bolt,
+      The spring of the brook is dry,
+    And of all the boys that were school-mates then,
+      There are only you and I.
+
+
+V.
+
+
+    There is change in the things that I loved, Ben Bolt,
+      They have changed from the old to the new;
+    But I feel in the core of my spirit the truth,
+      There never was change in you.
+    Twelvemonths twenty have past, Ben Bolt,
+      Since first we were friends, yet I hail
+    Thy presence a blessing, thy friendship a truth--
+      Ben Bolt, of the salt-sea gale.
+
+
+
+
+THE SPIRIT OF SONG.
+
+BY MRS. E. C. KINNEY.
+
+
+    Eternal Fame! thy great rewards,
+      Throughout all time, shall be
+    The right of those old master-bards
+      Of Greece and Italy;
+    And of fair Albion's favored isle,
+    Where Poesy's celestial smile
+      Hath shone for ages, gilding bright
+    Her rocky cliffs, and ancient towers,
+    And cheering this new world of ours
+      With a reflected light.
+
+    Yet, though there be no path untrod
+      By that immortal race--
+    Who walked with Nature, as with God,
+      And saw her, face to face--
+    No living truth by them unsung--
+    No thought that hath not found a tongue
+      In some strong lyre of olden time;
+    Must every tuneful lute be still
+    That may not give a world the thrill
+      Of their great harp sublime?
+
+    Oh, not while beating hearts rejoice
+      In Music's simplest tone,
+    And hear in Nature's every voice
+      An echo to their own!
+    Not till these scorn the little rill
+    That runs rejoicing from the hill,
+      Or the soft, melancholy glide
+    Of some deep stream, through glen and glade,
+    Because 'tis not the thunder made
+      By ocean's heaving tide!
+
+    The hallowed lilies of the field
+      In glory are arrayed,
+    And timid, blue-eyed violets yield
+      Their fragrance to the shade;
+    Nor do the way-side flowers conceal
+    Those modest charms that sometimes steal
+      Upon the weary traveler's eyes
+    Like angels, spreading for his feet
+    A carpet, filled with odors sweet,
+      And decked with heavenly dyes.
+
+    Thus let the affluent Soul of Song--
+      That all with flowers adorns--
+    Strew life's uneven path along,
+      And hide its thousand thorns:
+    Oh, many a sad and weary heart,
+    That treads a noiseless way apart,
+      Has blessed the humble poet's name,
+    For fellowship, refined and free,
+    In meek wild-flowers of poesy,
+      That asked no higher fame!
+
+    And pleasant as the water-fall
+      To one by deserts bound--
+    Making the air all musical
+      With cool, inviting sound--
+    Is oft some unpretending strain
+    Of rural song, to him whose brain
+      Is fevered in the sordid strife
+    That Avarice breeds 'twixt man and man,
+    While moving on, in caravan,
+      Across the sands of Life.
+
+    Yet, not for these alone he sings;
+      The poet's breast is stirred
+    As by the spirit that takes wings
+      And carols in the bird!
+    He thinks not of a future name,
+    Nor whence his inspiration came
+      Nor whither goes his warbled song;
+    As Joy itself delights in joy--
+    His soul finds life in its employ,
+      And grows by utterance strong.
+
+
+
+
+A PARTING.
+
+(AN EXTRACT.)
+
+BY HENRY S. HAGERT.
+
+
+      And now, farewell--and if the warm tear start
+        Unbidden to your eye, oh! do not blush
+      To own it, for it speaks the gen'rous heart,
+        Full to o'erflowing with the fervent gush
+      Of its sweet waters. Hark! I hear the rush
+        Of many feet, and dark-browed Mem'ry brings
+      Her tales of by-gone pleasure but to crush
+        The reed already bending--now, there sings
+    The syren voice of Hope--her of the rainbow wings.
+
+      Ah! well-a-day! Ceased is the witching strain--
+        Fled are they all--and back the senses turn
+      To this dark hour of anguish and of pain--
+        Of rending heart-chords--agony too stern
+      For words to picture it--of thoughts that burn
+        And wither up the heart. I need not tell
+      What now I feel, or if my bosom yearn
+        With love for you at parting--there's a spell
+    To conjure up despair in that wild word--Farewell
+
+
+
+
+REVIEW OF NEW BOOKS.
+
+     _Historical and Select Memoirs of the Empress
+     Josephine, (Marie Rose Tacher de la Pagerie,) First
+     Wife of Napoleon Bonaparte. By M'lle. M. A. Le Normand,
+     Authoress "Des Souvenirs Prophetiques," &c. Translated
+     from the French by Jacob M. Howard, Esq. Philada.:
+     Carey & Hart._
+
+
+The larger portion of this work is made up of the account given by
+Josephine herself of the events of her life; and that part contributed
+by M'lle. Le Normand, completes a biography of the gifted, the
+fortunate and unfortunate queen of Napoleon. The Memoirs of Josephine
+sparkle with French sprightliness, and abound with French sentiment.
+Her style is eminently graceful, and the turn of thought such as we
+would expect from the most accomplished and fascinating woman of her
+times. The narrative is neither very copious nor very regular; but all
+that is told is of the deepest interest. It abounds in domestic
+anecdotes of the great usurper, and reports conversations between him
+and his wife, in which, by the way, her speeches rival, in prolixity,
+those given us by Livy. Many of her views of Bonaparte and herself are
+novel and striking, and calculated, if relied upon, to change opinions
+now generally entertained as truths. In relation to herself, her tone
+is one of almost unvarying self-eulogium; and the amiable and
+excellent qualities which she is known to have possessed need no
+better chronicler. She was of the opinion that her abilities and
+services, which were eminent and various, secured Napoleon's
+advancement at every step of his rapid career from obscurity to the
+imperial throne; and that the loss of her influence and counsels was
+the necessary harbinger of his downfall.
+
+For the movements that secured him the First Consulship, she claims
+almost exclusive credit. That she was an artful politician, and used,
+with great effect, the graces of mind, manner, and person, with which
+she was singularly endowed, to promote the interests of her husband,
+is certain; but it may be doubted whether his mighty genius ever
+leaned for support upon the political skill and counsel of a
+woman--even though that woman were Josephine. She, like her wonderful
+husband, seems to have cherished a superstitious reliance upon
+destiny--a weakness singularly inconsistent with their general
+character. The story of the early prediction that she would become a
+queen is given with an amusing simplicity and earnestness. The
+prophecy is as follows:
+
+"You will be married to a man of a fair complexion, destined to be the
+husband of another of your family. The young lady whose place you are
+called to fill, will not live long. A young Creole, whom you love,
+does not cease to think of you; you will never marry him, and will
+make vain attempts to save his life; but his end will be unhappy. Your
+star promises you two marriages. Your first husband will be a man born
+in Martinique, but he will reside in Europe and wear a sword; he will
+enjoy some moments of good fortune. A sad legal proceeding will
+separate you from him, and after many great troubles, which are to
+befall the kingdom of the _Franks_, he will perish tragically, and
+leave you a widow with two helpless children. Your second husband will
+be of an olive complexion, of European birth; without fortune, yet he
+will become famous; he will fill the world with his glory, and will
+subject a great many nations to his power. You will then become an
+_eminent woman_, and possess a supreme dignity; but many people will
+forget your kindnesses. After having astonished the world, _you will
+die miserable_. The country in which what I foretell must happen,
+forms a part of _Celtic Gaul_; and more than once, in the midst of
+your prosperity, you will regret the happy and peaceful life you led
+in the colony. At the moment you shall quit it, (_but not forever_,) a
+prodigy will appear in the air;--this will be the first harbinger of
+your astonishing destiny."
+
+Any fortune-teller might tell, and no doubt, if she thought it would
+flatter, would tell, a beautiful young girl that her destiny was to be
+a queen; but there is in this prediction a minuteness of detail, that
+cannot be accounted for on the ground of accidental coincidence. It is
+a brief history of her life. Unless we are prepared to believe that an
+ignorant old mulatto woman was gifted by divine Providence with
+supernatural power, constituted a second Witch of Endor, and able by
+"examining the ball of Josephine's left thumb with great attention,"
+to discover the minute particulars of her future life, we must
+discredit the absurdity. A prediction believed sometimes effects its
+own fulfillment; and Josephine, whose ambition seems to have been most
+ardent, may have been inspired with romantic hopes by the foolish
+promise of an ignorant impostor, that she would rise to great
+eminence, and have been stimulated to greater exertions to realize
+those hopes. This may have urged her to intimacy with the corrupt and
+immoral Directory, with whom a beautiful and accomplished woman could
+not fail to be a favorite; may have secured her marriage to a very
+young and ardent man, who all believed must rise to eminence; and may
+have even induced her to excite her husband to the policy which
+secured a crown. But to believe that a prediction, giving all the
+leading events of the lives of several different persons, and those
+persons actors in scenes so wonderful, would be a folly equally weak
+and blasphemous. The same superstition is frequently betrayed in these
+volumes; and we have as many dreams and portents as ever disturbed the
+sleeping and waking hours of the wife of the first Napoleon,
+Caliphurnia.
+
+The pages of these memoirs afford us the harshest and most repulsive
+views of Napoleon's character that we have yet seen. His affectionate
+consort was undoubtedly discerning, and used her keenness of
+perception with proper diligence to discover all her husband's faults.
+We have never shared in the excessive and extraordinary admiration
+with which the character of this man-hater and earth-spoiler is
+regarded in this land of liberty; but it seems to us that the
+portraiture before us would be deemed unjust coming from his foes, and
+is at least singular when traced by the hand of the affectionate and
+gentle Josephine. The praise awarded him is cold, formal and stinted;
+but the censure is interjected among her details with a freedom that
+we could not have anticipated. That she should have resented his
+heartless repudiation of the companion of all his struggles and
+fortunes, is natural, and perhaps just; but that she should have
+revenged the wrong, if indeed that be the motive, by depreciating him
+seems out of character with the Josephine of our imaginations. She
+describes him as vain, cruel, often weak, and at times abjectly
+cowardly. She dwells with great fullness upon his crimes, and passes
+rapidly and coldly over the many great and good things he achieved for
+France. In some instances positive misrepresentations are resorted
+to, calculated to blacken his character. Thus, in relation to the
+disaster at the bridge on the Elster, she says:
+
+"I likewise learned that my husband has passed the only bridge by
+which he could make good his retreat; but in order to prevent pursuit
+by the foreign army, he had ordered it to be blown up at the very
+moment it was covered with thousands of Frenchmen, who were
+endeavoring to fly. By means of this _murderous manoeuvre_ he abandoned
+a part of his army on the bank of the stream."
+
+Now this is a most inhuman calumny, and one that sounds strangely
+coming from a French woman, and that woman the wife of the unfortunate
+Napoleon. Bonaparte's strongest and ablest decryer, Alison, admits
+that the destruction of the bridge was an accident, resulting from the
+mistake of a corporal, who supposed the retreating French upon the
+bridge were the pursuing allies, and fired the train. It is seldom
+that we expect to find extraordinary instances of conjugal affection
+upon thrones; and we are strongly disposed to believe that the love of
+Josephine for her husband has been exaggerated. According to her own
+account, she had many previous draughts made upon her capital stock of
+love; and she describes her marriage with Napoleon as one induced by
+the representations of Barras and Mad. Tallien of the advantages to be
+derived from it. She thus characterizes her feelings toward Bonaparte
+just before marriage. "I discovered in him a tone of assurance and
+exaggerated pretension, which injured him greatly in my estimation.
+The more I studied his character, the more I discovered the oddities
+for which I was at a loss to account; and at length he inspired me
+with so much aversion that I ceased to frequent the house of Mad.
+Chat*** Ren***, where he spent his evenings." Notwithstanding the
+excessive affection professed, a large portion of the period of their
+connection seems to have been embroiled and troubled. Yet there can be
+no doubt that she devoted herself assiduously and faithfully to the
+promotion and protection of the greatness which she shared; and, at
+the close of her career, though she caressed his conquerors, she died
+uttering the warmest expressions of affection for him, even in the
+presence of his foe. The death-scene, as described by M'lle. Le
+Normand, is truly touching. Her last tears fell upon the portrait of
+Napoleon.
+
+The whole story is full of romance, and will be read with great
+interest. The translator has performed his task with eminent ability;
+and the volumes are printed in a style highly creditable to the
+publishers.
+
+
+     _Memoir of Sarah B. Judson, Member of the American
+     Mission to Burmah. By "Fanny Forester." New York: L.
+     Colby & Co._
+
+
+It cannot be necessary for us to recommend to the readers of Graham's
+Magazine any work from the pen of the fascinating "Fanny Forester."
+Her literary history is associated in their minds with the most
+agreeable recollections of a female writer, among the sweetest, the
+most brilliant, the most charming of the many whom our country has
+produced. They will remember her, too, in that most eventful scene and
+surprising change of her life, in which the popular authoress was
+suddenly, and voluntarily, transformed into the humble missionary;
+sacrificing, from a sense of Christian duty, all the pride and
+allurements of literary distinction, along with friends, home, the
+safety and happiness of civilized society, that she might take up the
+cross, and carry it, an offering of salvation, to the benighted
+Heathen of Asia, even in the depths of their own far and pestilential
+climates.
+
+The missionary appears again as on authoress; but it is in the lowly
+attitude of a biographer commemorating the virtues of a departed
+sister and predecessor in the same field of Christian devotion--the
+devoted and sainted woman whose places "Fanny Forester" herself now
+occupies as a wife and missionary, performing the same duties, exposed
+to the same trials and sufferings, in the same distant and perilous
+regions of Asia. The subject and the writer are thus united--we might
+say identified--as parts of the same attractive theme, and co-actors
+in the same sacred drama. Under such circumstances, the Memoir of Mrs.
+Judson could not be otherwise than profoundly interesting; and it will
+prove so, not only to all those who admire the authoress, but to all
+who love the cause to which she has dedicated her talents, her life,
+her fame. It is, indeed, a beautiful, a deeply engaging, an affecting
+volume, uniting a kind of romantic character, derived from the scenes
+and perils it describes, with the deeper interest of a record of the
+evangelization of the heathen. It is peculiarly adapted, too, to the
+reading of people of the world, whose hearts have not yet been warmed,
+or whose minds have not been instructed, on the subject of Christian
+missions. They cannot take it up without reading it; they cannot read
+it without rising better informed, and with better dispositions than
+before, in regard to the great cause which boasts--or has
+boasted--such servants as Mrs. Judson and "Fanny Forester."
+
+
+     _The History of a Penitent. A Guide for the Inquiring,
+     in a Commentary on the One Hundred and Thirtieth Psalm.
+     By George W. Bethune, D.D., Minister of the Third
+     Reformed Dutch Church, Philadelphia. Henry Perkins, 142
+     Chestnut Street._
+
+
+This work, which is beautifully dedicated to Dr. Alexander, is written
+with much of the characteristic force and fervor of its author, and
+with more than his ordinary research and elaboration. He informs us
+that his purpose has been to help the inquiring soul and young
+Christian with counsel taken immediately from the unerring word: he
+has therefore studied conformity to scripture, rather than novelty of
+thought, and plainness more than grace of style. Yet there is in this
+volume much of the author's usual boldness of originality and peculiar
+felicity of expression. Our readers have been made acquainted with the
+high merits of Dr. Bethune as a poet, by his contributions to
+"Graham;" but highly as we appreciate his verse, there is a
+directness, an originality, an old-fashioned power in his prose which
+we prefer, and which we think place him in the first class of American
+writers. On subjects like that treated in the volume before us, his
+whole heart and mind seem to be poured into his pages; and in their
+perusal we doubt whether most to admire the divine or the rhetorician.
+
+
+     _Keble's Christian Year: Thoughts in Verse for the
+     Sundays and Holidays throughout the Year. Philadelphia:
+     Geo. S. Appleton. 148 Chestnut Street._
+
+
+This beautiful volume is printed from the thirty-first London edition.
+Its merits are so well and universally known and appreciated that to
+review it would, to our readers, be tedious as a twice told tale.
+Suffice it to say, that its object is to bring the thoughts and
+feelings of worshipers into more entire unison with those recommended
+and exemplified in the Prayer Book. The poetry of this volume is often
+even worthy the exalted subjects of which it treats, and is never
+unworthy them. Its extraordinary popularity is the best evidence of
+its merit; for poetry is never generally and permanently popular
+without real merit.
+
+
+Transcriber's Note:
+
+1. page 195--removed extra quote at end of paragraph 'boot-maker,
+   landlady, and others?'
+
+2. page 195--removed repeated word 'five'
+
+3. page 198--changed comma to period at end of sentence 'knock the
+   fort to pieces'
+
+4. page 200--corrected typo 'litle' to 'little' in stanza beginning
+   '"Spirit, I am of litle worth,"
+
+5. page 203--added missing end quote at end of poem
+
+6. page 205--removed extraneous double quote mark from sentence '"Pooh!
+   you green-horn!" said Jack Reeves,'
+
+7. page 206--added missing single quote in sentence '...answered the
+   skipper; so suit yourself'
+
+8. page 213--changed punctuation at end of sentence '...now I am willing
+   to die.,' to period + double quote
+
+9. page 213--added missing double quote at end of sentence '...before I
+   sail, with your permission.'
+
+10. page 213--added missing double quote in sentence '...as we drove off.
+    You told the truth...'
+
+11. page 215--changed comma to period at end of sentence 'Yes, dear
+    Frank,"'
+
+12. page 215--added missing double quote to sentence '...thumping his right
+    side, you lacerate my heart...'
+
+13. page 216--added missing double quote at end of sentence '...You are
+    the most angelic, adorable--'
+
+14. page 220--corrected typo 'vison' to 'vision' in line 'Scenes of the
+    past before his vison'
+
+15. page 221--corrected comma to period at end of sentence '...humid
+    with tears,'
+
+16. page 227--removed extra quote at start of sentence 'Ah! happy,
+    satisfied Leland!'
+
+17. page 228--added missing quote at end of article
+
+18. page 229--added missing right bracket to sentence '...and then
+    they know better.'
+
+19. page 231--corrected typo "lanched" to "launched" in sentence '...for
+    Pauline was fairly lanched.'
+
+20. page 240--corrected typo "Chistian" to "Christian" in title block
+    of article
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Graham's Magazine, Vol. XXXII No. 4,
+April 1848, by Various
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GRAHAM'S MAGAZINE ***
+
+***** This file should be named 29239-8.txt or 29239-8.zip *****
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+      The Project Gutenberg eBook of "Graham's Magazine,
+      Volume XXXII, No. 4",
+      by Various.
+    </title>
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+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Graham's Magazine, Vol. XXXII No. 4, April
+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. 4, April 1848
+
+Author: Various
+
+Editor: George R. Graham
+        Robert T. Conrad
+
+Release Date: June 25, 2009 [EBook #29239]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GRAHAM'S MAGAZINE ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David T. Jones, Juliet Sutherland and the
+Online Distributed Proofreading Canada Team at
+http://www.pgdpcanada.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+
+<h1>GRAHAM'S MAGAZINE.</h1>
+<br />
+<hr class="full" />
+<h4><span class="smcap">Vol.</span> XXXII.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; PHILADELPHIA,&nbsp;&nbsp;APRIL,&nbsp;&nbsp;1848.&nbsp;
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;No. 4.</h4>
+<hr class="full" />
+<br />
+<br />
+
+<h3>TABLE OF CONTENTS</h3><br />
+<table summary="TOC" width="80%">
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#JACOB_JONES">JACOB JONES.</a></td>
+<td class="tdr">193</td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td>&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#THE_DARLING">THE DARLING.</a></td>
+<td class="tdr">197</td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td>&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#BATTLE_OF_FORT_MOULTRIE1">BATTLE OF FORT MOULTRIE.</a></td>
+<td class="tdr">198</td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td>&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#THE_POETS_LOVE">THE POET'S LOVE.</a></td>
+<td class="tdr">200</td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td>&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#MARY_WARNER">MARY WARNER.</a></td>
+<td class="tdr">201</td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td>&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#TO_THE_AUTHOR_OF_THE_RAVEN">TO THE AUTHOR OF "THE RAVEN".</a></td>
+<td class="tdr">203</td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td>&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#SONG_OF_THE_ELVES">SONG OF THE ELVES.</a></td>
+<td class="tdr">203</td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td>&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#THE_FIRE_OF_DRIFT-WOOD">THE FIRE OF DRIFT-WOOD.</a></td>
+<td class="tdr">204</td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td>&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#SONG_FOR_A_SABBATH_MORNING">SONG FOR A SABBATH MORNING.</a></td>
+<td class="tdr">204</td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td>&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#CITY_LIFE">CITY LIFE.</a></td>
+<td class="tdr">204</td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td>&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#THE_CRUISE_OF_THE_GENTILE">THE CRUISE OF THE GENTILE.</a></td>
+<td class="tdr">205</td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td>&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#ILENOVAR">ILENOVAR.</a></td>
+<td class="tdr">218</td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td>&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#THE_LAST_OF_HIS_RACE">THE LAST OF HIS RACE.</a></td>
+<td class="tdr">220</td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td>&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#DECAY_AND_ROME">DECAY AND ROME.</a></td>
+<td class="tdr">220</td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td>&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#THE_LITTLE_CAP-MAKER">THE LITTLE CAP-MAKER.</a></td>
+<td class="tdr">221</td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td>&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#NO_NOT_FORGOTTEN">NO, NOT FORGOTTEN.</a></td>
+<td class="tdr">228</td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td>&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#PAULINE_GREY">PAULINE GREY.</a></td>
+<td class="tdr">229</td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td>&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#THE_SAILOR-LOVER_TO_HIS_MISTRESS">THE SAILOR-LOVER TO HIS MISTRESS.</a></td>
+<td class="tdr">233</td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td>&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#THE_PORTRAIT_OF_GEN_SCOTT">THE PORTRAIT OF GEN. SCOTT.</a></td>
+<td class="tdr">234</td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td>&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#O_SCORN_NOT_THY_BROTHER">O, SCORN NOT THY BROTHER.</a></td>
+<td class="tdr">235</td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td>&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#BEN_BOLT">BEN BOLT.</a></td>
+<td class="tdr">236</td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td>&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#THE_SPIRIT_OF_SONG">THE SPIRIT OF SONG.</a></td>
+<td class="tdr">238</td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td>&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#A_PARTING">A PARTING.</a></td>
+<td class="tdr">238</td>
+</tr>
+<tr><td>&nbsp;</td><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr>
+<td><a href="#REVIEW_OF_NEW_BOOKS">REVIEW OF NEW BOOKS.</a></td>
+<td class="tdr">239</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+
+
+<h3><a name="JACOB_JONES" id="JACOB_JONES"></a>JACOB JONES.</h3>
+
+<h4>OR THE MAN WHO COULDN'T GET ALONG IN THE WORLD.</h4>
+<span class='pagenum'>[193]</span>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+<h5>BY T. S. ARTHUR.</h5>
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<p>Jacob Jones was clerk in a commission store at a salary of five
+hundred dollars a year. He was just twenty-two, and had been receiving
+this salary for two years. Jacob had no one to care for but himself;
+but, somehow or other, it happened that he did not lay up any money,
+but, instead, usually had from fifty to one hundred dollars standing
+against him on the books of his tailors.</p>
+
+<p>"How much money have you laid by, Jacob?" said one day the merchant
+who employed him. This question came upon Jacob rather suddenly; and
+coming from the source that it did, was not an agreeable one&mdash;for the
+merchant was a very careful and economical man.</p>
+
+<p>"I havn't laid by any thing yet," replied Jacob, with a slight air of
+embarrassment.</p>
+
+<p>"You havn't!" said the merchant, in surprise. "Why what have you done
+with your money?"</p>
+
+<p>"I've spent it, somehow or other."</p>
+
+<p>"It must have been somehow or other, I should think, or somehow else,"
+returned the employer, half seriously, and half playfully. "But
+really, Jacob, you are a very thoughtless young man to waste your
+money."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think I <i>waste</i> my money," said Jacob.</p>
+
+<p>"What, then, have you done with it?" asked the merchant.</p>
+
+<p>"It costs me the whole amount of my salary to live."</p>
+
+<p>The merchant shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>Then you live extravagantly for a young man of your age and condition.
+How much do you pay for boarding?"</p>
+
+<p>"Four dollars a week."</p>
+
+<p>"Too much by from fifty cents to a dollar. But, even paying that sum,
+four more dollars per week ought to meet fully all your other
+expenses, and leave you what would amount to nearly one hundred
+dollars per annum to lay by. I saved nearly two hundred dollars a year
+on a salary no larger than you receive."</p>
+
+<p>"I should like very much to know how you did it. I can't save a cent;
+in fact, I hardly ever have ten dollars in my pocket."</p>
+
+<p>"Where does your money go, Jacob? In what way do you spend a hundred
+dollars a year more than is necessary?"</p>
+
+<p>"They are spent, I know; and that is pretty much all I can tell about
+it," replied Jacob.</p>
+
+<p>"You can certainly tell by your private account book."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't keep any private account, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"You don't?" in surprise.</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir. What's the use? My salary is five hundred dollars a year,
+and wouldn't be any more nor less if I kept an account of every half
+cent of it."</p>
+
+<p>"Humph!"</p>
+
+<p>The merchant said no more. His mind was made up about his clerk. The
+fact that he spent five hundred dollars a year, and kept no
+private account, was enough for him.</p>
+
+<p>"He'll never be any good to himself nor anybody else. Spend his whole
+salary&mdash;humph! Keep no private account&mdash;humph!"</p>
+
+<p>This was the opinion held of Jacob Jones by his employer from that
+day. The reason why he had inquired as to how much money he had saved,
+was this. He had a nephew, a poor young man, who, like Jacob, was a
+clerk, and showed a good deal of ability for business. His salary was
+rather more than what Jacob received, and, like Jacob, he spent it
+all; but not on himself. He supported, mainly, his mother and a
+younger brother and sister. A good chance for a small, but safe
+beginning, was seen by the uncle, which would require only about a
+thousand dollars as an investment. In his opinion<span class='pagenum'>[194]</span> it would be just
+the thing for Jacob and the nephew. Supposing that Jacob had four or
+five hundred dollars laid by, it was his intention, if he approved of
+the thing, to furnish his nephew with a like sum, in order to join him
+and enter into business. But the acknowledgment of Jacob that he had
+not saved a dollar, and that he kept no private account, settled the
+matter in the merchant's mind, as far as he was concerned.</p>
+
+<p>About a month afterward, Jacob met his employer's nephew, who said,</p>
+
+<p>"I am going into business."</p>
+
+<p>"You are?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"What are you going to do?"</p>
+
+<p>"Open a commission store."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! Can you get any good consignments?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am to have the agency for a new mill, which has just commenced
+operations, beside consignments of goods from several small concerns
+at the East."</p>
+
+<p>"You will have to make advances."</p>
+
+<p>"To no great extent. My uncle has secured the agency of the new mill
+here without any advance being required, and eight hundred or a
+thousand dollars will be as much as I shall need to secure as many
+goods as I can sell from the other establishments of which I speak."</p>
+
+<p>"But where will the eight hundred or a thousand come from?"</p>
+
+<p>"My uncle has placed a thousand dollars at my disposal. Indeed, the
+whole thing is the result of his recommendation."</p>
+
+<p>"Your uncle! You are a lucky dog. I wish I had a rich uncle. But there
+is no such good fortune for me."</p>
+
+<p>This was the conclusion of Jacob Jones, who made himself quite unhappy
+for some weeks, brooding over the matter. He never once dreamed of the
+real cause of his not having had an equal share in his young friend's
+good fortune. He had not the most distant idea that his employer felt
+nearly as much regard for him as for his nephew, and would have
+promoted his interests as quickly, if he had felt justified in doing
+so.</p>
+
+<p>"It's my luck, I suppose," was the final conclusion of his mind; "and
+it's no use to cry about it. Any how, it isn't every man with a rich
+uncle, and a thousand dollars advanced, who succeeds in business, nor
+every man who starts without capital that is unsuccessful. I
+understand as much about business as the old man's nephew, any day;
+and can get consignments as well as he can."</p>
+
+<p>Three or four months after this, Jacob notified the merchant that he
+was going to start for himself, and asked his interest as far as he
+could give it, without interfering with his own business. His employer
+did not speak very encouragingly about the matter, which offended
+Jacob.</p>
+
+<p>"He's afraid I'll injure his nephew," he said to himself. "But he
+needn't be uneasy&mdash;the world is wide enough for us all, the old
+hunks!"</p>
+
+<p>Jacob borrowed a couple of hundred dollars, took a store at five
+hundred dollars a year rent, and employed a clerk and porter. He then
+sent his circulars to a number of manufactories at the East,
+announcing the fact of his having opened a new commission house, and
+soliciting consignments. His next move was, to leave his
+boarding-house, where he had been paying four dollars a week, and take
+lodgings at a hotel at seven dollars a week.</p>
+
+<p>Notwithstanding Jacob went regularly to the post office twice every
+day, few letters came to hand, and but few of them contained bills of
+lading and invoices. The result of the first year's business was an
+income from commission on sales of seven hundred dollars. Against this
+were the items of one thousand dollars for personal expenses, five
+hundred dollars for store-rent, seven hundred dollars for clerk and
+porter, and for petty and contingent expenses, two hundred dollars;
+leaving the uncomfortable deficit of seventeen hundred dollars, which
+stood against him in the form of bills payable for sales effected, and
+small notes of accommodation borrowed from his friends.</p>
+
+<p>The result of the first year's business of his old employer's nephew
+was very different. The gross profits were three thousand dollars, and
+the expenses as follows: personal expense, seven hundred dollars&mdash;just
+what the young man's salary had previously been, and out of which he
+supported his mother and her family&mdash;store-rent, three hundred
+dollars; porter, two hundred and fifty, petty expenses one hundred
+dollars&mdash;in all, thirteen hundred and fifty dollars, leaving a net
+profit of sixteen hundred and fifty dollars. It will be seen that he
+did not go to the expense of a clerk during the first year. He
+preferred working a little harder, and keeping his own books, by which
+an important saving was effected.</p>
+
+<p>At the end of the second year, notwithstanding Jacob Jones' business
+more than doubled itself, he was compelled to wind up, and found
+himself twenty-five hundred dollars worse than nothing. Several of his
+unpaid bills to eastern houses were placed in suit, and as he lived in
+a state where imprisonment for debt still existed, he was compelled to
+go through the forms required by the insolvent laws, to keep clear of
+durance vile.</p>
+
+<p>At the very period when he was driven under by adverse gales, his
+young friend, who had gone into business about the same time, found
+himself under the necessity of employing a clerk. He offered Jones a
+salary of four hundred dollars, the most he believed himself yet
+justified in paying. This was accepted, and Jacob found himself once
+more standing upon <i>terra firma</i>, although the portion upon which his
+feet rested was very small, still it was <i>terra firma</i>&mdash;and that was
+something.</p>
+
+<p>The real causes of his ill success never for a moment occurred to the
+mind of Jacob. He considered himself an "unlucky dog."</p>
+
+<p>"Every thing that some people touch turns to money," he would
+sometimes say. "But I wasn't born under a lucky star."</p>
+
+<p>Instead of rigidly bringing down his expenses, as he ought to have
+done, to four hundred dollars, if he had had to live in a garret and
+cook his own food, Jacob went back to his old boarding-house, and
+paid<span class='pagenum'>[195]</span> four dollars a week. All his other expenses required at least
+eight dollars more to meet them. He was perfectly aware that he was
+living beyond his income&mdash;the exact excess he did not stop to
+ascertain&mdash;but he expected an increase of salary before long, as a
+matter of course, either in his present situation or in a new one. But
+no increase took place for two years, and then he was between three
+and four hundred dollars in debt to tailors, boot-makers, his
+landlady, and to sundry friends, to whom he applied for small sums of
+money in cases of emergency.</p>
+
+<p>One day about this time, two men were conversing together quite
+earnestly, as they walked leisurely along one of the principal streets
+of the city where Jacob resided. One was past the prime of life, and
+the other about twenty-two. They were father and son, and the subject
+of conversation related to the wish of the latter to enter into
+business. The father did not think the young man was possessed of
+sufficient knowledge of business, or experience, and was, therefore,
+desirous of associating some one with him who could make up these
+deficiencies. If he could find just the person that pleased him, he
+was ready to advance capital and credit to an amount somewhere within
+the neighborhood of twenty thousand dollars. For some months he had
+been thinking of Jacob, who was a first-rate salesman, had a good
+address, and was believed by him to possess business habits eminently
+conducive to success. The fact that he had once failed, was something
+of a drawback in his mind, but he had asked Jacob the reason of his
+ill-success, which was so plausibly explained, that he considered the
+young man as simply unfortunate in not having capital, and nothing
+else.</p>
+
+<p>"I think Mr. Jones just the right man for you," the father said, as
+they walked along.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know of any one with whom I had rather form a business
+connection. He is a man of good address, business habits, and, as far
+as I know, good principles."</p>
+
+<p>"Suppose you mention the subject to him this afternoon."</p>
+
+<p>This was agreed to. The two men then entered the shop of a fashionable
+tailor, for the purpose of ordering some clothes. While there, a man,
+having the appearance of a collector, came in, and drew the tailor
+aside. Their conversation was brief but earnest, and concluded by the
+tailor's saying, so loud that he could be heard by all who were
+standing near,</p>
+
+<p>"It's no use to waste your time with him any longer. Just hand over
+the account to Simpson, and let him take care of it."</p>
+
+<p>The collector turned away, and the tailor came back to his customers.</p>
+
+<p>"It is too bad," he said, "the way some of these young fellows do
+serve us. I have now several thousand dollars on my books against
+clerks who receive salaries large enough to support them handsomely,
+and I can't collect a dollar of it. There is Jacob Jones, whose
+account I have just ordered to be placed in the hands of a lawyer, he
+owes me nearly two hundred dollars, and I can't get a cent out of
+him. I call him little better than a scamp."</p>
+
+<p>The father and son exchanged glances of significance, but said
+nothing. The fate of Jacob Jones was sealed.</p>
+
+<p>"If that is the case," said the father, as they stepped into the
+street, "the less we have to do with him the better."</p>
+
+<p>To this the son assented. Another more prudent young man was selected,
+whose fortune was made.</p>
+
+<p>"When Jacob received lawyer Simpson's note, threatening a suit if the
+tailor's bill were not paid, he was greatly disturbed.</p>
+
+<p>"Am I not the most unfortunate man in the world?" he said to himself,
+by way of consolation. "After having paid him so much money, to be
+served like this. It is too bad. But this is the way of the world. Let
+a poor devil once get a little under the weather, and every one must
+have a kick at him."</p>
+
+<p>In this dilemma poor Jacob had to call upon the tailor and beg him for
+further time. This was humiliating, especially as the tailor was
+considerably out of humor, and disposed to be hard with him. A threat
+to apply for the benefit of the insolvent law again, if a suit was
+pressed to an issue, finally induced the tailor to waive legal
+proceedings for the present, and Jacob had the immediate terrors of
+the law taken from before his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>This event set Jacob to thinking and calculating, what he had never
+before deemed necessary in his private affairs. The result did not
+make him feel any happier. To his astonishment he ascertained that he
+owed more than the whole of his next year's salary would pay, while
+that was not in itself sufficient to meet his current expenses.</p>
+
+<p>For some weeks after this discovery of the real state of his affairs,
+Jacob was very unhappy. He applied for an increase of salary, and
+obtained the addition of one hundred dollars per annum. This was
+something, which was about all that could be said. If he could live on
+four hundred dollars a year, which he had never yet been able to do,
+the addition to his salary would not pay his tailor's bill within two
+years; and what was he to do with boot-maker, landlady, and others?</p>
+
+<p>It happened about this time that a clerk in the bank where his old
+employer was a director, died. His salary had been one thousand
+dollars. For the vacant place Jacob made immediate application, and
+was so fortunate as to secure it.</p>
+
+<p>Under other circumstances, Jacob would have refused a salary of
+fifteen hundred dollars in a bank against five hundred in a
+counting-room, and for the reason that a bank, or office clerk, has
+little or no hope beyond his salary all his life, while a
+counting-house clerk, if he have any aptness for trade, stands a fair
+chance of getting into business sooner or later, and making his
+fortune as a merchant. But a debt of four hundred dollars hanging over
+his head, was an argument in favor of a clerkship in the bank, at a
+salary of a thousand dollars a year, not to be resisted.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll keep it until I get even with the world<span class='pagenum'>[196]</span> again," he consoled
+himself by saying, "and then I'll go back into a counting-room. I've
+an ambition above being a bank clerk all my life."</p>
+
+<p>Painful experience had made Jacob a little wiser. For the first time
+in his life he commenced keeping an account of his personal expenses.
+This acted as a salutary check upon his bad habit of spending money
+for every little thing that happened to strike his fancy, and enabled
+him to clear off his whole debt within the first year. Unwisely,
+however, he had, during this time, promised to pay some old debts,
+from which the law had released him. The persons holding these claims,
+finding him in the receipt of a higher salary, made an appeal to his
+honor, which, like an honest, but not a prudent man, he responded to
+by a promise of payment as soon as it was in his power. But little
+time elapsed after these promises were made, before he found himself
+in the hands of constables and magistrates, and was only saved from
+imprisonment by getting friends to go his bail for six and nine
+months. In order to secure them, he had to give an order in advance
+for his salary. To get these burdens off of his shoulders, it took
+twelve months longer, and then he was nearly thirty years of age.</p>
+
+<p>"Thirty years old!" he said, to himself on his thirtieth birth-day.
+"Can it be possible? Long before this I ought to have been doing a
+flourishing business, and here I am, nothing but a bank clerk, with
+the prospect of never rising a step higher as long as I live. I don't
+know how it is that some people get along so well in the world. I am
+sure I am as industrious, and can do business as well as any man; but
+here I am still at the point from which I started twenty years ago. I
+can't understand it. I'm afraid there's more in luck than I'm willing
+to believe."</p>
+
+<p>From this time Jacob set himself to work to obtain a situation in some
+store or counting-room, and finally, after looking about for nearly a
+year, was fortunate enough to obtain a good place, as book-keeper and
+salesman, with a wholesale grocer and commission merchant. Seven
+hundred dollars was to be his salary. His friends called him a fool
+for giving up an easy place at one thousand a year, for a hard one at
+seven hundred. But the act was a much wiser one than many others of
+his life.</p>
+
+<p>Instead of saving money during the third year of his receipt of one
+thousand dollars, he spent the whole of his salary, without paying off
+a single old debt. His private account-keeping had continued through a
+year and a half. After that it was abandoned. Had it been continued,
+it might have saved him three or four hundred dollars, which were now
+all gone, and nothing to show for them. Poor Jacob! experience did not
+make him much wiser.</p>
+
+<p>Two years passed, and at least half a dozen young men here and there
+around our friend Jacob, went into business, either as partners in
+some old houses, or under the auspices of relatives or interested
+friends. But there appeared no opening for him. He did not know, that
+many times during that period, he had been the subject of conversation
+between parties, one or both of which were looking out for a man of
+thorough business qualifications against which capital would be
+placed; nor the fact, that either his first failure, his improvidence,
+or something else personal to himself, had caused him to be set aside
+for some other one not near so capable.</p>
+
+<p>He was lamenting his ill-luck one day, when a young man with whom he
+was very well acquainted, and who was clerk in a neighboring store,
+called in and said that he wanted to have some talk with him about a
+matter of interest to both.</p>
+
+<p>"First of all, Mr. Jones," said the young man, after they were alone,
+"how much capital could you raise by a strong effort?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am sure I don't know," replied Jacob, not in a very cheerful tone.
+"I never was lucky in having friends ready to assist me."</p>
+
+<p>"Well! perhaps there will be no need of that. You have had a good
+salary for four or five years&mdash;how much have you saved? Enough,
+probably, to answer every purpose&mdash;that is, if you are willing to join
+me in taking advantage of one of the best openings for business that
+has offered for a long time. I have a thousand dollars in the savings
+bank. You have as much, or more, I presume?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am sorry to say I have not," was poor Jacob's reply, in a
+desponding voice. "I was unfortunate in business some years ago, and
+my old debts have drained away from me every dollar I could earn."</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed! that is very unfortunate. I was in hopes you could furnish a
+thousand dollars."</p>
+
+<p>"I might borrow it, perhaps, if the chance is a very good one."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, if you could do that, it would be as well, I suppose," returned
+the young man. "But you must see about it immediately. If you cannot
+join me at once, I must find some one who will, for the chance is too
+good to be lost."</p>
+
+<p>Jacob got a full statement of the business proposed, its nature and
+prospects, and then laid the matter before the three merchants with
+whom he had at different times lived in the capacity of clerk, and
+begged them to advance him the required capital. The subject was taken
+up by them and seriously considered. They all liked Jacob, and felt
+willing to promote his interests, but had little or no confidence in
+his ultimate success, on account of his want of economy in personal
+matters. It was very justly remarked by one of them, that this want of
+economy, and the judicious use of money in personal matters, would go
+with him in business, and mar all his prospects. Still, as they had
+great confidence in the other man, they agreed to advance, jointly,
+the sum needed.</p>
+
+<p>In the meantime, the young man who had made the proposition to Jacob,
+when he learned that he had once failed in business, was still in
+debt, and liable to have claims pushed against him, (this he inferred
+from Jacob's having stretched the truth, by saying that his old debts
+drained away from him every dollar, when the fact was he was freed
+from them by the provisions of the insolvent law of the state,)<span class='pagenum'>[197]</span> came
+to the conclusion that a business connection with him was a thing to
+be avoided rather than sought after. He accordingly turned his
+thoughts in another quarter, and when Jones called to inform him that
+he had raised the capital needed, he was coolly told that it was too
+late, he having an hour before closed a partnership arrangement with
+another person, under the belief that Jones could not advance the
+money required.</p>
+
+<p>This was a bitter disappointment, and soured the mind of Jacob against
+his fellow man, and against the fates also, which he alledged were all
+combined against him. His own share in the matter was a thing
+undreamed of. He believed himself far better qualified for business
+than the one who had been preferred before him, and he had the
+thousand dollars to advance. It must be his luck that was against him,
+nothing else; he could come to no other conclusion. Other people could
+get along in the world, but he couldn't. That was the great mystery of
+his life.</p>
+
+<p>For two years Jacob had been waiting to get married. He had not wished
+to take this step before entering into business, and having a fair
+prospect before him. But years were creeping on him apace, and the
+fair object of his affections seemed weary of delay.</p>
+
+<p>"It is no use to wait any longer," he said, after this dashing of his
+cup to the earth. "Luck is against me. I shall never be any thing but
+a poor devil of a clerk. If Clara is willing to share my humble lot,
+we might as well be married first as last."</p>
+
+<p>Clara was not unwilling, and Jacob Jones entered into the estate
+connubial, and took upon him the cares of a family, with a salary of
+seven hundred dollars a year to sustain the new relation. Instead of
+taking cheap boarding, or renting a couple of rooms, and commencing
+housekeeping in a small way, Jacob saw but one course before him, and
+that was to rent a genteel house, go in debt for genteel furniture,
+and keep two servants. Two years was the longest that he could bear up
+under this state of things, when he was sold out by the sheriff, and
+forced "to go through the mill again," as taking the benefit of the
+insolvent law was facetiously called.</p>
+
+<p>"Poor fellow! he has a hard time of it. I wonder why it is that he
+gets along so badly. He is an industrious man, and regular in his
+habits. It is strange. But some men seem born to ill-luck."</p>
+
+<p>So said some of his pitying friends. Others understood the matter
+better.</p>
+
+<p>Ten years have passed, and Jacob is still a clerk, but not in a store.
+Hopeless of getting into business, he applied for a vacancy that
+occurred in an insurance company, and received the appointment, which
+he still holds, at a salary of twelve hundred dollars a year. After
+being sold out three times by the sheriff, and having the deep
+mortification of seeing her husband brought down to the humiliating
+necessity of applying as often for the benefit of the insolvent law,
+Mrs. Jones took affairs, by consent of her husband, into her own
+hands, and managed them with such prudence and economy that,
+notwithstanding they have five children, the expenses, all told, are
+not over eight hundred dollars a year, and half of the surplus, four
+hundred dollars, is appropriated to the liquidation of debts
+contracted since their marriage, and the other half deposited in the
+savings' bank, as a fund for the education of their children in the
+higher branches, when they reach a more advanced age.</p>
+
+<p>To this day it is a matter of wonder to Jacob Jones why he could never
+get along in the world like some people; and he has come to the
+settled conviction that it is his "luck."</p>
+<br /><br />
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3><a name="THE_DARLING" id="THE_DARLING"></a>THE DARLING.</h3>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+<h5>BY BLANCHE BENNAIRDE.</h5>
+<hr class="short" />
+<br />
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">When first we saw her face, so dimpled o'er<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With smiles of sweetest charm, we said within<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Our inmost heart, that ne'er on earth before<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Had so much passing beauty ever been:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So full of sweetest grace, so fair to see&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This treasure bright our babe in infancy.<br /></span>
+</div><br /><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Like blush of roses was the tint of health<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">O'erspread her lovely cheeks; and they might vie<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In beauty with the fairest flower&mdash;nor wealth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Though told in countless millions, e'er could buy<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The radiance of this gem, than aught more bright<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which lies in hidden mine, or saw the light.<br /></span>
+</div><br /><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The dawn of life was fair; so was its morn;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">For with each day new beauties met our view,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And well we deemed that she, the dear first-born,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Might early fade, like flowers that earth bestrew<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With all their cherished beauty, leaving naught<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But faded leaves where once their forms were sought.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">She smiled upon us, and her spirit fled<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To taste the pleasures of that fairer land,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where angels ever dwell&mdash;she is not dead;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">But there with them her beauteous form doth stand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Arrayed in flowing light, before the throne<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of Him whose name is Love&mdash;the Holy One.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">She was our choicest bud, our precious flower;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">But now she blooms in that celestial place,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where naught can spoil the pleasure of an hour,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Nor from its beauty one bright line efface&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where all is one perpetual scene of bliss,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unmixed with sin; all perfect happiness.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The darling then is safe, secure from ill;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Why should we mourn that she hath left this earth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When in that brighter land she bloometh still,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">A flower more perfect, of celestial birth?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Let us submit, and own His righteous care<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who doeth well; striving to meet her there.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<br /><br />
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3><a name="BATTLE_OF_FORT_MOULTRIE1" id="BATTLE_OF_FORT_MOULTRIE1"></a>
+BATTLE OF FORT MOULTRIE.<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a>
+<a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></h3>
+<span class='pagenum'>[198]</span>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+<h5>BY CHARLES J. PETERSON.</h5>
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<p>When the news of the battle of Lexington reached Charleston, South
+Carolina rose in commotion. The provincial Congress, which had
+adjourned, immediately re-assembled. Two regiments of foot and one of
+horse were ordered to be raised; measures were taken to procure
+powder; and every preparation made for the war which was now seen to
+be inevitable. A danger of a vital character speedily threatened the
+colony. This was its invasion by the British; a project which had long
+been entertained by the royal generals. To provide in time for
+defeating it, Congress had dispatched General Lee to the South. It was
+not until the beginning of the summer of 1776, however, that the
+enemy's armament set sail from New York, consisting of a large fleet
+of transports with a competent land force, commanded by Sir Henry
+Clinton, and attended by a squadron of nine men-of-war, led by Sir
+Peter Parker. On the arrival of this expedition off the coast, all was
+terror and confusion among the South Carolinians. Energetic measures
+were, however, adopted to repel the attack.</p>
+
+<p>To defend their capital the inhabitants constructed on Sullivan's
+Island, near the entrance of their harbor, and about four miles from
+the city, a rude fort of palmetto logs, the command of which was given
+to Col. Moultrie. Never, perhaps, was a more inartificial defence
+relied on in so great an emergency. The form of the fort was square,
+with a bastion at each angle; it was built of logs based on each other
+in parallel rows, at a distance of sixteen feet. Other logs were bound
+together at frequent intervals with timber dove-tailed and bolted into
+them. The spaces between were filled up with sand. The merlons were
+faced with palmetto logs. All the industry of the Carolinians,
+however, was insufficient to complete the fort in time; and when the
+British fleet entered the harbor, the defences were little more than a
+single front facing the water. The whole force of Col. Moultrie was
+four hundred and thirty-five, rank and file; his armament consisted of
+nine French twenty-sixes, fourteen English eighteens, nine twelve and
+seven nine pounders. Finding the fort could be easily enfiladed, Gen.
+Lee advised abandoning it; but the governor refused, telling Moultrie
+to keep his post, until he himself ordered the retreat. Moultrie, on
+his part, required no urging to adopt this more heroic course. A
+spectator happening to say, that in half an hour the enemy would knock
+the fort to pieces. "Then," replied Moultrie, undauntedly, "we will
+lie behind the ruins, and prevent their men from landing." Lee with
+many fears left the island, and repairing to his camp on the main
+land, prepared to cover the retreat of the garrison, which he
+considered inevitable.</p>
+
+<p>There was, perhaps, more of bravado than of sound military policy in
+attacking this fort at all, since the English fleet might easily have
+run the gauntlet of it, as was done a few years later. But Fort
+Moultrie was destined to be to the navy what Bunker Hill had been to
+the army. It was in consequence of excess of scorn for his enemy, that
+Sir Peter Parker, disdaining to leave such a place in his rear,
+resolved on its total demolition. He had no doubt but that, in an hour
+at the utmost, he could make the unpracticed Carolinians glad to sue
+for peace on any terms. Accordingly on the 28th of June, 1776, he
+entered the harbor, in all the parade of his proud ships, nine in
+number, and drawing up abreast the fort, let go his anchors with
+springs upon his cables, and began a furious cannonade. Meanwhile
+terror reigned in Charleston. As the sound of the first gun went
+booming over the waters toward the town, the trembling inhabitants who
+had been crowding the wharves and lining the house-tops since early
+morning, turned pale with ominous forebodings. Nor were the feelings
+of the defenders of the fort less anxious. Looking off, over the low
+island intervening between them and the city, they could see the
+gleaming walls of their distant homes; and their imaginations conjured
+up the picture of those dear habitations given to the flames, as
+another Charlestown had been, a twelve-month before, and the still
+dearer wives that inhabited them, cast houseless upon the world. As
+they turned from this spectacle, and watched the haughty approach of
+the enemy, at every motion betraying confidence of success, their eyes
+kindled with indignant feelings, and they silently swore to make good
+the words of their leader, by perishing, if need were, under the ruins
+of the fort.</p>
+
+<p>One by one the British men-of-war gallantly approached the stations
+assigned them, Sir Peter Parker, in the Bristol, leading the van. The
+Experiment, another fifty gun ship, came close after, and both dropped
+their anchors in succession directly abreast the fort. The other
+frigates followed, and ranged themselves as supports. The remaining
+vessels were still working up to their stations, when the first gun
+was fired, and instantly the battle begun. The quantity of powder on
+the island being small, five thousand pounds in all, there was an
+absolute necessity that there should be no waste. Accordingly, the
+field-officers pointed the pieces in person, and the words "look to
+the commodore&mdash;look to the two-deckers!" passed along the line. The
+conflict soon grew terrific. The balls whistled above the<span class='pagenum'>[199]</span> heads of
+the defenders, and bombs fell thick and fast within the fort; yet, in
+the excitement of the moment, the men seemed totally unconscious of
+danger. Occasionally a shot from one of their cannon, striking the
+hull of the flag-ship, would send the splinters flying into the air;
+and then a loud huzza would burst from those who worked the guns; but,
+except in instances like this, the patriots fought in stern and solemn
+silence. Once, when it was seen that the three men-of-war working up
+to join the conflict, had become entangled among the shoals, and would
+not probably be enabled to join in the fight, a general and prolonged
+cheer went down the line, and taken up a second and third time, rose,
+like an exulting strain, over all the uproar of the strife.</p>
+
+<p>The incessant cannonade soon darkened the prospect, the smoke lying
+packed along the surface of the water; while a thousand fiery tongues,
+as from some hundred-headed monster, shot out incessantly, and licking
+the air a moment, were gone forever. Occasionally this thick, cloudy
+veil concealed all but the spars of the enemy from sight, and then the
+tall masts seemed rising, by some potent spell, out of nothing;
+occasionally the terrific explosions would rend and tear asunder the
+curtain, and, for an instant, the black hulls would loom out
+threateningly, and then disappear. The roar of three hundred guns
+shook the island and fort unremittingly: the water that washed the
+sand-beach, gasped with a quick ebb and flow, under the concussions.
+Higher and higher, the sun mounted to the zenith, yet still the battle
+continued. The heat was excessive; but casting aside their coats, the
+men breathed themselves a minute, and returned to the fight. The city
+was now hidden from view, by low banks of smoke, which extending right
+and left along the water, bounded the horizon on two sides. Yet the
+defenders of the fort still thought of the thousands anxiously
+watching them from Charleston, or of the wives and mothers, trembling
+at every explosion for the lives of those they loved. One of their
+number soon fell mortally wounded. Gasping and in agony, he was
+carried by. "Do not give up," he had still strength to say; "you are
+fighting for liberty and country." Who that heard these words could
+think of surrender?</p>
+
+<p>Noon came and went, yet still the awful struggle continued. Suddenly a
+shot struck the flag-staff, and the banner, which had waved in that
+lurid atmosphere all day, fell on the beach outside the fort. For a
+moment there was a pause, as if at a presage of disaster. Then a
+grenadier, the brave and immortal Serjeant Jasper, sprang upon the
+parapet, leaped down to the beach, and passing along nearly the whole
+front of the fort, exposed to the full fire of the enemy, deliberately
+cut off the bunting from the shattered mast, called for a sponge staff
+to be thrown to him, and tying the flag to this, clambered up the
+ramparts and replaced the banner, amid the cheers of his companions.
+Far away, in the city, there had been those who saw, through their
+telescopes, the fall of that flag; and, as the news went around, a
+chill of horror froze every heart, for it was thought the place had
+surrendered. But soon a slight staff was seen uplifted at one of the
+angles: it bore, clinging to it, something like bunting: the breeze
+struck it, the bundle unrolled, it was the flag of America! Hope
+danced again through every heart. Some burst into tears; some laughed
+hysterically; some gave way to outcries and huzzas of delight. As the
+hours wore on, however, new causes for apprehension arose. The fire of
+the fort was perceived to slacken. Could it be that its brave
+defenders, after such a glorious struggle, had at last given in? Again
+hope yielded to doubt, almost to despair; the feeling was the more
+terrible from the late exhilaration. Already, in fancy, the enemy was
+seen approaching the city. Wives began trembling for their husbands,
+who had rendered themselves conspicuous on the patriotic side: mothers
+clasped their infants, whose sires, they thought, had perished in the
+fight, and, in silent agony, prayed God to protect the fatherless.
+Thus passed an hour of the wildest anxiety and alarm. At last
+intelligence was brought that the fire had slackened only for want of
+powder; that a supply had since been secured; and that the cannonade
+would soon be resumed. In a short time these predictions were
+verified, and the air again shook with distant concussions. Thus the
+afternoon passed. Sunset approached, yet the fight raged. Slowly the
+great luminary of day sank in the west, and twilight, cold and calm,
+threw its shadows across the waters; yet still the fight raged. The
+stars came out, twinkling sharp and clear, in that half tropical sky:
+yet still the fight raged. The hum of the day had now subsided, and
+the cicada was heard trilling its note on the night-air: all was quiet
+and serene in the city: yet still the fight raged. The dull, heavy
+reports of the distant artillery boomed louder across the water, and
+the dark curtain of smoke that nearly concealed the ships and fort,
+grew luminous with incessant flashes. The fight still raged. At last
+the frequency of the discharges perceptibly lessened, and gradually,
+toward ten o'clock, ceased altogether. The ships of the enemy were now
+seen moving from their position, and making their way slowly, as if
+crippled and weary, out of the harbor: and, at that sight, most of the
+population, losing their anxiety, returned to their dwellings; though
+crowds still lined some of the wharves, waiting for authentic
+messengers from the fight, and peering into the gathering gloom, to
+detect the approach of the first boat.</p>
+
+<p>The loss of the enemy had been excessive. The flag-ship, the Bristol,
+had forty-four men killed, and thirty wounded: the Experiment, another
+fifty gun ship, fifty-seven killed, and thirty wounded. All the ships
+were much cut up: the two-deckers terribly so; and one of the
+frigates, the Acteon, running aground, was burnt. The last shot fired
+from the fort entered the cabin of Sir Peter Parker's ship, cut down
+two young officers who were drinking there, and passing forward,
+killed three sailors on the main-deck, then passed out and buried
+itself in the sea. The loss on the American side was inconsiderable:
+twelve killed, and about twenty-five wounded. During the battle, the
+earnest zeal of the men was occasionally relieved by moments of
+merriment. A coat,<span class='pagenum'>[200]</span> having been thrown on the top of one of the
+merlons, was caught by a shot, and lodged in a tree, at which sight a
+general peal of laughter was heard. Moultrie sat coolly smoking his
+pipe during the conflict, occasionally taking it from his mouth to
+issue an order. Once, while the battle was in progress, General Lee
+came off to the island, but, finding every thing so prosperous, soon
+returned to his camp. The supply of powder which was obtained during
+the battle, and which enabled the patriots to resume the fight, was
+procured, part from a schooner in the harbor, part from the city.
+Unbounded enthusiasm, on the side of the inhabitants, hailed the
+gallant defenders of the fort after the victory: Moultrie received the
+thanks of Congress, was elevated to the rank of brigadier-general, and
+was honored by having the post he had defended called after his name.
+A stand of colors was presented, by Mrs. Elliott, to the men of his
+regiment, with the belief, she said, "that they would stand by them,
+as long as they could wave in the air of liberty." It was in guarding
+these colors, and perhaps in the recollection of her words, that the
+brave Serjeant Jasper lost his life, subsequently, at the siege of
+Savannah.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3><a name="THE_POETS_LOVE" id="THE_POETS_LOVE"></a>THE POET'S LOVE.</h3>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+<h5>BY HENRY B. HIRST.</h5>
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<h4>[THE POET COMMUNETH WITH HIS SOUL.]</h4>
+<br />
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Thou hast a heart," my spirit said;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Seek out a kindred one, and wed:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So passes grief, comes joy instead."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"True, Soul, I have," I quick replied;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"But in this weary world and wide<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That other hath my search defied."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Poet, thou hast an eye to see;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou knowest all things as they be;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The spheres are open books to thee.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Thou art a missioned creature, sent<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To preach of beauty&mdash;teach content:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In life's Sahara pitch thy tent!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"It is not good to be alone&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not fit for any living one&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There's nothing single save the sun.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Beasts, fishes, birds&mdash;yea, atoms mate,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Acknowledging an ordered fate:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What dost thou in a single state?"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"O, Soul!" I bitterly replied,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For I was full of haughty pride,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Would in my birth that I had died!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"I feel what thou hast said is truth;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But I am past the bloom of youth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Beauty's eye has lost its ruth.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"I languish for some gentle heart<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To throb with mine, devoid of art,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Perfect and pure in every part&mdash;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Some innocent heart whose pulse's tone<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Should beat in echo of mine own,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where I might reign and reign alone."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"All this, and more, thy love might win,"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My spirit urged, "poor Child of Sin,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That sickenest in this rude world's din.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Love is a way-side plant: go forth<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And pluck&mdash;love has no thorns for worth&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The blossom from its place of birth.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Perchance, on thee may Beauty's queen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Fortune's, look, with smiling mien&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With eyes, whose lids hold love between."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Spirit, I am of little worth,"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Said I&mdash;"an erring child of earth:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet fain would own a happy hearth.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Mere beauty, though it drowns my soul<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With sunshine, may not be my goal;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And love despises gold's control.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Better the riches of the mind&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A spirit toward the spheres inclined&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A heart that veers not with the wind.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"She might be beautiful, and gold<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Might clasp her in its ruddy fold&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Have lands and tenements to hold:<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"She might be poor&mdash;it were the same<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If lofty, or of lowly name,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">If famous, or unknown to fame:<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"But she must feel the brotherhood<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I feel for man&mdash;the love of good;&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Life is at best an interlude,<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"And we must act our parts so here,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That, when we reach a loftier sphere,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Our memories shall not shed a tear.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"With such a one, if fair or brown&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gracing a cottage, or a throne&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Soul, I could live and love unknown!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Yes, gazing upward in her eye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Scan what was passing in its sky,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And swoon, and dream, and, dreaming, die."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"There is none such," my spirit sighed.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Seek glory: woo her for thy bride.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And perish, and be deified!"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Why, Soul," I said, "the thought of fame,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of winning an exalted name,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Might woo me, but my heart would blame<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"The coldness that compelled me forth.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No: somewhere on this lower earth<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The angel that I seek has birth.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"If not, I will so worship here<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her type, that I shall joy, not <i>fear</i>&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To meet her in her holier sphere."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<br /><br />
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3><a name="MARY_WARNER" id="MARY_WARNER"></a>MARY WARNER.</h3>
+<span class='pagenum'>[201]</span>
+<h4>OR THE HEAD AND THE HEART.</h4>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+<h5>BY MRS. E. L. B. COWDERY.</h5>
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<p>"What a happy girl is Mary Warner," said an elderly lady, as a bright
+laughing girl turned into another room.</p>
+
+<p>"And so exceedingly lively and cheerful, for one of her years,"
+rejoined another.</p>
+
+<p>"Years! How old is she?"</p>
+
+<p>"About twenty-four," said a third, who had hitherto been silent, "and
+yet no one, to see her, would think it."</p>
+
+<p>So thought the world, who in their most scrutinizing glance could
+detect no indication of care or gloom, in this, the object of their
+observations, who was one of those bright, intelligent beings, ever
+ready for conversation, and whose sallies of wit, never failed to
+excite the attention of those around her. "Little did they know of my
+aching heart," said Mary, that evening, to one in whom she had
+confided much of her former history; for years had passed since she
+had left the grave of her mother, and her native home, on "New
+England's rocky shore," to wander forth with her father to the western
+wilds. "Little did they know of the bitterness of soul I felt while
+making merriment for them."</p>
+
+<p>"How can you so control your feelings, while endeavoring to conceal
+them, with such an excess of gayety?" eagerly inquired Ella.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! that is the work of time and necessity. Time has schooled my
+heart to hide behind the covering I might think best to wear. Were my
+history known, my name would be the theme of every tongue, the
+derision of the stoical, the pity of the simple, and exposed to the
+ridicule of a heartless and unfeeling world. The head must dictate and
+govern my actions, all else submitting. Yet nothing can equal the
+wretchedness of trying to conceal with smiles the bitter struggles of
+a wounded spirit, whose every hope hath perished. Eye may not pierce
+through the laughing cover, or ear catch the breathing of a sigh. Even
+sympathy seems like those cold blasts of a November night, seeking the
+hidden recess only to chill its peace forever."</p>
+
+<p>"But do you not," said Ella, "enjoy something of that mirth which you
+inspire in others?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sometimes the excitement is sufficient to make me forget, for a
+moment, the past, but then it is followed by such a depression that
+the feeble clay well nigh sinks beneath it. Misery pays her tribute to
+all my revelry."</p>
+
+<p>"Then never will I again wish for Mary Warner's light and joyous air,"
+said Ella, her cheek flushed with agitation, for being one of those
+sober ones, whose words were ever the thoughts of her heart, she had
+often wished for Mary's power to charm.</p>
+
+<p>Weeks and months had rolled away, until they had numbered years. The
+friends had parted. Ella's calm face still cheered the domestic
+fireside, and Mary was gliding in crowded halls, the gayest of the
+gay. No voice more musical than hers, or tones more sprightly; she
+moved as a creature of enchantment, her image fastening upon the minds
+and memories of all. But Ella was not forgotten or neglected; they
+often corresponded. Mary's letters told but too truly how much those
+scenes were enjoyed by her. In answer to an invitation to come and
+spend the summer in the retirement of Ella's home, she says, "Even in
+this giddy place my heart is full to bursting; should I allow myself
+more time for meditation it would surely break, and pour forth its
+lava streams on the thirsty dust of human pride. In the dark,
+cheerless hour of midnight, my burning, throbbing brain still keeps
+its restless beating, scarce bestowing the poor refreshment of a
+feverish dream to strengthen the earthly tenement. My health is
+failing; there will soon be nothing left for me but the drifts of
+thought and memory, which gather around a weary past and blighted
+future."</p>
+
+<p>It was in vain that Ella tried to place on parchment words of soothing
+and consolation&mdash;to draw her thoughts from lingering around the ruined
+wreck of her affections, and direct them to the "hope set before" her,
+of obtaining through the merits of the Savior a home "where the wicked
+cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest." Every letter she
+received came burthened with its own weight of wo.</p>
+
+<p>The summer passed&mdash;its roses bloomed and died. Another autumn came and
+whistled by; but ere the winter's snow had melted, there were anxious
+thoughts concerning Mary Warner. Never before had so long a time
+elapsed without a letter from her to Ella. The first crocuses of
+spring had just begun to smile when a letter came, written by a
+stranger's hand! It told of Mary's being sick even unto death, and
+begged of Ella, as she loved her friend, to come and remain with her
+while yet life's taper burned. It was a fearful summons thus to break
+the suspending spell. That evening saw Ella sitting in the cabin of
+one of those large steamers which ply the western waters, anxiously
+wending her way to a retired yet pleasant village near the Ohio, for
+Mary's sadly declining health could no more mingle in the excitement
+of the city, and she had retreated to this lonely place to lay down
+her shattered frame in peace. The night of the second day brought Ella
+to the place of destination. She entered the house where Mary was,
+almost unconscious of the manner in which<span class='pagenum'>[202]</span> she introduced herself as
+Mary Warner's friend. That was enough; an elderly lady clasped her
+hand and bade her welcome. "Oh!" said she, "'tis a strange sight to be
+in her sick room. Poor thing! she is nearly gone, and still so lively;
+and, too, this morning when I went in, I know she had been weeping."</p>
+
+<p>"Did she ever mention me?" said Ella.</p>
+
+<p>"Last night she said if you would come, that she could die contented."</p>
+
+<p>"Then lead me to her quickly."</p>
+
+<p>They silently bent their steps to the sick chamber, and coming to the
+door, both made an involuntary pause.</p>
+
+<p>"She is sleeping," said the old lady, softly; but Ella was too much
+struck to make reply. She was thinking of the dreadful changes which
+had come over that frail being since last they met. Worn down to a
+skeleton, her lips compressed, as if in agony, her dark hair thrown
+back upon her shoulders, while her cheeks were pale as the marble so
+soon to be raised in her memory, which, with the glimmering of the
+lights, served to make it a too dismal scene. Staggering forward to a
+chair, she sat down quickly, but in the agitation there was a slight
+noise&mdash;it awakened the sleeper; a moment passed&mdash;they were in each
+others arms. When the first wild burst of joy had passed away, Mary
+spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"Sit down here, Ella&mdash;I want to be alone with you; I feared that I
+might die before you came;" a convulsive shuddering passing over her,
+as she spoke of death. "I want to give you my history. 'T is? a dark
+picture, and yet it has all been mine."</p>
+
+<p>"But are you not too weak and agitated?" asked the warm-hearted
+friend.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no! that sweet, quiet sleep has so refreshed me, that I feel
+almost like another being&mdash;and I shall be very brief. But to my story.
+You recollect my having often told you that I never set my heart on an
+earthly object but I was doomed to bear a bitter disappointment. That
+wary, stubborn rock, encircled by the whirl of youthful and
+enthusiastic feeling, which, in life's earlier years, drew within its
+circled waves my frail bark of love and hope, then cast it forth&mdash;a
+wreck forever.</p>
+
+<p>"In the village in which I was raised, lived one who shared with me
+the sports of childhood; and as we grew older, partook of the
+recreations and amusements of the young together. There was a strange
+similarity in our tastes and dispositions; and we consequently spent
+much of our time in each others society. There were those who
+sometimes smiled to see a young and sunny-haired youth so constantly
+with the sensitive, shrinking Mary Warner; but then they knew we were
+playmates from childhood, and thought no more. Mother was dead, and I
+was under the guidance of my remaining parent, an only child&mdash;an
+idolized and favored one; and in my sixteenth year, claimed as the
+bride of Samuel Wayland. Parental judgment frowned, and called it
+folly. What could I do? Our faith had long been plighted, but filial
+respect demanded that should be laid aside; yet what was I to find in
+the future, that would ever repay for the love so vainly wasted. It
+was all a blank. I nerved my heart for our last meeting&mdash;but the
+strings were fibrous, and they broke.</p>
+
+<p>"'I shall go to the West, and then you must forget me,' said I, when
+we came to part.</p>
+
+<p>"'Never, Mary, will you, can you be forgotten!'</p>
+
+<p>"We parted there, forever. He is still living, a lone wanderer on the
+earth; we have never had any communications; but there is a unity of
+feeling, a oneness of spirit, that at times make me feel as if we were
+scarcely separated. I enjoy a pleasure in thinking of his memory, a
+confidence that would trust him any where in this wide world; and I
+now believe that wherever he is, his heart is still true to me. As for
+me, I have hurried through life like a 'storm-stricken bird,' no rest
+from the busy scenes in which I mingled. Since then, there have been
+proposals in which honor, wealth, and distinction were connected; and
+once I had well nigh sold myself for interest, and to please my
+father. We were promised, and I was congratulated on my happy
+prospects; but, alas! alas, for me; the more memory reverted to the
+past, my feelings revolted from the present. I sometimes used to stand
+where I could see him pass in the street, and exclaim 'oh, heaven! can
+I marry that man! can I stand before God's altar, and promise to love
+and honor him, when I abhor his presence.' Time was hasting; one night
+I went down into the study; father was sitting there.</p>
+
+<p>"'Well, Mary,' said he, 'I suppose you will leave us soon.'</p>
+
+<p>"That was enough for my pent-up feelings to break forth. 'I suppose
+so,' said I, 'but, oh! father, I would rather see my grave open
+to-morrow, than to think of uniting my destiny with that man. My very
+soul detests him."</p>
+
+<p>"Mary, sit down now, and write a letter to Mr. M&mdash;&mdash;, that you cannot
+keep your promise, and the reason why. Far would it be from me to
+place in the hands of my only daughter, the cup of misery unmixed. My
+judgment and your feelings differ.'</p>
+
+<p>"It was late that night when I sealed the fated letter for M&mdash;&mdash;; but
+I retired and slept easy, there was a burden removed which had
+well-nigh crushed me. What I have experienced since, words may never
+tell; the young have deemed me impenetrable to the natural
+susceptibilities of our natures, while the old have called me
+trifling. But, Ella, depend upon it, a heart once truly given, can
+never be bestowed again. I have erred in trying to conceal my history
+in the manner I have. Instead of placing my dependance on the goodness
+of the Most High, and seeking for that balm which heals the wounded
+spirit, and acquiring a calmness of mind which would render me in a
+measure happy, I plunged into the vortex of worldly pleasure. But it
+is all over now; they say I have the consumption, and pity me, to
+think one so joyous should have to die. To-day has been spent mostly
+in meditation; and I have tried to pray that my Savior would give me
+grace for a dying hour; and, Ella, will you kneel at my bedside and
+pray as you used to, when a young, trembling girl?"<span class='pagenum'>[203]</span></p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I will pray for you again," said Ella; "but take this cordial to
+revive your exhausted frame."</p>
+
+<p>As the friend raised the refreshing draught, she marked such a change
+in Mary's countenance, that her heart quailed at the thought of the
+terrible vigil she was keeping, in the silence of night, alone. She
+kneeled by the sick, and offered up her prayer with an energy unknown
+to her before, such a one as a heart strong in faith, and nerved by
+love and fear alone could dictate; a pleading, borne on high by the
+angel of might, for the strengthening of the immortal soul in
+prison-clay before her. There was a sigh and a groan; she rose hastily
+and bent over the couch&mdash;there was a gasping for breath, and all was
+still. Ella's desolate shriek of anguish first told the tale, that
+Mary was dead.</p>
+
+<p>Thus passed again to the Giver, a mind entrusted with high powers, and
+uncontrolled affections, who, in the waywardness of youth, cast
+unreservedly at the shrine of idolatrous love, her all of earthly
+hopes, then wandered forth with naught but their ashes, in the
+treasured urn of past remembrance, seeking to cover that with the
+mantle of the world's glittering folly.</p>
+<br /><br />
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3><a name="TO_THE_AUTHOR_OF_THE_RAVEN" id="TO_THE_AUTHOR_OF_THE_RAVEN"></a>TO THE AUTHOR OF "THE RAVEN."</h3>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+<h5>BY MISS HARRIET B. WINSLOW.</h5>
+<hr class="short" />
+<br />
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Leave us not so dark uncertain! lift again the fallen curtain!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Let us once again the mysteries of that haunted room explore&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hear once more that friend infernal&mdash;that grim visiter nocturnal!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Earnestly we long to learn all that befalls that bird of yore:<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">Oh, then, tell us something more!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Doth his shade thy floor still darken? dost thou still, despairing, hearken<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To that deep sepulchral utterance like the oracles of yore?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In the same place is he sitting? Does he give no sign of quitting?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is he conscious or unwitting when he answers "Nevermore?"<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">Tell me truly, I implore!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Knows he not the littlenesses of our nature&mdash;its distresses?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Knows he never need of slumber, fainting forces to restore?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stoops he not to eating&mdash;drinking? Is he never caught in winking<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When his demon eyes are sinking deep into thy bosom's core?<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">Tell me this, if nothing more!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Is he, after all, so evil? Is it fair to call him "devil?"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Did he not give friendly answer when thy speech friend's meaning bore?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When thy sad tones were revealing all the loneness o'er thee stealing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Did he not, with fellow-feeling, vow to leave thee nevermore?<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">Keeps he not that oath he swore?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">He, too, may be inly praying&mdash;vainly, earnestly essaying<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To forget some matchless mate, beloved yet lost for evermore.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He hath donned a suit of mourning, and, all earthly comfort scorning,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Broods alone from night till morning. By thy memories Lenore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">Oh, renounce him nevermore.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Though he be a sable brother, treat him kindly as another!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ah, perhaps the world has scorned him for that luckless hue he wore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No such narrow prejudices can <i>he</i> know whom Love possesses&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whom one spark of Freedom blesses. Do not spurn him from thy door<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">Lest Love enter nevermore!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Not a bird of evil presage, happily he brings some message<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From that much-mourned matchless maiden&mdash;from that loved and lost Lenore.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In a pilgrim's garb disguis&eacute;d, angels are but seldom priz&eacute;d:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of this fact at length advis&eacute;d, were it strange if he forswore<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">The false world for evermore?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Oh, thou ill-starred midnight ranger! dark, forlorn, mysterious stranger!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wildered wanderer from the eternal lightning on Time's stormy shore!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Tell us of that world of wonder&mdash;of that famed unfading "Yonder!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Rend&mdash;oh rend the veil asunder! Let our doubts and fears be o'er!<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">Doth he answer&mdash;"Nevermore?"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<br /><br />
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3><a name="SONG_OF_THE_ELVES" id="SONG_OF_THE_ELVES"></a>SONG OF THE ELVES.</h3>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+<h5>BY ANNA BLACKWELL.</h5>
+<hr class="short" />
+<br />
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">When the moon is high o'er the ruined tower,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When the night-bird sings in her lonely bower,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When beetle and cricket and bat are awake,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the will-o'-the-wisp is at play in the brake,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Oh then do we gather, all frolic and glee,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We gay little elfins, beneath the old tree!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And brightly we hover on silvery wing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And dip our small cups in the whispering spring,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While the night-wind lifts lightly our shining hair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And music and fragrance are on the air!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Oh who is so merry, so happy as we,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We gay little elfins, beneath the old tree?<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<br /><br />
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3><a name="THE_FIRE_OF_DRIFT-WOOD" id="THE_FIRE_OF_DRIFT-WOOD"></a>THE FIRE OF DRIFT-WOOD.</h3>
+<span class='pagenum'>[204]</span>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+<h5>BY HENRY W. LONGFELLOW.</h5>
+<hr class="short" />
+<br />
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">We sat within the farm-house old,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Whose windows looking o'er the bay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gave to the sea-breeze, damp and cold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">An easy entrance, night and day.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Not far away we saw the port,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The strange, old-fashioned, silent town,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The light-house,&mdash;the dismantled fort,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The wooden houses, quaint and brown.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">We sat and talked until the night<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Descending filled the little room;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Our faces faded from the sight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Our voices only broke the gloom.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">We spake of many a vanished scene,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of what we once had thought and said,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of what had been, and might have been,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And who was changed, and who was dead.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And all that fills the hearts of friends,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">When first they feel, with secret pain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their lives thenceforth have separate ends,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And never can be one again.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The first slight swerving of the heart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">That words are powerless to express,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And leave it still unsaid in part,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Or say it in too great excess.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The very tones in which we spake<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Had something strange, I could but mark;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The leaves of memory seemed to make<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">A mournful rustling in the dark.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Oft died the words upon our lips,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">As suddenly, from out the fire<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Built of the wreck of stranded ships,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The flames would leap, and then expire.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And, as their splendor flashed and failed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">We thought of wrecks upon the main,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of ships dismasted, that were hailed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And sent no answer back again.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The windows rattling in their frames,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The ocean, roaring up the beach&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The gusty blast&mdash;the bickering flames&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">All mingled vaguely in our speech;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Until they made themselves a part<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of fancies floating through the brain&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The long lost ventures of the heart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">That send no answers back again.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">O flames that glowed! O hearts that yearned!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">They were indeed too much akin&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The drift-wood fire without that burned,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The thoughts that burned and glowed within.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<br /><br />
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3><a name="SONG_FOR_A_SABBATH_MORNING" id="SONG_FOR_A_SABBATH_MORNING"></a>SONG FOR A SABBATH MORNING.</h3>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+<h5>BY THOMAS BUCHANAN READ.</h5>
+<hr class="short" />
+<br />
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Arise ye nations, with rejoicing rise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And tell your gladness to the listening skies;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Come out forgetful of the week's turmoil,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From halls of mirth and iron gates of toil;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Come forth, come forth, and let your joy increase<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till one loud p&aelig;an hails the day of peace.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sing trembling age, ye youths and maidens sing;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ring ye sweet chimes, from every belfry ring;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pour the grand anthem till it soars and swells<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And heaven seems full of great celestial bells!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Behold the Morn from orient chambers glide,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With shining footsteps, like a radiant bride;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The gladdened brooks proclaim her on the hills<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And every grove with choral welcome thrills.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Rise ye sweet maidens, strew her path with flowers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With sacred lilies from your virgin bowers;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Go youths and meet her with your olive boughs,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Go age and greet her with your holiest vows;&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">See where she comes, her hands upon her breast<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The sainted Sabbath comes, smiling the world to rest.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<br /><br />
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3><a name="CITY_LIFE" id="CITY_LIFE"></a>CITY LIFE.</h3>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+<h5>BY CHARLES W. BAIRD.</h5>
+<hr class="short" />
+<br />
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Forgive me, Lord, that I so long have dwelt<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In noisome cities, whence Thy sacred works<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Are ever banished from my sight; where lurks<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Each baleful passion man has ever felt.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Here human skill is shown in shutting out<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">All sight and thought of things that God hath made;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Lest He should share the constant homage paid<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To Mammon, in the hearts of men devout.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">O, it was fit that he<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a>
+<a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> upon whose head<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Weighed his own brother's blood, and God's dread curse,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Should build a city, when he trembling fled<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Far from his Maker's face. And which was worse,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The murder&mdash;or departing far from Thee?<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Great God! impute not either sin to me!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3><a name="THE_CRUISE_OF_THE_GENTILE" id="THE_CRUISE_OF_THE_GENTILE"></a>THE CRUISE OF THE GENTILE.</h3>
+<span class='pagenum'>[205]</span>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+<h5>BY FRANK BYRNE.</h5>
+<hr class="short" />
+<br />
+
+<h5>(<i>Concluded from page</i> 147.)</h5>
+
+
+<h4>CHAPTER V.</h4>
+
+<h5><i>In which there is a Storm, a Wreck, and a Mutiny.</i></h5>
+
+
+<p>When I came on deck the next morning, I found that the mate's
+prediction had proved true. A norther, as it is called in the Gulf,
+was blowing great guns, and the ship, heading westward, was rolling in
+the trough of the tremendous sea almost yard-arm under, with only
+close-reefed top-sails and storm foretopmast-staysail set. We wallowed
+along in this manner all day, for we were lying our course, and the
+skipper was in a hurry to bring our protracted voyage to an end. We
+made much more leeway than we reckoned, however, for just at sunset
+the high mountains of Cuba were to be seen faintly looming up on the
+southern horizon.</p>
+
+<p>"Brace up, there," ordered Captain Smith, when this fact was
+announced. "Luff, my man, luff, and keep her as near it as you may."</p>
+
+<p>The old ship came up on the wind, presenting her front most gallantly
+to the angry waves, which came on as high as the fore-yard,
+threatening to engulf her in the watery abyss. We took in all our
+top-sails but the main, and with that, a reefed fore-sail and
+foretopmast-staysail set, the old ship shook her feathers, and
+prepared herself for an all-night job of clawing off an iron-bound
+lee-shore.</p>
+
+<p>The hatches were battened down, the fore-scuttle and companion closed,
+and all the crew collected aft on deck and lashed themselves to some
+substantial object, to save themselves from being washed over-board by
+the immense seas which constantly broke over our bows, and deluged our
+decks. The night closed down darker than pitch, and the wind increased
+in violence. I have scarcely ever seen so dismal a night. Except when
+at intervals a blinding flash of lightning illumined the whole heavens
+and the broad expanse of raging ocean, we could distinguish nothing at
+a yard's distance, save the glimmer of the phosphorescent binacle
+light, and the gleam which flashed from the culmination of the huge
+seas ahead of us, resembling an extended cloud of dull fire suspended
+in the air, and blown toward us, till, with a noise like thunder, as
+it dashed against the bows, it vanished, and another misty fire was to
+be seen as if rising out of some dark gulf. At midnight it blew a
+hurricane; the wind cut off the tops of the waves, and the air was
+full of spray and salt, driving like sleet or snow before the wintry
+storm. I had ensconced myself under the lee of the bulwarks, among a
+knot of select weather-beaten tars, and notwithstanding the danger we
+were in, I could not help being somewhat amused at their
+conversation.</p>
+
+<p>"Jack," said Teddy, an Irish sailor, to the ship's oracle, old Jack
+Reeves, "do you think the sticks will howld?"</p>
+
+<p>"If they don't," growled Jack, "you'll be in h&mdash;l before morning."</p>
+
+<p>"Och, Jasus!" was the only reply to this consolatory remark&mdash;and there
+was an uneasy nestling throughout the whole circle.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Frank," said old Jack to me, after a most terrific gust, during
+which every man held his breath to listen whether there might not be a
+snapping of the spars, "well, Frank, what do you think of that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, I think I never saw it blow so hard before," I replied. "'Tisn't
+a very comfortable berth, this of ours, with a lee-shore not thirty
+miles off, and a hurricane blowing."</p>
+
+<p>"No danger at all, Frank, if them spars only stay by us&mdash;and I guess
+they will. They're good sticks, and Mr. Brewster is too good a
+boatswain not to have 'em well supported. The old Gentile is a
+dreadful critter for eatin' to windward in any weather that God ever
+sent; but I hope you don't call this blowin' hard, do you? Why, I've
+seen it blow so that two men, one on each side of the skipper,
+couldn't keep his hair on his head, and they had to get the cabin-boy
+to tail on to the cue behind, and take a turn round a belaying-pin."</p>
+
+<p>"An' that nothin' to a time I had in a brig off Hatteras," observed
+Teddy, who had somewhat recovered his composure; "we had to cut away
+both masts, you persave, and to scud under a scupper nail driv into
+the deck, wid a man ready to drive it further as the wind freshened."</p>
+
+<p>"Wasn't that the time, Teddy," asked another, "When that big sea
+washed off the buttons on your jacket?"</p>
+
+<p>"Faix, you may well say that; and a nigger we had on board turned
+white by reason of the scare he was in."</p>
+
+<p>"Wal, now," interposed Ichabod Green, "Teddy, that's a lie; it's agin
+all reason."</p>
+
+<p>"Pooh! you green-horn!" said Jack Reeves, "that's nothing to a yarn I
+can spin. You see that when I was quite a boy, I was in a Dutch
+man-o'-war for a year and thirteen months; and one day in the Indian
+Ocean, it came on to blow like blazes. It blowed for three days and
+nights, and the skipper called a council of officers to know what to
+do. So, when they'd smoked up all their baccy, they concluded to
+shorten sail, and the bo'sn came down to rouse out the crew. He
+ondertook to whistle, but it made such an onnateral screech, that the
+chaplain thought old Davy had come aboard; and he told the skipper he
+guessed he'd take his trick at prayin'.<span class='pagenum'>[206]</span> 'Why,' says the skipper,
+'we've got on well enough without, ever since we left the Hague,
+hadn't we better omit it now?' ''Taint possible,' says the parson. Now
+you all know you can't larn seamanship to a parson or passenger&mdash;and
+the bloody fool knelt down with his face to wind'ard. 'Hillo!' says
+the skipper, 'you'd better fill away, and come round afore the wind,
+hadn't you?' 'Mynheer captain,' says the parson, 'you're a dreadful
+good seaman, but you don't know no more about religious matters than a
+horse.' 'That's true,' answered the skipper; 'so suit yourself, and
+let fly as soon as you feel the spirit move, bekase that main-sail
+wants reefin' awfully.' Well, the parson shuts his eyes, takes the
+pipe out of his mouth, and gets under-weigh; but, onluckily, the first
+word of the prayer was a Dutch one, as long as the maintop-bowline,
+and as crooked as a monkey's tail, and the wind ketchen in the kinks
+of it, rams it straight back into his throat, and kills him as dead as
+a herrin'. 'Blixem!' says the skipper, 'there'll be brandy enough for
+the voyage now.'"</p>
+
+<p>"Sail, ho-o-o!" shouted a dozen voices, as a vivid flash of lightning
+showed us the form of a small schooner riding upon the crest of a
+wave, not two cables length ahead.</p>
+
+<p>"Hard-a-lee!" shouted the skipper. "My God! make her luff, or we shall
+be into them."</p>
+
+<p>Slowly the ship obeyed her helm, and came up on the wind, trembling to
+her keel, as the canvas, relieved from the strain, fluttered and
+thrashed against the mast with immense violence, and a noise more
+deafening than thunder, while the great seas dashed against the bows,
+now in full front toward them, with the force and shock of huge rocks
+projected from a catapult, and the wind shrieked and howled through
+the rigging as if the spirits of the deep were rejoicing over our
+dreadful situation.</p>
+
+<p>Again the fiery flash shot suddenly athwart the sky.</p>
+
+<p>Good God! the schooner, her deck and lower rigging black with human
+beings, lay broadside to, scarcely ten rods from before our bows. A
+cry of horror mingled with the rattling thunder and the howl of the
+storm. I felt my blood curdle in my veins, and an oppression like the
+nightmare obstructed my voice.</p>
+
+<p>The schooner sunk in the trough, and, as the lightning paled,
+disappeared from sight. The next moment our huge ship, with a headlong
+pitch, was precipitated upon her. One crash of riven timbers, and a
+yell of despairing agony, and all was over; the ship fell off from the
+wind, and we were again driving madly forward into the almost palpable
+darkness, tearing through the mountain seas.</p>
+
+<p>"Rig the pumps and try them," cried Captain Smith, in a hoarse voice,
+"we may have started a plank by the shock."</p>
+
+<p>To the great joy of all, the ship was found to make no more water than
+usual. All hands soon settled down quietly again, wondering what the
+run-down schooner could have been, and pitying her unfortunate crew,
+when a faint shout from the forecastle was heard in a lull of the
+storm.</p>
+
+<p>"Lord save us! what can that be?" exclaimed a dozen of the crew in a
+breath.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>In nomine Pathris</i>&mdash;" began Teddy, crossing himself in a fright.</p>
+
+<p>"Silence there!" cried the skipper; "Mr. Stewart, can it be one of the
+schooner's crew, who has saved himself by the bowsprit rigging?"</p>
+
+<p>"Plaze yer honor," said Teddy, "it's more likely it's one of their
+ghosts."</p>
+
+<p>"Silence, I tell you! who gave you liberty to tell your opinion. Mr.
+Brewster, hail 'em, whoever they be."</p>
+
+<p>"Folk'stle, ahoy!" sung out the second mate; "who's there?"</p>
+
+<p>"Help! help! for God's sake!" faintly answered the mysterious voice.</p>
+
+<p>"Go forward, there, two hands," ordered the captain; "'t is one of the
+schooner's crew."</p>
+
+<p>After a moment's hesitation, the second mate and Jack Reeves started
+on this mission of mercy, and were soon followed by nearly all the
+crew. Upon reaching the forecastle we found the body of a man lying
+across the heel of the bowsprit, jammed against the windlass pawl. The
+insensible form was lifted from its resting place, and, by the
+captain's order, finally deposited in the cabin on the transom. The
+skipper, steward, and myself, remained below to try and resuscitate
+the apparently lifeless body. The means we used were effectual; and
+the wrecked seaman opened his eyes, and finally sat up.</p>
+
+<p>"I must go on deck now," said the captain. "Stay below, Frank, and
+help the steward undress him, and put him into a berth."</p>
+
+<p>Our benevolent darky had by this time concocted a glass of brandy
+grog, very stiff, but, alas! not hot, which I handed to the object of
+our care, who, after drinking it, seemed much better; and we then
+proceeded to help him strip. I noticed that his clothes were very
+coarse, and parti-colored; there were also marks of fetters on his
+ancles, and his back was scarred by the lash. I conjectured from these
+circumstances that our new shipmate was not of the most immaculate
+purity of character, and after I had got him into a berth, between two
+warm woollen blankets, I made free to ask him a few questions, not
+only about himself, but also about his vessel. I could get no reply
+but in Spanish, as I took his lingo to be, though, from his hailing
+for help in English, I knew that he must understand that language.
+When I went upon deck I reported myself to the officers, who concluded
+to defer any examination until morning. The gale began to abate about
+midnight, and at nine o'clock in the morning it had so far subsided
+that the cabin mess, leaving Mr. Brewster in charge of the deck, went
+below to get breakfast.</p>
+
+<p>"The swell is tremendous," said the skipper, as we were endeavoring to
+get seated around the table. "I think I never saw a much heavier sea
+in any part of the world. Look out, there!"</p>
+
+<p>But the caution was given too late; the ship had risen on an enormous
+wave as the skipper had spoken, and when she plunged, the steward
+pitched headlong over the cabin table, closely followed by<span class='pagenum'>[207]</span> the third
+mate, who had grasped his camp-stool for support, and still clung
+pertinaciously to it. The ship righted, leaving Langley's corpus
+extended at full length among a wreck of broken crockery.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Mr. Langley," said the skipper, "I hope you enjoy your
+breakfast."</p>
+
+<p>"Bill," added the mate, as Langley gathered himself up, "as you've got
+through your breakfast so expeditiously, hadn't you better go on deck
+and let Mr. Brewster come down?"</p>
+
+<p>"Beg your pardon, sir; but don't you see I'm laid on the table&mdash;there
+can be no action about me at present."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, sit down and try to preserve your gravity. I hope to see no
+more such flights of nonsense at this table."</p>
+
+<p>"Steward," asked the skipper, after we had nearly finished our meal,
+"how is your patient this morning?"</p>
+
+<p>"It's enough to make any body out of patience, sar, to fall ober de
+cabin table. So tan't werry first rate."</p>
+
+<p>"No, so I perceive; but I mean, how's the man who came on board us
+last night?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, dat's him&mdash;excuse me, sar. Well, sar, he's quite smart dis
+mornin'."</p>
+
+<p>"Fetch him out here, I wish to ask him some questions; give him a
+shirt and trowsers of mine, and fetch him out."</p>
+
+<p>The steward soon made his appearance again, in company with the
+stranger, who, now dressed clean, looked to be a stout, powerful man,
+apparently about thirty-five; but his long, tangled, black hair and
+whiskers so concealed his features, that their expression could not be
+discerned. He bowed as he entered the cabin, and in good English
+thanked the captain for his care.</p>
+
+<p>"Sit down upon the stool yonder," said the skipper, "and tell us the
+name and nation of your vessel, and by what miracle you escaped; and
+afterward you shall have some breakfast."</p>
+
+<p>"The name of the vessel, se&ntilde;or, was the San Diego, the <i>guarda-costa</i>
+upon this station. I was on deck when your ship was first seen, and I
+climbed half way up the main shrouds to look out for you, by the
+captain's order. When you struck us, I found myself entangled in your
+jib-boom rigging, and held on, though much bruised, and half-drowned
+by the seas which ducked me every minute, until I succeeded in laying
+in upon your forecastle. I had had time to notice your rig, and knew
+you to be an American."</p>
+
+<p>"How many were your crew?" asked the mate.</p>
+
+<p>The sailor started, and for a moment eyed the querist closely. "Oh!
+se&ntilde;or, only about fifty souls in all."</p>
+
+<p>"Good God!" cried the captain, "fifty lives lost&mdash;fifty souls sent
+into eternity with scarcely a moment's warning!"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't regret it, captain," said the sailor, bitterly, "many of them
+were only convicts; the government will be much obliged to you."</p>
+
+<p>"Were you a convict?" asked the mate.</p>
+
+<p>"I was, se&ntilde;or, as my dress and appearance would have told you, even if
+I had been disposed to lie. I was drafted from the Matanzas chain-gang
+to the guarda-costa some six month ago."</p>
+
+<p>"The Matanzas chain-gang!" cried the mate, eagerly, "pray, my good
+fellow, do you know a convict by the name of Pedro Garcia?"</p>
+
+<p>The man rose to his feet&mdash;"Why, se&ntilde;or, do you?" he inquired.</p>
+
+<p>"I do, indeed," answered Mr. Stewart, impatiently; "but tell
+me&mdash;answer my question, sir."</p>
+
+<p>The convict brushed back his long hair. "I was once called Don Pedro
+Garcia," said he; "tell me," he added, as all four of us rose
+involuntarily at this startling announcement, "with whom do I speak?"</p>
+
+<p>"Good God!" cried the mate, making one jump for the convict felon, and
+throwing his arms around him, "I'm Ben Stewart, alive and well."</p>
+
+<p>Very unluckily, at this moment the ship gave a violent lurch, and the
+two fell, and, locked in each others embrace, rolled over to leeward;
+the skipper, who was unguarded in his astonishment, followed Langley's
+former wake over the table, which, yielding to the impulse, fetched
+away, capsized, and with the captain, also rolled away to leeward; the
+steward, as in duty bound, ran to his superior's help.</p>
+
+<p>At this juncture, Brewster, hearing the unusual row, poked his head
+through the skylight slide, and demanded&mdash;"What's the matter? Mutiny!
+by G&mdash;&mdash;d!" he shouted, catching sight of the prostrate forms of his
+fellow officers, struggling, as he thought, in the respective grasps
+of the rescued convict and the steward. Off went the scuttle, and down
+came the valiant Brewster square in the midst of the crockery,
+followed by three or four of his watch, stumbling over the bodies of
+the overthrown quartette. Langley and myself climbed into a berth and
+looked on.</p>
+
+<p>"It's the steward," shouted the mischievous third mate, whose love of
+fun could not be controled by fear of consequences; "he tried to stab
+the captain with the carving-knife."</p>
+
+<p>The scene now became exciting; the cry of mutiny was heard all over
+the vessel; and the skipper and mate hearing it, very naturally
+concluding that the mutineers were those who had so unceremoniously
+invaded the cabin, turned furiously upon them, and called loudly for
+assistance to us in the berth; but we were enjoying the fun too much
+to even speak and explain.</p>
+
+<p>"Are ye kilt, cap'n?" asked Teddy, who had pushed his way to his
+beloved commander.</p>
+
+<p>"No, you d&mdash;&mdash;d mutinous scoundrel!" replied the enraged skipper,
+planting a tremendous blow between the eyes of the anxious
+interrogator; "take that!" and the Irishman rolled upon deck. In the
+meantime, Mr. Brewster, who had taken an especial spite against the
+convict, grabbed him by the throat. Pedro returned the compliment by a
+blow in the stomach, and Stewart aided the defeat of his colleague by
+taking him by the shoulders and dragging him off. Transported beyond
+reason by the pain of the blow he had received, and what he supposed
+to be the black ingratitude of Mr. Stewart, Brewster<span class='pagenum'>[208]</span> gave a scream of
+rage and clinched in with the mate with all his force.</p>
+
+<p>It was fast getting to be past a joke.</p>
+
+<p>"Come, Langley," said I, "let's put a stop to this&mdash;somebody will be
+killed."</p>
+
+<p>"Sure enough! but how are we going to do it? Oh! here are the mate's
+pistols; draw the charges, Frank, and you take one and I the other,
+and we'll soon proclaim peace."</p>
+
+<p>"They're not loaded," said I, after trying them with the ramrod.</p>
+
+<p>"All right, then&mdash;follow me."</p>
+
+<p>"We jumped down from our roost, leveled our pistols at the crowd, and
+threatened to fire if hostilities should not instantly cease on both
+sides.</p>
+
+<p>"Langley, hand me those pistols," cried the frenzied skipper, who was
+the more angry because nobody would fight with him.</p>
+
+<p>"Please, sir, I can't; I daren't trust myself without 'em." Disperse,
+ye rebels! lay down your arms and disperse&mdash;die, base and perjured
+villain," shouted Langley, holding the muzzle of his pistol to
+Brewster's ear, while I, by poking my shooting-iron in everybody's
+face, obtained partial order. After a deal of difficulty the mutiny
+was explained; and the crestfallen Brewster withdrew his forces,
+followed by the mate, who conciliated his irate colleague, and gave
+him an inkling as to the real name and character of the rescued
+convict.</p>
+
+<p>After the steward had cleared away the wreck of the breakfast things,
+a conclave of the cabin-mess was called, to which the black steward
+was <i>ex officio</i> and <i>ex necessitate</i> admitted; and it was determined,
+after much debate, that the voyage should be continued, and that
+during our stay in Matanzas my cousin Pedro should remain hidden on
+board. The next mooted point was whether to conceal the matter from
+the crew, and decided in the negative; so the men were called aft, and
+the truth briefly stated to them. One and all swore to be faithful and
+discreet&mdash;and so they proved. With one or two exceptions our crew were
+Yankees, and of a far higher grade than the crews of merchantmen
+generally.</p>
+
+<p>During these proceedings the gale had rapidly abated, and at noon we
+found ourselves rolling and pitching in a heavy sea, the sun shining
+brightly over our heads, and not a breath of air stirring. The
+skipper, mate, and Cousin Pedro were closeted together in the cabin
+during the afternoon, while the second and third mates, and ship's
+cousin, compared notes sitting under the awning on the booby-hatch. I
+enlightened Brewster more fully as to Mr. Stewart's former adventures
+in Cuba; and we finally concluded that our running down the Spanish
+guarda-costa was the most lucky thing in the world.</p>
+
+<p>"Half my plan is now accomplished to hand," said I; "we must now get
+my Cousin Clara out of the nunnery."</p>
+
+<p>"You hadn't better try that, Frank," interposed Mr. Brewster,
+"because, for two reasons; in the first place, them Catholics are poor
+benighted heathen, and she wouldn't get out if she could&mdash;for she is
+a veiled nun; and the next place you'd get your neck into a certain
+machine called a <i>garrote</i>, or else make your cousin's place good in
+the chain-gang."</p>
+
+<p>"Nevertheless, I shall try; and if she only is willing to run away,
+there can some plan be contrived, I know."</p>
+
+<p>"And my part shall be to run old Alvarez through the body, if the
+devil hasn't taken him already," added Mr. William Langley.</p>
+
+<p>"Boys will be boys, that's a fact, call 'em what you're a mind to,"
+observed Mr. Brewster, very sapiently stroking his big red whiskers.</p>
+
+<p>The calm continued, and by evening the swell had in a great degree
+gone down. In the first dog-watch, my Cousin Pedro, sitting upon the
+companion, gave us an account of his long imprisonment. He had, as the
+reader already knows, been sentenced for the murder of the Count &mdash;&mdash;,
+and had toiled and slaved in the streets of Matanzas, till drafted,
+with many others, on board of the guarda-costa. He knew of Clara's
+fate, and had been undeceived by my father in the belief of Mr.
+Stewart's death.</p>
+
+<p>Langley and I stood the middle watch again that night. An easterly
+breeze, gentle, but steady, blew most of the night; and when we went
+below, and eight bells struck, the moon was silvering the lofty peak
+of the Pan of Matanzas, which lay far away on our larboard bow.</p>
+<br />
+
+<h4>CHAPTER VI.</h4>
+
+<h5><i>The Gentile arrives at Matanzas.</i></h5>
+
+<p>I was waked in the morning by Mr. Stewart, who shook me by the
+shoulders, crying, "Come, Frank, turn out; it's seven bells, so rouse
+and bite; breakfast is almost ready, and a glorious prospect from
+deck."</p>
+
+<p>I turned out incontinently at this summons, slipped on my trowsers,
+ran up the companion-way, dipped my head in a bucket of water, by way
+of performing my morning ablutions, and then made my way aft again to
+join the circle on the quarter-deck. The watch had just finished
+washing down the decks, and were engaged in laying up the rigging on
+the belaying-pins; the boys were stowing away the detested-holy stone
+under the chocks of the long-boat; the watch below were performing
+their brief morning ablutions upon the forecastle; the steward was
+bringing aft the cabin breakfast, sadly incommoded by the mischievous
+Rover, who, wet as a sponge, capered about the deck, shaking himself
+against everybody who came in his way, and now seemed fully determined
+to dive between the lower spars of the unfortunate darkey; the
+officers were standing by my side, breathing the cool morning air,
+looking out upon the beautiful scene around us, and getting an
+appetite for breakfast.</p>
+
+<p>The ship lay about a league from the land, almost abreast the entrance
+of Matanzas bay; the land wind blew gently, bearing to us the
+delicious perfumes of orange and coffee-blossoms, and crowds of
+vessels were coming from the bay, taking advantage of it to gain an
+offing before the setting in of the sea-breeze.<span class='pagenum'>[209]</span> Half a mile from us a
+brig lay motionless upon the water, her yards swarming with men
+loosing the sails, which in a moment fell together with a precision
+that would have plainly told a sailor that the brig was a man-of-war,
+even without taking notice of the delicate white ribbon painted upon
+her side, pierced by a half-dozen ports, from which protruded as many
+saucy-looking guns, their red tompions contrasting prettily with the
+aforesaid white line and the black sides of the vessel. A flag hung
+negligently down from her gaff end, and, as a puff of wind stronger
+than the rest blew out its crimson folds, we saw emblazoned thereon
+the cross of St. George and merry England. The brig was the British
+cruiser on this station. To the northward stretched the broad blue
+expanse of the sea we had so recently sailed on, looking to be as
+quiet and peaceful as if there were no such things as hurricanes and
+angry waves, and dotted here and there by the glistening sails of
+inward bound vessels. Far away to the westward a long black wreath of
+smoke, following in the wake of a small speck on the water, announced
+the approach of the Havana steam packet; and close in, hugging the
+shore, glided a solitary American barque, apparently bound to Havana
+to finish her freight, her white sails gleaming in the sun. The land
+seemed strangely beautiful to our sea-going eyes; and we were never
+tired with gazing at the tall, graceful palms, sheltering with their
+grateful shade white villas, situate in the midst of fertile fields of
+sugar-cane, and surrounded by little hamlets of white-washed slave
+huts. The overhanging haze of the distant city could be seen rising
+beyond the intervening hills, and the back-ground of the picture was
+formed by a range of blue conical peaks, amidst which towered in
+majesty the flat summit of the celebrated Pan of Matanzas.</p>
+
+<p>"And I am once more in the West Indies!" murmured Mr. Stewart, half
+unconsciously. "How much has happened since my eyes first looked upon
+this landscape!"</p>
+
+<p>"True enough!" added Pedro, sighing.</p>
+
+<p>"Breakfas' gettin' cold, Cap'n Smiff," cried the steward, petulently,
+poking his head up the companion.</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, ay," returned the skipper; "come, gentlemen, don't get into the
+dumps this fine morning; you ought to be rejoiced that you have found
+each other. Let's go below and take breakfast, and after that, Don
+Pedro, we must stow you in the run until after the officers have
+boarded us."</p>
+
+<p>Breakfast being dispatched, all hands went busily to work preparing
+the ship for port. Our bends had been blacked in the two days of fair
+weather we had had off the Bahamas; and as our ship was a large,
+handsome, packet-built craft of seven hundred tons, we reckoned upon
+cutting a great swell among the brigs, barques, and small ships
+usually engaged in the sugar-freighting business. The brass of the
+capstan, wheel and ladder stanchions, were brightly polished by the
+steward and boys; fair leaders, Scotchmen and chaffing-gear taken off;
+ensign, signal and burgee-halyards rove; the accommodationladder got
+over the side; the anchor got ready, and the chain roused up from the
+locker. At ten o'clock we took the sea breeze and a pilot, passed
+Point Yerikos, and cracked gallantly up the bay with ensign, numbers,
+and private signal flying. Another point was turned, and the beautiful
+city came in view at the distance of a league, more than half the
+intervening space of water covered by ships of every nation, size, and
+rig, lying at anchor, from the huge British line-of-battle ship down
+to the graceful native felucca with latteen sails.</p>
+
+<p>"Pilot," said Captain Smith, "if you will give us a first-rate berth,
+as near to the town as a ship of our size can load, I'll give you five
+dollars beside your fee."</p>
+
+<p>"You shall have de ver fine berth, se&ntilde;or el capitaine. I will anchor
+you under de castle yonder; ver deep water, tree, four fathoms, and
+only one mile and more from the end of the mole."</p>
+
+<p>The skipper exchanged glances with his mate.</p>
+
+<p>"Their old berth," whispered Langley, sticking his elbow into my side.</p>
+
+<p>We rapidly approached the castle, and the busy fleet at its foot; sail
+after sail was clewed up&mdash;the pilot's orders grew frequent and
+loud&mdash;the jib came fluttering down the stay&mdash;the anchor plunged into
+the water&mdash;the chain rattled swiftly through the hawsehole&mdash;we swung
+round with the tide, broadside to the fort, and "The voyage of the
+ship Gentile, Captain James Smith, commander, from Valetta toward
+Matanzas," as inscribed in the mate's log-book, was at an end.</p>
+
+<p>The pilot was dismissed&mdash;our sails furled&mdash;the royal and
+topgallant-yards sent down&mdash;the lower and topsail-yards squared with
+nautical and mathematical precision&mdash;our fair-weather lofty poles,
+surmounted by gilt balls, sent up&mdash;awnings were spread completely over
+the deck&mdash;our crack accommodation-stairs got over the side&mdash;the
+swinging-boom rigged out&mdash;the boats lowered and fastened thereto&mdash;the
+decks swept clean, and the rigging laid up&mdash;and, by the time the
+custom-house boat boarded us, we were in complete harbor-trim,
+ship-shape and Bristol fashion; and the Spanish officers complimented
+the fine appearance of the vessel until the worthy skipper was greatly
+pleased.</p>
+
+<p>An account was given of the running down of the San Diego, and of the
+miraculous escape of one of her crew, who, the skipper said, died the
+next day of his bruises. A name for this unfortunate man had been
+furnished by Pedro; and in our excess of caution, this was given to
+the officers as the name rendered by the survivor. The officers looked
+grave for a moment, but finally said that it was the act of God, and
+inevitable; and that as the crew had been principally convicts, it was
+not so much matter; and after drinking two or three bottles of wine,
+and taking bonds of the captain for the good behavior of our darkies,
+they departed.</p>
+<br />
+
+<h4>CHAPTER VII.</h4>
+
+<h5><i>Third Mate and Ship's Cousin go ashore on liberty.</i></h5>
+
+<p>Many shipmasters and owners will remember<span class='pagenum'>[210]</span> how very dull were freights
+for Europe, at Cuba, in the spring and summer of 1839; and Captain
+Smith had been in Matanzas but a day or two when he became convinced
+of the unwelcome truth. We lay day after day sweltering in the sun,
+until nearly a week had passed, and there was as yet no freight
+engaged. As our orders were to lay four weeks waiting, unless we
+should be loaded and ready to sail before that time had elapsed,
+Langley and I determined that, as I had plenty of money, we would beg
+a week's liberty of the skipper in this time of idleness, and take a
+cruise ashore; and we had secretly resolved that in some manner, not
+yet discovered, we would effect the escape of my Cousin Clara&mdash;Langley
+also, in full intention to take the life of Don Carlos Alvarez, should
+he run athwart his hawse. Mr. Stowe had been on board during the first
+day or two after our arrival, and had given us both pressing
+invitations to spend a week at his house, and to renew our
+acquaintance with the girls. So the Saturday night after our arrival,
+Langley and I preferred our petition to the skipper at the
+supper-table.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, boys," said our good-natured captain, "if I thought you wouldn't
+get into some confounded scrape, I'd as lief spare you awhile as not;
+we've nothing to do aboard ship, so&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Beg your pardon, Captain Smith," interrupted Mr. Brewster, who had
+been on bad terms with my friend William for a day or two; "I beg your
+pardon, sir, but there can be plenty of work to do. It's a slick time
+to refit the rigging."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Mr. Brewster," said the captain, "our rigging was thoroughly
+refitted at Valetta."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir, I know that, sir," persisted Brewster, "but we had a rough
+trip from there, sir; that last blow we had gin' our standin' riggin'
+a devil of a strainin', sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! well, Mr. Brewster," replied the skipper, "it'll take but a day
+or two to set up our shrouds, and I'm afraid we shall have plenty of
+time for that."</p>
+
+<p>"Very well, Captain Smith," resumed the second mate, "it is nothing to
+me, sir. I'd as lief they'd be ashore all the time, sir, but before
+you give Mr. Langley leave, I'd just wish to enter a complaint against
+him, sir. I shouldn't thought of saying nothin' about it, only to see
+him coming and asking for liberty so bloody bold, just as if he
+reckoned he desarved it, makes me feel a leetle riley, sir. He was
+guilty of using disrespectable language to his superior officer, to
+me, sir, and upon the quarter-deck, too, sir, d&mdash;&mdash;n him. You see,
+that night afore last, in his anchor-watch, it was rather warm in my
+state-room, so I went between decks to walk and cool off a little, and
+I heard Bill sitting on the booby-hatch and a spoutin' poetry to
+his-self. Well, I just walks up the ladder, pokes my head through the
+slide and hails him; but instead of answering me in a proper manner,
+what does he do but jumps off the hatch and square off in this manner,
+as if he was agoin' to claw me in the face, and he sings out&mdash;'Are you
+a goose or a gobbler, d&mdash;&mdash;n you?' I didn't want to pick a fuss
+before the rest of the watch, or by the holy Paul I'd a taught him the
+difference between his officer and a barn-yard fowl in a series of one
+lesson&mdash;blast his etarnal picter!"</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Langley," said the skipper, "what have you to say for yourself?
+Such language upon the quarter-deck to your superior officer is very
+impertinent."</p>
+
+<p>"If you'll allow me," replied the accused, "I think I can give a
+version of the story which will sound a little different. You see, the
+second mate wears a night-cap, to keep the cockroaches or bugs out of
+his ears&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"That's a lie," roared Brewster. "I wears it because I've got a
+catarrh, which I ketched by doing my duty in all weathers, long afore
+you ever dipped your fingers in pitch, you lazy son of a gun."</p>
+
+<p>"Silence!" cried Captain Smith, suppressing a laugh. "Mr. Langley,
+never mind the night-cap, but go on with your story."</p>
+
+<p>"Well," resumed the third mate, "he does wear one, any how, and night
+before last I sat on the hatch, as he says, reading Shakspeare in the
+moonlight, and when the second mate's night-capped head rose through
+the slide, he looked so very spectral that I couldn't forbear hailing
+him with&mdash;'Art thou a ghost or goblin damned?' which he persists in
+rendering his own fashion. I'm sure I didn't intend to liken him to a
+barn-yard fowl of any kind; I should rather have gone into the stable
+in search of comparisons."</p>
+
+<p>To the great chagrin and astonishment of Mr. Brewster, all hands of us
+burst into a roar of laughter; but Langley, by the skipper's advice,
+finally begged pardon, and peace and amity were restored. Brewster
+withdrew his objections, and the skipper granted us a week's liberty.</p>
+
+<p>The next day, after dinner, the yawl was brought to the side and
+manned, and my chum and I prepared for our departure.</p>
+
+<p>"Remember," quoth my cousin Pedro, as I bade him good-bye, in the
+mate's state-room, where, from extreme caution, he generally lay
+<i>perdu</i>, "remember to see Clara; tell her who you are, and bring us
+word from her."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," added the mate, "tell her of Pedro's escape, but do not
+undeceive her as to the belief of my death&mdash;that's too late now. God
+bless the dear girl!" and the voice of the usually stout-hearted
+seaman trembled as he spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"Good-bye, Frank; good-bye, Bill," said Mr. Brewster, as we came on
+deck again, and shaking hands with us; "kiss all the girls for me, and
+bring off some good cigars the first time you come on board. These
+d&mdash;&mdash;d bumboatmen don't have the best quality."</p>
+
+<p>"Keep out of all manner of scrapes." added the captain, by way of
+climax. "However, I shall see you or hear of you every day, either at
+the house or counting-room."</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, ay; yes, sir; oh! certainly; of course, sir; good-bye, shipmates;
+good-bye, sir;" shouted we, right and left, in reply to the divers
+charges, injunctions and parting salutations, as the boat pushed off.<span class='pagenum'>[211]</span></p>
+
+<p>"Now let fall, my men, give way," continued Bill. "By lightning!
+Frank, <i>pre</i>haps we wont have a spree!"</p>
+
+<p>The ship's cousin replied only by an expressive pantomime.</p>
+
+<p>Two Bowery clerks, driving a fast trotting-horse up the Third Avenue,
+may, in a measure, realize the feeling of intense pleasure which we
+experienced at this time.</p>
+
+<p>Away we went in crack style, till, as we neared the mole, Langley gave
+the order "unrow;" six oar-blades instantly glittered in the sun, the
+bow-man seized his boat-hook, and our stout crew forced our way
+through the jam of ship and shore-boats to the landing stairs, saluted
+by a volley of oaths and interjections, selected with no great care
+from the vocabularies of almost every European and African language.</p>
+
+<p>There is no place in the world which will seem, at first sight, more
+strange and foreign to a home-bred New Englander than the mole at
+Matanzas. It attracted even our eyes, which had last looked upon the
+picturesque groups in the streets and upon the quay of Valetta. Sunday
+is a holiday in Cuba, and a motley crowd had assembled under the cover
+of the immense shed which is built on the mole. Upon a pile of
+sugar-boxes near us were seated a group of Dutch sailors, gravely
+smoking, and sagely keeping silent, in striking contrast with a knot
+of Frenchmen, who were all talking at once and gesticulating like
+madmen. Here stalked a grave Austrian from Trieste, and yonder a
+laughing, lively Greek promenaded arm-in-arm with a Maltese.
+Hamburghers and Danes, Swedes and Russians, John Bulls by scores,
+Paddies without number, Neapolitans, Sicilians and Mexicans, all were
+there, each with fellows and some one to talk to. A group of
+emigrants, just landed from the Canary Islands, were keeping watch
+over their goods, and were looking with great interest and many
+earnest remarks upon this first appearance of their new home. Not far
+from them a collection of newly imported African negroes, naked, save
+a strip of cloth about their loins, were rivaling in volubility and
+extravagance of gesture even the Frenchmen. Native islanders, from the
+mountains, in picturesque, brigand-like dresses, with long knives
+stuck jauntily in their girdles, gazed with stupid wonder at the crowd
+of foreigners. Soldiers from the barracks, with most ferocious looking
+whiskers and mustaches, very humbly offered for sale little bunches of
+paper cigaritos. Black fruit women, whose whole dress consisted of a
+single petticoat of most laconic Fanny Ellslerish brevity, invited the
+passer by, in terms of the most affectionate endearment, to purchase
+their oranges, melons, and bananas. Young Spanish bloods, with
+shirt-bosoms bellying out like a maintop-sail in a gale, stalked along
+with great consequence, quizzing the strangers. Children, even of ten
+years of age, and of both sexes and all colors, naked as Job when he
+came into the world, excited the attention of no one but greenhorns
+like myself. Down East molasses drogher skippers, who, notwithstanding
+the climate, clothed themselves in their go-ashore long-napped black
+beaver hats, stiff, coarse broadcloth coats, thick, high bombazine
+stocks and cowhide boots, landed from their two-oared unpainted yawls,
+and ascended the stairs with the air of an admiral of the blue.
+Uniforms of Spanish, American, French and English navy officers were
+thickly scattered amidst the crowd, and here and there, making for
+itself a clear channel wherever it went, rolled the stalwart form of
+the Yankee tar.</p>
+
+<p>"This is a regular-built tower of Babel," said Langley, at last, "but
+come, let's work out of 'em."</p>
+
+<p>After some difficulty we gained the street, and our first move was to
+a <i>pulperia</i>, where I treated our boat's crew, and bought as many
+bananas, oranges and cigars as they could take down to the boat, to
+send to my shipmates aboard. The second was to charter a volante, in
+which we got under weigh for Mr. Stowe's house, which was situated
+about a half a mile from the mole, in a retired street running
+parallel with the Cabanas river, surrounded by a large garden, at the
+foot of which was a summer-house, overhanging the river, to which led
+a flight of steps. Upon our arrival we alighted from our vehicle, paid
+our driver and rang the gate-bell. A gray-headed negro gave us
+admission and conducted us to the house, where we were met by our
+host.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! my dear boys," he cried, "I am delighted to see you, and so will
+be Mrs. Stowe and the girls. They associate with the natives but very
+little, and old friends like you will be a godsend."</p>
+
+<p>Half an hour afterward Langley and I were as much at home as could be,
+laughing and chatting with Mary and Ellen Stowe. Mary was a tall,
+handsome brunette of eighteen, and my chum had always preferred her to
+her sister, but my predilections were in favor of the gentle Ellen.
+While we were children the elders often predicted that when we grew up
+there would be a wedding some day, but her father had carried her with
+him when he moved from Boston to the West Indies, and there seemed an
+end to our intimacy. She was two years younger than I, and
+consequently, at the time I saw her in Matanzas, about sixteen. I wish
+I could describe her&mdash;perhaps I may be able to give you some idea of
+her. She was of the middle height, and bade fair to be exquisitely
+formed; her face was intellectual, a tolerably high forehead, straight
+nose, a small mouth with pretty rosy lips, white, even teeth, small
+and thorough bred hands and feet, and her eyes, which I have purposely
+left to the last, are, notwithstanding Mr. Stewart's encomiastic
+account of the dark orbs of the Creole girls, I think, the most
+beautiful in the world; they are large, dark-blue and loving, and when
+she looks up at you, even if you are the most wicked man in the world,
+it will calm your thoughts and make you still and quiet. Dear reader,
+imagine Ellen very beautiful, and take my word for it that your fancy
+will not deceive you. Ellen and I resumed our former friendship almost
+immediately, and after dinner we walked into the garden to talk over
+auld lang syne.<span class='pagenum'>[212]</span></p>
+
+<p>"Do you remember, Ellen," said I, "how we both cried when I bade you
+good-bye?"</p>
+
+<p>"Did <i>I</i>?" asked Ellen, mischievously.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, you little sinner, much more than I did, because I was fourteen
+and had the dignity of manhood to support."</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said Ellen, "I think I do remember something about it."</p>
+
+<p>"Is it possible! and does your memory serve you still farther; you
+said that if I would ever come to see you, you would never refuse to
+kiss me again."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Frank Byrne, what a fertile invention you have got."</p>
+
+<p>"Not so," I replied, "only an excellent memory, come, now, own the
+truth, didn't you promise me so?"</p>
+
+<p>"But, Frank, I was a little girl then, and my contracts were not valid
+you know; however, if&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"If what?" demanded I, perceiving that she blushed and hesitated.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, if <i>you</i> wish to kiss <i>me</i>, I don't know that I should object a
+great deal."</p>
+
+<p>Of course I did no such thing.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Ellen," I said in a few moments, "you've grown very prudish;
+where did you learn to be?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! I don't know," she replied, "unless it was among the nuns."</p>
+
+<p>"The nuns!" I repeated, my thought taking a new turn."</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, the nuns, my lad, the nuns," cried Ellen, laughing immoderately
+at my abstracted look.</p>
+
+<p>"At what convent?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"The Ursuline. I went to school there immediately after our arrival,
+and, Frank, only think! my particular preceptress, Sister Agatha,
+father says is your own cousin. She understood English so much better
+than any of the rest that I was put under her immediate care."</p>
+
+<p>I was peculiarly interested in this piece of information, as the
+reader may suppose. I questioned Ellen closely, and finally told her
+the story of the loves and misfortunes of Mr. Stewart and Clara. The
+tears stood in the beautiful eyes of my auditor as I finished.
+"Langley and I have a plan for her escape," I added.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! Frank, she would not escape; she has taken the veil; she will not
+break her vow."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes she will, when she hears that her brother is free and Stewart is
+alive."</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said Ellen, "I know what I would do in her place, but what is
+your plan? In case she is willing to escape how do you propose to
+manage?"</p>
+
+<p>"That's the difficulty; don't the nuns ever come out of the convent?"</p>
+
+<p>"Never alone; always by twos. Sister Agatha is a great saint, and has
+a deal of liberty, but she is always in company."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, well," said I, "we shall have to scale the walls then."</p>
+
+<p>"Pooh! you are as romantic as William."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Miss Wisdom, wont you suggest something?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly. Frank," replied Ellen. "Sister Agatha always took quite a
+liking for me, because I was her scholar I suppose, and an American,
+and she and the Superior, who is a very good-natured person, came
+immediately to see me, when I was sick last summer, and afterward
+called very often. Now, if papa is willing, when your ship is ready to
+sail I'll fall sick again and send for Sister Agatha, who will be sure
+to come with some one else, but she can slip out through the court
+after awhile, and down the garden-walk here to the river, and go into
+your boat, which shall be waiting, and then you can take her off to
+the ship."</p>
+
+<p>"That is a capital plan, dear Ellen," said I, "but there is one grand
+objection to it."</p>
+
+<p>"What is that, Frank?"</p>
+
+<p>"You would get into trouble by it."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no! I think not; but yonder comes papa with mother, and William
+is saying fine things to Mary, behind them."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, Frank!" cried Mr. Stowe, as we made our appearance, "we were
+looking for you. I did not know but that you had run away with Ellen."</p>
+
+<p>"No," said I, "not yet; but we were contriving the best plan to run
+away with a nun."</p>
+
+<p>"Hush! you fool!" whispered Langley, pinching my arm.</p>
+
+<p>"Go to thunder!" was the reply, "I know what I'm about." I then
+related to Mr. Stowe the story the reader well knows, and which I
+found Mr. Stowe knew very well also, and finally disclosed Ellen's
+very excellent plan for the deliverance of my cousin.</p>
+
+<p>"If," said Mr. Stowe, in reply, when I had finished, "if you can get
+sister Agatha's consent to elope at the proper time, Ellen may fall
+sick if she pleases. I may be suspected in having a hand in the
+matter; but if the affair is properly managed, they can do no more
+than suspect, and that I care nothing about, as I'm going to move back
+to Boston in the spring. But the grand difficulty you will find to be
+in persuading Sister Agatha to break her vow."</p>
+
+<p>"Let me alone for that," replied I, "if I can only have an interview
+with her."</p>
+
+<p>"That is easily done," said Mary Stowe, "the nuns are allowed to see
+their friends at the grate."</p>
+
+<p>"And I will go with you to the convent to-morrow, and engage the
+superior's attention while you talk with your cousin," added her
+father.</p>
+
+<p>In the evening Langley and I held a council of war, wherein it was
+decided, <i>nem. con</i>., that our plot was in a fair way to be
+accomplished.</p>
+<br />
+
+<h4>CHAPTER VIII.</h4>
+
+<h5><i>The Visit at the Convent.</i></h5>
+
+
+<p>The next day Mr. Stowe and myself set out for the convent in that
+gentleman's carriage. Upon our arriving there we were shown into a
+spacious parlor, at one end of which was a larger grated window,
+opening into a smaller room. In a few moments the Lady Superior
+entered. She was a tall, handsome woman, and surprised my Protestant
+prejudices by receiving us very cordially, and immediately engaging
+with Mr. Stowe in a very lively,<span class='pagenum'>[213]</span> animated conversation in Spanish.
+Suddenly she turned toward me,</p>
+
+<p>"My good friend, Se&ntilde;or Stowe, says that you wish to see Sister Agatha,
+who was your cousin."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, se&ntilde;ora."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, the se&ntilde;or and myself are going to the school-room, and I will
+send her to you; but you must not make love to your cousin&mdash;she is
+very pretty, and you Americans have very sad morals;" and so saying,
+the lively superior led the way to the school-room, followed by Mr.
+Stowe.</p>
+
+<p>After they had retired I went up to the grate, and waited several
+minutes, until at last a door of the inner room opened, and a nun
+entered. Her face bore the traces of deep melancholy; but
+notwithstanding that, and the unbecoming dress which half concealed
+her form, I thought I had never seen a woman so lovely, so completely
+beautiful. I stood in mute wonder and admiration.</p>
+
+<p>"Did you wish to see me, se&ntilde;or?" asked the nun, in a low, soft voice.</p>
+
+<p>"I did, madam," I replied. "If you are Clara Garcia, allow me to
+introduce myself as your cousin, Frank Byrne."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Madre di Dios!</i>" cried the nun, her face lighting up with a smile of
+astonished delight, "can it be possible! How did you come here?"</p>
+
+<p>"In one of my father's ships," I replied. "I am a seaman on board of
+her."</p>
+
+<p>"What, the Cabot?" asked Sister Agatha, suddenly, with a color in her
+cheeks.</p>
+
+<p>"No, a new ship&mdash;the Gentile."</p>
+
+<p>The nun made many inquiries about my father and mother, and her
+cousins in Boston; and we chatted away quite merrily for some minutes.</p>
+
+<p>"You seem to take an interest in the world, after all," said I,
+striving to lead the conversation so that I might introduce the matter
+which was my business.</p>
+
+<p>"Not much, generally," sighed Sister Agatha. "I sometimes think of
+past times with regret, but I am for the most part very happy."</p>
+
+<p>This was a stumper. I determined to see if all this composure was
+real.</p>
+
+<p>"Can any one hear us?" I whispered.</p>
+
+<p>"No," answered the nun, opening her great eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, then, I've a great deal to tell you. Let me ask you, in the
+first place, if you know where your brother Pedro is."</p>
+
+<p>I was frightened at the expression which my cousin's face assumed.
+"Yes!" she said, in a hoarse voice, "he is in the <i>Guarda-Costa</i>. My
+God! Frank! I saw him a year ago in the streets, toiling as a
+scavenger."</p>
+
+<p>I saw that there was yet deep feeling under the cold, melancholy
+exterior. I had but little time to work, and hastened to proceed.</p>
+
+<p>"Cousin Clara," I resumed, "you are mistaken; your brother has escaped
+from confinement, and is now on board my ship, the Gentile."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank God!" cried the nun, clasping her hands, "now am I willing to
+die."</p>
+
+<p>"And further," said I, immediately continuing my revelations, "can you
+repress your feelings?"</p>
+
+<p>"What more can you have to tell me?" whispered Sister Agatha. "Go on,
+I am not so nearly stone as I thought myself; but I can hear without
+any dangerous outbreak of emotion whatever you have to say."</p>
+
+<p>"Well," I resumed, "you were mistaken about Mr. Stewart's death&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>I had been too abrupt. The nun turned deadly pale, and clung to the
+bars of the grate for support; but the emotion was momentary. "Go on,"
+said she, in a hoarse whisper.</p>
+
+<p>"Can you bear it?" I asked, anxiously.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, no matter what it may be."</p>
+
+<p>"Command yourself, then; Mr. Stewart is not only alive, but well; he
+loves you yet most ardently, but without hope; he is now on board of
+the Gentile, he and Pedro&mdash;not three miles from you."</p>
+
+<p>While thus by piecemeal I doled out my information, I watched the
+effect on my auditor. There was no more fainting. Her lips parted, and
+displayed her white teeth firmly set against each other, and her
+little hands grasped the bars of the grate convulsively.</p>
+
+<p>Quickly and concisely I stated my plan for her escape; but still she
+maintained the same attitude; she did not even seem to hear me.</p>
+
+<p>"Clara, do you consent?" I cried, in despair, for I heard the steps of
+the Superior and Mr. Stowe.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly she extended her hand through the grate and grasped mine. "I
+do," she said, "if I'm damned for it."</p>
+
+<p>"Right, then; you shall be warned in time. Go now, for your features
+are any thing but calm."</p>
+
+<p>The nun vanished as the Superior entered.</p>
+
+<p>"I have been taking advantage of your confidence, se&ntilde;ora," said I; "I
+have been trying to persuade my cousin that she is discontented and
+unhappy, but without success."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! no fear of that, se&ntilde;or," cried the lady, with a smile, while Mr.
+Stowe stood aghast; "girls who have been disappointed in love make
+good nuns."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you will dare to trust me to see her again. I promised that I
+would call once more before I sail, with your permission."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Si, Se&ntilde;or</i>, whenever you please."</p>
+
+<p>After partaking of some very fine fruit and wine, we took our leave
+with many thanks.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Frank, how you startled me," said Mr. Stowe, as we drove off.
+"You told the truth, I suppose; but the truth is not to be told at all
+times."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" said I, "I only told half the truth&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Is it possible that Sister Agatha consents to escape?"</p>
+
+<p>"She has promised to do so," I replied.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Stowe expressed so much surprise that I found that he had had no
+faith in my success&mdash;but the good gentleman was now overjoyed.
+"Capital, Frank!" said he, "you would make a splendid diplomatist. Now
+what do you say to going directly aboard ship and telling your tidings
+to the officers and Pedro? We will take a boat at the mole and get
+aboard in time for dinner."<span class='pagenum'>[214]</span></p>
+
+<p>"Agreed; how happy we shall make Mr. Stewart and Don Pedro."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Stowe prophesied correctly. The officers of the Gentile were at
+dinner in the cabin when we suddenly burst upon them. I need not say
+that all hands were no less surprised than delighted at the
+intelligence we had to communicate. I thought my hands would be wrung
+off, so severely were they shaken.</p>
+
+<p>After dinner Mr. Stowe and myself returned on shore, and in a family
+conclave there also stated the result of our visit to the convent.</p>
+<br />
+
+
+<h4>CHAPTER IX.</h4>
+
+<h5><i>Yellow Fever and Love-making.</i></h5>
+
+<p>The succeeding three days passed most happily with me. I grew more and
+more in love with Ellen. We visited all the places of note in the
+neighborhood of the town, and were even projecting an excursion to
+Havana in the steamboat, when an event occurred that came very near
+sending me on a much longer voyage. One afternoon, while waiting for
+Captain Smith with Langley at the United States Caf&eacute;, I was suddenly
+taken with a distracting pain through my temples, though just
+previously I had felt as well as ever in my life. The agony increased,
+and Langley, to whom I complained, began to be frightened, when
+luckily Captain Smith arrived, who, upon looking at me, and hearing
+Langley's account of the matter, immediately called a volante, put me
+aboard, and drove to Mr. Stowe's house. During the ride I grew worse
+and worse every moment; the jolting of the carriage almost killed me,
+and by the time we had arrived at our destination I was nearly crazy.
+I just remember of being lifted out of the volante, and of seeing the
+pale, anxious face of Ellen somewhere&mdash;and I knew no more of the
+matter until some sixty hours afterward, one fine morning, when I all
+at once opened my eyes, and found myself flat on my back, weak as a
+cat, and my head done up in plaintain-leaves and wet towels. I heard
+low conversation and the rattle of dice, and casting my eyes toward
+the verandah, from whence the noise proceeded, I perceived Langley and
+Mary Stowe very composedly engaged in a game of backgammon. Ellen sat
+by the jalousie, just within the room, looking very pale, and with a
+book in her hand, which I judged by the appearance to be a
+prayer-book. I felt very weak, but perfectly happy, and not being
+disposed to talk, lay entirely still, enjoying the delicious languor
+which I felt, and the cool breeze which entered freely from the
+blinded windows, and listened to the conversation of my friends.</p>
+
+<p>"Come, come, Ellen," said Mary, looking up from the board, "don't look
+so wobegone&mdash;'t is your throw, William&mdash;Frank is doing well enough
+now. The doctor says that when he wakes he will be entirely out of
+danger, and free from pain. Psha! Will, you take me up. I don't see,
+my dear, why you should take so much more interest than any one
+else&mdash;is it not ridiculous, William?"</p>
+
+<p>"Perfectly so," replied Langley&mdash;"double sixes, by the Lord!&mdash;two of
+'em, three, four. Now Frank is my shipmate, and, in the main, a
+tolerable decent fellow; but he isn't worth shedding so many tears
+about."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, William!" exclaimed Ellen, "you know that you cried like a baby
+yourself night before last, when he was so very sick."</p>
+
+<p>"Ahem! so I did; but I was so vexed to see our pleasant party to
+Havana was broken up. Frank was very ill-natured to fall sick just at
+that time&mdash;I'll flog him for it when he gets well."</p>
+
+<p>"You can't do it, Bill Langley," cried I, as loudly as possible, for
+the first time taking a part in the conversation.</p>
+
+<p>The trio started to their feet at this unexpected display of my
+colloquial powers; down went backgammon-board, men, dice, prayer-book,
+and all upon the floor.</p>
+
+<p>"Hillo! Frank!" cried Langley, ranging alongside the bed, "how do you
+find yourself by this time, my little dear?"</p>
+
+<p>"Perfectly well, only very weak."</p>
+
+<p>"Does your head ache now, Frank?" asked Mary, laying her soft hand
+upon my forehead.</p>
+
+<p>"Not a bit, only I've got most confounded sore hair."</p>
+
+<p>"Eh! my lad, they talked of leaving you no hair at all," cried Bill,
+"they thought one spell of shaving your head. Egad! you'd have looked
+like a bald eagle!"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, what has been the matter with me?" I asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Matter with you! why, man, you have had the yellowest kind of a
+fever. Touch and go, it was; but you're worth ten dead men this
+morning."</p>
+
+<p>Ellen during this conversation had left the room, and now returned
+with her father and the physician, who had called with Captain Smith.
+I was pronounced in a fair way of speedy recovery. Everybody was very
+glad, but I noticed that Ellen said nothing; indeed, instead of being
+overjoyed like my good skipper or Langley, she had to wipe the tears
+from her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Frank," said Langley, when I was finally left alone with that worthy
+gentleman, "how little Nell did pipe her eye the other night, when we
+were all so fearful you were going to slip your wind; and just between
+you and I and the main-mast, I'm walking into her sister's young
+affections just as the monkey went up the back-stay, hand over hand.
+<i>Pre</i>haps she aint a darling. I've been writing a piece of poetry
+about her, don't you want to hear it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! be off with your nonsense&mdash;I wish to go to sleep."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, go to sleep, and be&mdash;cured, you unfeeling wretch;" and Mr.
+Langley, in a huff, walked out on the verandah, and began to smoke.</p>
+
+<p>Under the kind care of my good friends I grew rapidly better, and at
+the end of a week was entirely well; but still I enjoyed the society
+of Ellen so much, that whenever the skipper called upon me, I feigned
+myself too weak to go to my duty, and pleaded that Langley might stay
+ashore to take care of me.<span class='pagenum'>[215]</span> Captain Smith, though not deceived by this
+artifice, granted us liberty from day to day; and Bill and I were the
+two happiest fellows in the world. But there is an end to every thing.
+One day while sitting in the back verandah with Ellen, her father and
+mother, in rushed the skipper, in great glee, rubbing his hands.</p>
+
+<p>"Good morning, all hands!" cried he. "How are you, Frank?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! I'm not quite so well this morning," I replied, telling a
+bouncer.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, sir, I've got some news that'll do you as much good as the
+whole stock in trade of an apothecary taken at one dose. Let's see,
+to-day is Wednesday, and Friday evening, if good weather for our
+little plans to work, we shall sail for Boston."</p>
+
+<p>"For Boston!" cried everybody.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, for Boston! You see, Stowe, Mr. Byrne has heard how dull
+freights are here, and I have just got a letter from him by Gidding's,
+of the Duxbury, just arrived, in which he says&mdash;or I'll read that
+part&mdash;hum&mdash;let's see&mdash;oh&mdash;'if you have not already engaged a freight,
+you will immediately sail for Boston. I have an excellent opportunity
+to charter the Gentile for a China voyage; and I suppose you had as
+lief go to India again as to Russia.' Bless me if I hadn't! So, my
+dear fellow, if any of those higgling shippers apply to you, tell 'em
+to go to the devil with their ha'penny freights. Come, ride down
+street with me; Gidding's has some letters for you. Good morning, Miss
+Ellen! Morning, Frank! get well mighty fast, for we must use you a
+little, you know; and see Langley, and tell him to go aboard
+immediately after dinner."</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, ay, sir. Come, Ellen, let's walk into the garden and find William
+and Mary."</p>
+
+<p>We were very soon in the garden, sauntering along a little alley
+shaded by orange trees.</p>
+
+<p>"It seems to me," said Ellen, half pouting, "that you are mightily
+pleased about sailing next Friday, instead of staying in Matanzas a
+week longer."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, yes," I replied, "I must say that I am glad to go home, after an
+absence of eighteen months."</p>
+
+<p>"I wish I was going to dear old Boston," added Ellen, sighing.</p>
+
+<p>"You are to go this fall, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"Maybe so; but then, Frank, you will not be there, will you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, no," I replied, "not if I go with the ship to India; but what
+difference will that make?"</p>
+
+<p>Ellen made no answer, and I began to feel rather queer, and
+marvelously inclined to make love. I had always liked Ellen very much,
+and lately better than ever, but, being a novice in such matters, I
+was in doubt whether my predilection was really <i>bona fide</i> love or
+not; it didn't seem like the love I had read about in novels; and yet
+I felt very miserable at the idea of Ellen's loving anybody else. I
+was in a desperate quandary.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said Ellen, after the lapse of a quarter of an hour, "pray
+what can be the subject of your thoughts?"</p>
+
+<p>I am frank by nature as well as by name; and so, turning to my fair
+inquisitor, I said, "you know, Ellen, that I am very young yet."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Frank."</p>
+
+<p>"And that people at my age very often do not know their own minds."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Frank."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Ellen, I think <i>now</i> that I love you very dearly; and if I were
+five years older, and felt as I now do, and you were willing, I would
+marry you right away; but I am young, and may be deceived, and so may
+deceive you. Now, Ellen, if I should ask you if you loved me, would
+you tell me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Frank," said Ellen, very faintly.</p>
+
+<p>"And do you?" I asked; and, like Brutus, paused for a reply.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Frank, I like you very much."</p>
+
+<p>"Is that all? <i>Like</i>, is a very cold word. Do you love me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Frank," whispered Ellen, leaning her forehead against my
+shoulder. "I <i>think</i> I do; <i>you</i> wouldn't say any more than that."</p>
+
+<p>"That is all I wish you to say, my dear little girl," I replied,
+kissing her white neck and shoulders; "now then, listen. I shall
+return from India in about two years time, if then we are both of the
+same mind as now, we will begin to talk about the wedding-day. What do
+you say to that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, dear Frank."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you, dearest; now look up one minute."</p>
+
+<p>The reader, if he pleases, may supply in this place a few
+interjectional kisses from his imagination.</p>
+
+<p>With my arm around Ellen's slender waist, we walked down the shady
+alleys of the garden in search of Langley and Mary, but for a while
+were unsuccessful; at last I caught a sight of Mary's white dress in a
+distant arbor. We approached the bower unperceived by its occupants,
+and were upon the point of entering, but we luckily discovered in time
+that we should be altogether <i>de trop</i>. Langley was on his knees
+before the coquettish Mary, making love in his most grandiloquent
+style.</p>
+
+<p>"Most adorable creature," quoth my romantic shipmate, thumping his
+right side, "you lacerate my heart by your obdurate cruelty!"</p>
+
+<p>"Get up off your knees, you foolish boy," answered the mischievous
+girl; "you will certainly stain the knees of your white trowsers."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! divine goddess! hear me!" persisted my chum, magnanimously
+disregarding the welfare of his unwhisperables in the present crisis.</p>
+
+<p>"You idolatrous sailor remember the first commandment."</p>
+
+<p>"The devil fly away with the first commandment!" cried poor Langley,
+sorely vexed. "Most lovely of human beings," he continued with a deep
+groan, which he intended to be a pathetic sigh, "my heart is on fire."</p>
+
+<p>"May be you've got the fever, William," suggested Mary; "are you in
+<i>much</i> pain?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, great pain," said Bill, with another heart-rending groan.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, then, rise, I insist&mdash;Lord! if anybody should catch us in this
+predicament!"<span class='pagenum'>[216]</span></p>
+
+<p>"Hadn't we better go away?" whispered Ellen, blushing for her sister's
+sake.</p>
+
+<p>"No, no," I replied, "let's stay and see the fun."</p>
+
+<p>"Not till I persuade you to relent," replied Langley to Mary's
+oft-repeated request.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes you will. Get up off your knees immediately, or I vow I'll box
+your ears."</p>
+
+<p>"Strike!" cried Langley, with a theatrical air and tone, at the same
+time unbuttoning his vest, "strike! and wound the heart which beats
+for you alone!"</p>
+
+<p><i>Slap</i>&mdash;came Mary's delicate hand across the cheek of her disconsolate
+lover, with a force which brought an involuntary "ouch!" from his
+lips. "Get up, I say!" <i>Whack</i>&mdash;<i>slap</i>&mdash;came two more blows, first on
+one side of his head and then on the other.</p>
+
+<p>"By G&mdash;&mdash;d! madam!" sputtered Langley, rising in a rage, "I wish you
+were a man for half a minute."</p>
+
+<p>"Why," said Mary, "in that case you couldn't make love to me with any
+sort of propriety. Hold, hold, Willy, dear! don't go off angry; sit
+down here, I insist; nay, now, I'll box your ears again if you don't
+obey me; there, you'll feel perfectly cool in a moment. For shame!
+Bill, to get angry at a love-tap from a lady!"</p>
+
+<p>"Love-tap, indeed," muttered Langley, rubbing his cheek. "See where
+your confounded ring scratched my face."</p>
+
+<p>"Did it? Oh! I'm so sorry!" said Mary. "Hold here, while I kiss the
+place to make it well; there now, don't it feel much better? See! I've
+got my lips all blood, haven't I? Shall I wipe it off with my
+handkerchief, or&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Langley took the hint and kissed the rich ripe lips of his lovely
+companion, red with nothing but her own warm blood.</p>
+
+<p>"By Jupiter!" cried my shipmate, "Mary, you are the strangest girl I
+ever saw. One minute I think you love me, the next that you care
+nothing at all for me; one minute the most teasing little devil, and
+the next the dearest creature in all the world."</p>
+
+<p>"What am I now?" asked Mary.</p>
+
+<p>"You are the most angelic, adorable&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Take care, sir," cried Mary, shaking her finger; "don't have a
+relapse, or you'll catch it again."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, what shall I say then?" demanded poor Bill, in despair; "you
+are as hard to please as the skipper of a mud-scow."</p>
+
+<p>"Talk sensibly if you wish, but don't indulge in such lofty flights,
+unless you have a mind to soar out of hearing. Now, then, Will, what
+were you about to say?"</p>
+
+<p>"This," said my shipmate, taking the hand of his charming companion,
+and speaking like a frank, manly fellow, as he really was, "this, dear
+Mary, that I love you heartily and truly, and have loved you ever
+since we were children. At present I am a poor seaman, but I hope in a
+few years to rise in my profession, till I am able to support a wife
+in the style to which you have been accustomed, if then you will give
+me your hand I shall be more happy than I can express. Now, don't
+tease me any longer, but tell me if I have any chance."</p>
+
+<p>Mary's coquettish air was gone. While Langley had been speaking her
+face became suffused with a charming blush, which extended even to her
+heaving bosom, and when he finished she raised her eyes, bright and
+tearful, to his. "William," said she, "you have spoken candidly,
+without doubt, and deserve a candid answer. If when you become the
+mate of a ship you are willing to be burthened with me for a wife,
+dear Will, you can doubtless have me by asking papa."</p>
+
+<p>"Come, Ellen," said I, "let's go now."</p>
+<br />
+
+<h4>CHAPTER X.</h4>
+
+<h5><i>The Gentile loses her fore-topsail.</i></h5>
+
+
+<p>The hours flew like lightning until Friday arrived. I went to the
+convent in the morning, and in an interview with Sister Agatha
+informed her that in the evening she would probably be called to the
+sick bed of Ellen. Mr. Stowe bade us good-bye and sailed in the Havana
+steam-boat at noon, that his presence at the catastrophe might not
+seem suspicious. At sunset I bade farewell to dear little Ellen, who
+was indeed as pale as death, and in an hour afterward was on board the
+ship, where I found every thing in readiness for a hasty departure,
+the top-sails, jib and spanker were loosed, the anchor at the bows,
+and its place supplied by a small kedge, attached to the ship by a
+hawser, easily cut in case of need; the awnings were struck, and the
+decks covered with rigging and sails. The boat's crew who were to go
+on the expedition of the evening had already been selected, and were
+in high spirits at the probable danger, romance and novelty of the
+affair.</p>
+
+<p>"By thunder! Frank," said Jack Reeves, shaking my hand furiously when
+I appeared on the forecastle, "you're a trump and no mistake."</p>
+
+<p>"Arrah! now, Masther Frank, how yaller it is ye're lookin'; but it's
+you that's the boy to get the weather gage of Yaller Jack, let alone
+the nuns; wont we have a thumping time this night?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Teddy, are you going with us? You are the last man I should have
+thought to enlist in an expedition of this kind!"</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, ay, Masther Frank, its rather agen my conscience, to be sure; but
+it's the skipper's orders, and I alwus goes by that maxum, ' 'bey
+orders if you break owners.'"</p>
+
+<p>"Then the skipper has ordered you to go&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Of coorse; in the first place he says that he'll send no man into
+danger widout tellin' him of it, the jewel, and then he just stated
+the case, and sez he, 'which of yees will go, b'ys?' an' wid that uz
+all stipt for'ard. 'What,' sez the owld man, sez he, 'Teddy, I thought
+you was a Catholic!' 'Faix! an' I am that, yer honor,' sez I, makin' a
+big sign of the cross, 'long life to the Pope and the clargy!' 'It's a
+nun we're goin' to abductionize to-night,' sez he, 'I thought you
+understood that.' 'I know that, yer honor,' sez I, 'but if you will
+jist plaze to order me to go, I can't help meself, and so your own
+sowl will be damned, beggin' yer honor's pardon,' sez I, 'and not
+mine.' The officers all laughed, and the owld man, sez he, 'Teddy,
+you're quite ingenuous!'<span class='pagenum'>[217]</span> 'Thank yer honor,' sez I, 'but I'll cotton
+to Ichabod Green in that line, since he invinted the new spun-yarn
+mill.'"</p>
+
+<p>Soon after sundown the land wind from the south set in smartly, and by
+eight o'clock we were not a little fearful lest our kedge might drag.
+The captain's gig was brought to the stairs, and the party chosen for
+the expedition took their places, the first mate and ship's cousin and
+six stout seamen, well armed. Stewart was very nervous and silent; the
+only remark he made after we left the ship was when we swept by the
+end of the mole.</p>
+
+<p>It was just nine o'clock when we hauled into the shade of the
+summer-house and its vines at the foot of Mr. Stowe's garden. I was
+commissioned to go to the house while the rest staid by the boat. On
+the stairs of the back verandah I met Mary Stowe.</p>
+
+<p>"Is it you, Frank?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, ay; is Cousin Clara here?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes! in Ellen's room, and the Superior is in the parlor with
+mother. Ellen has been terribly sick, but she was well enough to
+whisper just now, 'Give Frank my best love.'"</p>
+
+<p>"Here, Mary," said I, "give her this kiss a thousand times."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, heavens! what a pretty one! But I must go and send Sister Agatha
+to you; we've got a hard part to act when her flight is discovered. I
+say, Frank, give Langley my love; don't wonder at it now, adieu! I'll
+see you in two years."</p>
+
+<p>"I waited impatiently for two minutes, which seemed two hours; at last
+I heard a light step on the stairs, and in a moment more held the
+runaway nun in my arms.</p>
+
+<p>"Courage!" said I, "you are safe."</p>
+
+<p>Throwing a cloak over her, we hastily ran down the orange-walk. I
+could not suppress a sigh as I passed the place where Ellen had told
+me that she thought she loved me. In a moment we reached the boat;
+Stewart stood upon the shore to receive us, caught the fainting form
+of Cousin Clara in his arms, and bore her apparently lifeless to the
+stern-sheets; the men shipped their oars, and I seized the
+rudder-lines, and gave the word of command.</p>
+
+<p>"Push off&mdash;let fall&mdash;give way&mdash;and now pull for your lives."</p>
+
+<p>The boat shot like lightning down the narrow river to its mouth, then
+across the broad bay, glittering in the first rays of the just risen
+moon. The band was playing as we rapidly shot past the barracks.</p>
+
+<p>I sat near the lovers in the stern-sheets, and heard Stewart whisper,
+"Dearest, do you remember that old Castilian air?" The answer was
+inaudible, but from the long kiss that Stewart pressed upon the lips
+which replied to him, I judged that the reply was in the affirmative.
+At last the ship was reached, and the passengers of the boat were
+safely transferred to the broad, firm deck of the old Gentile.</p>
+
+<p>The reader will excuse my describing the scene which ensued, for, as I
+have before said, and as the reader has probably assented, description
+is not my forte; beside, I am in a devil of a hurry to get the ship
+under weigh, or all will be lost.</p>
+
+<p>The hawser was cut, and we wore round under our jib; the top-sails
+were hoisted and filled out before the breeze, and we began our voyage
+toward home. Sail after sail was set, and the noble old ship danced
+merrily and swiftly along, leaving the scene of my cousin's suffering
+far astern; and, alas! every moment adding to the distance between
+Ellen and me. The lights of the distant city, shining through the mazy
+rigging of the shipping before it, grew dimmer and more faint, and
+finally, entirely disappeared; the wide ocean was before us.</p>
+
+<p>The next morning we were seventy miles from the nearest land of Cuba;
+and ten days afterward the marine lists of the Boston papers announced
+the arrival of the ship Gentile, Smith, from Matanzas.</p>
+<br />
+
+<h4>CHAPTER XI.</h4>
+
+<h5><i>In which the fullness of the Gentiles is accomplished.</i></h5>
+
+<p>Great was the joy of my father and mother, and good little sisters, at
+the unexpected appearance of Cousins Pedro and Clara. The money of the
+former, it may be recollected, had been brought to Boston in the
+Cabot, and placed in my father's hands, and though Pedro could not be
+called a rich man, still the sum now paid him by his uncle was very
+handsome. This, by advice, was invested in an India venture to send by
+the Gentile; and my Cousin Pedro, in consequence of this and my
+father's recommendation, was appointed supercargo of that ship by Mr.
+Selden, the merchant who had chartered her.</p>
+
+<p>Captain Smith was removed to a new and larger vessel; and the
+Gentile's list of officers, when she cleared for Canton, stood thus,
+Benjamin Stewart, master; Pedro Garcia, supercargo; Micah Brewster,
+1st officer; William Langley, 2nd do.; Frank Byrne, 3rd do. Jack
+Reeves was also in the forecastle, but Teddy staid by his old skipper.</p>
+
+<p>It was a very pleasant day when we sailed from the end of Long Wharf;
+but we had got nearly under weigh before Captain Stewart came on
+board.</p>
+
+<p>"That's always the way with these new married skippers," growled the
+pilot, as he gave orders to hoist the maintop-sail."</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'>[218]</span></p><p>About a month ago, the senior partner of the firm of Byrne &amp; Co. was
+heard to say, that he had in his employ three sea captains who had
+each one wooed his wife in broad daylight, in a garden of the city of
+Matanzas.</p>
+<br /><br />
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3><a name="ILENOVAR" id="ILENOVAR"></a>ILENOVAR.</h3>
+
+<h4>FROM A STORY OF PALENQUE.</h4>
+
+<h4>A FRAGMENT.</h4>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+<h5>BY WM. GILMORE SIMMS, AUTHOR OF "THE YEMASSEE," "RICHARD HURDIS," ETC.</h5>
+<hr class="short" />
+<br />
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Weary, but now no longer girt by foes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">He darkly stood beside that sullen wave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Watching the sluggish waters, whose repose<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Imaged the gloomy shadows in his heart;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Vultures, that, in the greed of appetite,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Still sating blind their passionate delight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lose all the wing for flight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And, brooding deafly o'er the prey they tear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hear never the low voice that cries, "depart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Lest with your surfeit you partake the snare!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thus fixed by brooding and rapacious thought,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Stood the dark chieftain by the gloomy stream,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When, suddenly, his ear<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">A far off murmur caught,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Low, deep, impending, as of trooping winds,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Up from his father's grave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That ever still some fearful echoes gave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Such as had lately warned him in his dream,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of all that he had lost&mdash;of all he still might save!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Well knew he of the sacrilege that made<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That sacred vault, where thrice two hundred kings<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Were in their royal pomp and purple laid,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Refuge for meanest things;&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Well knew he of the horrid midnight rite,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the foul orgies, and the treacherous spell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">By those dread magians nightly practiced there;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And who the destined victim of their art;&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">But, as he feels the sacred amulet<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That clips his neck and trembles at his breast&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">As once did she who gave it&mdash;he hath set<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His resolute spirit to its work, and well<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">His great soul answers to the threatning dread,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Those voices from the mansions of the dead!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Upon the earth, like stone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He crouched in silence; and his keen ear, prone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Kissed the cold ground in watchfulness, not fear!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But soon he rose in fright,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">For, as the sounds grew near,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He feels the accents never were of earth:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They have a wilder birth<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Than in the council of his enemies,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And he, the man, who, having but one life,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hath risked a thousand in unequal strife,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Now, in the night and silence, sudden finds<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A terror, at whose touch his manhood flies.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The blood grows cold and freezes in his veins,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His heart sinks, and upon his lips the breath<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Curdles, as if in death!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Vainly he strives in flight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His trembling knees deny&mdash;his strength is gone!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">As one who, in the depth of the dark night,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Groping through chambered ruins, lays his hands<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">On cold and clammy bones, and glutinous brains,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The murdered man's remains&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thus rooted to the dread spot stood the chief,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">When, from the tomb of ages, came the sound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As of a strong man's grief;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">His heart denied its blood&mdash;his brain spun round&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">He sank upon the ground!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">'Twas but an instant to the dust he clung;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The murmurs grew about him like a cloud&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He breathed an atmosphere of spirit-voices,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Most sighing sad, but with a sound between,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As of one born to hope that still rejoices,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In a sweet foreign tongue,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That seemed exulting, starting from its shroud,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To a new rapture for the first time seen!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This better voice, as with a crowning spell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On the chief's spirit fell;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Up starting from the earth, he cried aloud:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Ah! thou art there, and well!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">I thank thee, thou sweet life, that unto me<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Art life no longer&mdash;thou hast brought me life,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Such as shall make thy murderers dread the strife.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">But for thy ear a gentler speech be mine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And I will wait until the terrible hour<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Hath past, and I may wholly then be thine!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now am I sworn unto a wilder power,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But none so clear, or precious, sweetest flower,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That ever, when Palenque possessed her tower<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And white-robed priesthood, wert of all thy race<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Most queenly, and the soul of truth and grace;&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Blossom of beauty, that I could not keep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And know not to resign&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I would, but cannot weep!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">These are not tears, my father, but hot blood<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That fills the warrior's eyes;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">For every drop that falls, a mighty flood<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Our foemen's hearts shall yield us, when the dawn<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Begins of that last day<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose red light ushers in the fatal fray,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Such as shall bring us back old victories,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or of the empire, evermore withdrawn.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Shall make a realm of silence and of gloom,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Where all may read the doom,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But none shall dream the horrid history!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I do not weep&mdash;I do not shrink&mdash;I cry<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For the fierce strife and vengeance! Taught by thee,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No other thought I see!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My hope is strong within, my limbs are free.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">My arms would strike the foe&mdash;my feet would fly,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where now he rides triumphant in his sway&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And though within my soul a sorrow deep<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Makes thought a horror haunting memory,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">I do not, will not weep!"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then swore he&mdash;and he called the tree whose growth<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of past and solemn centuries made it wear<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">An ancient, god-like air,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To register his deep and passionate oath.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Hate to the last he swore&mdash;a wild revenge,<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'>[219]</span>
+<span class="i0">Such as no chance can change,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Vowed he before those during witnesses,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Rocks, waters and old trees.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And, in that midnight hour,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No sound from nature broke,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No sound save that he spoke,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">No sound from spirits hushed and listening nigh!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His was an oath of power&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">A prince's pledge for vengeance to his race&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To twice two hundred years of royalty&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That still the unbroken sceptre should have sway,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While yet one subject warrior might obey,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Or one great soul avenge a realm's disgrace!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It was the pledge of vengeance, for long years,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Borne by his trampled people as a dower<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of bitterness and tears;&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Homes rifled, hopes defeated, feelings torn<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">By a fierce conqueror's scorn;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The national gods o'erthrown&mdash;treasure and blood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Once boundless as the flood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">That 'neath his fixed and unforgiving eye<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Crept onward silently;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Scattered and squandered wantonly, by bands,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Leaguered in shame, the scum of foreign lands,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Sent forth to lengthen out their infamy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With the wild banquet of a pampered mood.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Even as he swore, his eye<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Grew kindled with a fierce and flaming blight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Red-lowering like the sky,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">When, heralding the tempest in his might,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The muttering clouds march forth and form on high.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With sable banners and grim majesty.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beneath his frowning brow a shaft of fire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That told the lurking ire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shot ever forth, outflashing through the gloom<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It could not well illume,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Making the swarthy cheeks on which it fell<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Seem trenched with scarr&eacute;d lines of hate and hell.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then heaved his breast with all the deep delight<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The warrior finds in promise of the fight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Who seeks for vengeance in his victory.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For, in the sudden silence in the air,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He knew how gracious was the audience there:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He heard the wings unfolding at the close,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And the soft voice that cheered him once before<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Now into utterance rose:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">One whispered word,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">One parting tone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And then a fragrant flight of wings was heard<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And she was gone, was gone&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Yet was he not alone! not all alone!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Thus, having sworn&mdash;the old and witnessing tree<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bent down, and in his branches registered<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Each dark and passionate word;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And on the rocks, trenched in their shapeless sides,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The terrible oath abides;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the dark waters, muttering to their waves,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bore to their secret mansions and dim caves<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The low of death they heard.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thus were the dead appeased&mdash;the listening dead&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">For, as the warrior paused, a cold breath came,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Wrapping with ice his frame,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A cold hand pressing on his heart and head;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Entranced and motionless,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Upon the earth he lies,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">While a dread picture of the land's distress<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Rose up before his eyes.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">First came old Hilluah's shadow, with the ring<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">About his brow, the sceptre in his hand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Ensigns of glorious and supreme command,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Proofs of the conqueror, honored in the king.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Ilenovar! Ilenovar!" he cried:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Vainly the chief replied;&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He strove to rise for homage, but in vain&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The deathlike spell was on him like a chain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And his clogged tongue, that still he strove to teach,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Denied all answering speech!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The monarch bade him mark<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The clotted blood that, dark,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Distained his royal bosom, and that found<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Its way, still issuing, from a mortal wound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Ghastly and gaping wide, upon his throat!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The shadow passed&mdash;another took his place,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of the same royal race;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The noble Yumuri, the only son<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of the old monarch, heir to his high throne,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Cut off by cunning in his youthful pride;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There was the murderer's gash, and the red tide<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Still pouring from his side;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And round his neck the mark of bloody hands,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That strangled the brave sufferer while he strove<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Against their clashing brands.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not with unmoistened eyes did the chief note<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">His noble cousin, precious to his love,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Brother of one more precious to his thought,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With whom and her, three happy hearts in one,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He grew together in their joys and fears&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And not till sundered knew the taste of tears;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Salt, bitter tears, but shed by one alone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Him the survivor, the avenger&mdash;he<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who vainly shades his eyes that still must see!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Long troops came after of his slaughtered race,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Each in his habit, even as he died:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The big sweat trickled down the warrior's face,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet could he move no limb, in that deep trance,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor turn away his glance!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">They melt again to cloud&mdash;at last they fade;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">He breathes, that sad spectator,&mdash;they are gone;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">He sighs with sweet relief; but lo! anon,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A deeper spell enfolds him, as a maid,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Graceful as evening light, and with an eye<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Intelligent with beauty, like the sky,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And wooing as the shade,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Bends o'er him silently!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With one sweet hand she lifts the streaming hair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">That o'er her shoulders droops so gracefully,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While with the other she directs his gaze,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All desperate with amaze,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet with a strange delight, through all his fear!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What sees he there?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Buried within her bosom doth his eye<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The deadly steel descry;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The blood stream clotted round it&mdash;the sweet life<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shed by the cruel knife!&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The keen blade guided to the pure white breast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By its own kindred hand, declares the rest!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Smiling upon the deed, she smiles on him,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And in that smile the lovely shape grows dim.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">His trance is gone&mdash;his heart<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hath no more fear! in one wild start<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He bursts the spell that bound him, with a cry<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That rings in the far sky;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He does not fear to rouse his enemy!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The hollow rocks reply;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He shouts, and wildly, with a desperate voice,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As if he did rejoice<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That death had done his worst;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And in his very desperation blessed,<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'>[220]</span>
+<span class="i0">He felt that life could never more be cursed;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And from its gross remains he still might wrest<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">A something, not a joy, but needful to his breast!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His hope is in the thought that he shall gain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sweet vengeance for the slain&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For her, the sole, the one<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">More dear to him than daylight or the sun,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That perished to be pure! No more! no more!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hath that stern mourner language! But the vow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Late breathed before those spectre witnesses,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His secret spirit mutters o'er and o'er,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As 't were the very life of him and his&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dear to his memory, needful to him now!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A moment and his right hand grasped his brow-<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then, bending to the waters, his canoe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like some etherial thing that mocks the view,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Glides silent from the shore.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<br /><br />
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3><a name="THE_LAST_OF_HIS_RACE" id="THE_LAST_OF_HIS_RACE"></a>THE LAST OF HIS RACE.</h3>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+<h5>BY S. DRYDEN PHELPS.</h5>
+<hr class="short" />
+<br />
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">'Twas to a dark and solitary glen,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Amid New England's scenery wild and bold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">A lonely spot scarce visited by men,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Where high the frowning hills their summits hold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">And stand, the storm-beat battlements of old&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Returned at evening from the fruitless chase,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Weary and sad, and pierced with autumn's cold<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And laid him mournful in his rocky place,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The grief-worn warrior chief&mdash;last of his once proud race.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">He wrapt his mantle round his manly form,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">And sighed as on his cavern floor he lay;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">His bosom heaved with passion's varying storm,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">While he to melancholy thoughts gave way,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">And mused on deeds of many a by-gone day.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Scenes of the past before his vision rose&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">The fearless clans o'er whom he once held sway,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The bloody battle-field and vanquished foes,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His wide extended rule, which few had dared oppose.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">He sees again his glad and peaceful home,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">His warlike sons and cherished daughters dear;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Together o'er his hunting-grounds they roam,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Together they their honored sire revere;<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">But trickles down his cheek the burning tear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">As fades the spectral vision from his eye:<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Low at his shrine he bows with listening ear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And up to the Great Spirit sends a cry,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To bear him to his rest, and bid his sorrows die.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Tired of the lonely world he longs to go<br /></span>
+<span class="i3">And join his kindred and the warrior band,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Where fruits for him in rich luxuriance grow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Nor comes the pale-face to that spirit-land:<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Ere he departs for aye, he fain would stand<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Again upon his favorite rock and gaze<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">O'er the wide realm where once he held command,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Where oft he hunted in his younger days,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where, in the joyful dance, he sang victorious lays.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Up the bold height with trembling step he passed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">And gained the fearful eminence he sought;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">As on surrounding scenes his eye was cast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">His troubled spirit racked with frenzied thought,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">And urged by ruin on his empire brought,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">He uttered curses on the pale-faced throng,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">With whom in vain his scattered warriors fought<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And on the sighing breeze that swept along,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He poured the fiery words that filled his vengeful song:<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Fair home of the red man! my lingering gaze<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On thy ruin now rests, like the sun's fading rays;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Tis the last that I give&mdash;like the dim orb of day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My life shall go down, and my spirit away.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Loved home of the red man! I leave thee with pain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The place where my kindred, my brothers were slain;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The graves of my fathers, whose wigwams were here;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The land where I hunted the swift-bounding deer.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">No longer these hills and these valleys I roam,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No more are these mountains and forests my home,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No more, on the face of the beautiful tide,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shall the red man's canoe in tranquillity glide.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The pale-face hath conquered&mdash;we faded away,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like mist on the hills in the sun's burning ray,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like the leaves of the forest our warriors have perished;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Our homes have been sacked by the stranger we cherished.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">May the Great Spirit come in his terrible might,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And pour on the white man his mildew and blight<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">May his fruits be destroyed by the tempest and hail,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the fire-bolts of heaven his dwellings assail.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">May the beasts of the mountain his children devour,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the pestilence seize him with death-dealing power;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">May his warriors all perish and he in his gloom,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like the hosts of the red men, be swept to the tomb.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Scarce had the wild notes of the chieftain's song<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Died mournful on the evening breeze away,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Ere down the precipice he plunged along<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Mid ragged cliffs that in his passage lay:<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">All torn and mangled by the fearful fray,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Naught save the echo of his fall arose.<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">The winds that still around that summit play,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The sporting rill that far beneath it flows,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Chant, where the Indian fell, their requiem o'er his woes.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<br /><br />
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3><a name="DECAY_AND_ROME" id="DECAY_AND_ROME"></a>DECAY AND ROME.</h3>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Methinks I see, within yon wasted hall,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">O'erhung with tapestry of ivy green,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The grim old king Decay, who rules the scene,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Throned on a crumbling column by the wall,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beneath a ruined arch of ancient fame,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Mocking the desolation round about,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Blotting with his effacing fingers out<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The inscription, razing off its hero's name&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And lo! the ancient mistress of the globe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With clasp&eacute;d hands, a statue of despair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Sits abject at his feet, in fetters bound&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">A thousand rents in her imperial robe,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Swordless and sceptreless, her golden hair<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dishevelled in the dust, for ages gathering round!
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;R. H. S.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<br /><br />
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3><a name="THE_LITTLE_CAP-MAKER" id="THE_LITTLE_CAP-MAKER"></a>THE LITTLE CAP-MAKER.</h3>
+<span class='pagenum'>[221]</span>
+
+<h4>OR LOVE'S MASQUERADE.</h4>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+<h5>BY MRS. CAROLINE H. BUTLER.</h5>
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<h4>PART I.</h4>
+
+<p>Fair Ursula sits alone in an apartment which seems fitted up for the
+reception of some goddess. She is not weeping, but her dark eyes are
+humid with tears. An air of melancholy rests on her young face, like a
+shadow on a rose-leaf, while her little hands are folded despairingly
+on her lap. The hem of her snowy robe sweeps the rich surface of the
+carpet, from out which one dainty little foot, in its fairy slipper of
+black satin, peeps forth, wantonly crushing the beautiful bouquet
+which has fallen from the hands of the unhappy fair one.</p>
+
+<p>Every thing in this inviting apartment is arranged with the most
+exquisite taste and elegance. On tables of unique pattern are
+scattered the most costly gems of art and <i>vertu</i>&mdash;choice paintings
+adorn the walls&mdash;flowers, rare and beautiful, lift their heads proudly
+above the works of art which surround them, and in splendid Chinese
+cages, birds of gorgeous plumage have learned to caress the rosy lips
+of their young mistress, or perch triumphantly on her snowy finger.
+Here are books, too, and music&mdash;a harp&mdash;a piano&mdash;while through a half
+open door leading from a little recess over which a <i>multaflora</i> is
+taught to twine its graceful tendrils, a glimpse may be caught of rosy
+silken hangings shading the couch where the queen of this little realm
+nightly sinks to her innocent slumbers.</p>
+
+<p>Eighteen summers have scarce kissed the brow of the fair maid, and
+already the canker worm of sorrow is preying upon her heart-strings.
+Poor thing, so young and yet so sad! What can have caused this
+sadness! Perhaps she loves one whose heart throbs not with answering
+kindness&mdash;perhaps loves one faithless to her beauty, or loves where
+cruel fate has interposed the barrier of a parent's frown!</p>
+
+<p>No&mdash;her heart is as free and unfettered as the wind.</p>
+
+<p>Ah! then perhaps her bosom friend, the chosen companion of her
+girlhood has proved unkind&mdash;some delightful project of pleasure
+perhaps frustrated, or, I dare say she has found herself eclipsed at
+Madame Raynor's <i>soir&eacute;e</i> by some more brilliant belle&mdash;no, no, none of
+these surmises are true, plausible as they appear! Then what is it?
+Perhaps&mdash;but you will never guess, and you will laugh incredulously
+when I tell you that poor, poor dear darling Ursula weeps
+because&mdash;because&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><i>She is an heiress!</i></p>
+
+<p>That is it&mdash;yes, weeps because she is the uncontrolled mistress of one
+hundred thousand dollars in houses, lands and gold, bright gold!</p>
+
+<p>Poor little dear&mdash;looking upon fortune as a serious mis-fortune, and
+even envying those whose daily toil can alone bring them the
+necessaries of life; for, have they friends&mdash;they are true
+friends&mdash;there is no selfishness in the bond which unites them&mdash;while
+she, unhappy child that she is, owes to her rank and riches her
+thousand friends and the crowd of satellites worshiping before her!
+What a foolish notion to enter her little head! True, it is foolish.
+Lovers, too, in plenty sigh at her feet, and in the soft moonlight the
+air is tremulous with sighs and music, as from beneath her window
+steals the soft serenade. But Ursula curls her lip disdainfully, and
+orders her maid to shut out the sweet sounds. Ever that hateful gold
+comes between her and her lovers, and then she wishes her lot was
+humble, that she might be loved for herself alone!</p>
+
+<p>Do you wish a portrait of the unhappy little heiress? Behold her then:</p>
+
+<p>A perfect little sylph, resting on the tiniest of feet, with hands so
+charming that you would feel an almost irresistible desire to fold
+them caressingly within your own&mdash;the rich complexion of a brunette
+with the bloom of Hebe on her cheek&mdash;her hair like burnished jet&mdash;eyes
+large, lustrous and black&mdash;but (alas that there should be a <i>but</i>!)
+poor Ursula had an unfortunate cast in her left eye&mdash;in others words
+she squinted&mdash;yes, absolutely squinted!</p>
+
+<p>Dear, dear what a pity!</p>
+
+<p>Yet stop, don't judge the little heiress too hastily, for after all it
+was not a bad squint&mdash;indeed, if you knew her, you would say it was
+really a becoming squint, such a roguish, knowing look did it give
+her! Nevertheless, it was a squint, and poor Ursula, notwithstanding
+the bewitching form and features her mirror threw back, fancied this a
+deformity which cast aside all her graces. And here again the <i>gold</i>
+jaundiced her imagination and whispered, "were it not for <i>me</i> what a
+horrible squint you would have in the straight forward eyes of the
+world!</p>
+
+<p>When her parents died Ursula Lovel was but an infant, yet as tender
+and affectionate as parents had been the good uncle and aunt to whose
+love and guardianship she was bequeathed. They had no children, and
+gladly took the little orphan to their bosoms with pity and love&mdash;and
+Ursula required all their watchful care, for she was ever a feeble
+child, giving no indications of that sprightly beauty and perfect
+health she now exhibited. Then indeed the squint was truly a
+deformity, for her thin, sallow countenance only made it far more
+conspicuous.</p>
+
+<p>People should be more guarded what they say before children. One good
+old lady by a careless re<span class='pagenum'>[222]</span>mark instilled into the mind of little
+Ursula a jealousy and distrust, which, but for the good sense maturer
+years brought to bear against such early impressions, would have
+rendered her unhappy for life. Propped up by pillows, she sat at a
+small table amusing herself by building little card houses, and then
+seeing them tumble down with all the kings and queens of her little
+city, when she heard her name mentioned in accents of pity by an old
+lady who had come to pay her aunt a morning visit.</p>
+
+<p>"She is very plain&mdash;is not she? What a great misfortune that her
+father should have left her so much money! Poor thing, it will only
+prove a curse to her, for if she lives she will doubtless become the
+prey of some fortune-hunter."</p>
+
+<p>Now what was meant by "fortune-hunter"&mdash;whether some giant or horrid
+ogress&mdash;the little girl could not tell, but that it was some dreadful
+thing waiting to devour her because she had money, haunted her mind
+continually. She was a child of fine capacity, and at school generally
+ranked the highest in her class&mdash;how many times her envious mates
+would say: "Well, well, it is a fine thing to be rich&mdash;it is your
+money, Miss Lovel, makes you so much favored&mdash;our teachers are both
+deaf and blind to your foibles!" What wonder, then, poor Ursula began
+to distrust herself, and to impugn the kindness of her teachers and
+friends, who really loved her for her sweet disposition, and were
+proud of her scholarship.</p>
+
+<p>But don't think that she has been hugging such unhappy thoughts to her
+bosom ever since, because you have just found her lamenting that she
+is an heiress!</p>
+
+<p>You shall hear. As childhood passed, health bloomed on her cheek, and
+shed its invigorating influence over the mind, and it was only when
+something occurred to arouse the suspicion of early childhood that she
+indulged in such feelings. She was intelligent and accomplished. Sang
+like a bird, painted to nature, and danced like a fairy. But there was
+something more than all this which contributed to her happiness&mdash;it
+was the power of doing good&mdash;a power which she possessed, and, through
+the judgment of her aunt, practiced. This excellent woman had taught
+her that money was not given her to be all lavished on self&mdash;that it
+was her duty, and ought to be her delight, to loose her purse-strings
+to the cries of the poor, and to scatter its glittering contents
+through the homes of the needy. And this did Ursula do&mdash;and was
+rewarded by the blessing of those she had relieved, and the happy
+consciousness of having mitigated the sorrows of her fellow mortals.</p>
+
+<p>But now this particular evening when you have seen little Ursula
+drooping under the weight of gold which Fortune it appears has so
+thanklessly showered upon her, she has met with an adventure which
+brings before her with all its tenacity the impression so early
+engendered. And now, as she sits there so sad and sorrowful, she is
+sighing to be loved for herself alone, and wishes her lot had been
+humble, that she might trust to professions, and not be forever
+reminded of that wealth which she fears will always mask the sincerity
+of those around her.</p>
+
+<p>Silly little girl! She would even exchange all the elegancies and
+luxuries of life to feed on love and roses!</p>
+
+<p>This unlucky evening she had shone as the most brilliant belle in the
+crowded assemblage of the fair and fashionable whom Madam Raynor had
+gathered into her splendid rooms. Tired at length with the gay scene
+around her, she had strolled off alone into the conservatory, and
+leaning against a pillar watched from a distance the giddy whirl of
+the waltz&mdash;the waving of feathers, the flashing of jewels, and the
+flitting of airy forms through those magnificent apartments. A few
+moments before she left the crowd, she had observed a stranger of very
+dashing air attentively regarding her, and then joining a friend of
+hers appeared to request an introduction. But young Allan was just
+about to join the dance, and ere it was finished Ursula had stolen
+away.</p>
+
+<p>While engaged as before described, she observed the same gentleman
+leaning on the arm of Allan strolling toward the conservatory.
+Concealed by the shadow of a large orange-tree, they passed her
+unobserved&mdash;they then paused in their walk, when Ursula suddenly heard
+her own name mentioned, and then the following conversation
+unavoidably fell on her ear:</p>
+
+<p>"Why she squints, Allan!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, what of that&mdash;those that know her best never think of it."</p>
+
+<p>"Pardon me, I consider it a very great defect, and slight as this
+blemish appears in Miss Lovel, her money could never blind me to the
+fact if I knew her ever so well."</p>
+
+<p>"I do not mean to imply," answered Allan, "that being an heiress
+renders the blemish imperceptible&mdash;no, it is her truly amiable
+disposition, her goodness, and engaging manners which makes her so
+beautiful to her friends."</p>
+
+<p>"O, a pattern woman!" cried the other, "worse yet!"</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean by a pattern woman?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, one of those shockingly amiable, running round into dark alleys,
+charity-dispensing beings&mdash;patting white-headed beggar boys, and
+kissing dirt-begrimed babies&mdash;who speak in soft, lisping tones of duty
+and benevolence&mdash;read the Bible to sick paupers, go to sewing meetings
+and work on flannel&mdash;and&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"There, that will do, Fifield," interrupted Allan, "making some
+allowance, you have drawn Miss Lovel's character to the life. Shall I
+introduce you?"</p>
+
+<p>"O certainly, a cool hundred thousand outweighs all my objections
+against pattern women&mdash;I could swallow a sermon every morning with the
+best grace in the world, and even were she as ugly as Hecate, I could
+worship at her feet, and wear the yoke for the sake of the golden
+trappings!"</p>
+
+<p>The young men now passed on, leaving poor Ursula wounded to the quick
+by the heartless remarks of the fortune-hunter. She did not join the
+gay assembly again, but requesting a servant to call her carriage,
+immediately returned home. Now can you wonder at the cloud on her
+brow?</p>
+
+<p>But see, even while we are looking at her, it is<span class='pagenum'>[223]</span> clearing away&mdash;like
+a sunbeam, out peeps a smile from each corner of her rosy mouth, and
+hark! you may almost hear her merry laugh as clapping her bands she
+exclaims&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, yes, I'll do it! What a capital idea&mdash;excellent, excellent!"
+Then rising and bounding lightly to the inner door she threw it wide,
+saying&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Here, Hetty, I have something to tell you&mdash;come quick."</p>
+
+<p>And at the summons a pretty young girl, seemingly about her own age,
+made her appearance from the chamber.</p>
+
+<p>"There, Hetty, I am better now," said Ursula, "how silly I am to let
+the remarks of such a person have power to move me! But I have such a
+grand project to tell you&mdash;come, while you are platting my hair, and,
+in the words of that same amiable youth, taking off all these
+<i>trappings</i>, I will let you into my secret."</p>
+
+<p>Hetty took the comb and thridded it through the long tresses of her
+young lady, which, released from the silver arrow so gracefully
+looping them on the top of her head, now fell around her nearly to the
+floor.</p>
+
+<p>"Hetty," exclaimed Ursula, suddenly throwing back her head and looking
+archly at the girl, "Hetty, do you want to see your mother?"</p>
+
+<p>"O, Miss Ursula," cried Hetty, the tears springing to her eyes,
+"indeed, indeed I do!"</p>
+
+<p>"Very well, I promise you then that in less than a week you shall be
+in her arms."</p>
+
+<p>"O, my dear Miss Ursula, do you really mean so?" said Hetty, bending
+over and kissing the glowing cheek of her mistress.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I really mean so&mdash;but dear, dear, you have run that hair-pin
+almost into my brain&mdash;never mind&mdash;only be quiet now&mdash;there, sit down,
+and I will tell you all about it." There was a roguish expression on
+Ursula's face as she continued: "Yes, you shall go home, and what's
+more, Hetty, I am going with you, and mean to live with you all
+summer, perhaps longer."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Miss Ursula!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes I do. And now you must assist me&mdash;you must promise me not to
+reveal to any one, not even to your mother, that I am the rich lady
+with whom you live. Remember I am a poor girl&mdash;poor as yourself&mdash;a
+friend of yours come into the country for&mdash;for her health&mdash;ha, ha, ha,
+Hetty, look at me&mdash;you must contrive to make me look paler, or shall
+this be a <i>hectic</i>?"</p>
+
+<p>"But, Miss Ursula&mdash;it will never do&mdash;you who have always had every
+thing so beautiful around you&mdash;you can never live in our humble way!"</p>
+
+<p>"Try me, try me, Hetty&mdash;for I am determined to lest my own individual
+merits, and see how far they may gain me the love and esteem of others
+when unsupported by the claims of wealth. Let me see, Hetty, I must
+have some employment aside from helping you to milk the cows and feed
+the pigs. Ah, I have it!" she cried, springing up and turning a
+pirouette&mdash;"listen&mdash;I will be a <i>milliner</i>! you know, aunt thinks I
+have a great knack at cap-making&mdash;O excellent idea&mdash;I will turn
+milliner for all the farmer's wives and daughters far and near." And
+catching up her embroidered mouchoir she began folding it into a
+turban, and then placing it gracefully on her little head, she turned
+to the laughing girl: "See there now&mdash;is not it exquisite&mdash;why my caps
+and turbans will turn the heads of all the swains in the village. You
+shall have one first, Hetty&mdash;you shall set <i>your</i> cap, and heigh-ho
+for a husband!"</p>
+
+<p>"But your uncle and aunt, Miss Ursula?"</p>
+
+<p>"O, I shall tell them candidly my project. They will laugh at me, I
+know, and try, perhaps, to dissuade me; but, after all, they will let
+me do as I please."</p>
+
+<p><i>Twelve</i>! chimed a beautiful Cupid running off with Time, which,
+exquisitely wrought in gold and pearl, stood on the dressing-table.</p>
+
+<p>In a few moments Hetty had drawn the rose-colored curtains around the
+couch of her young mistress, and left her to dreams as rosy.</p>
+<br />
+
+<h4>PART II.</h4>
+
+<p>And now will you follow me to another scene&mdash;an apartment more
+spacious, and even more elegant, than the one we have just left, save
+that it savors more of the "sterner sex." For instance, we may see a
+brace of pistols, superbly mounted, crossed over the mantel-piece&mdash;a
+flute upon the table&mdash;a rifle leaning against the wall, and, I
+declare, fishing-tackle thrown carelessly down, all among those
+delicate knackeries so beautifully arranged on yonder marble
+slab&mdash;just like the men!</p>
+
+<p>Reclining upon a sofa of crimson satin, wrought with gold thread,
+wrapped in an elegant dressing-robe, with his feet thrust into
+embroidered slippers, is a young man of very pleasing exterior, whom
+we should judge to be about five-and-twenty. The long, slender fingers
+of one hand are half buried in the rich mass of dark-brown hair which
+waves over his temples, the other, hanging over the back of the sofa,
+seems to partake of the disturbance of its master, for it beats and
+thrums the silken covering most unmercifully. See how he knits his
+fine brow, and now waves his arm menacingly in the air&mdash;what can be
+the matter!</p>
+
+<p>Ah! you will laugh again when I tell you here is another discontented
+heir of wealth.</p>
+
+<p>There! now he suddenly starts up as if distracted. "<i>Yelp</i>, <i>yelp</i>!"
+Ah! poor Fido! although your master seems evidently out of humor, he
+would not have kicked your beautiful spotted coat had he seen you!
+There, he caresses you&mdash;so fold back your long ears, and wag your tail
+complacently, while we hear what this impatient youth has to say, as
+he strides so rapidly hither and thither.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, no doubt wealth is a very fine thing, if the world would let
+one enjoy it peaceably; but to be thus forever dined, and teaed, and
+courted, and flattered, and smiled at, and bowed at, and winked at,
+when, if it were not for my fortune, I very much doubt whether one of
+these, my exceeding good friends, would give me a dinner to save me
+from starvation. Why I had rather be the veriest boor that holds a
+plough, or a cobbler at his last, than to be, as Shakspeare says, "the
+thing I am." I am heartily<span class='pagenum'>[224]</span> sick of it, and could almost turn my back
+upon the world, and lead a hermit's life. To be always a mark for
+managing mothers, with great grown-up daughters; aimed at, like a
+target, by scores of black, grey, and blue eyes; to be forever forced
+to waltz with this one, and sing with another&mdash;and, ere I know it,
+find myself entrapped into a close <i>t&ecirc;te-&agrave;-t&ecirc;te</i> with a third. I wish
+I <i>was</i> married; then one-half at least of my troubles would be
+over&mdash;for I should shake off this swarm of female fortune-hunters!
+<i>Married</i>! ah! I wish I was! But where can I find one who will love me
+for myself alone, and not for the standing my wealth would give her?
+<i>Married</i>! ah! how delightful to come home and find a dear little wife
+waiting with open arms to welcome me, and the rosiest and sweetest of
+lips coaxingly pressed to mine; all my cares forgotten, all my
+vexations subdued by her soothing caresses and tender words. And then
+how enchanting as she warbles like a linnet for my ear alone; how
+enchanting to lean her bewitching little head on my shoulder, and
+inhale the balmy fragrance of her breath. O! I wish I was married!"</p>
+
+<p>And now, so enraptured does this reasonable youth seem with the
+picture he has sketched, that not having any thing else, you see, to
+hug, he throws his arms most lovingly around himself. There, now he
+frowns again, and&mdash;hark what more he has to say.</p>
+
+<p>"In fact, I am not sure I have a real friend in the world, for, gild a
+fool or a monkey, and mark what a troop of flatterers fawn around and
+follow admiringly at his heels! And as for choosing a wife, why, were
+I toothless, one-eyed, or deaf as a post, the magic of gold would
+transform me into an Adonis!"</p>
+
+<p>Now stopping before a full-length mirror, he appears to console
+himself for such suppositions, by very complacently regarding his
+truly elegant figure and classic countenance.</p>
+
+<p>A tap at the door, and an arch face, already shaded by the night-coif,
+peeps in.</p>
+
+<p>"What, not yet gone to bed, brother&mdash;why what are you studying, to be
+up so late?"</p>
+
+<p>"Studying human nature, Helen&mdash;a book with great pretensions to
+excellence, but&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Hush, hush, Frank! not a word more," exclaimed Helen, placing her
+little hand over his mouth, "not a word more&mdash;you read with defective
+vision! I proclaim the book of human nature to be charming, every page
+teeming with interest, every line traced by the hand divine, a lesson
+for a lifetime. Ah! Frank, remove the film of distrust from your eyes,
+and read this book as it ought to be read, therein you will find
+truth, goodness, and beauty!"</p>
+
+<p>"Would I could think as you do, Helen. I tell you candidly, I am sick
+of the world as I find it, and would gladly give all my wealth and
+expectations to be sure there was one heart that truly loved me&mdash;loved
+me for myself alone."</p>
+
+<p>"A very pretty theory, indeed! Well, you must get married, Frank; I
+see no other way to cure you&mdash;then you will have a dear little book of
+your own to study&mdash;a choice edition of human nature, traced by the
+feather of Cupid."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! the very thing I was thinking of; but tell me, Helen, where can
+I find that same beautiful work?"</p>
+
+<p>"Where you please, brother&mdash;there is no danger that you can sue in
+vain; there is sweet Anna De Kay, roguish little Laura C&mdash;&mdash;, the
+pensive Sarah&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"O! don't mention them&mdash;pray don't name any more of these city
+belles!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Frank, human nature is most lovely in the simplicity of country
+life&mdash;you must seek some village maid to grace the name of Leland."</p>
+
+<p>"Helen," says Frank, taking her hand, and looking into the large blue
+eyes sparkling so mirthfully, "Helen, I tell you if I could find an
+amiable girl, brought up in all the beautiful simplicity of the
+country, no matter how unskillful in the world's ways&mdash;one who,
+ignorant of my wealth and standing, would unite her fate to mine for
+better or for worse&mdash;then, Helen, I could fall at her feet, and
+worship her as the star of my life and love."</p>
+
+<p>"Pray, remember, my sentimental brother, ere you squeeze my hand so
+devoutly, that I am not your artless country maid," exclaimed Helen,
+laughing; then, after a moment's pause, she cries, gayly, "ah! I have
+it, Frank; you must masquerade a little, that's all&mdash;win your bride
+under false colors, as a sailor would say."</p>
+
+<p>"Helen, you witch, you darling sister," says Frank, kissing her, "I
+will do it&mdash;yes, to-morrow I will set forth, like C&oelig;lebs, in search of
+a wife! Now you must help me farther with your lively imagination; you
+must choose me a profession to masquerade under. I must, of course,
+for the attainment of my object, sport the character of a poor
+gentleman, struggling with honest poverty to gain a livelihood. Come,
+what shall I be&mdash;school-master&mdash;singing-master&mdash;drawing-master&mdash;or&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"O, the last, by all means!" interrupted Helen. "You will have such a
+fine opportunity of developing the tastes of your fair scholars&mdash;ha!
+ha! ha! Frank, methinks I already see thee helping some blushing
+milk-maid, with her pail, or, perhaps, leaning against a rail-fence,
+sketching her, as with bare feet and scanty skirt, she trips through
+the morning dew to feed her feathery brood."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you may laugh as much as you please," replies Frank, nothing
+daunted, "I am firm in my determination."</p>
+
+<p>"And when, most romantic C&oelig;lebs, do you set forth?"</p>
+
+<p>"To-morrow, or next day at furthest. We will talk this over again in
+the morning, it is too late now&mdash;so good night, dear Helen, and
+pleasant dreams!"</p>
+
+<p>"Good night. Frank!" and gayly kissing her hand, Helen trips out of
+the room.</p>
+
+<p>Frank Leland laid his head upon his pillow within the walls of a large
+brick mansion, where the hum of city life penetrated, even through the
+thick plate-glass and rich window-hangings. But a miracle; no sooner
+did soft sleep seal his eye-lids, than he found himself in Arcadian
+scenes&mdash;shepherdesses tripped gracefully before him with their flocks;
+beautiful maidens led him through flowery fields and shady<span class='pagenum'>[225]</span> groves;
+and the little birds <i>up</i> in the trees, and the little romantic fishes
+<i>down</i> in the brooks, all sang of love and happiness.</p>
+<br />
+
+<h4>PART III.</h4>
+
+<p>Sit down with me under this spreading tree, and let us view the
+charming scene which surrounds us. O, never mind the cows, this is
+their pasture-ground; and see, mid-leg the brook yonder, just released
+from plough, stands the patient ox. Ah! the ducks and geese seem to
+dispute his right. Observe how they shake their wings, as if in
+defiance, and dip their beautiful crests within the sparkling ripples;
+now, how proudly they plume their feathers, and float with head erect
+so gracefully down the silver stream. Do you see yonder old
+farm-house, so old that it seems bending under the weight of years?
+Look at its low, brown eaves, its little narrow windows, half-hidden
+by ivy and honey-suckle; see the old-fashioned double door, and the
+porch, with its well-worn seats. Do you see the swallows skimming
+around the chimney; and don't you hear the hum of the bees&mdash;there,
+under that old elm you may see their hives, filled, too, with luscious
+honey. There is the well, with its old sweep, and the "moss-covered
+bucket," too; and look at the corn-crib, and the old barn&mdash;and what a
+noisy set of fowls around it, cackling, clucking and crowing, as if
+they owned the soil; and how the pigs are scampering through the
+clover-field; ah! the little wretches, they have stolen a march, or
+rather a caper; at them, old Jowler, at them, my fine fellow, you will
+soon turn them back to their pen, obstinate as they are.</p>
+
+<p>Do you not admire those venerable trees which seem to shelter the old
+house from the rude assaults of the tempest, and to keep out the glare
+of the sun-beams from its chambers. Through what a thicket of
+currant-bushes, and rose-bushes, and lilacs, and snow-balls, the path
+winds from the porch to the little gate&mdash;is it not a most charming
+spot? Now look over the brow of the hill&mdash;there, you can see the spire
+of the village church; and if you will walk a few paces further to
+yonder green knoll, you will see a cluster of pretty dwellings, and
+comfortable farm-houses, scattered through the valley.</p>
+
+<p>"Hark! don't you hear a merry laugh? so merry and joyous that it can
+only proceed, I am sure, from a happy heart. Keep still&mdash;for here
+comes two laughing country-girls&mdash;no, as I live, one of them is&mdash;no,
+it can't be&mdash;yes, it is, the rich young heiress, Ursula Lovel! quick,
+draw behind the tree, and let us hear what she says.</p>
+
+<p>"And so, Hetty, your mother thinks I am the most awkward child she
+ever saw, and wonders where I was brought up, not to know how to knead
+bread, and churn, and milk;" and again that merry laugh goes ringing
+through the air.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Miss Ursula; and she wishes&mdash;I declare I can hardly keep from
+laughing&mdash;she wishes you would stick to your cap-making, and not
+attempt to bake again, for you burned up three loaves."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, and burned my fingers, too. Well, it is too bad; let me see,
+yesterday I let a pan of milk fall on the old cat, and fed the hens
+with beans, and old Jowler with meal and water; then, this morning I
+beat the eggs and put them into the bread, and the yeast into the
+pumpkin-pies. Too bad! too bad! Why at this rate, Hetty, I shall cost
+your good old parents a fortune!"</p>
+
+<p>"Never mind, Miss Ursula, for mother says, and so does father, that
+you are the dearest, prettiest, and best girl they ever knew; and they
+already love you almost as well as they do me&mdash;only they feel sorry
+for you; and mother says if you could not make caps, she don't know
+what <i>would</i> become of you, you are so dreadful shiftless."</p>
+
+<p>Ursula clapped her hands and fairly danced with mirth.</p>
+
+<p>"After all, Hetty, your good mother is right. Let my fortune take
+wings, and with all my accomplishments to aid me, I feel I should be
+illy prepared for the reverse. Now if your mother would only have
+patience to instruct me a little&mdash;suffer me to spoil several batches
+of bread&mdash;(the pigs would like it, you know,)&mdash;burn up a few pounds of
+cake, and waste a quart or two of her rich cream, I declare, I think I
+should learn to be a nice little farmer's maid. What pleases you,
+Hetty&mdash;what are you smiling at?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing, only farmer Smith's oldest son is coming to see you&mdash;<i>a
+courting</i>, Miss Ursula; and Esquire Tompkins told father he hoped to
+see you before long the mistress of his beautiful new house; for he
+did not think he should disgrace himself by marrying such a girl as
+you, even if you was only a milliner."</p>
+
+<p>"Why the dear old soul! Come, my false impressions begin to wear away.
+I find I can be loved without the glitter of gold about me. Now let us
+go back to the house, for I have that cap to finish for Mrs. Jones;
+and mind, Hetty, you don't call me <i>Miss</i> Ursula again, in the
+presence of your mother; and don't look so distressed when she chides
+me&mdash;it is all for my good, you know."</p>
+
+<p>Now, there they go into the old farm-house, and at the window you may
+see the demure face of Ursula, listening to the good dame, who, with
+snowy cap, and spectacles, seems to be giving her a lecture, while the
+hands of the little milliner are busily trimming a cap placed on the
+block before her.</p>
+
+<p>Over the brow of the hill, and down into the gentle sloping meadow, a
+youth comes walking leisurely. He has a portfolio under his arm, and a
+slight walking-stick in his hand, while the cool linen blouse and
+large straw hat shading him from the sun, bespeak an air of comfort
+really quite refreshing this warm summer day.</p>
+
+<p>What! don't you know him! Ah, yes&mdash;I see you recollect Frank Leland,
+our modern C&oelig;lebs.</p>
+
+<p>He seems struck by the appearance of the old farm-house; its repose
+is, no doubt, delightful to him; and now, choosing a favorable
+position within the shade of a fine old tree, opens his portfolio, and
+commences to sketch the charmingly rural scene. And, indeed, so intent
+is he upon his task that the sun has already sunk behind the trees,
+and gentle twilight steals on with her starry train ere he rests from
+his employment. Then the old farmer comes out on the<span class='pagenum'>[226]</span> porch to take
+his evening pipe; and the good dame sits by his side with her
+knitting, and the sweet voice of Ursula warbles a simple ballad to
+please the ears of the aged pair. The young man bares his brow to the
+delicious breath of evening, and carefully placing his sketch within
+the portfolio, saunters on toward the little gate. And now Ursula
+hushes her song, and the old man advances with friendly greeting,</p>
+
+<p>"Walk in, stranger&mdash;walk in. I should think you might be the young man
+I heard tell of to-day in the village&mdash;a teacher of something&mdash;I
+forget the name."</p>
+
+<p>"A teacher of drawing," said Leland, smiling, as he took a seat on the
+bench by the side of the old man.</p>
+
+<p>"Drawing, <i>eh</i>! And what may that be, young sir&mdash;some new-fangled
+notion, I'll be bound."</p>
+
+<p>"This may, perhaps, explain better than I can tell you," replied
+Leland, placing the sketch he had just taken in the hand of the old
+man.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, wife&mdash;why, bless my soul! why, if I should not think this was
+our old house! Why, stranger, if ever I see any thing so like in my
+born days!"</p>
+
+<p>"Goody gracious preserve me, if it an't, sure enough!" said the dame,
+putting on her spectacles, and eagerly looking over the old man's
+shoulder. "My stars and garters, Hetty, look here&mdash;for all the world
+just like it&mdash;did you ever!"</p>
+
+<p>The more practiced eye of Ursula detected at once a master-hand in the
+sketch before her; and looking admiringly upon it, she could not
+refrain from exclaiming, "How beautiful!" while Hetty gazed with
+silent wonder upon the stranger who by the magic of his pencil thus
+portrayed the home of her childhood.</p>
+
+<p>The contents of the portfolio were now spread out upon the grass, and
+our masquerading <i>millionaire</i> was greatly amused at the <i>naivet&eacute;</i> the
+old people displayed, and not a little flattered by the pleasure with
+which <i>one</i> at least of the young girls appeared to look over his
+collection.</p>
+
+<p>"Am I mistaken," said he, at length, "in thinking I heard singing, as
+I came over the meadow?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I reckon not," said the old lady, "come, 'Sula, child, go on
+with your song&mdash;maybe the young man would like to hear you; it was Old
+Robin Gray she was singing."</p>
+
+<p>Ursula was at length prevailed on to repeat the ballad, which she did
+in a style so simple and unaffected, that, ere she had finished, the
+young artist had made up his mind, that listening to a sweet voice by
+moonlight, beneath a wide-spreading elm, with the stars peeping down
+between the dancing leaves, and the soft evening breeze fanning his
+temples, was far more delightful, than to recline in his
+soft-cushioned box at the Opera, listening even to the delicious notes
+of a Pico, with bright jewels, and still brighter eyes flashing around
+him, and his cheek kissed by the inconstant air wafted from the
+coquettish fan in the hands of smiling beauty. And, moreover, that the
+book of human nature, to be studied in the country, certainly opened
+very beautifully.</p>
+
+<p>The evening passed off pleasantly. Leland confided to the old man his
+poverty, and desire to obtain scholars in his art sufficient to
+enable him to pay his board while in the village; that he had been
+employed by several gentlemen to sketch scenes from nature, and that
+having heard much of the beautiful views in the neighborhood, he had
+been induced to visit the village.</p>
+
+<p>But the old man thought he had much better turn farmer, and offered to
+hire him for eight dollars a month, as he needed a hand in haying
+time. This offer, however, the young man could not accept, being, as
+he said, already engaged to complete the drawings. Then the old man
+told how his fathers had lived there before him, and how by hard labor
+he had been able to keep the old homestead his own; and that his
+daughter, Hetty, had been living with a great heiress, who was very
+fond of her, and who had given her leave to spend the summer at home;
+and how she had come, and brought a poor girl with her, who made caps,
+and such gim-cracks, and that (in a whisper) his old woman thought she
+had never had any bringing-up, poor thing!"</p>
+
+<p>When Leland returned to his lodgings, in the village, he thought over
+his evening adventure with great pleasure. The simplicity of the old
+people charmed him; Hetty he thought a modest, pretty girl; but it was
+the little cap-maker who somehow or other dwelt most forcibly in his
+mind.</p>
+
+<p>"She is certainly quite handsome, notwithstanding she is a little, a
+very little, cross-eyed&mdash;it is a pity!" And Leland leaned out the
+window, and whistled "Auld Robin Gray." "How pathetically she warbled
+the line,</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p>But she looked in my face 'til my heart was like to break;"</p></div>
+
+<p>and Leland threw off one slipper, and stopped to hum it over again.
+"Her voice only wants a little cultivation"&mdash;off goes the other
+slipper, and out goes the head into the moonlight, and in it comes
+again. "Well, I must teach her to draw&mdash;her own patterns, at any rate.
+Pleasant old couple; the idea of hiring <i>me</i> for eight dollars a
+month&mdash;capital!" and in a fit of laughter he threw himself upon the
+bed. "What a roguish pair of eyes, after all, the little cap-maker
+has!"</p>
+
+<p>Again the dreams of our hero were all Arcadian, and every shepherdess
+was a little cross-eyed, and warbled "Auld Robin Gray."</p>
+
+<p>In the bright moonlight, which, glancing through the flickering
+leaves, streams across the chamber-floor, filling it with her softened
+radiance, sits Ursula. But why so pensive; is it the influence of the
+hour, I wonder&mdash;has the gentle moon thus power to sadden her, or&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Hetty, he has a very fine countenance."</p>
+
+<p>There, you see her pensiveness has found a voice.</p>
+
+<p>"Who, Miss Ursula?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, this young stranger. He has a fine figure, too; and his manners
+are certainly quite refined."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, and what pretty pictures he makes."</p>
+
+<p>"True, Hetty, very pretty; he certainly has a genius for the art." A
+long silence. "What a pity he is poor."<span class='pagenum'>[227]</span></p>
+
+<p>"What's a pity, Miss Ursula?" cries Hetty, half asleep.</p>
+
+<p>"O, nothing, nothing&mdash;go to sleep, Hetty."</p>
+
+<p>But Ursula still sits in the moonlight, and thinks of the handsome
+young artist. Her generous little heart has already smoothed his path
+to eminence. Yes, she resolves if, upon acquaintance, he proves as
+worthy as he appears&mdash;and does she doubt it&mdash;not she&mdash;that neither
+money nor patronage shall be wanting to his success. Generous little
+cap-maker! And when at length she sought her couch, young Love, under
+the harmless guise of honest Benevolence, perched himself at her
+pillow.</p>
+<br />
+
+<h4>PART IV.</h4>
+
+<p>And now, every morning sees Leland taking his way to the farm-house;
+and the villagers, good people, have made up their minds that there
+must be some very pretty scenes in that neighborhood.</p>
+
+<p>And so there are, very fine scenes; for, reclining under the shady
+trees, the young artist may be seen, with crayons in hand, the little
+cap-maker in his eye, as, seated on a little bench, she busily plies
+her needle, and sings for his entertainment, meanwhile, some rustic
+ballad. Sometimes, forgetting herself, she executes a brilliant
+<i>roulade</i>; and when Leland starts, astonished, and expresses his
+delight, she blushes deeply, and says she <i>once</i> went to the theatre.</p>
+
+<p>And the old dame wonders what on earth they can find to talk about day
+after day, "a sittin' under trees," and tells Hetty to mind her work,
+and not take up any such silly ways. And the old man thinks a hale,
+hearty fellow like that, had better lend a hand to the plough, and not
+sit there spoiling so much white paper; and Hetty roguishly watches
+her young mistress, and smiles slily, and thinks there will be a
+wedding before long.</p>
+
+<p>Ah! happy, satisfied Leland!</p>
+
+<p>For he has won the heart of the charming little cap-maker. He, the
+poor, unpretending artist, he has won her away from the rich Esquire,
+who came rolling down in his carriage to woo her; and from the pale
+young doctor, who knelt tremblingly before her; and from the honest
+farmer, who swore he loved her better than his cattle. He, without
+fortune, without friends, has won her. She loves him, and through
+poverty and hardship will share his fate. And then, when bearing her
+off a happy bride, he thought how she would blush and tremble with
+surprise and sweet timidity when he should reveal his rank, and place
+her in that sphere she was born to grace&mdash;what rapturous visions
+danced through his brain!</p>
+
+<p>And no less rapturous were the thoughts of Ursula. She was now
+beloved, truly loved for herself alone&mdash;she, a poor, friendless girl.
+No money had shed its enticements around her&mdash;there was nothing to
+gain but an innocent heart, and a portionless hand; and yet the
+gifted, but poor artist, who might, by the rank of genius, have
+aspired to the favor of any high-born lady; he has chosen her to share
+his fate and fortunes. How her heart throbs, when she thinks of the
+wealth her hand will confer upon him&mdash;of the pride with which she
+shall see him adorning that station for which he is so eminently
+qualified.</p>
+
+<p>Ah! after all, what happiness to be an heiress!</p>
+
+<p>Three months flew by, and brings us to the night before the wedding.
+The lovers are alone, and, for lovers, extremely taciturn&mdash;for their
+thoughts are doubtless far into the bright future, o'er which no cloud
+is floating. The countenance of Ursula beams with happiness, yet her
+manner is somewhat abstracted&mdash;she is evidently agitated. At length
+Leland speaks,</p>
+
+<p>"Dearest Ursula, it seems to me that no wealth could contribute to our
+happiness; we have youth, health, strength, and loving hearts to bear
+us on our life-journey, as hand-in-hand we meet its pains and
+pleasures. Ah! I can already fancy our pleasant fire-side. No one's
+caps will find so ready a sale as yours, dear Ursula; and my pencil,
+too, will be inspired to greater effort by your praise." And Leland
+turned aside to conceal the smile which played round his mouth at the
+deception he was practicing. "But what is the matter, Ursula&mdash;what
+agitates you thus; you surely do not repent your promise, beloved
+one!"</p>
+
+<p>"O, no, no, dear Frank! but I have something to tell you, which,
+perhaps, may forfeit me your love."</p>
+
+<p>"Good heavens, Ursula! what mean you! tears, too&mdash;speak, speak, what
+is it! is not your heart mine, or have you loved another more truly!"</p>
+
+<p>"No! O, no! and yet, Frank, I am not what I seem&mdash;I have deceived you.
+You think me but a poor, friendless girl, dependent upon my needle for
+my maintenance, when, in fact, O, Frank, how shall I say it, I am&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Speak, dearest!"</p>
+
+<p>"I am an heiress."</p>
+
+<p>Frank sprang to his feet in amazement.</p>
+
+<p>"You&mdash;you&mdash;dear, artless girl that you are&mdash;you an heiress! It can't
+be&mdash;it is impossible! and&mdash;what a pity!" he adds, aside, as one half
+his airy castle fell to the ground.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, sit down, Frank, and when you have heard my story, and my
+motives for doing as I have done, you will, I trust, pardon the
+duplicity I have been guilty of toward you."</p>
+
+<p>And before she had finished her recital Frank's plans were formed; so,
+falling at her feet, he poured out his acknowledgments for her
+condescension in honoring with her hand one so far beneath her, and
+had the satisfaction&mdash;cunning dog&mdash;of having a pair of white arms
+thrown around his neck, and a sweet kiss, from sweeter lips, pressed
+upon his brow, as the generous girl assured him that were her fortune
+ten thousand times doubled, she should consider all as dross compared
+with his love.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I am fairly caught," quoth Frank, in the privacy of his
+apartment, "for I swore I never would marry an heiress. That was a
+rash oath&mdash;let it pass. But what a pity dear Ursula has money. I wish
+to my soul her father had not left her a cent&mdash;why could not he have
+endowed a hospital. She is a dear, noble girl, willing to bestow it
+all upon one<span class='pagenum'>[228]</span> whom she believes struggling with poverty; never mind, I
+shall get the laugh on her yet."</p>
+
+<p>At an early hour the following morning the venerable village pastor
+pronounced the nuptial benediction; and with the hearty good wishes of
+the old farmer and the dame, and followed by the loving eyes of Hetty,
+the new married pair bade farewell to the spot consecrated to so many
+happy hours.</p>
+
+<p>A ride of a few miles brought them to the steamboat; and just as the
+rays of the setting sun gilded the spires and roofs of the city, the
+boat touched the wharf.</p>
+
+<p>And now Frank's heart beat almost audibly, as he thought how rapidly
+the moment was approaching when, throwing off all disguise, he should
+lead his lovely bride to his own princely dwelling.</p>
+
+<p>And Ursula, too, had never looked so beautiful&mdash;had never felt so
+proud and happy; proud to present her husband to her good uncle and
+aunt, who were waiting to welcome them; happy that her beloved Frank
+would no longer have to plod on life's dull round in poverty and
+loneliness.</p>
+
+<p>It certainly was happiness to be an heiress.</p>
+
+<p>"Ursula," said Frank, as the carriage rolled rapidly over the
+pavements, "will you do me a favor?"</p>
+
+<p>"Most certainly, dear Frank&mdash;what is it?"</p>
+
+<p>"My sister, poor girl," replied Leland, in some embarrassment,
+"resides on the route to <i>your</i> residence; will you alight there just
+for one moment, that I may have the happiness of bringing together the
+two dearest objects of my heart?"</p>
+
+<p>"Order the carriage to stop when you please, Frank&mdash;I, too, am
+impatient to embrace your sister," replied the blushing Ursula.</p>
+
+<p>The carriage soon turned into a fashionable street, even at that early
+hour brilliant with gas lights. Elegant equipages rolled past; already
+lights streamed, and music sounded from many splendid dwellings. Soon
+the carriage drew up before one even more splendid&mdash;the steps were let
+down&mdash;the door thrown wide by a servant in livery, and, with mingled
+pride and tenderness irradiating his fine countenance, and meeting
+with a smile her perplexed and wondering glance, Frank led his fair
+bride into a spacious and beautiful apartment, taste and elegance
+pervading all its arrangements. A young girl sprang from the sofa, and
+came tripping to meet them.</p>
+
+<p>"My sister Helen, dearest Ursula. Helen, embrace your sister, and
+welcome her to the home she is henceforth to grace."</p>
+
+<p>Then leading the agitated girl to a seat, he threw himself on his
+knees before her, saying,</p>
+
+<p>"Pardon, pardon, my dearest wife! I, too, had my secret. No poor
+artist sought your love&mdash;I, too, am the heir of wealth; I, too, sought
+to be loved for myself alone. Say that you forgive me, dear one."</p>
+
+<p>Ursula could not speak, but wept her joy and happiness on his bosom.</p>
+
+<p>Helen laughs merrily, yet slily wipes a tear from her eye, then
+kissing them both, she says,</p>
+
+<p>"What think you now of the great book of human nature you went forth
+to study, you discontented ones? You favorites of fortune! ingrates
+that you have been&mdash;you foolish pair of lovers! Listen dear brother.
+As the rich Frank Leland you possessed the same attributes of goodness
+as did Frank Leland the poor artist; and you, dear sister, were no
+less lovely and amiable as the heiress of wealth, than as Ursula the
+little cap-maker. See you not, then, that true merit, whether it gilds
+the brow of the rich man or radiates around the poor man's path, will
+find its way to every pure and virtuous mind. Henceforth, you dear
+ones, look at human nature with more friendly eyes, and forget in the
+excellencies of the <i>many</i>, the errors of the <i>few</i>."</p>
+<br /><br />
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3><a name="NO_NOT_FORGOTTEN" id="NO_NOT_FORGOTTEN"></a>NO, NOT FORGOTTEN.</h3>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+<h5>BY EARLE S. GOODRICH.</h5>
+<hr class="short" />
+<br />
+
+
+<div class="blockquot2">
+<span class="i0">For Nature gives a common lot,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To live, to love, to be forgot.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Cone</span>.</span><br />
+</div>
+<br /><br />
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">No, not forgotten; there are memories clinging<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Round every breast that beats to hope and fear<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In this drear world, until the death's knell, ringing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Chimes with heart-moanings o'er the solemn bier;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then come love's pilgrims to the sad shrine, bringing<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The choicest offering of the heart&mdash;a tear.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">No, not forgotten; else bowed down with anguish<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Were the brave hearts that mingle in the strife.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Patriot and Christian in their toil would languish&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Truth lie down-trodden&mdash;Error, then, stalk rife<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Over the body she at last could vanquish&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">So fond remembrance ceased along with life.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">No, not forgotten; else the faithful beating<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of heart to genial heart, that beat again,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Were turned to throbbings; and each pulse repeating<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">But the sad echoings of pain to pain.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the blest rapture of the longed for meeting,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Then be unsought, or would be sought in vain.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">No, not forgotten; for though fame may fail thee,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And love's fond beamings change to glance of scorn&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Though those once trusted now may harsh assail thee&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Thy friend of yesterday, thy foe this morn&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There is, who holds thee dear&mdash;do not bewail thee<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">If His blest Book of Life thy name adorn.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<br /><br />
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 419px;">
+<img src="images/illus277.png" width="419" height="600"
+alt="The Only Daughter" title="" /></div>
+<h5>Sir W. C. Rofs&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;J. B. Adams</h5>
+<h4>PAULINE GREY</h4>
+<h5><i>The Only Daughter</i></h5>
+<h5>Engraved Expressly for Graham's Magazine</h5>
+<br /><br />
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3><a name="PAULINE_GREY" id="PAULINE_GREY"></a>PAULINE GREY.</h3>
+<span class='pagenum'>[229]</span>
+<h4>OR THE ONLY DAUGHTER.</h4>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+<h5>BY F. E. F., AUTHOR OF "AARON'S ROD," "TELLING SECRETS," ETC.</h5>
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<h5>[WITH AN ENGRAVING.]</h5>
+
+
+<h4>CHAPTER I.</h4>
+
+
+<p>"Give her what she wants," said Mr. Grey impatiently. "How can you let
+the child cry so?"</p>
+
+<p>"But, my dear," expostulated his wife, "I am afraid it will hurt her."</p>
+
+<p>"Nonsense!" replied Mr. Grey, "it hurts her more to scream so. Here,
+my princess royal," he continued, "take that, and keep quiet, do"&mdash;but
+Pauline's spirit was not to be so easily appeased as the impatient
+father imagined, for imperiously spurning with her tiny foot the
+proffered gift, she screamed more indignantly than when it had first
+been refused.</p>
+
+<p>"Hey day, Pauline," said Mr. Grey angrily.</p>
+
+<p>"My darling," interrupted Mrs. Grey, hastily addressing the child,
+"let mamma peel it and put some sugar on it. Come Pauline," she said,
+as she stooped to pick up the orange.</p>
+
+<p>Pauline's cries subsided for a moment, as apparently taking the matter
+in consideration, or else, perhaps only holding her breath for a fresh
+burst, while the tears hung in heavy drops on her long black lashes,
+and her large eyes still sparkled with excitement.</p>
+
+<p>"Let mamma peel it nicely," continued Mrs. Grey. "Come, and we'll go
+and get some sugar."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, yes, do," said Mr. Grey impatiently. "Now go, Pauline, with your
+mother;" to which the little lady consented, and, tears still upon her
+blooming cheeks, she withdrew with her mother, leaving Mr. Grey to the
+quiet possession of the parlor and tranquil enjoyment of his book.</p>
+
+<p>And thus it was generally with Pauline. What she was refused at first,
+she was coaxed to take at last, and between the indulgence of her
+mother and the impatience of her father, she seldom or never failed to
+have what she wanted.</p>
+
+<p>A passionate determination to have her own way marked her character
+perhaps rather more strongly than that of most spoiled children, for
+nature had endowed her with a strong will, which education had
+fostered, as it almost seemed, with sedulous care. For the fact was
+Mrs. Grey dreaded a contest with Pauline; she screamed so, and Mr.
+Grey got so angry, sometimes with her, and sometimes with the child,
+and altogether it was such a time, that she soon begun to think it was
+better not to thwart Pauline, which certainly was true; for every
+contest ended in a fresh victory on the part of Pauline, and the utter
+discomfiture of Mrs. Grey, and the vexation of Mr. Grey, who, more
+vexed at the contest than the defeat, usually said, "Pshaw! you don't
+know how to manage that child." Thus Pauline, an only child,
+beautiful, gifted and willful, idolized by both parents, soon ruled
+the household.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll not go to that school any more," said Pauline indignantly, as
+she tossed her books down, the second day of her first school
+experience.</p>
+
+<p>"Why not, my love?" asked her mother anxiously.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't like that Miss Cutter," said Pauline, her large black eyes
+dilating as she spoke, and flashing with excitement.</p>
+
+<p>"You don't like Miss Cutter," repeated Mrs. Grey. "Why don't you like
+Miss Cutter, Pauline?"</p>
+
+<p>"She put me on a high bench and said 'chut' to me," replied Pauline.
+"Nobody shall say 'chut' to me, and I wont go there again."</p>
+
+<p>"You'll go there if your mother says so, Pauline," said her father.
+But Pauline knew better than that, and so did Mr. Grey for that
+matter; but Mrs. Grey said, "well, we'll see about it, Pauline. Now go
+and be dressed for dinner."</p>
+
+<p>"I wont go again," said Pauline with determination, as she left the
+room.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sorry," said Mrs. Grey anxiously, as the child left the room,
+"that Pauline has taken a dislike to Miss Cutter. It was injudicious
+in her to commence her school discipline so rigorously at once."</p>
+
+<p>"Just like those people," said Mr. Grey, testily; "they have no
+judgment&mdash;dressed in a little brief authority they make the most of
+it."</p>
+
+<p>"Pauline is such a peculiar child," continued Mrs. Grey, (for all
+people think their children "peculiar," unless they have half a dozen
+of them, and then they know better). "Pauline is such a peculiar child
+that I dislike driving her against her feelings. I am very sorry for
+this," she added, looking much perplexed and embarrassed. "I don't
+know what to do."</p>
+
+<p>Fortunately Pauline had a little cold the next day, or Mrs. Grey
+imagined she had, and so the question of school was dodged for a day
+or two, during which, however, Pauline continued firm in her
+determination of not returning.</p>
+
+<p>By the time she had recovered past all possibility of thinking she was
+not quite as well as usual, Mrs. Grey had reasoned herself into
+thinking, and talked Mr. Grey into believing, that there was so much
+that was injurious in the present mode of school education, that upon
+the whole she would prefer keeping Pauline at home. A governess, under
+her own eye, would do her greater justice and bring her on faster;
+and, above all, she would escape the contamination of indiscriminate
+contact with children of whose tempers and characters Mrs. Grey knew
+nothing.<span class='pagenum'>[230]</span></p>
+
+<p>She need not have said half as much to convince Mr. Grey, for he was
+tired out with the subject, and ready to yield before she was one
+third through; but she was talking as much to satisfy herself that
+what she did was the result of mature reflection, and not to gratify,
+or rather pacify Pauline, as to convince Mr. Grey. Whether she was
+able to attain this point is somewhat doubtful, although the capacity
+people have for self deception is amazing. And to what perfection Mrs.
+Grey may have reached in the happy art, we are not able exactly to
+say.</p>
+
+<p>But the governess was engaged, (a day governess, for neither Mr. Grey
+nor Pauline could have borne the constant presence of even so
+necessary an evil,) and under her tuition Pauline made rapid progress
+in her studies. Miss Burton soon finding that the moral education of
+her little pupil was quite beyond her reach, Mrs. Grey generally
+evading any disputed point between them, and gently waiving what
+authority should have settled, very wisely confined herself to the
+task Mrs. Grey set before her, which was to give Pauline as much
+instruction and as little contradiction as could be combined.</p>
+
+<p>But spite of some drawbacks Pauline made wonderful progress. She was,
+in fact, a child of uncommon abilities, and every thing she applied
+herself to, she mastered almost at once. Her understanding rapidly
+developed, and springing into girlhood while others are yet looked
+upon almost as children, she was a daughter any parents might justly
+be proud of. She was singularly beautiful, too, and no eye could rest
+upon her girlish form and speaking face, her brilliant eye and glowing
+cheek, other than with delight. That Mr. and Mrs. Grey watched her
+with looks of something hardly short of adoration, is scarce to be
+wondered at. She was so animated, so joyous, so radiant with youth,
+health and beauty. There seemed such affluence of all life's best
+gifts, which she scattered so lavishly around her, that the very air
+seemed to grow brighter from her presence, and no one who came within
+the sphere of her influence, could escape the spell of her joyous
+power.</p>
+
+<p>To say that as her mind and person developed, she quite outgrew the
+faults of her childhood, would be rather hazardous. 'T is true, she no
+longer stamped her little foot and burst into passionate tears, as
+when we first made her acquaintance, but she bent her pretty dark
+brows, and said, "I must," in a tone that Mrs. Grey knew meant, "I
+will."</p>
+
+<p>But then who thought of disputing her wishes? Were they not the
+main-spring of the whole concern? What else did father or mother live
+for? Were not her wishes their wishes, her pleasures their pleasures?
+Was not she their idol&mdash;their all?</p>
+
+<p>If she would only wrap up warmer, and put thicker shoes on those
+little feet, Mrs. Grey would have asked nothing more. But she was
+slight, and coughed sometimes, and then Mr. Grey said she should not
+have <i>allowed</i> Pauline to go out in those thin shoes, and charged her
+not to permit it another time&mdash;but never interfered himself&mdash;thus
+throwing all the responsibility, or rather impossibility, of making
+Pauline mind, upon his wife, who indeed always got all Pauline's
+scoldings; for though Mr. Grey might find fault when Pauline was
+absent, one bright smile and brilliant glance from Pauline present,
+was sure to dispel his displeasure.</p>
+
+<p>So Pauline had now reached her seventeenth year, beautiful, gifted,
+high-spirited and generous-hearted. And if willful&mdash;why, even that
+seemed to give a <i>prononc&eacute;</i> shade to her character, that rather
+heightened the brilliancy of its tone.</p>
+
+<p>"You are going to Cecelia Howard's wedding I suppose, Mrs. Grey," said
+Mrs. Graham.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course. She is a niece of my husband's, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. And Pauline is to be bridemaid, I understand," continued the
+lady.</p>
+
+<p>"Well&mdash;I don't know about that," replied Mrs. Grey, hesitatingly.</p>
+
+<p>"But <i>I</i> do," said Pauline in her pretty willful way. "I told Cecelia
+that she might depend on me."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Grey looked at her daughter without speaking, though she could
+not but smile at her animated face, while Mrs. Graham said, "Oh yes,
+why not, Mrs. Grey?"</p>
+
+<p>"Pauline is rather young," continued Mrs. Grey, "for such things."</p>
+
+<p>"True," replied the other, "if it were not in the connection. But
+family gayety is quite different."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course," said Mrs. Grey, "if it were not for that, I should not
+think of it."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, but I am going, mamma," said Pauline, "So you may make up your
+mind to that." And Mrs. Grey felt that she might as well at once. So
+after a little more talk about it, and Mr. Grey's saying, "Why,
+certainly, I see no objection to it&mdash;and as your cousin wishes it,
+Pauline&mdash;if your mother is willing, I am," it was settled.</p>
+
+<p>How beautiful Pauline looked when she came down stairs and presented
+herself before her delighted father, dressed for the wedding. It was
+the first time he had ever seen her in full dress; her white neck and
+round arms uncovered, her rich dark hair looking darker and more
+satinny for the wreath of pale, soft, delicate roses that bound
+it&mdash;even the little foot seeming more fairy-like in the small white
+satin slipper that inclosed it. If her father was accustomed to think
+her peerless in the plain, high-necked merino dress in which he
+usually saw her, what did he think of her now, when full dressed, or
+rather undressed, as she stood before him, brilliant in the glow of
+excitement, and fairer and fresher than even the flowers she wore?</p>
+
+<p>He looked at her speechless, and when she said,</p>
+
+<p>"Father, how do you like me?" could only kiss her fair forehead in
+silence.</p>
+
+<p>There was a reception after the wedding, and the beauty of the young
+bridemaid excited no small degree of sensation; for Pauline, having
+been brought up at home, was little known by the young people of her
+own age, and so took society rather by surprise.</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Grey," said Mrs. Livingston, "the bride has named Thursday
+evening for me. You will do<span class='pagenum'>[231]</span> me the favor, therefore, I hope, of
+considering yourself and your daughter engaged for that evening."</p>
+
+<p>"Not Pauline, my dear madam," said Mrs. Grey. "She does not go out
+this winter. She is so young that I hesitated much even letting her
+act as bridemaid this evening."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, my dear Mrs. Grey," said Mrs. Livingston, much disappointed,
+"pray reverse your decision&mdash;surely for the bridal parties at least. I
+shall be so disappointed, for," with a smile, "I quite counted on the
+presence of your beautiful daughter for the brilliancy of my party;"
+and Pauline approaching just then, she said, "Pray, Miss Pauline, join
+your petitions to mine&mdash;I do so want you to come to my party for the
+bride."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, mamma, of course," said Pauline. "The bridemaids must attend the
+bride to the parties given for her&mdash;Cecelia says so."</p>
+
+<p>"But, my love," said her mother, "you know I told Cecelia when I
+consented to your being bridemaid, that you were not going out."</p>
+
+<p>"Not generally&mdash;no; but just to the bridal parties, mamma. Oh, I
+must"&mdash;and there was the little ominous bend of the brows at the words
+"I must," when Mr. Grey coming up, her mother, glad in her turn to
+throw the responsibility on him, said,</p>
+
+<p>"Well, ask your father; see what he says."</p>
+
+<p>"What is it, Pauline?" said Mr. Grey, smiling assent before she had
+spoken.</p>
+
+<p>"May I not, papa, attend the bridal parties with the rest of the
+bridemaids," she said, half pouting. "Cecelia says it will spoil the
+bridal cotillion if I am absent; and then&mdash;oh, papa, I must," she
+continued, in a tone of such earnest entreaty, entreaty that seemed to
+admit of no refusal, that he smiled as he said,</p>
+
+<p>"Well, if you <i>must</i>, I suppose you must."</p>
+
+<p>"Then I may, papa!" she exclaimed, her dark eyes dilating in their
+peculiar way when any thing particularly delighted or excited her.
+"Now, mamma!" turning triumphantly to her mother, "papa says I may.
+Yes, Mrs. Livingston, mamma <i>will</i> come, and I too&mdash;hey, mamma!" and
+Mrs. Grey smiled her assent&mdash;and she and Pauline were in for the rest
+of the wedding gayeties.</p>
+
+<p><i>Ce n'est que le premier pas qui coute.</i> Party followed party, and
+Mrs. Grey forgot to ask, or Pauline to care, whether they were bridal
+parties or not, for Pauline was fairly launched. And what a sensation
+she excited&mdash;so young&mdash;so brilliant&mdash;so beautiful. Mr. Grey, too, a
+man of handsome fortune, and Pauline an only daughter. There's a sort
+of charm in that, too, to young men's imaginations. It seems to make a
+girl more like a rare exotic, something of which there are few of the
+kind. And Pauline was a belle of the most decided stamp; and Mr. and
+Mrs. Grey's heads were more turned than was hers by the admiration she
+excited.</p>
+<br />
+
+<h4>CHAPTER II.</h4>
+
+
+<p>People may talk about young girls' heads being turned, but for my
+part, I think there are no heads so easily turned as old ones.
+Vanity, when it is fresh, like wine, is not as strong and intoxicating
+as when it grows old.</p>
+
+<p>Pauline enjoyed her triumphs like a girl, in all the effervescence of
+youthful spirits, thinking less of her beauty and more of her pleasure
+than her mother, who sat and followed her with her eyes, watching
+every movement, and absorbed almost to the exclusion of every other
+perception, in the surpassing loveliness of her daughter, and the
+admiration that flashed from every eye that turned upon her. And let
+not wise ones say that this was folly, and Mrs. Grey a weak woman for
+yielding to it, for it is human nature, which is too strong to be
+ruled by saws, be they ever so wise. The heart will spring to beauty,
+be it where it may, and no human being alive to poetry, can view God's
+fairest creation in its full perfection, and not feel a throb of
+pleasure. It is not wisdom, but an absence of ideality, of taste, of
+the highest of perceptions, the love of the beautiful, that can let
+any one look unmoved upon a young and beautiful woman. Who would not
+blush for themselves, and deny that they had walked through the halls
+of the Vatican without delight? And will the same person rave about
+the sculptured marble, and yet gaze coldly on the living, breathing
+model? No! and if it is high treason not to worship the one, it is
+false to human nature not to love the other; and the man, woman, or
+child, who affects to under-value beauty, only proclaims the want in
+their own mental constitution. To be without an eye for beauty, is as
+to be without an ear for music, to be wanting in the refinement of the
+higher and more delicate organization of our nature.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Grey was not a man who usually took much pleasure in society, but
+his grave face lighted up as with a glance of sunshine, when he caught
+a glimpse of his beautiful child, as the crowd opened from time to
+time on the dancers in the thronged rooms, where, night after night,
+he was now condemned to pass his evenings; and when he approached her
+to tell her that the carriage was waiting, and her mother had sent to
+summon her to her side, he could not restrain his smiles when the
+young men crowded round to remind Pauline, one of a waltz, another of
+a polka, and pleading with Mr. Grey for more engagements than she
+could have fulfilled if they had staid all night; and his paternal
+pride had its share of gratification in the homage that even his
+presence could scarcely restrain.</p>
+
+<p>Among the group of idlers ever hovering round Pauline, was one who
+scarcely left her side, a Mr. Wentworth, a young man, and rather good
+looking. He seemed mightily taken with Pauline, and she smiled her
+brightest when she turned to him&mdash;but that she did when any one spoke
+to her&mdash;for she was in such a gale of spirits, she smiled on all who
+crossed her path.</p>
+
+<p>"Who is that young gentleman dancing with your daughter, Mrs. Grey?"
+asked a lady.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know any thing about him but his name, which is Wentworth,"
+replied Mrs. Grey. "Mrs. Henderson introduced him to me at her own
+house,<span class='pagenum'>[232]</span> and I introduced him to Pauline. That's all I know about him."</p>
+
+<p>"Then I should say," replied the other, smiling, "that it was time you
+knew something more, for he has evidently lost his heart to your
+daughter."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I don't know that," replied Mrs. Grey, smiling in her turn, but
+carelessly, as if it was not a matter of much consequence if Pauline
+did break a few hearts more or less.</p>
+
+<p>"There's no doubt about his admiration," continued the lady; "so I
+warn you in time, Mrs. Grey."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Grey only smiled again. She did not think the warning worth much.
+Mr. Wentworth might be in love with Pauline&mdash;she dared say he
+was&mdash;indeed, she had no doubt of it. But what then? She could not be
+responsible for all the young men who fell in love with Pauline. It
+was very natural; and, to tell the honest truth, it rather pleased
+Mrs. Grey to see it. Not that she had the most distant idea that
+Pauline could ever feel any interest in any of the young men she with
+such quiet complacency thought hopelessly in love with her; but poor
+human nature is never weaker than on such subjects, and mothers look
+on amused, and may be, indignant with other mothers for allowing such
+things, till it comes to their turn, and then maternal vanity speaks
+louder than worldly wisdom, or any thing else; and so Mrs. Grey saw
+Mr. Wentworth's devotions with a quiet smile, and never thought it
+worth while to ask any questions about him. "He would not do," she saw
+that at a glance. As to what would, or who would, she had not yet made
+up her mind; but as Mr. Wentworth's pretensions did not seem of any
+decided stamp at all, she never thought there was any possibility of
+his being dangerous.</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder Mrs. Grey allows that young Wentworth to be so attentive to
+her daughter," Mrs. Remson said. "He's a dissipated young man, they
+say."</p>
+
+<p>"I am sorry to see that wild fellow, Wentworth, so much with that
+young beauty, Miss Grey," said another.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I am surprised at her parents encouraging it," said a third,
+"for they must see it."</p>
+
+<p>"What kind of a young man is he?" asked Mrs. Graham.</p>
+
+<p>"One that I should be sorry to see attentive to a daughter of mine,"
+replied a gentleman; but none of this reached Mrs. Grey's ears. No one
+told her Mr. Wentworth was wild or dissipated. He was too attentive,
+and they might get themselves in trouble, and be obliged to give
+authority, &amp;c., for what they said&mdash;and what authority had they? a
+rumor&mdash;a vague report&mdash;an impression. Who knew, or ever knows, any
+thing more positive about a young man, except, indeed, young men&mdash;and
+they don't choose to tell.</p>
+
+<p>And so the thing went on, and people talked, and wondered, and found
+fault, and everybody but Mr. and Mrs. Grey, whom it most concerned,
+knew a great deal; and they, though they had eyes, saw not; and ears
+had they, but heard not; and understandings, and heeded not&mdash;deaf and
+blind, as parents always are, until too late.</p>
+
+<p>The thunderbolt fell at last, however. Mr. Wentworth, in form, asked
+Mr. Grey's consent to address Pauline, which Mr. Grey very decidedly
+refused, looking upon the young man as very presumptuous even to ask
+it; whereupon Mr. Wentworth informed the father that he was authorized
+by his daughter to address him on the subject, and her happiness being
+involved as well as his own, he trusted Mr. Grey would re-consider his
+proposal, and incline more favorably to his suit.</p>
+
+<p>Amazement was Mr. Grey's only feeling on first hearing this
+announcement. He could scarcely believe his ears, much less take in
+the subject-matter in all its bearings.</p>
+
+<p>Again, however, he refused his consent, and forbade Mr. Wentworth to
+think of his daughter.</p>
+
+<p>He immediately communicated the conversation to his wife, who was not
+less surprised than himself, but who relieved him excessively by
+saying at once that there must be some misunderstanding on the young
+man's part, for Pauline, she knew, took no interest in him whatever.
+That is, Mrs. Grey took it for granted that Pauline must see him with
+her eyes, and did not hesitate to answer for the fact.</p>
+
+<p>She went at once to Pauline's room, where she found her lying on the
+sofa, a book open in her hand, but evidently lost in a world of dreamy
+and pleasant revery. With very little circumlocution, for Mrs. Grey
+was too much excited to choose her words carefully, she repeated to
+Pauline her conversation with her father; whereupon Pauline rose, and
+sitting up, her color changing, but her eye clear and bright, said,</p>
+
+<p>"Surely, mother, you knew it all."</p>
+
+<p>"Knew what, Pauline?"</p>
+
+<p>"That Mr. Wentworth was attached to me, and that I&mdash;I&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Surely, Pauline," exclaimed Mrs. Grey, hastily, "you are not
+interested in him."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," answered Pauline, roused by her mother's tone and manner to
+something of her old spirit, and looking at her fully and clearly, all
+diffidence having now vanished in the opposition she saw before her,
+"I am&mdash;I love him, love him with my whole soul."</p>
+
+<p>"Pauline, my child, are you mad!" almost shrieked Mrs. Grey, shocked
+almost past the power of endurance by her daughter's tones and words.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>I</i> am not mad, no mother," said Pauline, with an emphasis, as if she
+thought her mother might be. "And why do you speak thus to me? You
+introduced Mr. Wentworth yourself to me; you first invited him
+here&mdash;and why, mother, do you affect this surprise now?" and Pauline's
+color deepened, and her voice quivered as she thought, with a sense of
+her mother's inconsistency and injustice.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>I</i> introduced him to you, Pauline! Yes, I believe I did&mdash;but what of
+that? Do you suppose&mdash;no, Pauline, you are a girl of too much sense to
+suppose that I must be willing you should marry every man I introduce
+or invite to the house."<span class='pagenum'>[233]</span></p>
+
+<p>"What are your objections to Mr. Wentworth?" asked Pauline, firmly.</p>
+
+<p>"My objections, Pauline! My child, you drive me almost mad!" said Mrs.
+Grey, her daughter's manner forcing on her more and more the
+conviction of the earnestness of her present fancy&mdash;for Mrs. Grey
+could not think it more. "Why, Pauline, I have every objection to him.
+What pretensions has he that should entitle him to dream of you,
+Pauline? You, my child, with your talents and beauty, and
+acquirements, are not surely going to throw yourself away upon this
+young man, who is every way inferior to you."</p>
+
+<p>"Mother," said Pauline, with energy, "you don't know him."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Grey was silenced. She did not know him. There was that in his
+countenance, air, and manner, although what might be called rather a
+handsome young man, that is unmistakable to a practiced eye&mdash;traces of
+a common mind, a something that had satisfied Mrs. Grey "he would not
+do," when she had dismissed him from her mind. But what had she to say
+to Pauline now?</p>
+
+<p>She talked of her disappointment&mdash;of her hopes&mdash;her expectations; but
+Pauline said she was not ambitious, and wanted none of these things.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Grey was in despair. Pauline grew more and more resolute. Her eye
+flashed, and her color rose, and the brow was bent, as when she was a
+child. She and her mother talked long, and even warmly; and Mrs. Grey
+returned to her husband, leaving Pauline in a state of great
+excitement.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Grey was much disturbed by what his wife told him; but still,
+though agitated, he was not as distressed as she was. The thing must
+not and should not be&mdash;there he was firm&mdash;though he was pained,
+exceedingly pained, that Pauline should be unhappy about it.</p>
+
+<p>He looked upon her grief as of course a temporary feeling, but still,
+even for her temporary sorrow he grieved exceedingly.</p>
+
+<p>He wrote that evening to Mr. Wentworth, desiring him to discontinue
+his visits, as he could not sanction his attachment, nor consent to a
+continuance of his attentions.</p>
+
+<p>The letter was dispatched, and both parents felt better for the step.
+They considered the thing as finally at an end; and though Pauline
+might rebel a little at not having been consulted; yet it was done,
+and they seemed to think it could not be undone.</p>
+
+<p>Much they knew about the matter. A letter from the young lover to
+Pauline herself, blew all these wise conclusions to the four winds of
+heaven.</p>
+
+<p>She protested&mdash;and with some show of reason&mdash;that her father and
+mother had no right to dismiss Mr. Wentworth in this summary way; that
+they had encouraged&mdash;certainly permitted his attentions; that her
+mother had introduced him herself&mdash;for she harped upon that
+string&mdash;and she poured forth such a torrent of words and tears at the
+same time, that Mr. Grey finally said,</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Pauline, to satisfy you, I will make inquiries relative to Mr.
+Wentworth's character and standing, and should the report be
+favorable, and your attachment lasting, I do not know that we should
+have any right to refuse our consent, although it's not a match, my
+child, that we can like. But on the other hand, Pauline, should I find
+him unworthy of you, as I am inclined to believe he is, you, on your
+part, must submit to what is inevitable, for I never will give my
+consent to your marrying a man whose character is not irreproachable."</p>
+
+<p>Partially appeased, Pauline retired to her room, where Mrs. Grey spent
+the rest of the day in trying to convince Pauline that even if Mr.
+Wentworth were respectable in point of character, he was not in mind,
+manner, or appearance, at all her equal. That, in fact, he was a very
+common sort of a person, which was the truth; but strange though the
+fact might be, and there was no more accounting for it than denying
+it, Pauline was desperately in love with this very same very common
+young man; and talk as Mrs. Grey would, she could not change her
+feelings, or make her see him with her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>She could only wait the result of Mr. Grey's investigations; and most
+devoutly she hoped they might prove unfavorable. The idea of his being
+respectable enough for them to be forced to a consent, drove her
+almost wild. Was this, then, to be the end of all her visions for her
+beautiful Pauline!</p>
+
+<p>She could only trust to his being a scamp as her only hope of escape.</p>
+
+<span style="margin-left: 19em;">[<i>Conclusion in our next.</i></span>
+<br /><br />
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3><a name="THE_SAILOR-LOVER_TO_HIS_MISTRESS" id="THE_SAILOR-LOVER_TO_HIS_MISTRESS"></a>THE SAILOR-LOVER TO HIS MISTRESS.</h3>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+<h5>BY R. H. BACON.</h5>
+<hr class="short" />
+<br />
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">When as our good ship courts the gale,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To swim once more the ocean,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The lessening land wakes in my heart<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">A sad but sweet emotion:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For, though I love the broad blue sea,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">My heart's still true to thee, my love,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">My heart's still true to thee!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And when, far out upon the main,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">We plough the midnight billow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I gaze upon the stars, that shine<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And smile above thy pillow.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And though far out upon the sea,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">My heart's still true to thee, my love,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">My heart's still true to thee!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But when as homeward bound we speed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The swift sea-bird outflying,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With throbbing heart I watch the land,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Its blue hills far descrying;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Impatient, now, to leave the sea.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And fold thee to my heart, my love!<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">My heart's still true to thee!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<br /><br />
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3><a name="THE_PORTRAIT_OF_GEN_SCOTT" id="THE_PORTRAIT_OF_GEN_SCOTT"></a>THE PORTRAIT OF GEN. SCOTT.</h3>
+<span class='pagenum'>[234]</span>
+
+<p>This plate is believed to be one of the most admirable and faithful
+specimens of portraiture ever presented, through the press, to the
+public. We know that it is derived from sources to be relied upon; and
+the reputation of the eminent artist who has executed it is evidence
+that, with such ample materials, his task could not have been illy
+performed.</p>
+
+<p>The events connected with the present war have excited so high a
+degree of interest in the life and character of Gen. Scott, that the
+country has been flooded with biographies good, bad, and indifferent.
+It would not, therefore, be desirable that we should enter into a
+detailed account of the events of a public career long and eventful,
+and every result of which has been honorable to the country.</p>
+
+<p>Gen. Scott was born in 1786, in Virginia. He was educated, for a time,
+at William and Mary College, and pursued the study of the law, until
+military propensities separated him from his profession. In 1808,
+Jefferson appointed him a captain in the army of the United States; in
+1812 he received the commission of lieutenant-colonel, and took post
+on the Canada frontier. In October of that year he greatly
+distinguished himself in the battle of Queenstown Heights. His courage
+was manifested by the most extraordinary daring throughout the entire
+and unequal contest; but his small force was compelled to surrender
+with the honors of war. The whole affair reflected credit upon his
+diminutive force, and upon the young hero who led them. His
+imprisonment was not without dangers that afforded opportunities of
+displaying his lofty courage and chivalrous humanity.</p>
+
+<p>Having been exchanged in May, 1813, he rejoined the army on the
+frontier as adjutant-general. He led the advanced guard, or forlorn
+hope, at the capture of Fort George, displaying extraordinary
+gallantry, and, though wounded, was the first to enter, and raise the
+American flag. His conduct upon this occasion elicited the highest
+praise. In July of the same year, Scott was promoted to the command of
+a double regiment. He was actively engaged in all the subsequent
+efforts of that and the following campaign, and in the intervals of
+service, was employed in instructing the officers in their duties, and
+in drilling the recruits. His eminent services secured him, in March,
+1814, the rank of brigadier general&mdash;and he joined General Brown, then
+marching to the Niagara frontier. On the 3d of July, Scott leading the
+van, the Americans crossed the river, and captured Fort Erie. On the
+4th he moved toward Chippewa, in advance of the army, driving the
+British before him. The 5th witnessed the severe and well-contested
+battle of Chippewa. This battle was fought within hearing of the roar
+of Niagara, silenced for a time, as was the earthquake at Cann&aelig;, by
+the stormier passions of human conflict. It was a contest between
+divided brethren of the same gallant race; the advantages in the
+battle were all against our country; the glories in the result were
+all with her. Circumstances rendered, in the absence of Gen. Brown,
+Scott, the hero of the field; and profound has been and is the
+gratitude that rewards him.</p>
+
+<p>The 25th of the same month witnessed the still more memorable conflict
+of Niagara. It is not our purpose to describe the battle; suffice it
+to say that it was a contest between warriors worthy of each other's
+steel. Each army, and the flower of the British veterans were present,
+struggled for many hours, and foremost in every daring was found Gen.
+Scott. We need not tell the American reader that we triumphed; but
+Scott, though upon the field throughout the fight, and then, as
+always, in advance, had two horses killed under him, was wounded in
+the side, and at length disabled by a musket-ball through the
+shoulder. After a doubtful and tedious illness he recovered. He
+received from Congress, from the state legislatures, and from the
+people, the amplest evidences of gratitude and admiration.</p>
+
+<p>After the close of the war, Gen. Scott visited Europe, by order of
+government, upon public business; and on his return took command of
+the seaboard. From this time till the Black Hawk War nothing of public
+interest occurred to demand his services. He embarked with a thousand
+troops to participate in that war, in July of 1832; but his operations
+were checked by the cholera. The pestilence smote his army, and he did
+not reach the field before the war was closed. During the prevalence
+of the pestilence he performed in his army every duty among the sick
+that could be expected from a brave, humane, and good man, winning,
+and worthy the title, of the warrior of humanity. He afterward acted
+prominently in effecting the pacification of the warring tribes of the
+North West, and received the official commendation of Secretary Cass.</p>
+
+<p>Gen. Scott was ordered the same year to the Southern Department; and
+during the nullification excitement, is said to have acted, under his
+orders, with great energy and prudence. In 1836 he was ordered to
+Florida, to command the army engaged against the Creeks and Seminoles.
+He spared no effort, and manifested much of enterprise and energy; but
+circumstances, which no skill could have surmounted, rendered his
+exertions ineffectual. His failure was made the subject of inquiry by
+court martial, and he was by the court not merely acquitted, but
+applauded. In 1837, he was ordered to the northern frontier, to meet
+and avert the evil effects of the Canadian rebellion. It is admitted,
+that his efforts were vigorous, wise, and successful, and manifested
+great energy and prudence. In 1838, Gen. Scott was intrusted by the
+government with the removal to the West of the Cherokees. This duty
+was performed with great humanity and ability, and elicited strong
+expressions of gratitude from them, and of praise from the country.</p>
+
+<p>From this duty, completed, he was called to the northern frontier. His
+course there was conciliatory <span class='pagenum'>[235]</span>and wise; and doubtless had some
+effect to prevent a conflict with Great Britain.</p>
+<br /><br />
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 453px;">
+<img src="images/illus293.png" width="453" height="600"
+alt="General Scott" title="" /></div>
+<h4>THE PORTRAIT OF GEN. SCOTT.</h4>
+<h5><i>ENGRAVED BY T. B. WELCH PHILA<sup>A.</sup> FOR GRAHAM'S<br />
+MAGAZINE FROM A DAGUERROTYPE BY M. A. ROOT.</i></h5>
+<h5>Handwritten inscription: Very truly yours, Winfield Scott</h5>
+<br /><br />
+
+<p>On the commencement of the Mexican war, circumstances prevented
+General Scott from assuming the immediate command of the invading
+force. He was subsequently ordered to the seat of the war; and after a
+series of operations, admitted to be the most brilliant in point of
+science known to modern warfare, he won what were supposed to be
+impregnable, the castle and the town of Vera Cruz. This triumph was
+announced on the 29th of March. The siege occupied fifteen days, and
+was attended with little loss on the side of the Americans. On the
+17th of April, Scott, advancing upon Mexico, issued an order for the
+attack of Cerro Gordo&mdash;in which every event that was ordered and
+foreseen seems now to be prophecy; and on the next day he carried that
+Thermopyl&aelig; of Mexico. The battle was one of the most brilliant in the
+American annals. The orders of Scott, previously given, secure the
+glory of the triumph for himself and his army.</p>
+
+<p>On the 19th, Jalapa was occupied, and on the 22d Perote. In these
+triumphs the army acquired great quantities of munitions. The city of
+Puebla was occupied on the 15th of May: Ten thousand prisoners, seven
+hundred cannon, ten thousand stand of arms, and thirty thousand shells
+and shot were, in the course of these operations, the fruits of
+American skill and valor. But even these achievements were thrown into
+the shade by the glorious triumphs in the vicinity of Mexico. The
+bloody contests at the intrenchments of Contreras, the fortifications
+of Cherubusco and the castle of Chapultepec, and finally the capture
+of Mexico, are of so recent occurrence, and so familiar in all their
+details to the public, that we do not deem it necessary to narrate
+them. Cut off for fifty days from all communications with Vera Cruz,
+the veteran Scott won, with his feeble and greatly diminished force,
+and against defenses deemed impregnable, triumphs that have thrown
+immortal glory around the arms of his country.</p>
+
+<p>Thus segregated, shut out from the hope of home as completely as were
+the soldiers of Cortez when he burned his ships, this little band
+advanced to dangers such as were never before encountered and
+overcome. Science guided and protected the daring invasion; and true
+American hearts, at every bristling danger, supported it, with an
+ardent courage and a calm fortitude scarcely equaled in the wars of
+nations. On the 15th of August, General Scott, by a masterly movement,
+turned the strong works of the Penon and Mexicalzingo, on which the
+enemy had labored and relied. On the 17th the spires of Mexico were in
+sight. The attack upon Contreras took place. It was one of the most
+brilliant achievements of the American arms. San Antonio was also
+carried; and San Pablo assailed, and, after a contest of two hours,
+won. In this battle the general added another to his former scars,
+being wounded in the leg. The terrible conflict of Cherubusco
+succeeded; and again American valor proved invincible. This placed our
+force at the gates of Mexico. The contest was one against four, the
+four having every advantage that military science and superiority of
+position could confer. Having overcome every enemy that dared to
+dispute his path, he spared the city of Mexico. The entire campaign is
+most honorable to the American character and to the reputation of him
+who led it. The impetuosity of his campaigns in the war of 1812 seemed
+mingled with and subdued by the results of a profound study of the
+science of war, in this contest. He dared boldly, and executed
+cautiously, courageously and successfully. Erring in nothing, and
+failing in nothing, he encountered dangers, and passed through scenes
+that belong to romance, but which his iron intellect rendered a
+substantial reality.</p>
+<br /><br />
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3><a name="O_SCORN_NOT_THY_BROTHER" id="O_SCORN_NOT_THY_BROTHER"></a>O, SCORN NOT THY BROTHER.</h3>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+<h5>BY E. CURTISS HINE.</h5>
+<hr class="short" />
+<br />
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">O, scorn not thy brother,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Though poor he may be,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He's bound to another<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And bright world with thee.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Should sorrow assail him,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Give heed to his sighs,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Should strength ever fail him,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">O, help him to rise!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The pathway we're roaming,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Mid flow'rets may lie,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But soon will life's gloaming,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Come dark'ning our sky.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then seek not to smother<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Kind feelings in thee,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And scorn not thy brother,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Though poor he may be!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Go, cheer those who languish<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Their dead hopes among.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In whose hearts stern anguish<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The harp hath unstrung!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They'll soon in another<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Bright land roam with thee,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So scorn not thy brother,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Though poor he may be!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<br /><br />
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><a name="BEN_BOLT" id="BEN_BOLT"></a>BEN BOLT.</h1>
+<span class='pagenum'>[236]</span>
+<h2>THE WORDS AND MELODY BY THOMAS DUNN ENGLISH.</h2>
+
+<h3>ARRANGED FOR THE PIANO FORTE, AND CORDIALLY DEDICATED TO</h3>
+
+<h2>CHARLES BENJAMIN BOLT, ESQ.</h2>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+<h5>COPYRIGHTED BY GEORGE WILLIG, NO. 171 CHESNUT STREET, PHILADELPHIA.</h5>
+<hr class="short" />
+
+<p><b>Andante con espressione.</b></p>
+<br />
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 580px;">
+<img src="images/music1.png" width="580" height="600"
+alt="sheet music page 1" title="" /></div>
+<br />
+<span class='pagenum'>[237]</span>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 580px;">
+<img src="images/music2.png" width="580" height="600"
+alt="sheet music page 2" title="" /></div>
+<br />
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Don't you re-mem-ber sweet Al-ice, Ben Bolt&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Sweet Al-ice whose hair was so brown&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who wept with de-light when you gave her a smile,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And trem-bled with fear at your frown?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In the old church yard in the val-ley, Ben Bolt,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In a cor-ner ob-scure and a-lone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They have fit-ted a slab of the gran-ite so gray;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And Al-ice lies un-der the stone.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<br />
+
+<h4>II.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Under the Hickory tree, Ben Bolt,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Which stood at the foot of the hill,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Together we've lain in the noonday shade,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And listened to Appleton's mill.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The mill-wheel has fallen to pieces, Ben Bolt,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The rafters have tumbled in,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And a quiet which crawls round the walls as you gaze,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Has followed the olden din.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<br />
+
+<h4>III.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Do you mind the cabin of logs, Ben Bolt,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">At the edge of the pathless wood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the button-ball tree with its motley limbs,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Which nigh by the door step stood?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The cabin to ruin has gone, Ben Bolt,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The tree you would seek in vain;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And where once the lords of the forest waved,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Grow grass and the golden grain.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<br />
+
+<h4>IV.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And don't you remember the school, Ben Bolt,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With the master so cruel and grim,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the shaded nook in the running brook,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Where the children went to swim?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Grass grows on the master's grave, Ben Bolt,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The spring of the brook is dry,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And of all the boys that were school-mates then,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">There are only you and I.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<br />
+
+<h4>V.</h4>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">There is change in the things that I loved, Ben Bolt,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">They have changed from the old to the new;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But I feel in the core of my spirit the truth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">There never was change in you.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Twelvemonths twenty have past, Ben Bolt,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Since first we were friends, yet I hail<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy presence a blessing, thy friendship a truth&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Ben Bolt, of the salt-sea gale.<br /></span>
+</div></div>]
+<br /><br />
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3><a name="THE_SPIRIT_OF_SONG" id="THE_SPIRIT_OF_SONG"></a>THE SPIRIT OF SONG.</h3>
+<span class='pagenum'>[238]</span>
+<hr class="short" />
+<h5>BY MRS. E. C. KINNEY.</h5>
+<hr class="short" />
+<br />
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Eternal Fame! thy great rewards,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Throughout all time, shall be<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The right of those old master-bards<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of Greece and Italy;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And of fair Albion's favored isle,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where Poesy's celestial smile<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Hath shone for ages, gilding bright<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her rocky cliffs, and ancient towers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And cheering this new world of ours<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With a reflected light.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Yet, though there be no path untrod<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">By that immortal race&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who walked with Nature, as with God,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And saw her, face to face&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No living truth by them unsung&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No thought that hath not found a tongue<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In some strong lyre of olden time;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Must every tuneful lute be still<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That may not give a world the thrill<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of their great harp sublime?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Oh, not while beating hearts rejoice<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In Music's simplest tone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And hear in Nature's every voice<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">An echo to their own!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not till these scorn the little rill<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That runs rejoicing from the hill,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Or the soft, melancholy glide<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of some deep stream, through glen and glade,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Because 'tis not the thunder made<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">By ocean's heaving tide!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The hallowed lilies of the field<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In glory are arrayed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And timid, blue-eyed violets yield<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Their fragrance to the shade;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor do the way-side flowers conceal<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Those modest charms that sometimes steal<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Upon the weary traveler's eyes<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like angels, spreading for his feet<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A carpet, filled with odors sweet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And decked with heavenly dyes.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Thus let the affluent Soul of Song&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">That all with flowers adorns&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Strew life's uneven path along,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And hide its thousand thorns:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Oh, many a sad and weary heart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That treads a noiseless way apart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Has blessed the humble poet's name,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For fellowship, refined and free,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In meek wild-flowers of poesy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">That asked no higher fame!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And pleasant as the water-fall<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To one by deserts bound&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Making the air all musical<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With cool, inviting sound&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is oft some unpretending strain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of rural song, to him whose brain<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Is fevered in the sordid strife<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That Avarice breeds 'twixt man and man,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">While moving on, in caravan,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Across the sands of Life.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Yet, not for these alone he sings;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The poet's breast is stirred<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As by the spirit that takes wings<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And carols in the bird!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He thinks not of a future name,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor whence his inspiration came<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Nor whither goes his warbled song;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As Joy itself delights in joy&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His soul finds life in its employ,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And grows by utterance strong.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<br /><br />
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3><a name="A_PARTING" id="A_PARTING"></a>A PARTING.</h3>
+
+<h4>(AN EXTRACT.)</h4>
+
+<hr class="short" />
+<h5>BY HENRY S. HAGERT.</h5>
+<hr class="short" />
+<br />
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">And now, farewell&mdash;and if the warm tear start<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Unbidden to your eye, oh! do not blush<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To own it, for it speaks the gen'rous heart,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Full to o'erflowing with the fervent gush<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of its sweet waters. Hark! I hear the rush<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Of many feet, and dark-browed Mem'ry brings<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Her tales of by-gone pleasure but to crush<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">The reed already bending&mdash;now, there sings<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The syren voice of Hope&mdash;her of the rainbow wings.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">Ah! well-a-day! Ceased is the witching strain&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Fled are they all&mdash;and back the senses turn<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To this dark hour of anguish and of pain&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Of rending heart-chords&mdash;agony too stern<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">For words to picture it&mdash;of thoughts that burn<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">And wither up the heart. I need not tell<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">What now I feel, or if my bosom yearn<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">With love for you at parting&mdash;there's a spell<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To conjure up despair in that wild word&mdash;Farewell<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+<br /><br />
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h3><a name="REVIEW_OF_NEW_BOOKS" id="REVIEW_OF_NEW_BOOKS"></a>REVIEW OF NEW BOOKS.</h3>
+<span class='pagenum'>[239]</span>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><i>Historical and Select Memoirs of the Empress
+Josephine, (Marie Rose Tacher de la Pagerie,) First
+Wife of Napoleon Bonaparte. By M'lle. M. A. Le Normand,
+Authoress "Des Souvenirs Prophetiques," &amp;c. Translated
+from the French by Jacob M. Howard, Esq. Philada.:
+Carey &amp; Hart.</i>
+</p></div>
+
+<p>The larger portion of this work is made up of the account given by
+Josephine herself of the events of her life; and that part contributed
+by M'lle. Le Normand, completes a biography of the gifted, the
+fortunate and unfortunate queen of Napoleon. The Memoirs of Josephine
+sparkle with French sprightliness, and abound with French sentiment.
+Her style is eminently graceful, and the turn of thought such as we
+would expect from the most accomplished and fascinating woman of her
+times. The narrative is neither very copious nor very regular; but all
+that is told is of the deepest interest. It abounds in domestic
+anecdotes of the great usurper, and reports conversations between him
+and his wife, in which, by the way, her speeches rival, in prolixity,
+those given us by Livy. Many of her views of Bonaparte and herself are
+novel and striking, and calculated, if relied upon, to change opinions
+now generally entertained as truths. In relation to herself, her tone
+is one of almost unvarying self-eulogium; and the amiable and
+excellent qualities which she is known to have possessed need no
+better chronicler. She was of the opinion that her abilities and
+services, which were eminent and various, secured Napoleon's
+advancement at every step of his rapid career from obscurity to the
+imperial throne; and that the loss of her influence and counsels was
+the necessary harbinger of his downfall.</p>
+
+<p>For the movements that secured him the First Consulship, she claims
+almost exclusive credit. That she was an artful politician, and used,
+with great effect, the graces of mind, manner, and person, with which
+she was singularly endowed, to promote the interests of her husband,
+is certain; but it may be doubted whether his mighty genius ever
+leaned for support upon the political skill and counsel of a
+woman&mdash;even though that woman were Josephine. She, like her wonderful
+husband, seems to have cherished a superstitious reliance upon
+destiny&mdash;a weakness singularly inconsistent with their general
+character. The story of the early prediction that she would become a
+queen is given with an amusing simplicity and earnestness. The
+prophecy is as follows:</p>
+
+<p>"You will be married to a man of a fair complexion, destined to be the
+husband of another of your family. The young lady whose place you are
+called to fill, will not live long. A young Creole, whom you love,
+does not cease to think of you; you will never marry him, and will
+make vain attempts to save his life; but his end will be unhappy. Your
+star promises you two marriages. Your first husband will be a man born
+in Martinique, but he will reside in Europe and wear a sword; he will
+enjoy some moments of good fortune. A sad legal proceeding will
+separate you from him, and after many great troubles, which are to
+befall the kingdom of the <i>Franks</i>, he will perish tragically, and
+leave you a widow with two helpless children. Your second husband will
+be of an olive complexion, of European birth; without fortune, yet he
+will become famous; he will fill the world with his glory, and will
+subject a great many nations to his power. You will then become an
+<i>eminent woman</i>, and possess a supreme dignity; but many people will
+forget your kindnesses. After having astonished the world, <i>you will
+die miserable</i>. The country in which what I foretell must happen,
+forms a part of <i>Celtic Gaul</i>; and more than once, in the midst of
+your prosperity, you will regret the happy and peaceful life you led
+in the colony. At the moment you shall quit it, (<i>but not forever</i>,) a
+prodigy will appear in the air;&mdash;this will be the first harbinger of
+your astonishing destiny."</p>
+
+<p>Any fortune-teller might tell, and no doubt, if she thought it would
+flatter, would tell, a beautiful young girl that her destiny was to be
+a queen; but there is in this prediction a minuteness of detail, that
+cannot be accounted for on the ground of accidental coincidence. It is
+a brief history of her life. Unless we are prepared to believe that an
+ignorant old mulatto woman was gifted by divine Providence with
+supernatural power, constituted a second Witch of Endor, and able by
+"examining the ball of Josephine's left thumb with great attention,"
+to discover the minute particulars of her future life, we must
+discredit the absurdity. A prediction believed sometimes effects its
+own fulfillment; and Josephine, whose ambition seems to have been most
+ardent, may have been inspired with romantic hopes by the foolish
+promise of an ignorant impostor, that she would rise to great
+eminence, and have been stimulated to greater exertions to realize
+those hopes. This may have urged her to intimacy with the corrupt and
+immoral Directory, with whom a beautiful and accomplished woman could
+not fail to be a favorite; may have secured her marriage to a very
+young and ardent man, who all believed must rise to eminence; and may
+have even induced her to excite her husband to the policy which
+secured a crown. But to believe that a prediction, giving all the
+leading events of the lives of several different persons, and those
+persons actors in scenes so wonderful, would be a folly equally weak
+and blasphemous. The same superstition is frequently betrayed in these
+volumes; and we have as many dreams and portents as ever disturbed the
+sleeping and waking hours of the wife of the first Napoleon,
+Caliphurnia.</p>
+
+<p>The pages of these memoirs afford us the harshest and most repulsive
+views of Napoleon's character that we have yet seen. His affectionate
+consort was undoubtedly discerning, and used her keenness of
+perception with proper diligence to discover all her husband's faults.
+We have never shared in the excessive and extraordinary admiration
+with which the character of this man-hater and earth-spoiler is
+regarded in this land of liberty; but it seems to us that the
+portraiture before us would be deemed unjust coming from his foes, and
+is at least singular when traced by the hand of the affectionate and
+gentle Josephine. The praise awarded him is cold, formal and stinted;
+but the censure is interjected among her details with a freedom that
+we could not have anticipated. That she should have resented his
+heartless repudiation of the companion of all his struggles and
+fortunes, is natural, and perhaps just; but that she should have
+revenged the wrong, if indeed that be the motive, by depreciating him
+seems out of character with the Josephine of our imaginations. She
+describes him as vain, cruel, often weak, and at times abjectly
+cowardly. She dwells with great fullness upon his crimes, and passes
+rapidly and coldly over the many great and good things he achieved for
+France. In some instances<span class='pagenum'>[240]</span> positive misrepresentations are resorted
+to, calculated to blacken his character. Thus, in relation to the
+disaster at the bridge on the Elster, she says:</p>
+
+<p>"I likewise learned that my husband has passed the only bridge by
+which he could make good his retreat; but in order to prevent pursuit
+by the foreign army, he had ordered it to be blown up at the very
+moment it was covered with thousands of Frenchmen, who were
+endeavoring to fly. By means of this <i>murderous man&oelig;uvre</i> he abandoned
+a part of his army on the bank of the stream."</p>
+
+<p>Now this is a most inhuman calumny, and one that sounds strangely
+coming from a French woman, and that woman the wife of the unfortunate
+Napoleon. Bonaparte's strongest and ablest decryer, Alison, admits
+that the destruction of the bridge was an accident, resulting from the
+mistake of a corporal, who supposed the retreating French upon the
+bridge were the pursuing allies, and fired the train. It is seldom
+that we expect to find extraordinary instances of conjugal affection
+upon thrones; and we are strongly disposed to believe that the love of
+Josephine for her husband has been exaggerated. According to her own
+account, she had many previous draughts made upon her capital stock of
+love; and she describes her marriage with Napoleon as one induced by
+the representations of Barras and Mad. Tallien of the advantages to be
+derived from it. She thus characterizes her feelings toward Bonaparte
+just before marriage. "I discovered in him a tone of assurance and
+exaggerated pretension, which injured him greatly in my estimation.
+The more I studied his character, the more I discovered the oddities
+for which I was at a loss to account; and at length he inspired me
+with so much aversion that I ceased to frequent the house of Mad.
+Chat*** Ren***, where he spent his evenings." Notwithstanding the
+excessive affection professed, a large portion of the period of their
+connection seems to have been embroiled and troubled. Yet there can be
+no doubt that she devoted herself assiduously and faithfully to the
+promotion and protection of the greatness which she shared; and, at
+the close of her career, though she caressed his conquerors, she died
+uttering the warmest expressions of affection for him, even in the
+presence of his foe. The death-scene, as described by M'lle. Le
+Normand, is truly touching. Her last tears fell upon the portrait of
+Napoleon.</p>
+
+<p>The whole story is full of romance, and will be read with great
+interest. The translator has performed his task with eminent ability;
+and the volumes are printed in a style highly creditable to the
+publishers.</p>
+<br />
+
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><i>Memoir of Sarah B. Judson, Member of the American
+Mission to Burmah. By "Fanny Forester." New York: L.
+Colby &amp; Co.</i>
+</p></div>
+
+
+<p>It cannot be necessary for us to recommend to the readers of Graham's
+Magazine any work from the pen of the fascinating "Fanny Forester."
+Her literary history is associated in their minds with the most
+agreeable recollections of a female writer, among the sweetest, the
+most brilliant, the most charming of the many whom our country has
+produced. They will remember her, too, in that most eventful scene and
+surprising change of her life, in which the popular authoress was
+suddenly, and voluntarily, transformed into the humble missionary;
+sacrificing, from a sense of Christian duty, all the pride and
+allurements of literary distinction, along with friends, home, the
+safety and happiness of civilized society, that she might take up the
+cross, and carry it, an offering of salvation, to the benighted
+Heathen of Asia, even in the depths of their own far and pestilential
+climates.</p>
+
+<p>The missionary appears again as on authoress; but it is in the lowly
+attitude of a biographer commemorating the virtues of a departed
+sister and predecessor in the same field of Christian devotion&mdash;the
+devoted and sainted woman whose places "Fanny Forester" herself now
+occupies as a wife and missionary, performing the same duties, exposed
+to the same trials and sufferings, in the same distant and perilous
+regions of Asia. The subject and the writer are thus united&mdash;we might
+say identified&mdash;as parts of the same attractive theme, and co-actors
+in the same sacred drama. Under such circumstances, the Memoir of Mrs.
+Judson could not be otherwise than profoundly interesting; and it will
+prove so, not only to all those who admire the authoress, but to all
+who love the cause to which she has dedicated her talents, her life,
+her fame. It is, indeed, a beautiful, a deeply engaging, an affecting
+volume, uniting a kind of romantic character, derived from the scenes
+and perils it describes, with the deeper interest of a record of the
+evangelization of the heathen. It is peculiarly adapted, too, to the
+reading of people of the world, whose hearts have not yet been warmed,
+or whose minds have not been instructed, on the subject of Christian
+missions. They cannot take it up without reading it; they cannot read
+it without rising better informed, and with better dispositions than
+before, in regard to the great cause which boasts&mdash;or has
+boasted&mdash;such servants as Mrs. Judson and "Fanny Forester."</p>
+<br />
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><i>The History of a Penitent. A Guide for the Inquiring,
+in a Commentary on the One Hundred and Thirtieth Psalm.
+By George W. Bethune, D.D., Minister of the Third
+Reformed Dutch Church, Philadelphia. Henry Perkins, 142
+Chestnut Street.</i>
+</p></div>
+
+
+<p>This work, which is beautifully dedicated to Dr. Alexander, is written
+with much of the characteristic force and fervor of its author, and
+with more than his ordinary research and elaboration. He informs us
+that his purpose has been to help the inquiring soul and young
+Christian with counsel taken immediately from the unerring word: he
+has therefore studied conformity to scripture, rather than novelty of
+thought, and plainness more than grace of style. Yet there is in this
+volume much of the author's usual boldness of originality and peculiar
+felicity of expression. Our readers have been made acquainted with the
+high merits of Dr. Bethune as a poet, by his contributions to
+"Graham;" but highly as we appreciate his verse, there is a
+directness, an originality, an old-fashioned power in his prose which
+we prefer, and which we think place him in the first class of American
+writers. On subjects like that treated in the volume before us, his
+whole heart and mind seem to be poured into his pages; and in their
+perusal we doubt whether most to admire the divine or the rhetorician.</p>
+<br />
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p><i>Keble's Christian Year: Thoughts in Verse for the
+Sundays and Holidays throughout the Year. Philadelphia:
+Geo. S. Appleton. 148 Chestnut Street.</i>
+</p></div>
+
+
+<p>This beautiful volume is printed from the thirty-first London edition.
+Its merits are so well and universally known and appreciated that to
+review it would, to our readers, be tedious as a twice told tale.
+Suffice it to say, that its object is to bring the thoughts and
+feelings of worshipers into more entire unison with those recommended
+and exemplified in the Prayer Book. The poetry of this volume is often
+even worthy the exalted subjects of which it treats, and is never
+unworthy them. Its extraordinary popularity is the best evidence of
+its merit; for poetry is never generally and permanently popular
+without real merit.</p>
+<br /><br />
+
+
+<div class="footnotes">
+<h4>FOOTNOTES:</h4>
+<br /><br/>
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a>
+<a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a>
+From a work now in press, and shortly to be published,
+entitled "<i>The Military Heroes of the United States. By C. J.
+Peterson. 2 vols. 8vo. 500 pp.</i>"</p></div>
+<br />
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a>
+<a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a>
+Cain.&mdash;Genesis iv. 17.</p></div>
+<br /><br />
+</div>
+
+
+<p><b>Transcriber's Note:</b></p>
+
+<p>1. page 195&mdash;removed extra quote at end of paragraph 'boot-maker,
+landlady, and others?'</p>
+
+<p>2. page 195&mdash;removed repeated word 'five'</p>
+
+<p>3. page 198&mdash;changed comma to period at end of sentence 'knock the
+fort to pieces'</p>
+
+<p>4. page 200&mdash;corrected typo 'litle' to 'little' in stanza beginning
+'"Spirit, I am of litle worth,"</p>
+
+<p>5. page 203&mdash;added missing end quote at end of poem</p>
+
+<p>6. page 205&mdash;removed extraneous double quote mark from sentence "Pooh!
+you green-horn!" said Jack Reeves,"</p>
+
+<p>7. page 206&mdash;added missing single quote in sentence "...answered the
+skipper; so suit yourself"</p>
+
+<p>8. page 213&mdash;changed punctuation at end of sentence ...now I am willing
+to die.,' to period + double quote</p>
+
+<p>9. page 213&mdash;added missing double quote at end of sentence ...before I
+sail, with your permission.</p>
+
+<p>10. page 213&mdash;added missing double quote in sentence ...as we drove off.
+You told the truth...</p>
+
+<p>11. page 215&mdash;changed comma to period at end of sentence Yes, dear Frank,"</p>
+
+<p>12. page 215&mdash;added missing double quote to sentence ...thumping his right
+side, you lacerate my heart...</p>
+
+<p>13. page 216&mdash;added missing double quote at end of sentence ...You are
+the most angelic, adorable&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>14. page 220&mdash;corrected typo 'vison' to 'vision' in line 'Scenes of the
+past before his vison'</p>
+
+<p>15. page 221&mdash;corrected comma to period at end of sentence '...humid
+with tears,'</p>
+
+<p>16. page 227&mdash;removed extra quote at start of sentence 'Ah! happy,
+satisfied Leland!'</p>
+
+<p>17. page 228&mdash;added missing quote at end of article</p>
+
+<p>18. page 229&mdash;added missing right bracket to sentence '...and then
+they know better.'</p>
+
+<p>19. page 231&mdash;corrected typo "lanched" to "launched" in sentence '...for
+Pauline was fairly lanched.'</p>
+
+<p>20. page 240&mdash;corrected typo "Chistian" to "Christian" in title block
+of article</p>
+<br /><br />
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Graham's Magazine, Vol. XXXII No. 4,
+April 1848, by Various
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GRAHAM'S MAGAZINE ***
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+</pre>
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Graham's Magazine, Vol. XXXII No. 4, April
+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. 4, April 1848
+
+Author: Various
+
+Editor: George R. Graham
+        Robert T. Conrad
+
+Release Date: June 25, 2009 [EBook #29239]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GRAHAM'S MAGAZINE ***
+
+
+
+
+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, APRIL, 1848. NO. 4.
+
+JACOB JONES.
+
+OR THE MAN WHO COULDN'T GET ALONG IN THE WORLD.
+
+BY T. S. ARTHUR.
+
+
+Jacob Jones was clerk in a commission store at a salary of five
+hundred dollars a year. He was just twenty-two, and had been receiving
+this salary for two years. Jacob had no one to care for but himself;
+but, somehow or other, it happened that he did not lay up any money,
+but, instead, usually had from fifty to one hundred dollars standing
+against him on the books of his tailors.
+
+"How much money have you laid by, Jacob?" said one day the merchant
+who employed him. This question came upon Jacob rather suddenly; and
+coming from the source that it did, was not an agreeable one--for the
+merchant was a very careful and economical man.
+
+"I havn't laid by any thing yet," replied Jacob, with a slight air of
+embarrassment.
+
+"You havn't!" said the merchant, in surprise. "Why what have you done
+with your money?"
+
+"I've spent it, somehow or other."
+
+"It must have been somehow or other, I should think, or somehow else,"
+returned the employer, half seriously, and half playfully. "But
+really, Jacob, you are a very thoughtless young man to waste your
+money."
+
+"I don't think I _waste_ my money," said Jacob.
+
+"What, then, have you done with it?" asked the merchant.
+
+"It costs me the whole amount of my salary to live."
+
+The merchant shook his head.
+
+Then you live extravagantly for a young man of your age and condition.
+How much do you pay for boarding?"
+
+"Four dollars a week."
+
+"Too much by from fifty cents to a dollar. But, even paying that sum,
+four more dollars per week ought to meet fully all your other
+expenses, and leave you what would amount to nearly one hundred
+dollars per annum to lay by. I saved nearly two hundred dollars a year
+on a salary no larger than you receive."
+
+"I should like very much to know how you did it. I can't save a cent;
+in fact, I hardly ever have ten dollars in my pocket."
+
+"Where does your money go, Jacob? In what way do you spend a hundred
+dollars a year more than is necessary?"
+
+"They are spent, I know; and that is pretty much all I can tell about
+it," replied Jacob.
+
+"You can certainly tell by your private account book."
+
+"I don't keep any private account, sir."
+
+"You don't?" in surprise.
+
+"No, sir. What's the use? My salary is five hundred dollars a year,
+and wouldn't be any more nor less if I kept an account of every half
+cent of it."
+
+"Humph!"
+
+The merchant said no more. His mind was made up about his clerk. The
+fact that he spent five hundred dollars a year, and kept no
+private account, was enough for him.
+
+"He'll never be any good to himself nor anybody else. Spend his whole
+salary--humph! Keep no private account--humph!"
+
+This was the opinion held of Jacob Jones by his employer from that
+day. The reason why he had inquired as to how much money he had saved,
+was this. He had a nephew, a poor young man, who, like Jacob, was a
+clerk, and showed a good deal of ability for business. His salary was
+rather more than what Jacob received, and, like Jacob, he spent it
+all; but not on himself. He supported, mainly, his mother and a
+younger brother and sister. A good chance for a small, but safe
+beginning, was seen by the uncle, which would require only about a
+thousand dollars as an investment. In his opinion it would be just
+the thing for Jacob and the nephew. Supposing that Jacob had four or
+five hundred dollars laid by, it was his intention, if he approved of
+the thing, to furnish his nephew with a like sum, in order to join him
+and enter into business. But the acknowledgment of Jacob that he had
+not saved a dollar, and that he kept no private account, settled the
+matter in the merchant's mind, as far as he was concerned.
+
+About a month afterward, Jacob met his employer's nephew, who said,
+
+"I am going into business."
+
+"You are?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"What are you going to do?"
+
+"Open a commission store."
+
+"Ah! Can you get any good consignments?"
+
+"I am to have the agency for a new mill, which has just commenced
+operations, beside consignments of goods from several small concerns
+at the East."
+
+"You will have to make advances."
+
+"To no great extent. My uncle has secured the agency of the new mill
+here without any advance being required, and eight hundred or a
+thousand dollars will be as much as I shall need to secure as many
+goods as I can sell from the other establishments of which I speak."
+
+"But where will the eight hundred or a thousand come from?"
+
+"My uncle has placed a thousand dollars at my disposal. Indeed, the
+whole thing is the result of his recommendation."
+
+"Your uncle! You are a lucky dog. I wish I had a rich uncle. But there
+is no such good fortune for me."
+
+This was the conclusion of Jacob Jones, who made himself quite unhappy
+for some weeks, brooding over the matter. He never once dreamed of the
+real cause of his not having had an equal share in his young friend's
+good fortune. He had not the most distant idea that his employer felt
+nearly as much regard for him as for his nephew, and would have
+promoted his interests as quickly, if he had felt justified in doing
+so.
+
+"It's my luck, I suppose," was the final conclusion of his mind; "and
+it's no use to cry about it. Any how, it isn't every man with a rich
+uncle, and a thousand dollars advanced, who succeeds in business, nor
+every man who starts without capital that is unsuccessful. I
+understand as much about business as the old man's nephew, any day;
+and can get consignments as well as he can."
+
+Three or four months after this, Jacob notified the merchant that he
+was going to start for himself, and asked his interest as far as he
+could give it, without interfering with his own business. His employer
+did not speak very encouragingly about the matter, which offended
+Jacob.
+
+"He's afraid I'll injure his nephew," he said to himself. "But he
+needn't be uneasy--the world is wide enough for us all, the old
+hunks!"
+
+Jacob borrowed a couple of hundred dollars, took a store at five
+hundred dollars a year rent, and employed a clerk and porter. He then
+sent his circulars to a number of manufactories at the East,
+announcing the fact of his having opened a new commission house, and
+soliciting consignments. His next move was, to leave his
+boarding-house, where he had been paying four dollars a week, and take
+lodgings at a hotel at seven dollars a week.
+
+Notwithstanding Jacob went regularly to the post office twice every
+day, few letters came to hand, and but few of them contained bills of
+lading and invoices. The result of the first year's business was an
+income from commission on sales of seven hundred dollars. Against this
+were the items of one thousand dollars for personal expenses, five
+hundred dollars for store-rent, seven hundred dollars for clerk and
+porter, and for petty and contingent expenses, two hundred dollars;
+leaving the uncomfortable deficit of seventeen hundred dollars, which
+stood against him in the form of bills payable for sales effected, and
+small notes of accommodation borrowed from his friends.
+
+The result of the first year's business of his old employer's nephew
+was very different. The gross profits were three thousand dollars, and
+the expenses as follows: personal expense, seven hundred dollars--just
+what the young man's salary had previously been, and out of which he
+supported his mother and her family--store-rent, three hundred
+dollars; porter, two hundred and fifty, petty expenses one hundred
+dollars--in all, thirteen hundred and fifty dollars, leaving a net
+profit of sixteen hundred and fifty dollars. It will be seen that he
+did not go to the expense of a clerk during the first year. He
+preferred working a little harder, and keeping his own books, by which
+an important saving was effected.
+
+At the end of the second year, notwithstanding Jacob Jones' business
+more than doubled itself, he was compelled to wind up, and found
+himself twenty-five hundred dollars worse than nothing. Several of his
+unpaid bills to eastern houses were placed in suit, and as he lived in
+a state where imprisonment for debt still existed, he was compelled to
+go through the forms required by the insolvent laws, to keep clear of
+durance vile.
+
+At the very period when he was driven under by adverse gales, his
+young friend, who had gone into business about the same time, found
+himself under the necessity of employing a clerk. He offered Jones a
+salary of four hundred dollars, the most he believed himself yet
+justified in paying. This was accepted, and Jacob found himself once
+more standing upon _terra firma_, although the portion upon which his
+feet rested was very small, still it was _terra firma_--and that was
+something.
+
+The real causes of his ill success never for a moment occurred to the
+mind of Jacob. He considered himself an "unlucky dog."
+
+"Every thing that some people touch turns to money," he would
+sometimes say. "But I wasn't born under a lucky star."
+
+Instead of rigidly bringing down his expenses, as he ought to have
+done, to four hundred dollars, if he had had to live in a garret and
+cook his own food, Jacob went back to his old boarding-house, and
+paid four dollars a week. All his other expenses required at least
+eight dollars more to meet them. He was perfectly aware that he was
+living beyond his income--the exact excess he did not stop to
+ascertain--but he expected an increase of salary before long, as a
+matter of course, either in his present situation or in a new one. But
+no increase took place for two years, and then he was between three
+and four hundred dollars in debt to tailors, boot-makers, his
+landlady, and to sundry friends, to whom he applied for small sums of
+money in cases of emergency.
+
+One day about this time, two men were conversing together quite
+earnestly, as they walked leisurely along one of the principal streets
+of the city where Jacob resided. One was past the prime of life, and
+the other about twenty-two. They were father and son, and the subject
+of conversation related to the wish of the latter to enter into
+business. The father did not think the young man was possessed of
+sufficient knowledge of business, or experience, and was, therefore,
+desirous of associating some one with him who could make up these
+deficiencies. If he could find just the person that pleased him, he
+was ready to advance capital and credit to an amount somewhere within
+the neighborhood of twenty thousand dollars. For some months he had
+been thinking of Jacob, who was a first-rate salesman, had a good
+address, and was believed by him to possess business habits eminently
+conducive to success. The fact that he had once failed, was something
+of a drawback in his mind, but he had asked Jacob the reason of his
+ill-success, which was so plausibly explained, that he considered the
+young man as simply unfortunate in not having capital, and nothing
+else.
+
+"I think Mr. Jones just the right man for you," the father said, as
+they walked along.
+
+"I don't know of any one with whom I had rather form a business
+connection. He is a man of good address, business habits, and, as far
+as I know, good principles."
+
+"Suppose you mention the subject to him this afternoon."
+
+This was agreed to. The two men then entered the shop of a fashionable
+tailor, for the purpose of ordering some clothes. While there, a man,
+having the appearance of a collector, came in, and drew the tailor
+aside. Their conversation was brief but earnest, and concluded by the
+tailor's saying, so loud that he could be heard by all who were
+standing near,
+
+"It's no use to waste your time with him any longer. Just hand over
+the account to Simpson, and let him take care of it."
+
+The collector turned away, and the tailor came back to his customers.
+
+"It is too bad," he said, "the way some of these young fellows do
+serve us. I have now several thousand dollars on my books against
+clerks who receive salaries large enough to support them handsomely,
+and I can't collect a dollar of it. There is Jacob Jones, whose
+account I have just ordered to be placed in the hands of a lawyer, he
+owes me nearly two hundred dollars, and I can't get a cent out of
+him. I call him little better than a scamp."
+
+The father and son exchanged glances of significance, but said
+nothing. The fate of Jacob Jones was sealed.
+
+"If that is the case," said the father, as they stepped into the
+street, "the less we have to do with him the better."
+
+To this the son assented. Another more prudent young man was selected,
+whose fortune was made.
+
+"When Jacob received lawyer Simpson's note, threatening a suit if the
+tailor's bill were not paid, he was greatly disturbed.
+
+"Am I not the most unfortunate man in the world?" he said to himself,
+by way of consolation. "After having paid him so much money, to be
+served like this. It is too bad. But this is the way of the world. Let
+a poor devil once get a little under the weather, and every one must
+have a kick at him."
+
+In this dilemma poor Jacob had to call upon the tailor and beg him for
+further time. This was humiliating, especially as the tailor was
+considerably out of humor, and disposed to be hard with him. A threat
+to apply for the benefit of the insolvent law again, if a suit was
+pressed to an issue, finally induced the tailor to waive legal
+proceedings for the present, and Jacob had the immediate terrors of
+the law taken from before his eyes.
+
+This event set Jacob to thinking and calculating, what he had never
+before deemed necessary in his private affairs. The result did not
+make him feel any happier. To his astonishment he ascertained that he
+owed more than the whole of his next year's salary would pay, while
+that was not in itself sufficient to meet his current expenses.
+
+For some weeks after this discovery of the real state of his affairs,
+Jacob was very unhappy. He applied for an increase of salary, and
+obtained the addition of one hundred dollars per annum. This was
+something, which was about all that could be said. If he could live on
+four hundred dollars a year, which he had never yet been able to do,
+the addition to his salary would not pay his tailor's bill within two
+years; and what was he to do with boot-maker, landlady, and others?
+
+It happened about this time that a clerk in the bank where his old
+employer was a director, died. His salary had been one thousand
+dollars. For the vacant place Jacob made immediate application, and
+was so fortunate as to secure it.
+
+Under other circumstances, Jacob would have refused a salary of
+fifteen hundred dollars in a bank against five hundred in a
+counting-room, and for the reason that a bank, or office clerk, has
+little or no hope beyond his salary all his life, while a
+counting-house clerk, if he have any aptness for trade, stands a fair
+chance of getting into business sooner or later, and making his
+fortune as a merchant. But a debt of four hundred dollars hanging over
+his head, was an argument in favor of a clerkship in the bank, at a
+salary of a thousand dollars a year, not to be resisted.
+
+"I'll keep it until I get even with the world again," he consoled
+himself by saying, "and then I'll go back into a counting-room. I've
+an ambition above being a bank clerk all my life."
+
+Painful experience had made Jacob a little wiser. For the first time
+in his life he commenced keeping an account of his personal expenses.
+This acted as a salutary check upon his bad habit of spending money
+for every little thing that happened to strike his fancy, and enabled
+him to clear off his whole debt within the first year. Unwisely,
+however, he had, during this time, promised to pay some old debts,
+from which the law had released him. The persons holding these claims,
+finding him in the receipt of a higher salary, made an appeal to his
+honor, which, like an honest, but not a prudent man, he responded to
+by a promise of payment as soon as it was in his power. But little
+time elapsed after these promises were made, before he found himself
+in the hands of constables and magistrates, and was only saved from
+imprisonment by getting friends to go his bail for six and nine
+months. In order to secure them, he had to give an order in advance
+for his salary. To get these burdens off of his shoulders, it took
+twelve months longer, and then he was nearly thirty years of age.
+
+"Thirty years old!" he said, to himself on his thirtieth birth-day.
+"Can it be possible? Long before this I ought to have been doing a
+flourishing business, and here I am, nothing but a bank clerk, with
+the prospect of never rising a step higher as long as I live. I don't
+know how it is that some people get along so well in the world. I am
+sure I am as industrious, and can do business as well as any man; but
+here I am still at the point from which I started twenty years ago. I
+can't understand it. I'm afraid there's more in luck than I'm willing
+to believe."
+
+From this time Jacob set himself to work to obtain a situation in some
+store or counting-room, and finally, after looking about for nearly a
+year, was fortunate enough to obtain a good place, as book-keeper and
+salesman, with a wholesale grocer and commission merchant. Seven
+hundred dollars was to be his salary. His friends called him a fool
+for giving up an easy place at one thousand a year, for a hard one at
+seven hundred. But the act was a much wiser one than many others of
+his life.
+
+Instead of saving money during the third year of his receipt of one
+thousand dollars, he spent the whole of his salary, without paying off
+a single old debt. His private account-keeping had continued through a
+year and a half. After that it was abandoned. Had it been continued,
+it might have saved him three or four hundred dollars, which were now
+all gone, and nothing to show for them. Poor Jacob! experience did not
+make him much wiser.
+
+Two years passed, and at least half a dozen young men here and there
+around our friend Jacob, went into business, either as partners in
+some old houses, or under the auspices of relatives or interested
+friends. But there appeared no opening for him. He did not know, that
+many times during that period, he had been the subject of conversation
+between parties, one or both of which were looking out for a man of
+thorough business qualifications against which capital would be
+placed; nor the fact, that either his first failure, his improvidence,
+or something else personal to himself, had caused him to be set aside
+for some other one not near so capable.
+
+He was lamenting his ill-luck one day, when a young man with whom he
+was very well acquainted, and who was clerk in a neighboring store,
+called in and said that he wanted to have some talk with him about a
+matter of interest to both.
+
+"First of all, Mr. Jones," said the young man, after they were alone,
+"how much capital could you raise by a strong effort?"
+
+"I am sure I don't know," replied Jacob, not in a very cheerful tone.
+"I never was lucky in having friends ready to assist me."
+
+"Well! perhaps there will be no need of that. You have had a good
+salary for four or five years--how much have you saved? Enough,
+probably, to answer every purpose--that is, if you are willing to join
+me in taking advantage of one of the best openings for business that
+has offered for a long time. I have a thousand dollars in the savings
+bank. You have as much, or more, I presume?"
+
+"I am sorry to say I have not," was poor Jacob's reply, in a
+desponding voice. "I was unfortunate in business some years ago, and
+my old debts have drained away from me every dollar I could earn."
+
+"Indeed! that is very unfortunate. I was in hopes you could furnish a
+thousand dollars."
+
+"I might borrow it, perhaps, if the chance is a very good one."
+
+"Well, if you could do that, it would be as well, I suppose," returned
+the young man. "But you must see about it immediately. If you cannot
+join me at once, I must find some one who will, for the chance is too
+good to be lost."
+
+Jacob got a full statement of the business proposed, its nature and
+prospects, and then laid the matter before the three merchants with
+whom he had at different times lived in the capacity of clerk, and
+begged them to advance him the required capital. The subject was taken
+up by them and seriously considered. They all liked Jacob, and felt
+willing to promote his interests, but had little or no confidence in
+his ultimate success, on account of his want of economy in personal
+matters. It was very justly remarked by one of them, that this want of
+economy, and the judicious use of money in personal matters, would go
+with him in business, and mar all his prospects. Still, as they had
+great confidence in the other man, they agreed to advance, jointly,
+the sum needed.
+
+In the meantime, the young man who had made the proposition to Jacob,
+when he learned that he had once failed in business, was still in
+debt, and liable to have claims pushed against him, (this he inferred
+from Jacob's having stretched the truth, by saying that his old debts
+drained away from him every dollar, when the fact was he was freed
+from them by the provisions of the insolvent law of the state,) came
+to the conclusion that a business connection with him was a thing to
+be avoided rather than sought after. He accordingly turned his
+thoughts in another quarter, and when Jones called to inform him that
+he had raised the capital needed, he was coolly told that it was too
+late, he having an hour before closed a partnership arrangement with
+another person, under the belief that Jones could not advance the
+money required.
+
+This was a bitter disappointment, and soured the mind of Jacob against
+his fellow man, and against the fates also, which he alledged were all
+combined against him. His own share in the matter was a thing
+undreamed of. He believed himself far better qualified for business
+than the one who had been preferred before him, and he had the
+thousand dollars to advance. It must be his luck that was against him,
+nothing else; he could come to no other conclusion. Other people could
+get along in the world, but he couldn't. That was the great mystery of
+his life.
+
+For two years Jacob had been waiting to get married. He had not wished
+to take this step before entering into business, and having a fair
+prospect before him. But years were creeping on him apace, and the
+fair object of his affections seemed weary of delay.
+
+"It is no use to wait any longer," he said, after this dashing of his
+cup to the earth. "Luck is against me. I shall never be any thing but
+a poor devil of a clerk. If Clara is willing to share my humble lot,
+we might as well be married first as last."
+
+Clara was not unwilling, and Jacob Jones entered into the estate
+connubial, and took upon him the cares of a family, with a salary of
+seven hundred dollars a year to sustain the new relation. Instead of
+taking cheap boarding, or renting a couple of rooms, and commencing
+housekeeping in a small way, Jacob saw but one course before him, and
+that was to rent a genteel house, go in debt for genteel furniture,
+and keep two servants. Two years was the longest that he could bear up
+under this state of things, when he was sold out by the sheriff, and
+forced "to go through the mill again," as taking the benefit of the
+insolvent law was facetiously called.
+
+"Poor fellow! he has a hard time of it. I wonder why it is that he
+gets along so badly. He is an industrious man, and regular in his
+habits. It is strange. But some men seem born to ill-luck."
+
+So said some of his pitying friends. Others understood the matter
+better.
+
+Ten years have passed, and Jacob is still a clerk, but not in a store.
+Hopeless of getting into business, he applied for a vacancy that
+occurred in an insurance company, and received the appointment, which
+he still holds, at a salary of twelve hundred dollars a year. After
+being sold out three times by the sheriff, and having the deep
+mortification of seeing her husband brought down to the humiliating
+necessity of applying as often for the benefit of the insolvent law,
+Mrs. Jones took affairs, by consent of her husband, into her own
+hands, and managed them with such prudence and economy that,
+notwithstanding they have five children, the expenses, all told, are
+not over eight hundred dollars a year, and half of the surplus, four
+hundred dollars, is appropriated to the liquidation of debts
+contracted since their marriage, and the other half deposited in the
+savings' bank, as a fund for the education of their children in the
+higher branches, when they reach a more advanced age.
+
+To this day it is a matter of wonder to Jacob Jones why he could never
+get along in the world like some people; and he has come to the
+settled conviction that it is his "luck."
+
+
+
+
+THE DARLING.
+
+BY BLANCHE BENNAIRDE.
+
+
+    When first we saw her face, so dimpled o'er
+      With smiles of sweetest charm, we said within
+    Our inmost heart, that ne'er on earth before
+      Had so much passing beauty ever been:
+    So full of sweetest grace, so fair to see--
+    This treasure bright our babe in infancy.
+
+    Like blush of roses was the tint of health
+      O'erspread her lovely cheeks; and they might vie
+    In beauty with the fairest flower--nor wealth,
+      Though told in countless millions, e'er could buy
+    The radiance of this gem, than aught more bright
+    Which lies in hidden mine, or saw the light.
+
+    The dawn of life was fair; so was its morn;
+      For with each day new beauties met our view,
+    And well we deemed that she, the dear first-born,
+      Might early fade, like flowers that earth bestrew
+    With all their cherished beauty, leaving naught
+    But faded leaves where once their forms were sought.
+
+    She smiled upon us, and her spirit fled
+      To taste the pleasures of that fairer land,
+    Where angels ever dwell--she is not dead;
+      But there with them her beauteous form doth stand,
+    Arrayed in flowing light, before the throne
+    Of Him whose name is Love--the Holy One.
+
+    She was our choicest bud, our precious flower;
+      But now she blooms in that celestial place,
+    Where naught can spoil the pleasure of an hour,
+      Nor from its beauty one bright line efface--
+    Where all is one perpetual scene of bliss,
+    Unmixed with sin; all perfect happiness.
+
+    The darling then is safe, secure from ill;
+      Why should we mourn that she hath left this earth,
+    When in that brighter land she bloometh still,
+      A flower more perfect, of celestial birth?
+    Let us submit, and own His righteous care
+    Who doeth well; striving to meet her there.
+
+
+
+
+BATTLE OF FORT MOULTRIE.[1]
+
+BY CHARLES J. PETERSON.
+
+When the news of the battle of Lexington reached Charleston, South
+Carolina rose in commotion. The provincial Congress, which had
+adjourned, immediately re-assembled. Two regiments of foot and one of
+horse were ordered to be raised; measures were taken to procure
+powder; and every preparation made for the war which was now seen to
+be inevitable. A danger of a vital character speedily threatened the
+colony. This was its invasion by the British; a project which had long
+been entertained by the royal generals. To provide in time for
+defeating it, Congress had dispatched General Lee to the South. It was
+not until the beginning of the summer of 1776, however, that the
+enemy's armament set sail from New York, consisting of a large fleet
+of transports with a competent land force, commanded by Sir Henry
+Clinton, and attended by a squadron of nine men-of-war, led by Sir
+Peter Parker. On the arrival of this expedition off the coast, all was
+terror and confusion among the South Carolinians. Energetic measures
+were, however, adopted to repel the attack.
+
+To defend their capital the inhabitants constructed on Sullivan's
+Island, near the entrance of their harbor, and about four miles from
+the city, a rude fort of palmetto logs, the command of which was given
+to Col. Moultrie. Never, perhaps, was a more inartificial defence
+relied on in so great an emergency. The form of the fort was square,
+with a bastion at each angle; it was built of logs based on each other
+in parallel rows, at a distance of sixteen feet. Other logs were bound
+together at frequent intervals with timber dove-tailed and bolted into
+them. The spaces between were filled up with sand. The merlons were
+faced with palmetto logs. All the industry of the Carolinians,
+however, was insufficient to complete the fort in time; and when the
+British fleet entered the harbor, the defences were little more than a
+single front facing the water. The whole force of Col. Moultrie was
+four hundred and thirty-five, rank and file; his armament consisted of
+nine French twenty-sixes, fourteen English eighteens, nine twelve and
+seven nine pounders. Finding the fort could be easily enfiladed, Gen.
+Lee advised abandoning it; but the governor refused, telling Moultrie
+to keep his post, until he himself ordered the retreat. Moultrie, on
+his part, required no urging to adopt this more heroic course. A
+spectator happening to say, that in half an hour the enemy would knock
+the fort to pieces. "Then," replied Moultrie, undauntedly, "we will
+lie behind the ruins, and prevent their men from landing." Lee with
+many fears left the island, and repairing to his camp on the main
+land, prepared to cover the retreat of the garrison, which he
+considered inevitable.
+
+[Footnote 1: From a work now in press, and shortly to be published,
+entitled "_The Military Heroes of the United States. By C. J.
+Peterson. 2 vols. 8vo. 500 pp._"]
+
+There was, perhaps, more of bravado than of sound military policy in
+attacking this fort at all, since the English fleet might easily have
+run the gauntlet of it, as was done a few years later. But Fort
+Moultrie was destined to be to the navy what Bunker Hill had been to
+the army. It was in consequence of excess of scorn for his enemy, that
+Sir Peter Parker, disdaining to leave such a place in his rear,
+resolved on its total demolition. He had no doubt but that, in an hour
+at the utmost, he could make the unpracticed Carolinians glad to sue
+for peace on any terms. Accordingly on the 28th of June, 1776, he
+entered the harbor, in all the parade of his proud ships, nine in
+number, and drawing up abreast the fort, let go his anchors with
+springs upon his cables, and began a furious cannonade. Meanwhile
+terror reigned in Charleston. As the sound of the first gun went
+booming over the waters toward the town, the trembling inhabitants who
+had been crowding the wharves and lining the house-tops since early
+morning, turned pale with ominous forebodings. Nor were the feelings
+of the defenders of the fort less anxious. Looking off, over the low
+island intervening between them and the city, they could see the
+gleaming walls of their distant homes; and their imaginations conjured
+up the picture of those dear habitations given to the flames, as
+another Charlestown had been, a twelve-month before, and the still
+dearer wives that inhabited them, cast houseless upon the world. As
+they turned from this spectacle, and watched the haughty approach of
+the enemy, at every motion betraying confidence of success, their eyes
+kindled with indignant feelings, and they silently swore to make good
+the words of their leader, by perishing, if need were, under the ruins
+of the fort.
+
+One by one the British men-of-war gallantly approached the stations
+assigned them, Sir Peter Parker, in the Bristol, leading the van. The
+Experiment, another fifty gun ship, came close after, and both dropped
+their anchors in succession directly abreast the fort. The other
+frigates followed, and ranged themselves as supports. The remaining
+vessels were still working up to their stations, when the first gun
+was fired, and instantly the battle begun. The quantity of powder on
+the island being small, five thousand pounds in all, there was an
+absolute necessity that there should be no waste. Accordingly, the
+field-officers pointed the pieces in person, and the words "look to
+the commodore--look to the two-deckers!" passed along the line. The
+conflict soon grew terrific. The balls whistled above the heads of
+the defenders, and bombs fell thick and fast within the fort; yet, in
+the excitement of the moment, the men seemed totally unconscious of
+danger. Occasionally a shot from one of their cannon, striking the
+hull of the flag-ship, would send the splinters flying into the air;
+and then a loud huzza would burst from those who worked the guns; but,
+except in instances like this, the patriots fought in stern and solemn
+silence. Once, when it was seen that the three men-of-war working up
+to join the conflict, had become entangled among the shoals, and would
+not probably be enabled to join in the fight, a general and prolonged
+cheer went down the line, and taken up a second and third time, rose,
+like an exulting strain, over all the uproar of the strife.
+
+The incessant cannonade soon darkened the prospect, the smoke lying
+packed along the surface of the water; while a thousand fiery tongues,
+as from some hundred-headed monster, shot out incessantly, and licking
+the air a moment, were gone forever. Occasionally this thick, cloudy
+veil concealed all but the spars of the enemy from sight, and then the
+tall masts seemed rising, by some potent spell, out of nothing;
+occasionally the terrific explosions would rend and tear asunder the
+curtain, and, for an instant, the black hulls would loom out
+threateningly, and then disappear. The roar of three hundred guns
+shook the island and fort unremittingly: the water that washed the
+sand-beach, gasped with a quick ebb and flow, under the concussions.
+Higher and higher, the sun mounted to the zenith, yet still the battle
+continued. The heat was excessive; but casting aside their coats, the
+men breathed themselves a minute, and returned to the fight. The city
+was now hidden from view, by low banks of smoke, which extending right
+and left along the water, bounded the horizon on two sides. Yet the
+defenders of the fort still thought of the thousands anxiously
+watching them from Charleston, or of the wives and mothers, trembling
+at every explosion for the lives of those they loved. One of their
+number soon fell mortally wounded. Gasping and in agony, he was
+carried by. "Do not give up," he had still strength to say; "you are
+fighting for liberty and country." Who that heard these words could
+think of surrender?
+
+Noon came and went, yet still the awful struggle continued. Suddenly a
+shot struck the flag-staff, and the banner, which had waved in that
+lurid atmosphere all day, fell on the beach outside the fort. For a
+moment there was a pause, as if at a presage of disaster. Then a
+grenadier, the brave and immortal Serjeant Jasper, sprang upon the
+parapet, leaped down to the beach, and passing along nearly the whole
+front of the fort, exposed to the full fire of the enemy, deliberately
+cut off the bunting from the shattered mast, called for a sponge staff
+to be thrown to him, and tying the flag to this, clambered up the
+ramparts and replaced the banner, amid the cheers of his companions.
+Far away, in the city, there had been those who saw, through their
+telescopes, the fall of that flag; and, as the news went around, a
+chill of horror froze every heart, for it was thought the place had
+surrendered. But soon a slight staff was seen uplifted at one of the
+angles: it bore, clinging to it, something like bunting: the breeze
+struck it, the bundle unrolled, it was the flag of America! Hope
+danced again through every heart. Some burst into tears; some laughed
+hysterically; some gave way to outcries and huzzas of delight. As the
+hours wore on, however, new causes for apprehension arose. The fire of
+the fort was perceived to slacken. Could it be that its brave
+defenders, after such a glorious struggle, had at last given in? Again
+hope yielded to doubt, almost to despair; the feeling was the more
+terrible from the late exhilaration. Already, in fancy, the enemy was
+seen approaching the city. Wives began trembling for their husbands,
+who had rendered themselves conspicuous on the patriotic side: mothers
+clasped their infants, whose sires, they thought, had perished in the
+fight, and, in silent agony, prayed God to protect the fatherless.
+Thus passed an hour of the wildest anxiety and alarm. At last
+intelligence was brought that the fire had slackened only for want of
+powder; that a supply had since been secured; and that the cannonade
+would soon be resumed. In a short time these predictions were
+verified, and the air again shook with distant concussions. Thus the
+afternoon passed. Sunset approached, yet the fight raged. Slowly the
+great luminary of day sank in the west, and twilight, cold and calm,
+threw its shadows across the waters; yet still the fight raged. The
+stars came out, twinkling sharp and clear, in that half tropical sky:
+yet still the fight raged. The hum of the day had now subsided, and
+the cicada was heard trilling its note on the night-air: all was quiet
+and serene in the city: yet still the fight raged. The dull, heavy
+reports of the distant artillery boomed louder across the water, and
+the dark curtain of smoke that nearly concealed the ships and fort,
+grew luminous with incessant flashes. The fight still raged. At last
+the frequency of the discharges perceptibly lessened, and gradually,
+toward ten o'clock, ceased altogether. The ships of the enemy were now
+seen moving from their position, and making their way slowly, as if
+crippled and weary, out of the harbor: and, at that sight, most of the
+population, losing their anxiety, returned to their dwellings; though
+crowds still lined some of the wharves, waiting for authentic
+messengers from the fight, and peering into the gathering gloom, to
+detect the approach of the first boat.
+
+The loss of the enemy had been excessive. The flag-ship, the Bristol,
+had forty-four men killed, and thirty wounded: the Experiment, another
+fifty gun ship, fifty-seven killed, and thirty wounded. All the ships
+were much cut up: the two-deckers terribly so; and one of the
+frigates, the Acteon, running aground, was burnt. The last shot fired
+from the fort entered the cabin of Sir Peter Parker's ship, cut down
+two young officers who were drinking there, and passing forward,
+killed three sailors on the main-deck, then passed out and buried
+itself in the sea. The loss on the American side was inconsiderable:
+twelve killed, and about twenty-five wounded. During the battle, the
+earnest zeal of the men was occasionally relieved by moments of
+merriment. A coat, having been thrown on the top of one of the
+merlons, was caught by a shot, and lodged in a tree, at which sight a
+general peal of laughter was heard. Moultrie sat coolly smoking his
+pipe during the conflict, occasionally taking it from his mouth to
+issue an order. Once, while the battle was in progress, General Lee
+came off to the island, but, finding every thing so prosperous, soon
+returned to his camp. The supply of powder which was obtained during
+the battle, and which enabled the patriots to resume the fight, was
+procured, part from a schooner in the harbor, part from the city.
+Unbounded enthusiasm, on the side of the inhabitants, hailed the
+gallant defenders of the fort after the victory: Moultrie received the
+thanks of Congress, was elevated to the rank of brigadier-general, and
+was honored by having the post he had defended called after his name.
+A stand of colors was presented, by Mrs. Elliott, to the men of his
+regiment, with the belief, she said, "that they would stand by them,
+as long as they could wave in the air of liberty." It was in guarding
+these colors, and perhaps in the recollection of her words, that the
+brave Serjeant Jasper lost his life, subsequently, at the siege of
+Savannah.
+
+
+
+
+THE POET'S LOVE.
+
+BY HENRY B. HIRST.
+
+[THE POET COMMUNETH WITH HIS SOUL.]
+
+
+    "Thou hast a heart," my spirit said;
+    "Seek out a kindred one, and wed:
+    So passes grief, comes joy instead."
+
+    "True, Soul, I have," I quick replied;
+    "But in this weary world and wide
+    That other hath my search defied."
+
+    "Poet, thou hast an eye to see;
+    Thou knowest all things as they be;
+    The spheres are open books to thee.
+
+    "Thou art a missioned creature, sent
+    To preach of beauty--teach content:
+    In life's Sahara pitch thy tent!
+
+    "It is not good to be alone--
+    Not fit for any living one--
+    There's nothing single save the sun.
+
+    "Beasts, fishes, birds--yea, atoms mate,
+    Acknowledging an ordered fate:
+    What dost thou in a single state?"
+
+    "O, Soul!" I bitterly replied,
+    For I was full of haughty pride,
+    "Would in my birth that I had died!
+
+    "I feel what thou hast said is truth;
+    But I am past the bloom of youth,
+    And Beauty's eye has lost its ruth.
+
+    "I languish for some gentle heart
+    To throb with mine, devoid of art,
+    Perfect and pure in every part--
+
+    "Some innocent heart whose pulse's tone
+    Should beat in echo of mine own,
+    Where I might reign and reign alone."
+
+    "All this, and more, thy love might win,"
+    My spirit urged, "poor Child of Sin,
+    That sickenest in this rude world's din.
+
+    "Love is a way-side plant: go forth
+    And pluck--love has no thorns for worth--
+    The blossom from its place of birth.
+
+    "Perchance, on thee may Beauty's queen,
+    And Fortune's, look, with smiling mien--
+    With eyes, whose lids hold love between."
+
+    "Spirit, I am of little worth,"
+    Said I--"an erring child of earth:
+    Yet fain would own a happy hearth.
+
+    "Mere beauty, though it drowns my soul
+    With sunshine, may not be my goal;
+    And love despises gold's control.
+
+    "Better the riches of the mind--
+    A spirit toward the spheres inclined--
+    A heart that veers not with the wind.
+
+    "She might be beautiful, and gold
+    Might clasp her in its ruddy fold--
+    Have lands and tenements to hold:
+
+    "She might be poor--it were the same
+    If lofty, or of lowly name,
+    If famous, or unknown to fame:
+
+    "But she must feel the brotherhood
+    I feel for man--the love of good;--
+    Life is at best an interlude,
+
+    "And we must act our parts so here,
+    That, when we reach a loftier sphere,
+    Our memories shall not shed a tear.
+
+    "With such a one, if fair or brown--
+    Gracing a cottage, or a throne--
+    Soul, I could live and love unknown!
+
+    "Yes, gazing upward in her eye,
+    Scan what was passing in its sky,
+    And swoon, and dream, and, dreaming, die."
+
+    "There is none such," my spirit sighed.
+    "Seek glory: woo her for thy bride.
+    And perish, and be deified!"
+
+    "Why, Soul," I said, "the thought of fame,
+    Of winning an exalted name,
+    Might woo me, but my heart would blame
+
+    "The coldness that compelled me forth.
+    No: somewhere on this lower earth
+    The angel that I seek has birth.
+
+    "If not, I will so worship here
+    Her type, that I shall joy, not _fear_--
+    To meet her in her holier sphere."
+
+
+
+
+MARY WARNER.
+
+OR THE HEAD AND THE HEART.
+
+BY MRS. E. L. B. COWDERY.
+
+"What a happy girl is Mary Warner," said an elderly lady, as a bright
+laughing girl turned into another room.
+
+"And so exceedingly lively and cheerful, for one of her years,"
+rejoined another.
+
+"Years! How old is she?"
+
+"About twenty-four," said a third, who had hitherto been silent, "and
+yet no one, to see her, would think it."
+
+So thought the world, who in their most scrutinizing glance could
+detect no indication of care or gloom, in this, the object of their
+observations, who was one of those bright, intelligent beings, ever
+ready for conversation, and whose sallies of wit, never failed to
+excite the attention of those around her. "Little did they know of my
+aching heart," said Mary, that evening, to one in whom she had
+confided much of her former history; for years had passed since she
+had left the grave of her mother, and her native home, on "New
+England's rocky shore," to wander forth with her father to the western
+wilds. "Little did they know of the bitterness of soul I felt while
+making merriment for them."
+
+"How can you so control your feelings, while endeavoring to conceal
+them, with such an excess of gayety?" eagerly inquired Ella.
+
+"Ah! that is the work of time and necessity. Time has schooled my
+heart to hide behind the covering I might think best to wear. Were my
+history known, my name would be the theme of every tongue, the
+derision of the stoical, the pity of the simple, and exposed to the
+ridicule of a heartless and unfeeling world. The head must dictate and
+govern my actions, all else submitting. Yet nothing can equal the
+wretchedness of trying to conceal with smiles the bitter struggles of
+a wounded spirit, whose every hope hath perished. Eye may not pierce
+through the laughing cover, or ear catch the breathing of a sigh. Even
+sympathy seems like those cold blasts of a November night, seeking the
+hidden recess only to chill its peace forever."
+
+"But do you not," said Ella, "enjoy something of that mirth which you
+inspire in others?"
+
+"Sometimes the excitement is sufficient to make me forget, for a
+moment, the past, but then it is followed by such a depression that
+the feeble clay well nigh sinks beneath it. Misery pays her tribute to
+all my revelry."
+
+"Then never will I again wish for Mary Warner's light and joyous air,"
+said Ella, her cheek flushed with agitation, for being one of those
+sober ones, whose words were ever the thoughts of her heart, she had
+often wished for Mary's power to charm.
+
+Weeks and months had rolled away, until they had numbered years. The
+friends had parted. Ella's calm face still cheered the domestic
+fireside, and Mary was gliding in crowded halls, the gayest of the
+gay. No voice more musical than hers, or tones more sprightly; she
+moved as a creature of enchantment, her image fastening upon the minds
+and memories of all. But Ella was not forgotten or neglected; they
+often corresponded. Mary's letters told but too truly how much those
+scenes were enjoyed by her. In answer to an invitation to come and
+spend the summer in the retirement of Ella's home, she says, "Even in
+this giddy place my heart is full to bursting; should I allow myself
+more time for meditation it would surely break, and pour forth its
+lava streams on the thirsty dust of human pride. In the dark,
+cheerless hour of midnight, my burning, throbbing brain still keeps
+its restless beating, scarce bestowing the poor refreshment of a
+feverish dream to strengthen the earthly tenement. My health is
+failing; there will soon be nothing left for me but the drifts of
+thought and memory, which gather around a weary past and blighted
+future."
+
+It was in vain that Ella tried to place on parchment words of soothing
+and consolation--to draw her thoughts from lingering around the ruined
+wreck of her affections, and direct them to the "hope set before" her,
+of obtaining through the merits of the Savior a home "where the wicked
+cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest." Every letter she
+received came burthened with its own weight of wo.
+
+The summer passed--its roses bloomed and died. Another autumn came and
+whistled by; but ere the winter's snow had melted, there were anxious
+thoughts concerning Mary Warner. Never before had so long a time
+elapsed without a letter from her to Ella. The first crocuses of
+spring had just begun to smile when a letter came, written by a
+stranger's hand! It told of Mary's being sick even unto death, and
+begged of Ella, as she loved her friend, to come and remain with her
+while yet life's taper burned. It was a fearful summons thus to break
+the suspending spell. That evening saw Ella sitting in the cabin of
+one of those large steamers which ply the western waters, anxiously
+wending her way to a retired yet pleasant village near the Ohio, for
+Mary's sadly declining health could no more mingle in the excitement
+of the city, and she had retreated to this lonely place to lay down
+her shattered frame in peace. The night of the second day brought Ella
+to the place of destination. She entered the house where Mary was,
+almost unconscious of the manner in which she introduced herself as
+Mary Warner's friend. That was enough; an elderly lady clasped her
+hand and bade her welcome. "Oh!" said she, "'tis a strange sight to be
+in her sick room. Poor thing! she is nearly gone, and still so lively;
+and, too, this morning when I went in, I know she had been weeping."
+
+"Did she ever mention me?" said Ella.
+
+"Last night she said if you would come, that she could die contented."
+
+"Then lead me to her quickly."
+
+They silently bent their steps to the sick chamber, and coming to the
+door, both made an involuntary pause.
+
+"She is sleeping," said the old lady, softly; but Ella was too much
+struck to make reply. She was thinking of the dreadful changes which
+had come over that frail being since last they met. Worn down to a
+skeleton, her lips compressed, as if in agony, her dark hair thrown
+back upon her shoulders, while her cheeks were pale as the marble so
+soon to be raised in her memory, which, with the glimmering of the
+lights, served to make it a too dismal scene. Staggering forward to a
+chair, she sat down quickly, but in the agitation there was a slight
+noise--it awakened the sleeper; a moment passed--they were in each
+others arms. When the first wild burst of joy had passed away, Mary
+spoke.
+
+"Sit down here, Ella--I want to be alone with you; I feared that I
+might die before you came;" a convulsive shuddering passing over her,
+as she spoke of death. "I want to give you my history. 'T is? a dark
+picture, and yet it has all been mine."
+
+"But are you not too weak and agitated?" asked the warm-hearted
+friend.
+
+"Oh, no! that sweet, quiet sleep has so refreshed me, that I feel
+almost like another being--and I shall be very brief. But to my story.
+You recollect my having often told you that I never set my heart on an
+earthly object but I was doomed to bear a bitter disappointment. That
+wary, stubborn rock, encircled by the whirl of youthful and
+enthusiastic feeling, which, in life's earlier years, drew within its
+circled waves my frail bark of love and hope, then cast it forth--a
+wreck forever.
+
+"In the village in which I was raised, lived one who shared with me
+the sports of childhood; and as we grew older, partook of the
+recreations and amusements of the young together. There was a strange
+similarity in our tastes and dispositions; and we consequently spent
+much of our time in each others society. There were those who
+sometimes smiled to see a young and sunny-haired youth so constantly
+with the sensitive, shrinking Mary Warner; but then they knew we were
+playmates from childhood, and thought no more. Mother was dead, and I
+was under the guidance of my remaining parent, an only child--an
+idolized and favored one; and in my sixteenth year, claimed as the
+bride of Samuel Wayland. Parental judgment frowned, and called it
+folly. What could I do? Our faith had long been plighted, but filial
+respect demanded that should be laid aside; yet what was I to find in
+the future, that would ever repay for the love so vainly wasted. It
+was all a blank. I nerved my heart for our last meeting--but the
+strings were fibrous, and they broke.
+
+"'I shall go to the West, and then you must forget me,' said I, when
+we came to part.
+
+"'Never, Mary, will you, can you be forgotten!'
+
+"We parted there, forever. He is still living, a lone wanderer on the
+earth; we have never had any communications; but there is a unity of
+feeling, a oneness of spirit, that at times make me feel as if we were
+scarcely separated. I enjoy a pleasure in thinking of his memory, a
+confidence that would trust him any where in this wide world; and I
+now believe that wherever he is, his heart is still true to me. As for
+me, I have hurried through life like a 'storm-stricken bird,' no rest
+from the busy scenes in which I mingled. Since then, there have been
+proposals in which honor, wealth, and distinction were connected; and
+once I had well nigh sold myself for interest, and to please my
+father. We were promised, and I was congratulated on my happy
+prospects; but, alas! alas, for me; the more memory reverted to the
+past, my feelings revolted from the present. I sometimes used to stand
+where I could see him pass in the street, and exclaim 'oh, heaven! can
+I marry that man! can I stand before God's altar, and promise to love
+and honor him, when I abhor his presence.' Time was hasting; one night
+I went down into the study; father was sitting there.
+
+"'Well, Mary,' said he, 'I suppose you will leave us soon.'
+
+"That was enough for my pent-up feelings to break forth. 'I suppose
+so,' said I, 'but, oh! father, I would rather see my grave open
+to-morrow, than to think of uniting my destiny with that man. My very
+soul detests him."
+
+"Mary, sit down now, and write a letter to Mr. M----, that you cannot
+keep your promise, and the reason why. Far would it be from me to
+place in the hands of my only daughter, the cup of misery unmixed. My
+judgment and your feelings differ.'
+
+"It was late that night when I sealed the fated letter for M----; but
+I retired and slept easy, there was a burden removed which had
+well-nigh crushed me. What I have experienced since, words may never
+tell; the young have deemed me impenetrable to the natural
+susceptibilities of our natures, while the old have called me
+trifling. But, Ella, depend upon it, a heart once truly given, can
+never be bestowed again. I have erred in trying to conceal my history
+in the manner I have. Instead of placing my dependance on the goodness
+of the Most High, and seeking for that balm which heals the wounded
+spirit, and acquiring a calmness of mind which would render me in a
+measure happy, I plunged into the vortex of worldly pleasure. But it
+is all over now; they say I have the consumption, and pity me, to
+think one so joyous should have to die. To-day has been spent mostly
+in meditation; and I have tried to pray that my Savior would give me
+grace for a dying hour; and, Ella, will you kneel at my bedside and
+pray as you used to, when a young, trembling girl?"
+
+"Yes, I will pray for you again," said Ella; "but take this cordial to
+revive your exhausted frame."
+
+As the friend raised the refreshing draught, she marked such a change
+in Mary's countenance, that her heart quailed at the thought of the
+terrible vigil she was keeping, in the silence of night, alone. She
+kneeled by the sick, and offered up her prayer with an energy unknown
+to her before, such a one as a heart strong in faith, and nerved by
+love and fear alone could dictate; a pleading, borne on high by the
+angel of might, for the strengthening of the immortal soul in
+prison-clay before her. There was a sigh and a groan; she rose hastily
+and bent over the couch--there was a gasping for breath, and all was
+still. Ella's desolate shriek of anguish first told the tale, that
+Mary was dead.
+
+Thus passed again to the Giver, a mind entrusted with high powers, and
+uncontrolled affections, who, in the waywardness of youth, cast
+unreservedly at the shrine of idolatrous love, her all of earthly
+hopes, then wandered forth with naught but their ashes, in the
+treasured urn of past remembrance, seeking to cover that with the
+mantle of the world's glittering folly.
+
+
+
+
+TO THE AUTHOR OF "THE RAVEN."
+
+BY MISS HARRIET B. WINSLOW.
+
+
+    Leave us not so dark uncertain! lift again the fallen curtain!
+    Let us once again the mysteries of that haunted room explore--
+    Hear once more that friend infernal--that grim visiter nocturnal!
+    Earnestly we long to learn all that befalls that bird of yore:
+              Oh, then, tell us something more!
+
+    Doth his shade thy floor still darken? dost thou still, despairing, hearken
+    To that deep sepulchral utterance like the oracles of yore?
+    In the same place is he sitting? Does he give no sign of quitting?
+    Is he conscious or unwitting when he answers "Nevermore?"
+              Tell me truly, I implore!
+
+    Knows he not the littlenesses of our nature--its distresses?
+    Knows he never need of slumber, fainting forces to restore?
+    Stoops he not to eating--drinking? Is he never caught in winking
+    When his demon eyes are sinking deep into thy bosom's core?
+              Tell me this, if nothing more!
+
+    Is he, after all, so evil? Is it fair to call him "devil?"
+    Did he not give friendly answer when thy speech friend's meaning bore?
+    When thy sad tones were revealing all the loneness o'er thee stealing,
+    Did he not, with fellow-feeling, vow to leave thee nevermore?
+              Keeps he not that oath he swore?
+
+    He, too, may be inly praying--vainly, earnestly essaying
+    To forget some matchless mate, beloved yet lost for evermore.
+    He hath donned a suit of mourning, and, all earthly comfort scorning,
+    Broods alone from night till morning. By thy memories Lenore,
+              Oh, renounce him nevermore.
+
+    Though he be a sable brother, treat him kindly as another!
+    Ah, perhaps the world has scorned him for that luckless hue he wore,
+    No such narrow prejudices can _he_ know whom Love possesses--
+    Whom one spark of Freedom blesses. Do not spurn him from thy door
+              Lest Love enter nevermore!
+
+    Not a bird of evil presage, happily he brings some message
+    From that much-mourned matchless maiden--from that loved and lost Lenore.
+    In a pilgrim's garb disguised, angels are but seldom prized:
+    Of this fact at length advised, were it strange if he forswore
+              The false world for evermore?
+
+    Oh, thou ill-starred midnight ranger! dark, forlorn, mysterious stranger!
+    Wildered wanderer from the eternal lightning on Time's stormy shore!
+    Tell us of that world of wonder--of that famed unfading "Yonder!"
+    Rend--oh rend the veil asunder! Let our doubts and fears be o'er!
+              Doth he answer--"Nevermore?"
+
+
+
+
+SONG OF THE ELVES.
+
+BY ANNA BLACKWELL.
+
+
+    When the moon is high o'er the ruined tower,
+    When the night-bird sings in her lonely bower,
+    When beetle and cricket and bat are awake,
+    And the will-o'-the-wisp is at play in the brake,
+    Oh then do we gather, all frolic and glee,
+    We gay little elfins, beneath the old tree!
+    And brightly we hover on silvery wing,
+    And dip our small cups in the whispering spring,
+    While the night-wind lifts lightly our shining hair,
+    And music and fragrance are on the air!
+    Oh who is so merry, so happy as we,
+    We gay little elfins, beneath the old tree?
+
+
+
+
+THE FIRE OF DRIFT-WOOD.
+
+BY HENRY W. LONGFELLOW.
+
+
+    We sat within the farm-house old,
+      Whose windows looking o'er the bay,
+    Gave to the sea-breeze, damp and cold,
+      An easy entrance, night and day.
+
+    Not far away we saw the port,--
+      The strange, old-fashioned, silent town,--
+    The light-house,--the dismantled fort,--
+      The wooden houses, quaint and brown.
+
+    We sat and talked until the night
+      Descending filled the little room;
+    Our faces faded from the sight,
+      Our voices only broke the gloom.
+
+    We spake of many a vanished scene,
+      Of what we once had thought and said,
+    Of what had been, and might have been,
+      And who was changed, and who was dead.
+
+    And all that fills the hearts of friends,
+      When first they feel, with secret pain,
+    Their lives thenceforth have separate ends,
+      And never can be one again.
+
+    The first slight swerving of the heart,
+      That words are powerless to express,
+    And leave it still unsaid in part,
+      Or say it in too great excess.
+
+    The very tones in which we spake
+      Had something strange, I could but mark;
+    The leaves of memory seemed to make
+      A mournful rustling in the dark.
+
+    Oft died the words upon our lips,
+      As suddenly, from out the fire
+    Built of the wreck of stranded ships,
+      The flames would leap, and then expire.
+
+    And, as their splendor flashed and failed,
+      We thought of wrecks upon the main,--
+    Of ships dismasted, that were hailed,
+      And sent no answer back again.
+
+    The windows rattling in their frames,
+      The ocean, roaring up the beach--
+    The gusty blast--the bickering flames--
+      All mingled vaguely in our speech;
+
+    Until they made themselves a part
+      Of fancies floating through the brain--
+    The long lost ventures of the heart,
+      That send no answers back again.
+
+    O flames that glowed! O hearts that yearned!
+      They were indeed too much akin--
+    The drift-wood fire without that burned,
+      The thoughts that burned and glowed within.
+
+
+
+
+SONG FOR A SABBATH MORNING.
+
+BY THOMAS BUCHANAN READ.
+
+
+    Arise ye nations, with rejoicing rise,
+    And tell your gladness to the listening skies;
+    Come out forgetful of the week's turmoil,
+    From halls of mirth and iron gates of toil;
+    Come forth, come forth, and let your joy increase
+    Till one loud paean hails the day of peace.
+    Sing trembling age, ye youths and maidens sing;
+    Ring ye sweet chimes, from every belfry ring;
+    Pour the grand anthem till it soars and swells
+    And heaven seems full of great celestial bells!
+    Behold the Morn from orient chambers glide,
+    With shining footsteps, like a radiant bride;
+    The gladdened brooks proclaim her on the hills
+    And every grove with choral welcome thrills.
+    Rise ye sweet maidens, strew her path with flowers,
+    With sacred lilies from your virgin bowers;
+    Go youths and meet her with your olive boughs,
+    Go age and greet her with your holiest vows;--
+    See where she comes, her hands upon her breast
+    The sainted Sabbath comes, smiling the world to rest.
+
+
+
+
+CITY LIFE.
+
+BY CHARLES W. BAIRD.
+
+
+    Forgive me, Lord, that I so long have dwelt
+      In noisome cities, whence Thy sacred works
+      Are ever banished from my sight; where lurks
+    Each baleful passion man has ever felt.
+    Here human skill is shown in shutting out
+      All sight and thought of things that God hath made;
+      Lest He should share the constant homage paid
+    To Mammon, in the hearts of men devout.
+      O, it was fit that he[2] upon whose head
+    Weighed his own brother's blood, and God's dread curse,
+      Should build a city, when he trembling fled
+    Far from his Maker's face. And which was worse,
+      The murder--or departing far from Thee?
+      Great God! impute not either sin to me!
+
+[Footnote 2: Cain.--Genesis iv. 17.]
+
+
+
+
+THE CRUISE OF THE GENTILE.
+
+BY FRANK BYRNE.
+
+(_Concluded from page_ 147.)
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+_In which there is a Storm, a Wreck, and a Mutiny._
+
+
+When I came on deck the next morning, I found that the mate's
+prediction had proved true. A norther, as it is called in the Gulf,
+was blowing great guns, and the ship, heading westward, was rolling in
+the trough of the tremendous sea almost yard-arm under, with only
+close-reefed top-sails and storm foretopmast-staysail set. We wallowed
+along in this manner all day, for we were lying our course, and the
+skipper was in a hurry to bring our protracted voyage to an end. We
+made much more leeway than we reckoned, however, for just at sunset
+the high mountains of Cuba were to be seen faintly looming up on the
+southern horizon.
+
+"Brace up, there," ordered Captain Smith, when this fact was
+announced. "Luff, my man, luff, and keep her as near it as you may."
+
+The old ship came up on the wind, presenting her front most gallantly
+to the angry waves, which came on as high as the fore-yard,
+threatening to engulf her in the watery abyss. We took in all our
+top-sails but the main, and with that, a reefed fore-sail and
+foretopmast-staysail set, the old ship shook her feathers, and
+prepared herself for an all-night job of clawing off an iron-bound
+lee-shore.
+
+The hatches were battened down, the fore-scuttle and companion closed,
+and all the crew collected aft on deck and lashed themselves to some
+substantial object, to save themselves from being washed over-board by
+the immense seas which constantly broke over our bows, and deluged our
+decks. The night closed down darker than pitch, and the wind increased
+in violence. I have scarcely ever seen so dismal a night. Except when
+at intervals a blinding flash of lightning illumined the whole heavens
+and the broad expanse of raging ocean, we could distinguish nothing at
+a yard's distance, save the glimmer of the phosphorescent binacle
+light, and the gleam which flashed from the culmination of the huge
+seas ahead of us, resembling an extended cloud of dull fire suspended
+in the air, and blown toward us, till, with a noise like thunder, as
+it dashed against the bows, it vanished, and another misty fire was to
+be seen as if rising out of some dark gulf. At midnight it blew a
+hurricane; the wind cut off the tops of the waves, and the air was
+full of spray and salt, driving like sleet or snow before the wintry
+storm. I had ensconced myself under the lee of the bulwarks, among a
+knot of select weather-beaten tars, and notwithstanding the danger we
+were in, I could not help being somewhat amused at their
+conversation.
+
+"Jack," said Teddy, an Irish sailor, to the ship's oracle, old Jack
+Reeves, "do you think the sticks will howld?"
+
+"If they don't," growled Jack, "you'll be in h--l before morning."
+
+"Och, Jasus!" was the only reply to this consolatory remark--and there
+was an uneasy nestling throughout the whole circle.
+
+"Well, Frank," said old Jack to me, after a most terrific gust, during
+which every man held his breath to listen whether there might not be a
+snapping of the spars, "well, Frank, what do you think of that?"
+
+"Why, I think I never saw it blow so hard before," I replied. "'Tisn't
+a very comfortable berth, this of ours, with a lee-shore not thirty
+miles off, and a hurricane blowing."
+
+"No danger at all, Frank, if them spars only stay by us--and I guess
+they will. They're good sticks, and Mr. Brewster is too good a
+boatswain not to have 'em well supported. The old Gentile is a
+dreadful critter for eatin' to windward in any weather that God ever
+sent; but I hope you don't call this blowin' hard, do you? Why, I've
+seen it blow so that two men, one on each side of the skipper,
+couldn't keep his hair on his head, and they had to get the cabin-boy
+to tail on to the cue behind, and take a turn round a belaying-pin."
+
+"An' that nothin' to a time I had in a brig off Hatteras," observed
+Teddy, who had somewhat recovered his composure; "we had to cut away
+both masts, you persave, and to scud under a scupper nail driv into
+the deck, wid a man ready to drive it further as the wind freshened."
+
+"Wasn't that the time, Teddy," asked another, "When that big sea
+washed off the buttons on your jacket?"
+
+"Faix, you may well say that; and a nigger we had on board turned
+white by reason of the scare he was in."
+
+"Wal, now," interposed Ichabod Green, "Teddy, that's a lie; it's agin
+all reason."
+
+"Pooh! you green-horn!" said Jack Reeves, "that's nothing to a yarn I
+can spin. You see that when I was quite a boy, I was in a Dutch
+man-o'-war for a year and thirteen months; and one day in the Indian
+Ocean, it came on to blow like blazes. It blowed for three days and
+nights, and the skipper called a council of officers to know what to
+do. So, when they'd smoked up all their baccy, they concluded to
+shorten sail, and the bo'sn came down to rouse out the crew. He
+ondertook to whistle, but it made such an onnateral screech, that the
+chaplain thought old Davy had come aboard; and he told the skipper he
+guessed he'd take his trick at prayin'. 'Why,' says the skipper,
+'we've got on well enough without, ever since we left the Hague,
+hadn't we better omit it now?' ''Taint possible,' says the parson. Now
+you all know you can't larn seamanship to a parson or passenger--and
+the bloody fool knelt down with his face to wind'ard. 'Hillo!' says
+the skipper, 'you'd better fill away, and come round afore the wind,
+hadn't you?' 'Mynheer captain,' says the parson, 'you're a dreadful
+good seaman, but you don't know no more about religious matters than a
+horse.' 'That's true,' answered the skipper; 'so suit yourself, and
+let fly as soon as you feel the spirit move, bekase that main-sail
+wants reefin' awfully.' Well, the parson shuts his eyes, takes the
+pipe out of his mouth, and gets under-weigh; but, onluckily, the first
+word of the prayer was a Dutch one, as long as the maintop-bowline,
+and as crooked as a monkey's tail, and the wind ketchen in the kinks
+of it, rams it straight back into his throat, and kills him as dead as
+a herrin'. 'Blixem!' says the skipper, 'there'll be brandy enough for
+the voyage now.'"
+
+"Sail, ho-o-o!" shouted a dozen voices, as a vivid flash of lightning
+showed us the form of a small schooner riding upon the crest of a
+wave, not two cables length ahead.
+
+"Hard-a-lee!" shouted the skipper. "My God! make her luff, or we shall
+be into them."
+
+Slowly the ship obeyed her helm, and came up on the wind, trembling to
+her keel, as the canvas, relieved from the strain, fluttered and
+thrashed against the mast with immense violence, and a noise more
+deafening than thunder, while the great seas dashed against the bows,
+now in full front toward them, with the force and shock of huge rocks
+projected from a catapult, and the wind shrieked and howled through
+the rigging as if the spirits of the deep were rejoicing over our
+dreadful situation.
+
+Again the fiery flash shot suddenly athwart the sky.
+
+Good God! the schooner, her deck and lower rigging black with human
+beings, lay broadside to, scarcely ten rods from before our bows. A
+cry of horror mingled with the rattling thunder and the howl of the
+storm. I felt my blood curdle in my veins, and an oppression like the
+nightmare obstructed my voice.
+
+The schooner sunk in the trough, and, as the lightning paled,
+disappeared from sight. The next moment our huge ship, with a headlong
+pitch, was precipitated upon her. One crash of riven timbers, and a
+yell of despairing agony, and all was over; the ship fell off from the
+wind, and we were again driving madly forward into the almost palpable
+darkness, tearing through the mountain seas.
+
+"Rig the pumps and try them," cried Captain Smith, in a hoarse voice,
+"we may have started a plank by the shock."
+
+To the great joy of all, the ship was found to make no more water than
+usual. All hands soon settled down quietly again, wondering what the
+run-down schooner could have been, and pitying her unfortunate crew,
+when a faint shout from the forecastle was heard in a lull of the
+storm.
+
+"Lord save us! what can that be?" exclaimed a dozen of the crew in a
+breath.
+
+"_In nomine Pathris_--" began Teddy, crossing himself in a fright.
+
+"Silence there!" cried the skipper; "Mr. Stewart, can it be one of the
+schooner's crew, who has saved himself by the bowsprit rigging?"
+
+"Plaze yer honor," said Teddy, "it's more likely it's one of their
+ghosts."
+
+"Silence, I tell you! who gave you liberty to tell your opinion. Mr.
+Brewster, hail 'em, whoever they be."
+
+"Folk'stle, ahoy!" sung out the second mate; "who's there?"
+
+"Help! help! for God's sake!" faintly answered the mysterious voice.
+
+"Go forward, there, two hands," ordered the captain; "'t is one of the
+schooner's crew."
+
+After a moment's hesitation, the second mate and Jack Reeves started
+on this mission of mercy, and were soon followed by nearly all the
+crew. Upon reaching the forecastle we found the body of a man lying
+across the heel of the bowsprit, jammed against the windlass pawl. The
+insensible form was lifted from its resting place, and, by the
+captain's order, finally deposited in the cabin on the transom. The
+skipper, steward, and myself, remained below to try and resuscitate
+the apparently lifeless body. The means we used were effectual; and
+the wrecked seaman opened his eyes, and finally sat up.
+
+"I must go on deck now," said the captain. "Stay below, Frank, and
+help the steward undress him, and put him into a berth."
+
+Our benevolent darky had by this time concocted a glass of brandy
+grog, very stiff, but, alas! not hot, which I handed to the object of
+our care, who, after drinking it, seemed much better; and we then
+proceeded to help him strip. I noticed that his clothes were very
+coarse, and parti-colored; there were also marks of fetters on his
+ancles, and his back was scarred by the lash. I conjectured from these
+circumstances that our new shipmate was not of the most immaculate
+purity of character, and after I had got him into a berth, between two
+warm woollen blankets, I made free to ask him a few questions, not
+only about himself, but also about his vessel. I could get no reply
+but in Spanish, as I took his lingo to be, though, from his hailing
+for help in English, I knew that he must understand that language.
+When I went upon deck I reported myself to the officers, who concluded
+to defer any examination until morning. The gale began to abate about
+midnight, and at nine o'clock in the morning it had so far subsided
+that the cabin mess, leaving Mr. Brewster in charge of the deck, went
+below to get breakfast.
+
+"The swell is tremendous," said the skipper, as we were endeavoring to
+get seated around the table. "I think I never saw a much heavier sea
+in any part of the world. Look out, there!"
+
+But the caution was given too late; the ship had risen on an enormous
+wave as the skipper had spoken, and when she plunged, the steward
+pitched headlong over the cabin table, closely followed by the third
+mate, who had grasped his camp-stool for support, and still clung
+pertinaciously to it. The ship righted, leaving Langley's corpus
+extended at full length among a wreck of broken crockery.
+
+"Well, Mr. Langley," said the skipper, "I hope you enjoy your
+breakfast."
+
+"Bill," added the mate, as Langley gathered himself up, "as you've got
+through your breakfast so expeditiously, hadn't you better go on deck
+and let Mr. Brewster come down?"
+
+"Beg your pardon, sir; but don't you see I'm laid on the table--there
+can be no action about me at present."
+
+"Well, sit down and try to preserve your gravity. I hope to see no
+more such flights of nonsense at this table."
+
+"Steward," asked the skipper, after we had nearly finished our meal,
+"how is your patient this morning?"
+
+"It's enough to make any body out of patience, sar, to fall ober de
+cabin table. So tan't werry first rate."
+
+"No, so I perceive; but I mean, how's the man who came on board us
+last night?"
+
+"Oh, dat's him--excuse me, sar. Well, sar, he's quite smart dis
+mornin'."
+
+"Fetch him out here, I wish to ask him some questions; give him a
+shirt and trowsers of mine, and fetch him out."
+
+The steward soon made his appearance again, in company with the
+stranger, who, now dressed clean, looked to be a stout, powerful man,
+apparently about thirty-five; but his long, tangled, black hair and
+whiskers so concealed his features, that their expression could not be
+discerned. He bowed as he entered the cabin, and in good English
+thanked the captain for his care.
+
+"Sit down upon the stool yonder," said the skipper, "and tell us the
+name and nation of your vessel, and by what miracle you escaped; and
+afterward you shall have some breakfast."
+
+"The name of the vessel, senor, was the San Diego, the _guarda-costa_
+upon this station. I was on deck when your ship was first seen, and I
+climbed half way up the main shrouds to look out for you, by the
+captain's order. When you struck us, I found myself entangled in your
+jib-boom rigging, and held on, though much bruised, and half-drowned
+by the seas which ducked me every minute, until I succeeded in laying
+in upon your forecastle. I had had time to notice your rig, and knew
+you to be an American."
+
+"How many were your crew?" asked the mate.
+
+The sailor started, and for a moment eyed the querist closely. "Oh!
+senor, only about fifty souls in all."
+
+"Good God!" cried the captain, "fifty lives lost--fifty souls sent
+into eternity with scarcely a moment's warning!"
+
+"Don't regret it, captain," said the sailor, bitterly, "many of them
+were only convicts; the government will be much obliged to you."
+
+"Were you a convict?" asked the mate.
+
+"I was, senor, as my dress and appearance would have told you, even if
+I had been disposed to lie. I was drafted from the Matanzas chain-gang
+to the guarda-costa some six month ago."
+
+"The Matanzas chain-gang!" cried the mate, eagerly, "pray, my good
+fellow, do you know a convict by the name of Pedro Garcia?"
+
+The man rose to his feet--"Why, senor, do you?" he inquired.
+
+"I do, indeed," answered Mr. Stewart, impatiently; "but tell
+me--answer my question, sir."
+
+The convict brushed back his long hair. "I was once called Don Pedro
+Garcia," said he; "tell me," he added, as all four of us rose
+involuntarily at this startling announcement, "with whom do I speak?"
+
+"Good God!" cried the mate, making one jump for the convict felon, and
+throwing his arms around him, "I'm Ben Stewart, alive and well."
+
+Very unluckily, at this moment the ship gave a violent lurch, and the
+two fell, and, locked in each others embrace, rolled over to leeward;
+the skipper, who was unguarded in his astonishment, followed Langley's
+former wake over the table, which, yielding to the impulse, fetched
+away, capsized, and with the captain, also rolled away to leeward; the
+steward, as in duty bound, ran to his superior's help.
+
+At this juncture, Brewster, hearing the unusual row, poked his head
+through the skylight slide, and demanded--"What's the matter? Mutiny!
+by G----d!" he shouted, catching sight of the prostrate forms of his
+fellow officers, struggling, as he thought, in the respective grasps
+of the rescued convict and the steward. Off went the scuttle, and down
+came the valiant Brewster square in the midst of the crockery,
+followed by three or four of his watch, stumbling over the bodies of
+the overthrown quartette. Langley and myself climbed into a berth and
+looked on.
+
+"It's the steward," shouted the mischievous third mate, whose love of
+fun could not be controled by fear of consequences; "he tried to stab
+the captain with the carving-knife."
+
+The scene now became exciting; the cry of mutiny was heard all over
+the vessel; and the skipper and mate hearing it, very naturally
+concluding that the mutineers were those who had so unceremoniously
+invaded the cabin, turned furiously upon them, and called loudly for
+assistance to us in the berth; but we were enjoying the fun too much
+to even speak and explain.
+
+"Are ye kilt, cap'n?" asked Teddy, who had pushed his way to his
+beloved commander.
+
+"No, you d----d mutinous scoundrel!" replied the enraged skipper,
+planting a tremendous blow between the eyes of the anxious
+interrogator; "take that!" and the Irishman rolled upon deck. In the
+meantime, Mr. Brewster, who had taken an especial spite against the
+convict, grabbed him by the throat. Pedro returned the compliment by a
+blow in the stomach, and Stewart aided the defeat of his colleague by
+taking him by the shoulders and dragging him off. Transported beyond
+reason by the pain of the blow he had received, and what he supposed
+to be the black ingratitude of Mr. Stewart, Brewster gave a scream of
+rage and clinched in with the mate with all his force.
+
+It was fast getting to be past a joke.
+
+"Come, Langley," said I, "let's put a stop to this--somebody will be
+killed."
+
+"Sure enough! but how are we going to do it? Oh! here are the mate's
+pistols; draw the charges, Frank, and you take one and I the other,
+and we'll soon proclaim peace."
+
+"They're not loaded," said I, after trying them with the ramrod.
+
+"All right, then--follow me."
+
+"We jumped down from our roost, leveled our pistols at the crowd, and
+threatened to fire if hostilities should not instantly cease on both
+sides.
+
+"Langley, hand me those pistols," cried the frenzied skipper, who was
+the more angry because nobody would fight with him.
+
+"Please, sir, I can't; I daren't trust myself without 'em. Disperse,
+ye rebels! lay down your arms and disperse--die, base and perjured
+villain," shouted Langley, holding the muzzle of his pistol to
+Brewster's ear, while I, by poking my shooting-iron in everybody's
+face, obtained partial order. After a deal of difficulty the mutiny
+was explained; and the crestfallen Brewster withdrew his forces,
+followed by the mate, who conciliated his irate colleague, and gave
+him an inkling as to the real name and character of the rescued
+convict.
+
+After the steward had cleared away the wreck of the breakfast things,
+a conclave of the cabin-mess was called, to which the black steward
+was _ex officio_ and _ex necessitate_ admitted; and it was determined,
+after much debate, that the voyage should be continued, and that
+during our stay in Matanzas my cousin Pedro should remain hidden on
+board. The next mooted point was whether to conceal the matter from
+the crew, and decided in the negative; so the men were called aft, and
+the truth briefly stated to them. One and all swore to be faithful and
+discreet--and so they proved. With one or two exceptions our crew were
+Yankees, and of a far higher grade than the crews of merchantmen
+generally.
+
+During these proceedings the gale had rapidly abated, and at noon we
+found ourselves rolling and pitching in a heavy sea, the sun shining
+brightly over our heads, and not a breath of air stirring. The
+skipper, mate, and Cousin Pedro were closeted together in the cabin
+during the afternoon, while the second and third mates, and ship's
+cousin, compared notes sitting under the awning on the booby-hatch. I
+enlightened Brewster more fully as to Mr. Stewart's former adventures
+in Cuba; and we finally concluded that our running down the Spanish
+guarda-costa was the most lucky thing in the world.
+
+"Half my plan is now accomplished to hand," said I; "we must now get
+my Cousin Clara out of the nunnery."
+
+"You hadn't better try that, Frank," interposed Mr. Brewster,
+"because, for two reasons; in the first place, them Catholics are poor
+benighted heathen, and she wouldn't get out if she could--for she is
+a veiled nun; and the next place you'd get your neck into a certain
+machine called a _garrote_, or else make your cousin's place good in
+the chain-gang."
+
+"Nevertheless, I shall try; and if she only is willing to run away,
+there can some plan be contrived, I know."
+
+"And my part shall be to run old Alvarez through the body, if the
+devil hasn't taken him already," added Mr. William Langley.
+
+"Boys will be boys, that's a fact, call 'em what you're a mind to,"
+observed Mr. Brewster, very sapiently stroking his big red whiskers.
+
+The calm continued, and by evening the swell had in a great degree
+gone down. In the first dog-watch, my Cousin Pedro, sitting upon the
+companion, gave us an account of his long imprisonment. He had, as the
+reader already knows, been sentenced for the murder of the Count ----,
+and had toiled and slaved in the streets of Matanzas, till drafted,
+with many others, on board of the guarda-costa. He knew of Clara's
+fate, and had been undeceived by my father in the belief of Mr.
+Stewart's death.
+
+Langley and I stood the middle watch again that night. An easterly
+breeze, gentle, but steady, blew most of the night; and when we went
+below, and eight bells struck, the moon was silvering the lofty peak
+of the Pan of Matanzas, which lay far away on our larboard bow.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+_The Gentile arrives at Matanzas._
+
+
+I was waked in the morning by Mr. Stewart, who shook me by the
+shoulders, crying, "Come, Frank, turn out; it's seven bells, so rouse
+and bite; breakfast is almost ready, and a glorious prospect from
+deck."
+
+I turned out incontinently at this summons, slipped on my trowsers,
+ran up the companion-way, dipped my head in a bucket of water, by way
+of performing my morning ablutions, and then made my way aft again to
+join the circle on the quarter-deck. The watch had just finished
+washing down the decks, and were engaged in laying up the rigging on
+the belaying-pins; the boys were stowing away the detested holy-stone
+under the chocks of the long-boat; the watch below were performing
+their brief morning ablutions upon the forecastle; the steward was
+bringing aft the cabin breakfast, sadly incommoded by the mischievous
+Rover, who, wet as a sponge, capered about the deck, shaking himself
+against everybody who came in his way, and now seemed fully determined
+to dive between the lower spars of the unfortunate darkey; the
+officers were standing by my side, breathing the cool morning air,
+looking out upon the beautiful scene around us, and getting an
+appetite for breakfast.
+
+The ship lay about a league from the land, almost abreast the entrance
+of Matanzas bay; the land wind blew gently, bearing to us the
+delicious perfumes of orange and coffee-blossoms, and crowds of
+vessels were coming from the bay, taking advantage of it to gain an
+offing before the setting in of the sea-breeze. Half a mile from us a
+brig lay motionless upon the water, her yards swarming with men
+loosing the sails, which in a moment fell together with a precision
+that would have plainly told a sailor that the brig was a man-of-war,
+even without taking notice of the delicate white ribbon painted upon
+her side, pierced by a half-dozen ports, from which protruded as many
+saucy-looking guns, their red tompions contrasting prettily with the
+aforesaid white line and the black sides of the vessel. A flag hung
+negligently down from her gaff end, and, as a puff of wind stronger
+than the rest blew out its crimson folds, we saw emblazoned thereon
+the cross of St. George and merry England. The brig was the British
+cruiser on this station. To the northward stretched the broad blue
+expanse of the sea we had so recently sailed on, looking to be as
+quiet and peaceful as if there were no such things as hurricanes and
+angry waves, and dotted here and there by the glistening sails of
+inward bound vessels. Far away to the westward a long black wreath of
+smoke, following in the wake of a small speck on the water, announced
+the approach of the Havana steam packet; and close in, hugging the
+shore, glided a solitary American barque, apparently bound to Havana
+to finish her freight, her white sails gleaming in the sun. The land
+seemed strangely beautiful to our sea-going eyes; and we were never
+tired with gazing at the tall, graceful palms, sheltering with their
+grateful shade white villas, situate in the midst of fertile fields of
+sugar-cane, and surrounded by little hamlets of white-washed slave
+huts. The overhanging haze of the distant city could be seen rising
+beyond the intervening hills, and the back-ground of the picture was
+formed by a range of blue conical peaks, amidst which towered in
+majesty the flat summit of the celebrated Pan of Matanzas.
+
+"And I am once more in the West Indies!" murmured Mr. Stewart, half
+unconsciously. "How much has happened since my eyes first looked upon
+this landscape!"
+
+"True enough!" added Pedro, sighing.
+
+"Breakfas' gettin' cold, Cap'n Smiff," cried the steward, petulently,
+poking his head up the companion.
+
+"Ay, ay," returned the skipper; "come, gentlemen, don't get into the
+dumps this fine morning; you ought to be rejoiced that you have found
+each other. Let's go below and take breakfast, and after that, Don
+Pedro, we must stow you in the run until after the officers have
+boarded us."
+
+Breakfast being dispatched, all hands went busily to work preparing
+the ship for port. Our bends had been blacked in the two days of fair
+weather we had had off the Bahamas; and as our ship was a large,
+handsome, packet-built craft of seven hundred tons, we reckoned upon
+cutting a great swell among the brigs, barques, and small ships
+usually engaged in the sugar-freighting business. The brass of the
+capstan, wheel and ladder stanchions, were brightly polished by the
+steward and boys; fair leaders, Scotchmen and chaffing-gear taken off;
+ensign, signal and burgee-halyards rove; the accommodationladder got
+over the side; the anchor got ready, and the chain roused up from the
+locker. At ten o'clock we took the sea breeze and a pilot, passed
+Point Yerikos, and cracked gallantly up the bay with ensign, numbers,
+and private signal flying. Another point was turned, and the beautiful
+city came in view at the distance of a league, more than half the
+intervening space of water covered by ships of every nation, size, and
+rig, lying at anchor, from the huge British line-of-battle ship down
+to the graceful native felucca with latteen sails.
+
+"Pilot," said Captain Smith, "if you will give us a first-rate berth,
+as near to the town as a ship of our size can load, I'll give you five
+dollars beside your fee."
+
+"You shall have de ver fine berth, senor el capitaine. I will anchor
+you under de castle yonder; ver deep water, tree, four fathoms, and
+only one mile and more from the end of the mole."
+
+The skipper exchanged glances with his mate.
+
+"Their old berth," whispered Langley, sticking his elbow into my side.
+
+We rapidly approached the castle, and the busy fleet at its foot; sail
+after sail was clewed up--the pilot's orders grew frequent and
+loud--the jib came fluttering down the stay--the anchor plunged into
+the water--the chain rattled swiftly through the hawsehole--we swung
+round with the tide, broadside to the fort, and "The voyage of the
+ship Gentile, Captain James Smith, commander, from Valetta toward
+Matanzas," as inscribed in the mate's log-book, was at an end.
+
+The pilot was dismissed--our sails furled--the royal and
+topgallant-yards sent down--the lower and topsail-yards squared with
+nautical and mathematical precision--our fair-weather lofty poles,
+surmounted by gilt balls, sent up--awnings were spread completely over
+the deck--our crack accommodation-stairs got over the side--the
+swinging-boom rigged out--the boats lowered and fastened thereto--the
+decks swept clean, and the rigging laid up--and, by the time the
+custom-house boat boarded us, we were in complete harbor-trim,
+ship-shape and Bristol fashion; and the Spanish officers complimented
+the fine appearance of the vessel until the worthy skipper was greatly
+pleased.
+
+An account was given of the running down of the San Diego, and of the
+miraculous escape of one of her crew, who, the skipper said, died the
+next day of his bruises. A name for this unfortunate man had been
+furnished by Pedro; and in our excess of caution, this was given to
+the officers as the name rendered by the survivor. The officers looked
+grave for a moment, but finally said that it was the act of God, and
+inevitable; and that as the crew had been principally convicts, it was
+not so much matter; and after drinking two or three bottles of wine,
+and taking bonds of the captain for the good behavior of our darkies,
+they departed.
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+_Third Mate and Ship's Cousin go ashore on liberty._
+
+
+Many shipmasters and owners will remember how very dull were freights
+for Europe, at Cuba, in the spring and summer of 1839; and Captain
+Smith had been in Matanzas but a day or two when he became convinced
+of the unwelcome truth. We lay day after day sweltering in the sun,
+until nearly a week had passed, and there was as yet no freight
+engaged. As our orders were to lay four weeks waiting, unless we
+should be loaded and ready to sail before that time had elapsed,
+Langley and I determined that, as I had plenty of money, we would beg
+a week's liberty of the skipper in this time of idleness, and take a
+cruise ashore; and we had secretly resolved that in some manner, not
+yet discovered, we would effect the escape of my Cousin Clara--Langley
+also, in full intention to take the life of Don Carlos Alvarez, should
+he run athwart his hawse. Mr. Stowe had been on board during the first
+day or two after our arrival, and had given us both pressing
+invitations to spend a week at his house, and to renew our
+acquaintance with the girls. So the Saturday night after our arrival,
+Langley and I preferred our petition to the skipper at the
+supper-table.
+
+"Why, boys," said our good-natured captain, "if I thought you wouldn't
+get into some confounded scrape, I'd as lief spare you awhile as not;
+we've nothing to do aboard ship, so--"
+
+"Beg your pardon, Captain Smith," interrupted Mr. Brewster, who had
+been on bad terms with my friend William for a day or two; "I beg your
+pardon, sir, but there can be plenty of work to do. It's a slick time
+to refit the rigging."
+
+"Why, Mr. Brewster," said the captain, "our rigging was thoroughly
+refitted at Valetta."
+
+"Yes, sir, I know that, sir," persisted Brewster, "but we had a rough
+trip from there, sir; that last blow we had gin' our standin' riggin'
+a devil of a strainin', sir."
+
+"Oh! well, Mr. Brewster," replied the skipper, "it'll take but a day
+or two to set up our shrouds, and I'm afraid we shall have plenty of
+time for that."
+
+"Very well, Captain Smith," resumed the second mate, "it is nothing to
+me, sir. I'd as lief they'd be ashore all the time, sir, but before
+you give Mr. Langley leave, I'd just wish to enter a complaint against
+him, sir. I shouldn't thought of saying nothin' about it, only to see
+him coming and asking for liberty so bloody bold, just as if he
+reckoned he desarved it, makes me feel a leetle riley, sir. He was
+guilty of using disrespectable language to his superior officer, to
+me, sir, and upon the quarter-deck, too, sir, d----n him. You see,
+that night afore last, in his anchor-watch, it was rather warm in my
+state-room, so I went between decks to walk and cool off a little, and
+I heard Bill sitting on the booby-hatch and a spoutin' poetry to
+his-self. Well, I just walks up the ladder, pokes my head through the
+slide and hails him; but instead of answering me in a proper manner,
+what does he do but jumps off the hatch and square off in this manner,
+as if he was agoin' to claw me in the face, and he sings out--'Are you
+a goose or a gobbler, d----n you?' I didn't want to pick a fuss
+before the rest of the watch, or by the holy Paul I'd a taught him the
+difference between his officer and a barn-yard fowl in a series of one
+lesson--blast his etarnal picter!"
+
+"Mr. Langley," said the skipper, "what have you to say for yourself?
+Such language upon the quarter-deck to your superior officer is very
+impertinent."
+
+"If you'll allow me," replied the accused, "I think I can give a
+version of the story which will sound a little different. You see, the
+second mate wears a night-cap, to keep the cockroaches or bugs out of
+his ears--"
+
+"That's a lie," roared Brewster. "I wears it because I've got a
+catarrh, which I ketched by doing my duty in all weathers, long afore
+you ever dipped your fingers in pitch, you lazy son of a gun."
+
+"Silence!" cried Captain Smith, suppressing a laugh. "Mr. Langley,
+never mind the night-cap, but go on with your story."
+
+"Well," resumed the third mate, "he does wear one, any how, and night
+before last I sat on the hatch, as he says, reading Shakspeare in the
+moonlight, and when the second mate's night-capped head rose through
+the slide, he looked so very spectral that I couldn't forbear hailing
+him with--'Art thou a ghost or goblin damned?' which he persists in
+rendering his own fashion. I'm sure I didn't intend to liken him to a
+barn-yard fowl of any kind; I should rather have gone into the stable
+in search of comparisons."
+
+To the great chagrin and astonishment of Mr. Brewster, all hands of us
+burst into a roar of laughter; but Langley, by the skipper's advice,
+finally begged pardon, and peace and amity were restored. Brewster
+withdrew his objections, and the skipper granted us a week's liberty.
+
+The next day, after dinner, the yawl was brought to the side and
+manned, and my chum and I prepared for our departure.
+
+"Remember," quoth my cousin Pedro, as I bade him good-bye, in the
+mate's state-room, where, from extreme caution, he generally lay
+_perdu_, "remember to see Clara; tell her who you are, and bring us
+word from her."
+
+"Yes," added the mate, "tell her of Pedro's escape, but do not
+undeceive her as to the belief of my death--that's too late now. God
+bless the dear girl!" and the voice of the usually stout-hearted
+seaman trembled as he spoke.
+
+"Good-bye, Frank; good-bye, Bill," said Mr. Brewster, as we came on
+deck again, and shaking hands with us; "kiss all the girls for me, and
+bring off some good cigars the first time you come on board. These
+d----d bumboatmen don't have the best quality."
+
+"Keep out of all manner of scrapes." added the captain, by way of
+climax. "However, I shall see you or hear of you every day, either at
+the house or counting-room."
+
+"Ay, ay; yes, sir; oh! certainly; of course, sir; good-bye, shipmates;
+good-bye, sir;" shouted we, right and left, in reply to the divers
+charges, injunctions and parting salutations, as the boat pushed off.
+
+"Now let fall, my men, give way," continued Bill. "By lightning!
+Frank, _pre_haps we wont have a spree!"
+
+The ship's cousin replied only by an expressive pantomime.
+
+Two Bowery clerks, driving a fast trotting-horse up the Third Avenue,
+may, in a measure, realize the feeling of intense pleasure which we
+experienced at this time.
+
+Away we went in crack style, till, as we neared the mole, Langley gave
+the order "unrow;" six oar-blades instantly glittered in the sun, the
+bow-man seized his boat-hook, and our stout crew forced our way
+through the jam of ship and shore-boats to the landing stairs, saluted
+by a volley of oaths and interjections, selected with no great care
+from the vocabularies of almost every European and African language.
+
+There is no place in the world which will seem, at first sight, more
+strange and foreign to a home-bred New Englander than the mole at
+Matanzas. It attracted even our eyes, which had last looked upon the
+picturesque groups in the streets and upon the quay of Valetta. Sunday
+is a holiday in Cuba, and a motley crowd had assembled under the cover
+of the immense shed which is built on the mole. Upon a pile of
+sugar-boxes near us were seated a group of Dutch sailors, gravely
+smoking, and sagely keeping silent, in striking contrast with a knot
+of Frenchmen, who were all talking at once and gesticulating like
+madmen. Here stalked a grave Austrian from Trieste, and yonder a
+laughing, lively Greek promenaded arm-in-arm with a Maltese.
+Hamburghers and Danes, Swedes and Russians, John Bulls by scores,
+Paddies without number, Neapolitans, Sicilians and Mexicans, all were
+there, each with fellows and some one to talk to. A group of
+emigrants, just landed from the Canary Islands, were keeping watch
+over their goods, and were looking with great interest and many
+earnest remarks upon this first appearance of their new home. Not far
+from them a collection of newly imported African negroes, naked, save
+a strip of cloth about their loins, were rivaling in volubility and
+extravagance of gesture even the Frenchmen. Native islanders, from the
+mountains, in picturesque, brigand-like dresses, with long knives
+stuck jauntily in their girdles, gazed with stupid wonder at the crowd
+of foreigners. Soldiers from the barracks, with most ferocious looking
+whiskers and mustaches, very humbly offered for sale little bunches of
+paper cigaritos. Black fruit women, whose whole dress consisted of a
+single petticoat of most laconic Fanny Ellslerish brevity, invited the
+passer by, in terms of the most affectionate endearment, to purchase
+their oranges, melons, and bananas. Young Spanish bloods, with
+shirt-bosoms bellying out like a maintop-sail in a gale, stalked along
+with great consequence, quizzing the strangers. Children, even of ten
+years of age, and of both sexes and all colors, naked as Job when he
+came into the world, excited the attention of no one but greenhorns
+like myself. Down East molasses drogher skippers, who, notwithstanding
+the climate, clothed themselves in their go-ashore long-napped black
+beaver hats, stiff, coarse broadcloth coats, thick, high bombazine
+stocks and cowhide boots, landed from their two-oared unpainted yawls,
+and ascended the stairs with the air of an admiral of the blue.
+Uniforms of Spanish, American, French and English navy officers were
+thickly scattered amidst the crowd, and here and there, making for
+itself a clear channel wherever it went, rolled the stalwart form of
+the Yankee tar.
+
+"This is a regular-built tower of Babel," said Langley, at last, "but
+come, let's work out of 'em."
+
+After some difficulty we gained the street, and our first move was to
+a _pulperia_, where I treated our boat's crew, and bought as many
+bananas, oranges and cigars as they could take down to the boat, to
+send to my shipmates aboard. The second was to charter a volante, in
+which we got under weigh for Mr. Stowe's house, which was situated
+about a half a mile from the mole, in a retired street running
+parallel with the Cabanas river, surrounded by a large garden, at the
+foot of which was a summer-house, overhanging the river, to which led
+a flight of steps. Upon our arrival we alighted from our vehicle, paid
+our driver and rang the gate-bell. A gray-headed negro gave us
+admission and conducted us to the house, where we were met by our
+host.
+
+"Ah! my dear boys," he cried, "I am delighted to see you, and so will
+be Mrs. Stowe and the girls. They associate with the natives but very
+little, and old friends like you will be a godsend."
+
+Half an hour afterward Langley and I were as much at home as could be,
+laughing and chatting with Mary and Ellen Stowe. Mary was a tall,
+handsome brunette of eighteen, and my chum had always preferred her to
+her sister, but my predilections were in favor of the gentle Ellen.
+While we were children the elders often predicted that when we grew up
+there would be a wedding some day, but her father had carried her with
+him when he moved from Boston to the West Indies, and there seemed an
+end to our intimacy. She was two years younger than I, and
+consequently, at the time I saw her in Matanzas, about sixteen. I wish
+I could describe her--perhaps I may be able to give you some idea of
+her. She was of the middle height, and bade fair to be exquisitely
+formed; her face was intellectual, a tolerably high forehead, straight
+nose, a small mouth with pretty rosy lips, white, even teeth, small
+and thorough bred hands and feet, and her eyes, which I have purposely
+left to the last, are, notwithstanding Mr. Stewart's encomiastic
+account of the dark orbs of the Creole girls, I think, the most
+beautiful in the world; they are large, dark-blue and loving, and when
+she looks up at you, even if you are the most wicked man in the world,
+it will calm your thoughts and make you still and quiet. Dear reader,
+imagine Ellen very beautiful, and take my word for it that your fancy
+will not deceive you. Ellen and I resumed our former friendship almost
+immediately, and after dinner we walked into the garden to talk over
+auld lang syne.
+
+"Do you remember, Ellen," said I, "how we both cried when I bade you
+good-bye?"
+
+"Did _I_?" asked Ellen, mischievously.
+
+"Yes, you little sinner, much more than I did, because I was fourteen
+and had the dignity of manhood to support."
+
+"Well," said Ellen, "I think I do remember something about it."
+
+"Is it possible! and does your memory serve you still farther; you
+said that if I would ever come to see you, you would never refuse to
+kiss me again."
+
+"Why, Frank Byrne, what a fertile invention you have got."
+
+"Not so," I replied, "only an excellent memory, come, now, own the
+truth, didn't you promise me so?"
+
+"But, Frank, I was a little girl then, and my contracts were not valid
+you know; however, if--"
+
+"If what?" demanded I, perceiving that she blushed and hesitated.
+
+"Why, if _you_ wish to kiss _me_, I don't know that I should object a
+great deal."
+
+Of course I did no such thing.
+
+"Why, Ellen," I said in a few moments, "you've grown very prudish;
+where did you learn to be?"
+
+"Oh! I don't know," she replied, "unless it was among the nuns."
+
+"The nuns!" I repeated, my thought taking a new turn."
+
+"Ay, the nuns, my lad, the nuns," cried Ellen, laughing immoderately
+at my abstracted look.
+
+"At what convent?" I asked.
+
+"The Ursuline. I went to school there immediately after our arrival,
+and, Frank, only think! my particular preceptress, Sister Agatha,
+father says is your own cousin. She understood English so much better
+than any of the rest that I was put under her immediate care."
+
+I was peculiarly interested in this piece of information, as the
+reader may suppose. I questioned Ellen closely, and finally told her
+the story of the loves and misfortunes of Mr. Stewart and Clara. The
+tears stood in the beautiful eyes of my auditor as I finished.
+"Langley and I have a plan for her escape," I added.
+
+"Oh! Frank, she would not escape; she has taken the veil; she will not
+break her vow."
+
+"Yes she will, when she hears that her brother is free and Stewart is
+alive."
+
+"Well," said Ellen, "I know what I would do in her place, but what is
+your plan? In case she is willing to escape how do you propose to
+manage?"
+
+"That's the difficulty; don't the nuns ever come out of the convent?"
+
+"Never alone; always by twos. Sister Agatha is a great saint, and has
+a deal of liberty, but she is always in company."
+
+"Well, well," said I, "we shall have to scale the walls then."
+
+"Pooh! you are as romantic as William."
+
+"Well, Miss Wisdom, wont you suggest something?"
+
+"Certainly. Frank," replied Ellen. "Sister Agatha always took quite a
+liking for me, because I was her scholar I suppose, and an American,
+and she and the Superior, who is a very good-natured person, came
+immediately to see me, when I was sick last summer, and afterward
+called very often. Now, if papa is willing, when your ship is ready to
+sail I'll fall sick again and send for Sister Agatha, who will be sure
+to come with some one else, but she can slip out through the court
+after awhile, and down the garden-walk here to the river, and go into
+your boat, which shall be waiting, and then you can take her off to
+the ship."
+
+"That is a capital plan, dear Ellen," said I, "but there is one grand
+objection to it."
+
+"What is that, Frank?"
+
+"You would get into trouble by it."
+
+"Oh, no! I think not; but yonder comes papa with mother, and William
+is saying fine things to Mary, behind them."
+
+"Ah, Frank!" cried Mr. Stowe, as we made our appearance, "we were
+looking for you. I did not know but that you had run away with Ellen."
+
+"No," said I, "not yet; but we were contriving the best plan to run
+away with a nun."
+
+"Hush! you fool!" whispered Langley, pinching my arm.
+
+"Go to thunder!" was the reply, "I know what I'm about." I then
+related to Mr. Stowe the story the reader well knows, and which I
+found Mr. Stowe knew very well also, and finally disclosed Ellen's
+very excellent plan for the deliverance of my cousin.
+
+"If," said Mr. Stowe, in reply, when I had finished, "if you can get
+sister Agatha's consent to elope at the proper time, Ellen may fall
+sick if she pleases. I may be suspected in having a hand in the
+matter; but if the affair is properly managed, they can do no more
+than suspect, and that I care nothing about, as I'm going to move back
+to Boston in the spring. But the grand difficulty you will find to be
+in persuading Sister Agatha to break her vow."
+
+"Let me alone for that," replied I, "if I can only have an interview
+with her."
+
+"That is easily done," said Mary Stowe, "the nuns are allowed to see
+their friends at the grate."
+
+"And I will go with you to the convent to-morrow, and engage the
+superior's attention while you talk with your cousin," added her
+father.
+
+In the evening Langley and I held a council of war, wherein it was
+decided, _nem. con_., that our plot was in a fair way to be
+accomplished.
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+_The Visit at the Convent._
+
+
+The next day Mr. Stowe and myself set out for the convent in that
+gentleman's carriage. Upon our arriving there we were shown into a
+spacious parlor, at one end of which was a larger grated window,
+opening into a smaller room. In a few moments the Lady Superior
+entered. She was a tall, handsome woman, and surprised my Protestant
+prejudices by receiving us very cordially, and immediately engaging
+with Mr. Stowe in a very lively, animated conversation in Spanish.
+Suddenly she turned toward me,
+
+"My good friend, Senor Stowe, says that you wish to see Sister Agatha,
+who was your cousin."
+
+"Yes, senora."
+
+"Well, the senor and myself are going to the school-room, and I will
+send her to you; but you must not make love to your cousin--she is
+very pretty, and you Americans have very sad morals;" and so saying,
+the lively superior led the way to the school-room, followed by Mr.
+Stowe.
+
+After they had retired I went up to the grate, and waited several
+minutes, until at last a door of the inner room opened, and a nun
+entered. Her face bore the traces of deep melancholy; but
+notwithstanding that, and the unbecoming dress which half concealed
+her form, I thought I had never seen a woman so lovely, so completely
+beautiful. I stood in mute wonder and admiration.
+
+"Did you wish to see me, senor?" asked the nun, in a low, soft voice.
+
+"I did, madam," I replied. "If you are Clara Garcia, allow me to
+introduce myself as your cousin, Frank Byrne."
+
+"_Madre di Dios!_" cried the nun, her face lighting up with a smile of
+astonished delight, "can it be possible! How did you come here?"
+
+"In one of my father's ships," I replied. "I am a seaman on board of
+her."
+
+"What, the Cabot?" asked Sister Agatha, suddenly, with a color in her
+cheeks.
+
+"No, a new ship--the Gentile."
+
+The nun made many inquiries about my father and mother, and her
+cousins in Boston; and we chatted away quite merrily for some minutes.
+
+"You seem to take an interest in the world, after all," said I,
+striving to lead the conversation so that I might introduce the matter
+which was my business.
+
+"Not much, generally," sighed Sister Agatha. "I sometimes think of
+past times with regret, but I am for the most part very happy."
+
+This was a stumper. I determined to see if all this composure was
+real.
+
+"Can any one hear us?" I whispered.
+
+"No," answered the nun, opening her great eyes.
+
+"Well, then, I've a great deal to tell you. Let me ask you, in the
+first place, if you know where your brother Pedro is."
+
+I was frightened at the expression which my cousin's face assumed.
+"Yes!" she said, in a hoarse voice, "he is in the _Guarda-Costa_. My
+God! Frank! I saw him a year ago in the streets, toiling as a
+scavenger."
+
+I saw that there was yet deep feeling under the cold, melancholy
+exterior. I had but little time to work, and hastened to proceed.
+
+"Cousin Clara," I resumed, "you are mistaken; your brother has escaped
+from confinement, and is now on board my ship, the Gentile."
+
+"Thank God!" cried the nun, clasping her hands, "now am I willing to
+die."
+
+"And further," said I, immediately continuing my revelations, "can you
+repress your feelings?"
+
+"What more can you have to tell me?" whispered Sister Agatha. "Go on,
+I am not so nearly stone as I thought myself; but I can hear without
+any dangerous outbreak of emotion whatever you have to say."
+
+"Well," I resumed, "you were mistaken about Mr. Stewart's death--"
+
+I had been too abrupt. The nun turned deadly pale, and clung to the
+bars of the grate for support; but the emotion was momentary. "Go on,"
+said she, in a hoarse whisper.
+
+"Can you bear it?" I asked, anxiously.
+
+"Yes, no matter what it may be."
+
+"Command yourself, then; Mr. Stewart is not only alive, but well; he
+loves you yet most ardently, but without hope; he is now on board of
+the Gentile, he and Pedro--not three miles from you."
+
+While thus by piecemeal I doled out my information, I watched the
+effect on my auditor. There was no more fainting. Her lips parted, and
+displayed her white teeth firmly set against each other, and her
+little hands grasped the bars of the grate convulsively.
+
+Quickly and concisely I stated my plan for her escape; but still she
+maintained the same attitude; she did not even seem to hear me.
+
+"Clara, do you consent?" I cried, in despair, for I heard the steps of
+the Superior and Mr. Stowe.
+
+Suddenly she extended her hand through the grate and grasped mine. "I
+do," she said, "if I'm damned for it."
+
+"Right, then; you shall be warned in time. Go now, for your features
+are any thing but calm."
+
+The nun vanished as the Superior entered.
+
+"I have been taking advantage of your confidence, senora," said I; "I
+have been trying to persuade my cousin that she is discontented and
+unhappy, but without success."
+
+"Ah! no fear of that, senor," cried the lady, with a smile, while Mr.
+Stowe stood aghast; "girls who have been disappointed in love make
+good nuns."
+
+"Then you will dare to trust me to see her again. I promised that I
+would call once more before I sail, with your permission."
+
+"_Si, Senor_, whenever you please."
+
+After partaking of some very fine fruit and wine, we took our leave
+with many thanks.
+
+"Well, Frank, how you startled me," said Mr. Stowe, as we drove off.
+"You told the truth, I suppose; but the truth is not to be told at all
+times."
+
+"Oh!" said I, "I only told half the truth--"
+
+"Is it possible that Sister Agatha consents to escape?"
+
+"She has promised to do so," I replied.
+
+Mr. Stowe expressed so much surprise that I found that he had had no
+faith in my success--but the good gentleman was now overjoyed.
+"Capital, Frank!" said he, "you would make a splendid diplomatist. Now
+what do you say to going directly aboard ship and telling your tidings
+to the officers and Pedro? We will take a boat at the mole and get
+aboard in time for dinner."
+
+"Agreed; how happy we shall make Mr. Stewart and Don Pedro."
+
+Mr. Stowe prophesied correctly. The officers of the Gentile were at
+dinner in the cabin when we suddenly burst upon them. I need not say
+that all hands were no less surprised than delighted at the
+intelligence we had to communicate. I thought my hands would be wrung
+off, so severely were they shaken.
+
+After dinner Mr. Stowe and myself returned on shore, and in a family
+conclave there also stated the result of our visit to the convent.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+_Yellow Fever and Love-making._
+
+
+The succeeding three days passed most happily with me. I grew more and
+more in love with Ellen. We visited all the places of note in the
+neighborhood of the town, and were even projecting an excursion to
+Havana in the steamboat, when an event occurred that came very near
+sending me on a much longer voyage. One afternoon, while waiting for
+Captain Smith with Langley at the United States Cafe, I was suddenly
+taken with a distracting pain through my temples, though just
+previously I had felt as well as ever in my life. The agony increased,
+and Langley, to whom I complained, began to be frightened, when
+luckily Captain Smith arrived, who, upon looking at me, and hearing
+Langley's account of the matter, immediately called a volante, put me
+aboard, and drove to Mr. Stowe's house. During the ride I grew worse
+and worse every moment; the jolting of the carriage almost killed me,
+and by the time we had arrived at our destination I was nearly crazy.
+I just remember of being lifted out of the volante, and of seeing the
+pale, anxious face of Ellen somewhere--and I knew no more of the
+matter until some sixty hours afterward, one fine morning, when I all
+at once opened my eyes, and found myself flat on my back, weak as a
+cat, and my head done up in plaintain-leaves and wet towels. I heard
+low conversation and the rattle of dice, and casting my eyes toward
+the verandah, from whence the noise proceeded, I perceived Langley and
+Mary Stowe very composedly engaged in a game of backgammon. Ellen sat
+by the jalousie, just within the room, looking very pale, and with a
+book in her hand, which I judged by the appearance to be a
+prayer-book. I felt very weak, but perfectly happy, and not being
+disposed to talk, lay entirely still, enjoying the delicious languor
+which I felt, and the cool breeze which entered freely from the
+blinded windows, and listened to the conversation of my friends.
+
+"Come, come, Ellen," said Mary, looking up from the board, "don't look
+so wobegone--'t is your throw, William--Frank is doing well enough
+now. The doctor says that when he wakes he will be entirely out of
+danger, and free from pain. Psha! Will, you take me up. I don't see,
+my dear, why you should take so much more interest than any one
+else--is it not ridiculous, William?"
+
+"Perfectly so," replied Langley--"double sixes, by the Lord!--two of
+'em, three, four. Now Frank is my shipmate, and, in the main, a
+tolerable decent fellow; but he isn't worth shedding so many tears
+about."
+
+"Why, William!" exclaimed Ellen, "you know that you cried like a baby
+yourself night before last, when he was so very sick."
+
+"Ahem! so I did; but I was so vexed to see our pleasant party to
+Havana was broken up. Frank was very ill-natured to fall sick just at
+that time--I'll flog him for it when he gets well."
+
+"You can't do it, Bill Langley," cried I, as loudly as possible, for
+the first time taking a part in the conversation.
+
+The trio started to their feet at this unexpected display of my
+colloquial powers; down went backgammon-board, men, dice, prayer-book,
+and all upon the floor.
+
+"Hillo! Frank!" cried Langley, ranging alongside the bed, "how do you
+find yourself by this time, my little dear?"
+
+"Perfectly well, only very weak."
+
+"Does your head ache now, Frank?" asked Mary, laying her soft hand
+upon my forehead.
+
+"Not a bit, only I've got most confounded sore hair."
+
+"Eh! my lad, they talked of leaving you no hair at all," cried Bill,
+"they thought one spell of shaving your head. Egad! you'd have looked
+like a bald eagle!"
+
+"Why, what has been the matter with me?" I asked.
+
+"Matter with you! why, man, you have had the yellowest kind of a
+fever. Touch and go, it was; but you're worth ten dead men this
+morning."
+
+Ellen during this conversation had left the room, and now returned
+with her father and the physician, who had called with Captain Smith.
+I was pronounced in a fair way of speedy recovery. Everybody was very
+glad, but I noticed that Ellen said nothing; indeed, instead of being
+overjoyed like my good skipper or Langley, she had to wipe the tears
+from her eyes.
+
+"Frank," said Langley, when I was finally left alone with that worthy
+gentleman, "how little Nell did pipe her eye the other night, when we
+were all so fearful you were going to slip your wind; and just between
+you and I and the main-mast, I'm walking into her sister's young
+affections just as the monkey went up the back-stay, hand over hand.
+_Pre_haps she aint a darling. I've been writing a piece of poetry
+about her, don't you want to hear it?"
+
+"Oh! be off with your nonsense--I wish to go to sleep."
+
+"Well, go to sleep, and be--cured, you unfeeling wretch;" and Mr.
+Langley, in a huff, walked out on the verandah, and began to smoke.
+
+Under the kind care of my good friends I grew rapidly better, and at
+the end of a week was entirely well; but still I enjoyed the society
+of Ellen so much, that whenever the skipper called upon me, I feigned
+myself too weak to go to my duty, and pleaded that Langley might stay
+ashore to take care of me. Captain Smith, though not deceived by this
+artifice, granted us liberty from day to day; and Bill and I were the
+two happiest fellows in the world. But there is an end to every thing.
+One day while sitting in the back verandah with Ellen, her father and
+mother, in rushed the skipper, in great glee, rubbing his hands.
+
+"Good morning, all hands!" cried he. "How are you, Frank?"
+
+"Oh! I'm not quite so well this morning," I replied, telling a
+bouncer.
+
+"Well, sir, I've got some news that'll do you as much good as the
+whole stock in trade of an apothecary taken at one dose. Let's see,
+to-day is Wednesday, and Friday evening, if good weather for our
+little plans to work, we shall sail for Boston."
+
+"For Boston!" cried everybody.
+
+"Yes, for Boston! You see, Stowe, Mr. Byrne has heard how dull
+freights are here, and I have just got a letter from him by Gidding's,
+of the Duxbury, just arrived, in which he says--or I'll read that
+part--hum--let's see--oh--'if you have not already engaged a freight,
+you will immediately sail for Boston. I have an excellent opportunity
+to charter the Gentile for a China voyage; and I suppose you had as
+lief go to India again as to Russia.' Bless me if I hadn't! So, my
+dear fellow, if any of those higgling shippers apply to you, tell 'em
+to go to the devil with their ha'penny freights. Come, ride down
+street with me; Gidding's has some letters for you. Good morning, Miss
+Ellen! Morning, Frank! get well mighty fast, for we must use you a
+little, you know; and see Langley, and tell him to go aboard
+immediately after dinner."
+
+"Ay, ay, sir. Come, Ellen, let's walk into the garden and find William
+and Mary."
+
+We were very soon in the garden, sauntering along a little alley
+shaded by orange trees.
+
+"It seems to me," said Ellen, half pouting, "that you are mightily
+pleased about sailing next Friday, instead of staying in Matanzas a
+week longer."
+
+"Why, yes," I replied, "I must say that I am glad to go home, after an
+absence of eighteen months."
+
+"I wish I was going to dear old Boston," added Ellen, sighing.
+
+"You are to go this fall, you know."
+
+"Maybe so; but then, Frank, you will not be there, will you?"
+
+"Why, no," I replied, "not if I go with the ship to India; but what
+difference will that make?"
+
+Ellen made no answer, and I began to feel rather queer, and
+marvelously inclined to make love. I had always liked Ellen very much,
+and lately better than ever, but, being a novice in such matters, I
+was in doubt whether my predilection was really _bona fide_ love or
+not; it didn't seem like the love I had read about in novels; and yet
+I felt very miserable at the idea of Ellen's loving anybody else. I
+was in a desperate quandary.
+
+"Well," said Ellen, after the lapse of a quarter of an hour, "pray
+what can be the subject of your thoughts?"
+
+I am frank by nature as well as by name; and so, turning to my fair
+inquisitor, I said, "you know, Ellen, that I am very young yet."
+
+"Yes, Frank."
+
+"And that people at my age very often do not know their own minds."
+
+"Yes, Frank."
+
+"Well, Ellen, I think _now_ that I love you very dearly; and if I were
+five years older, and felt as I now do, and you were willing, I would
+marry you right away; but I am young, and may be deceived, and so may
+deceive you. Now, Ellen, if I should ask you if you loved me, would
+you tell me?"
+
+"Yes, Frank," said Ellen, very faintly.
+
+"And do you?" I asked; and, like Brutus, paused for a reply.
+
+"Yes, Frank, I like you very much."
+
+"Is that all? _Like_, is a very cold word. Do you love me?"
+
+"Yes, Frank," whispered Ellen, leaning her forehead against my
+shoulder. "I _think_ I do; _you_ wouldn't say any more than that."
+
+"That is all I wish you to say, my dear little girl," I replied,
+kissing her white neck and shoulders; "now then, listen. I shall
+return from India in about two years time, if then we are both of the
+same mind as now, we will begin to talk about the wedding-day. What do
+you say to that?"
+
+"Yes, dear Frank."
+
+"Thank you, dearest; now look up one minute."
+
+The reader, if he pleases, may supply in this place a few
+interjectional kisses from his imagination.
+
+With my arm around Ellen's slender waist, we walked down the shady
+alleys of the garden in search of Langley and Mary, but for a while
+were unsuccessful; at last I caught a sight of Mary's white dress in a
+distant arbor. We approached the bower unperceived by its occupants,
+and were upon the point of entering, but we luckily discovered in time
+that we should be altogether _de trop_. Langley was on his knees
+before the coquettish Mary, making love in his most grandiloquent
+style.
+
+"Most adorable creature," quoth my romantic shipmate, thumping his
+right side, "you lacerate my heart by your obdurate cruelty!"
+
+"Get up off your knees, you foolish boy," answered the mischievous
+girl; "you will certainly stain the knees of your white trowsers."
+
+"Oh! divine goddess! hear me!" persisted my chum, magnanimously
+disregarding the welfare of his unwhisperables in the present crisis.
+
+"You idolatrous sailor remember the first commandment."
+
+"The devil fly away with the first commandment!" cried poor Langley,
+sorely vexed. "Most lovely of human beings," he continued with a deep
+groan, which he intended to be a pathetic sigh, "my heart is on fire."
+
+"May be you've got the fever, William," suggested Mary; "are you in
+_much_ pain?"
+
+"Yes, great pain," said Bill, with another heart-rending groan.
+
+"Well, then, rise, I insist--Lord! if anybody should catch us in this
+predicament!"
+
+"Hadn't we better go away?" whispered Ellen, blushing for her sister's
+sake.
+
+"No, no," I replied, "let's stay and see the fun."
+
+"Not till I persuade you to relent," replied Langley to Mary's
+oft-repeated request.
+
+"Yes you will. Get up off your knees immediately, or I vow I'll box
+your ears."
+
+"Strike!" cried Langley, with a theatrical air and tone, at the same
+time unbuttoning his vest, "strike! and wound the heart which beats
+for you alone!"
+
+_Slap_--came Mary's delicate hand across the cheek of her disconsolate
+lover, with a force which brought an involuntary "ouch!" from his
+lips. "Get up, I say!" _Whack_--_slap_--came two more blows, first on
+one side of his head and then on the other.
+
+"By G----d! madam!" sputtered Langley, rising in a rage, "I wish you
+were a man for half a minute."
+
+"Why," said Mary, "in that case you couldn't make love to me with any
+sort of propriety. Hold, hold, Willy, dear! don't go off angry; sit
+down here, I insist; nay, now, I'll box your ears again if you don't
+obey me; there, you'll feel perfectly cool in a moment. For shame!
+Bill, to get angry at a love-tap from a lady!"
+
+"Love-tap, indeed," muttered Langley, rubbing his cheek. "See where
+your confounded ring scratched my face."
+
+"Did it? Oh! I'm so sorry!" said Mary. "Hold here, while I kiss the
+place to make it well; there now, don't it feel much better? See! I've
+got my lips all blood, haven't I? Shall I wipe it off with my
+handkerchief, or--"
+
+Langley took the hint and kissed the rich ripe lips of his lovely
+companion, red with nothing but her own warm blood.
+
+"By Jupiter!" cried my shipmate, "Mary, you are the strangest girl I
+ever saw. One minute I think you love me, the next that you care
+nothing at all for me; one minute the most teasing little devil, and
+the next the dearest creature in all the world."
+
+"What am I now?" asked Mary.
+
+"You are the most angelic, adorable--"
+
+"Take care, sir," cried Mary, shaking her finger; "don't have a
+relapse, or you'll catch it again."
+
+"Well, what shall I say then?" demanded poor Bill, in despair; "you
+are as hard to please as the skipper of a mud-scow."
+
+"Talk sensibly if you wish, but don't indulge in such lofty flights,
+unless you have a mind to soar out of hearing. Now, then, Will, what
+were you about to say?"
+
+"This," said my shipmate, taking the hand of his charming companion,
+and speaking like a frank, manly fellow, as he really was, "this, dear
+Mary, that I love you heartily and truly, and have loved you ever
+since we were children. At present I am a poor seaman, but I hope in a
+few years to rise in my profession, till I am able to support a wife
+in the style to which you have been accustomed, if then you will give
+me your hand I shall be more happy than I can express. Now, don't
+tease me any longer, but tell me if I have any chance."
+
+Mary's coquettish air was gone. While Langley had been speaking her
+face became suffused with a charming blush, which extended even to her
+heaving bosom, and when he finished she raised her eyes, bright and
+tearful, to his. "William," said she, "you have spoken candidly,
+without doubt, and deserve a candid answer. If when you become the
+mate of a ship you are willing to be burthened with me for a wife,
+dear Will, you can doubtless have me by asking papa."
+
+"Come, Ellen," said I, "let's go now."
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+_The Gentile loses her fore-topsail._
+
+
+The hours flew like lightning until Friday arrived. I went to the
+convent in the morning, and in an interview with Sister Agatha
+informed her that in the evening she would probably be called to the
+sick bed of Ellen. Mr. Stowe bade us good-bye and sailed in the Havana
+steamboat at noon, that his presence at the catastrophe might not
+seem suspicious. At sunset I bade farewell to dear little Ellen, who
+was indeed as pale as death, and in an hour afterward was on board the
+ship, where I found every thing in readiness for a hasty departure,
+the top-sails, jib and spanker were loosed, the anchor at the bows,
+and its place supplied by a small kedge, attached to the ship by a
+hawser, easily cut in case of need; the awnings were struck, and the
+decks covered with rigging and sails. The boat's crew who were to go
+on the expedition of the evening had already been selected, and were
+in high spirits at the probable danger, romance and novelty of the
+affair.
+
+"By thunder! Frank," said Jack Reeves, shaking my hand furiously when
+I appeared on the forecastle, "you're a trump and no mistake."
+
+"Arrah! now, Masther Frank, how yaller it is ye're lookin'; but it's
+you that's the boy to get the weather gage of Yaller Jack, let alone
+the nuns; wont we have a thumping time this night?"
+
+"Why, Teddy, are you going with us? You are the last man I should have
+thought to enlist in an expedition of this kind!"
+
+"Ay, ay, Masther Frank, its rather agen my conscience, to be sure; but
+it's the skipper's orders, and I alwus goes by that maxum, ''bey
+orders if you break owners.'"
+
+"Then the skipper has ordered you to go--"
+
+"Of coorse; in the first place he says that he'll send no man into
+danger widout tellin' him of it, the jewel, and then he just stated
+the case, and sez he, 'which of yees will go, b'ys?' an' wid that uz
+all stipt for'ard. 'What,' sez the owld man, sez he, 'Teddy, I thought
+you was a Catholic!' 'Faix! an' I am that, yer honor,' sez I, makin' a
+big sign of the cross, 'long life to the Pope and the clargy!' 'It's a
+nun we're goin' to abductionize to-night,' sez he, 'I thought you
+understood that.' 'I know that, yer honor,' sez I, 'but if you will
+jist plaze to order me to go, I can't help meself, and so your own
+sowl will be damned, beggin' yer honor's pardon,' sez I, 'and not
+mine.' The officers all laughed, and the owld man, sez he, 'Teddy,
+you're quite ingenuous!' 'Thank yer honor,' sez I, 'but I'll cotton
+to Ichabod Green in that line, since he invinted the new spun-yarn
+mill.'"
+
+Soon after sundown the land wind from the south set in smartly, and by
+eight o'clock we were not a little fearful lest our kedge might drag.
+The captain's gig was brought to the stairs, and the party chosen for
+the expedition took their places, the first mate and ship's cousin and
+six stout seamen, well armed. Stewart was very nervous and silent; the
+only remark he made after we left the ship was when we swept by the
+end of the mole.
+
+It was just nine o'clock when we hauled into the shade of the
+summer-house and its vines at the foot of Mr. Stowe's garden. I was
+commissioned to go to the house while the rest staid by the boat. On
+the stairs of the back verandah I met Mary Stowe.
+
+"Is it you, Frank?" she asked.
+
+"Ay, ay; is Cousin Clara here?"
+
+"Oh, yes! in Ellen's room, and the Superior is in the parlor with
+mother. Ellen has been terribly sick, but she was well enough to
+whisper just now, 'Give Frank my best love.'"
+
+"Here, Mary," said I, "give her this kiss a thousand times."
+
+"Oh, heavens! what a pretty one! But I must go and send Sister Agatha
+to you; we've got a hard part to act when her flight is discovered. I
+say, Frank, give Langley my love; don't wonder at it now, adieu! I'll
+see you in two years."
+
+"I waited impatiently for two minutes, which seemed two hours; at last
+I heard a light step on the stairs, and in a moment more held the
+runaway nun in my arms.
+
+"Courage!" said I, "you are safe."
+
+Throwing a cloak over her, we hastily ran down the orange-walk. I
+could not suppress a sigh as I passed the place where Ellen had told
+me that she thought she loved me. In a moment we reached the boat;
+Stewart stood upon the shore to receive us, caught the fainting form
+of Cousin Clara in his arms, and bore her apparently lifeless to the
+stern-sheets; the men shipped their oars, and I seized the
+rudder-lines, and gave the word of command.
+
+"Push off--let fall--give way--and now pull for your lives."
+
+The boat shot like lightning down the narrow river to its mouth, then
+across the broad bay, glittering in the first rays of the just risen
+moon. The band was playing as we rapidly shot past the barracks.
+
+I sat near the lovers in the stern-sheets, and heard Stewart whisper,
+"Dearest, do you remember that old Castilian air?" The answer was
+inaudible, but from the long kiss that Stewart pressed upon the lips
+which replied to him, I judged that the reply was in the affirmative.
+At last the ship was reached, and the passengers of the boat were
+safely transferred to the broad, firm deck of the old Gentile.
+
+The reader will excuse my describing the scene which ensued, for, as I
+have before said, and as the reader has probably assented, description
+is not my forte; beside, I am in a devil of a hurry to get the ship
+under weigh, or all will be lost.
+
+The hawser was cut, and we wore round under our jib; the top-sails
+were hoisted and filled out before the breeze, and we began our voyage
+toward home. Sail after sail was set, and the noble old ship danced
+merrily and swiftly along, leaving the scene of my cousin's suffering
+far astern; and, alas! every moment adding to the distance between
+Ellen and me. The lights of the distant city, shining through the mazy
+rigging of the shipping before it, grew dimmer and more faint, and
+finally, entirely disappeared; the wide ocean was before us.
+
+The next morning we were seventy miles from the nearest land of Cuba;
+and ten days afterward the marine lists of the Boston papers announced
+the arrival of the ship Gentile, Smith, from Matanzas.
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+_In which the fullness of the Gentiles is accomplished._
+
+
+Great was the joy of my father and mother, and good little sisters, at
+the unexpected appearance of Cousins Pedro and Clara. The money of the
+former, it may be recollected, had been brought to Boston in the
+Cabot, and placed in my father's hands, and though Pedro could not be
+called a rich man, still the sum now paid him by his uncle was very
+handsome. This, by advice, was invested in an India venture to send by
+the Gentile; and my Cousin Pedro, in consequence of this and my
+father's recommendation, was appointed supercargo of that ship by Mr.
+Selden, the merchant who had chartered her.
+
+Captain Smith was removed to a new and larger vessel; and the
+Gentile's list of officers, when she cleared for Canton, stood thus,
+Benjamin Stewart, master; Pedro Garcia, supercargo; Micah Brewster,
+1st officer; William Langley, 2nd do.; Frank Byrne, 3rd do. Jack
+Reeves was also in the forecastle, but Teddy staid by his old skipper.
+
+It was a very pleasant day when we sailed from the end of Long Wharf;
+but we had got nearly under weigh before Captain Stewart came on
+board.
+
+"That's always the way with these new married skippers," growled the
+pilot, as he gave orders to hoist the maintop-sail.
+
+    *    *    *    *    *
+
+About a month ago, the senior partner of the firm of Byrne & Co. was
+heard to say, that he had in his employ three sea captains who had
+each one wooed his wife in broad daylight, in a garden of the city of
+Matanzas.
+
+
+
+
+
+ILENOVAR.
+
+FROM A STORY OF PALENQUE.
+
+A FRAGMENT.
+
+BY WM. GILMORE SIMMS, AUTHOR OF "THE YEMASSEE," "RICHARD HURDIS," ETC.
+
+
+    Weary, but now no longer girt by foes,
+      He darkly stood beside that sullen wave,
+    Watching the sluggish waters, whose repose
+      Imaged the gloomy shadows in his heart;
+    Vultures, that, in the greed of appetite,
+    Still sating blind their passionate delight,
+    Lose all the wing for flight,
+      And, brooding deafly o'er the prey they tear,
+    Hear never the low voice that cries, "depart,
+      Lest with your surfeit you partake the snare!"
+    Thus fixed by brooding and rapacious thought,
+      Stood the dark chieftain by the gloomy stream,
+    When, suddenly, his ear
+      A far off murmur caught,
+    Low, deep, impending, as of trooping winds,
+      Up from his father's grave,
+    That ever still some fearful echoes gave,
+      Such as had lately warned him in his dream,
+    Of all that he had lost--of all he still might save!
+      Well knew he of the sacrilege that made
+    That sacred vault, where thrice two hundred kings
+      Were in their royal pomp and purple laid,
+    Refuge for meanest things;--
+      Well knew he of the horrid midnight rite,
+    And the foul orgies, and the treacherous spell,
+      By those dread magians nightly practiced there;
+    And who the destined victim of their art;--
+      But, as he feels the sacred amulet
+    That clips his neck and trembles at his breast--
+      As once did she who gave it--he hath set
+    His resolute spirit to its work, and well
+      His great soul answers to the threatning dread,
+      Those voices from the mansions of the dead!
+    Upon the earth, like stone,
+    He crouched in silence; and his keen ear, prone,
+      Kissed the cold ground in watchfulness, not fear!
+    But soon he rose in fright,
+      For, as the sounds grew near,
+    He feels the accents never were of earth:
+    They have a wilder birth
+      Than in the council of his enemies,
+    And he, the man, who, having but one life,
+    Hath risked a thousand in unequal strife,
+      Now, in the night and silence, sudden finds
+    A terror, at whose touch his manhood flies.
+      The blood grows cold and freezes in his veins,
+    His heart sinks, and upon his lips the breath
+    Curdles, as if in death!
+      Vainly he strives in flight,
+    His trembling knees deny--his strength is gone!
+      As one who, in the depth of the dark night,
+    Groping through chambered ruins, lays his hands
+      On cold and clammy bones, and glutinous brains,
+      The murdered man's remains--
+    Thus rooted to the dread spot stood the chief,
+      When, from the tomb of ages, came the sound,
+    As of a strong man's grief;
+      His heart denied its blood--his brain spun round--
+      He sank upon the ground!
+
+    'Twas but an instant to the dust he clung;
+      The murmurs grew about him like a cloud--
+    He breathed an atmosphere of spirit-voices,
+      Most sighing sad, but with a sound between,
+    As of one born to hope that still rejoices,
+      In a sweet foreign tongue,
+    That seemed exulting, starting from its shroud,
+      To a new rapture for the first time seen!
+    This better voice, as with a crowning spell,
+    On the chief's spirit fell;
+      Up starting from the earth, he cried aloud:
+    "Ah! thou art there, and well!
+      I thank thee, thou sweet life, that unto me
+    Art life no longer--thou hast brought me life,
+    Such as shall make thy murderers dread the strife.
+      But for thy ear a gentler speech be mine,
+    And I will wait until the terrible hour
+      Hath past, and I may wholly then be thine!
+    Now am I sworn unto a wilder power,
+    But none so clear, or precious, sweetest flower,
+    That ever, when Palenque possessed her tower
+      And white-robed priesthood, wert of all thy race
+      Most queenly, and the soul of truth and grace;--
+    Blossom of beauty, that I could not keep,
+      And know not to resign--
+    I would, but cannot weep!
+      These are not tears, my father, but hot blood
+    That fills the warrior's eyes;
+      For every drop that falls, a mighty flood
+    Our foemen's hearts shall yield us, when the dawn
+      Begins of that last day
+    Whose red light ushers in the fatal fray,
+      Such as shall bring us back old victories,
+    Or of the empire, evermore withdrawn.
+      Shall make a realm of silence and of gloom,
+      Where all may read the doom,
+    But none shall dream the horrid history!
+    I do not weep--I do not shrink--I cry
+    For the fierce strife and vengeance! Taught by thee,
+    No other thought I see!
+    My hope is strong within, my limbs are free.
+      My arms would strike the foe--my feet would fly,
+    Where now he rides triumphant in his sway--
+      And though within my soul a sorrow deep
+    Makes thought a horror haunting memory,
+      I do not, will not weep!"
+
+    Then swore he--and he called the tree whose growth
+      Of past and solemn centuries made it wear
+      An ancient, god-like air,
+    To register his deep and passionate oath.
+      Hate to the last he swore--a wild revenge,
+    Such as no chance can change,
+      Vowed he before those during witnesses,
+    Rocks, waters and old trees.
+      And, in that midnight hour,
+    No sound from nature broke,
+    No sound save that he spoke,
+      No sound from spirits hushed and listening nigh!
+    His was an oath of power--
+      A prince's pledge for vengeance to his race--
+      To twice two hundred years of royalty--
+    That still the unbroken sceptre should have sway,
+    While yet one subject warrior might obey,
+      Or one great soul avenge a realm's disgrace!
+    It was the pledge of vengeance, for long years,
+      Borne by his trampled people as a dower
+    Of bitterness and tears;--
+      Homes rifled, hopes defeated, feelings torn
+      By a fierce conqueror's scorn;
+    The national gods o'erthrown--treasure and blood,
+    Once boundless as the flood,
+      That 'neath his fixed and unforgiving eye
+      Crept onward silently;
+    Scattered and squandered wantonly, by bands,
+    Leaguered in shame, the scum of foreign lands,
+      Sent forth to lengthen out their infamy,
+    With the wild banquet of a pampered mood.
+
+    Even as he swore, his eye
+      Grew kindled with a fierce and flaming blight,
+    Red-lowering like the sky,
+      When, heralding the tempest in his might,
+    The muttering clouds march forth and form on high.
+    With sable banners and grim majesty.
+    Beneath his frowning brow a shaft of fire,
+    That told the lurking ire,
+    Shot ever forth, outflashing through the gloom
+    It could not well illume,
+    Making the swarthy cheeks on which it fell
+    Seem trenched with scarred lines of hate and hell.
+    Then heaved his breast with all the deep delight
+    The warrior finds in promise of the fight,
+      Who seeks for vengeance in his victory.
+    For, in the sudden silence in the air,
+    He knew how gracious was the audience there:
+    He heard the wings unfolding at the close,
+      And the soft voice that cheered him once before
+    Now into utterance rose:
+    One whispered word,
+      One parting tone,
+    And then a fragrant flight of wings was heard
+      And she was gone, was gone--
+      Yet was he not alone! not all alone!
+
+    Thus, having sworn--the old and witnessing tree
+    Bent down, and in his branches registered
+    Each dark and passionate word;
+    And on the rocks, trenched in their shapeless sides,
+    The terrible oath abides;
+    And the dark waters, muttering to their waves,
+    Bore to their secret mansions and dim caves
+      The low of death they heard.
+    Thus were the dead appeased--the listening dead--
+      For, as the warrior paused, a cold breath came,
+      Wrapping with ice his frame,
+    A cold hand pressing on his heart and head;
+      Entranced and motionless,
+    Upon the earth he lies,
+      While a dread picture of the land's distress
+    Rose up before his eyes.
+    First came old Hilluah's shadow, with the ring
+      About his brow, the sceptre in his hand,
+      Ensigns of glorious and supreme command,
+    Proofs of the conqueror, honored in the king.
+    "Ilenovar! Ilenovar!" he cried:
+    Vainly the chief replied;--
+    He strove to rise for homage, but in vain--
+    The deathlike spell was on him like a chain,
+    And his clogged tongue, that still he strove to teach,
+    Denied all answering speech!
+    The monarch bade him mark
+    The clotted blood that, dark,
+    Distained his royal bosom, and that found
+    Its way, still issuing, from a mortal wound,
+      Ghastly and gaping wide, upon his throat!
+    The shadow passed--another took his place,
+    Of the same royal race;
+    The noble Yumuri, the only son
+    Of the old monarch, heir to his high throne,
+    Cut off by cunning in his youthful pride;
+    There was the murderer's gash, and the red tide
+    Still pouring from his side;
+      And round his neck the mark of bloody hands,
+    That strangled the brave sufferer while he strove
+      Against their clashing brands.
+    Not with unmoistened eyes did the chief note
+      His noble cousin, precious to his love,
+    Brother of one more precious to his thought,
+      With whom and her, three happy hearts in one,
+    He grew together in their joys and fears--
+    And not till sundered knew the taste of tears;
+      Salt, bitter tears, but shed by one alone,
+    Him the survivor, the avenger--he
+    Who vainly shades his eyes that still must see!
+    Long troops came after of his slaughtered race,
+      Each in his habit, even as he died:
+    The big sweat trickled down the warrior's face,
+    Yet could he move no limb, in that deep trance,
+    Nor turn away his glance!
+
+    They melt again to cloud--at last they fade;
+      He breathes, that sad spectator,--they are gone;
+      He sighs with sweet relief; but lo! anon,
+    A deeper spell enfolds him, as a maid,
+    Graceful as evening light, and with an eye
+    Intelligent with beauty, like the sky,
+    And wooing as the shade,
+      Bends o'er him silently!
+    With one sweet hand she lifts the streaming hair,
+      That o'er her shoulders droops so gracefully,
+    While with the other she directs his gaze,
+    All desperate with amaze,
+    Yet with a strange delight, through all his fear!
+    What sees he there?
+    Buried within her bosom doth his eye
+    The deadly steel descry;
+    The blood stream clotted round it--the sweet life
+    Shed by the cruel knife!--
+    The keen blade guided to the pure white breast,
+    By its own kindred hand, declares the rest!
+    Smiling upon the deed, she smiles on him,
+    And in that smile the lovely shape grows dim.
+
+    His trance is gone--his heart
+    Hath no more fear! in one wild start
+    He bursts the spell that bound him, with a cry
+    That rings in the far sky;
+    He does not fear to rouse his enemy!
+    The hollow rocks reply;
+    He shouts, and wildly, with a desperate voice,
+    As if he did rejoice
+    That death had done his worst;
+      And in his very desperation blessed,
+    He felt that life could never more be cursed;
+      And from its gross remains he still might wrest
+      A something, not a joy, but needful to his breast!
+    His hope is in the thought that he shall gain
+    Sweet vengeance for the slain--
+    For her, the sole, the one
+    More dear to him than daylight or the sun,
+    That perished to be pure! No more! no more!
+    Hath that stern mourner language! But the vow,
+    Late breathed before those spectre witnesses,
+    His secret spirit mutters o'er and o'er,
+    As 't were the very life of him and his--
+    Dear to his memory, needful to him now!
+    A moment and his right hand grasped his brow--
+    Then, bending to the waters, his canoe,
+    Like some etherial thing that mocks the view,
+    Glides silent from the shore.
+
+
+
+
+THE LAST OF HIS RACE.
+
+BY S. DRYDEN PHELPS.
+
+
+      'Twas to a dark and solitary glen,
+        Amid New England's scenery wild and bold,
+      A lonely spot scarce visited by men,
+        Where high the frowning hills their summits hold,
+        And stand, the storm-beat battlements of old--
+      Returned at evening from the fruitless chase,
+        Weary and sad, and pierced with autumn's cold
+      And laid him mournful in his rocky place,
+    The grief-worn warrior chief--last of his once proud race.
+
+      He wrapt his mantle round his manly form,
+        And sighed as on his cavern floor he lay;
+      His bosom heaved with passion's varying storm,
+        While he to melancholy thoughts gave way,
+        And mused on deeds of many a by-gone day.
+      Scenes of the past before his vision rose--
+        The fearless clans o'er whom he once held sway,
+      The bloody battle-field and vanquished foes,
+    His wide extended rule, which few had dared oppose.
+
+      He sees again his glad and peaceful home,
+        His warlike sons and cherished daughters dear;
+      Together o'er his hunting-grounds they roam,
+        Together they their honored sire revere;
+        But trickles down his cheek the burning tear,
+      As fades the spectral vision from his eye:
+        Low at his shrine he bows with listening ear,
+      And up to the Great Spirit sends a cry,
+    To bear him to his rest, and bid his sorrows die.
+
+      Tired of the lonely world he longs to go
+        And join his kindred and the warrior band,
+      Where fruits for him in rich luxuriance grow,
+        Nor comes the pale-face to that spirit-land:
+        Ere he departs for aye, he fain would stand
+      Again upon his favorite rock and gaze
+        O'er the wide realm where once he held command,
+      Where oft he hunted in his younger days,
+    Where, in the joyful dance, he sang victorious lays.
+
+      Up the bold height with trembling step he passed,
+        And gained the fearful eminence he sought;
+      As on surrounding scenes his eye was cast,
+        His troubled spirit racked with frenzied thought,
+        And urged by ruin on his empire brought,
+      He uttered curses on the pale-faced throng,
+        With whom in vain his scattered warriors fought
+      And on the sighing breeze that swept along,
+    He poured the fiery words that filled his vengeful song:
+
+    Fair home of the red man! my lingering gaze
+    On thy ruin now rests, like the sun's fading rays;
+    'Tis the last that I give--like the dim orb of day,
+    My life shall go down, and my spirit away.
+
+    Loved home of the red man! I leave thee with pain,
+    The place where my kindred, my brothers were slain;
+    The graves of my fathers, whose wigwams were here;
+    The land where I hunted the swift-bounding deer.
+
+    No longer these hills and these valleys I roam,
+    No more are these mountains and forests my home,
+    No more, on the face of the beautiful tide,
+    Shall the red man's canoe in tranquillity glide.
+
+    The pale-face hath conquered--we faded away,
+    Like mist on the hills in the sun's burning ray,
+    Like the leaves of the forest our warriors have perished;
+    Our homes have been sacked by the stranger we cherished.
+
+    May the Great Spirit come in his terrible might,
+    And pour on the white man his mildew and blight
+    May his fruits be destroyed by the tempest and hail,
+    And the fire-bolts of heaven his dwellings assail.
+
+    May the beasts of the mountain his children devour,
+    And the pestilence seize him with death-dealing power;
+    May his warriors all perish and he in his gloom,
+    Like the hosts of the red men, be swept to the tomb.
+
+      Scarce had the wild notes of the chieftain's song
+        Died mournful on the evening breeze away,
+      Ere down the precipice he plunged along
+        Mid ragged cliffs that in his passage lay:
+        All torn and mangled by the fearful fray,
+      Naught save the echo of his fall arose.
+        The winds that still around that summit play,
+      The sporting rill that far beneath it flows,
+    Chant, where the Indian fell, their requiem o'er his woes.
+
+
+
+
+DECAY AND ROME.
+
+
+      Methinks I see, within yon wasted hall,
+        O'erhung with tapestry of ivy green,
+        The grim old king Decay, who rules the scene,
+      Throned on a crumbling column by the wall,
+      Beneath a ruined arch of ancient fame,
+        Mocking the desolation round about,
+        Blotting with his effacing fingers out
+      The inscription, razing off its hero's name--
+      And lo! the ancient mistress of the globe,
+        With clasped hands, a statue of despair,
+        Sits abject at his feet, in fetters bound--
+      A thousand rents in her imperial robe,
+        Swordless and sceptreless, her golden hair
+    Dishevelled in the dust, for ages gathering round!   R. H. S.
+
+
+
+
+THE LITTLE CAP-MAKER.
+
+OR LOVE'S MASQUERADE.
+
+BY MRS. CAROLINE H. BUTLER.
+
+
+PART I.
+
+Fair Ursula sits alone in an apartment which seems fitted up for the
+reception of some goddess. She is not weeping, but her dark eyes are
+humid with tears. An air of melancholy rests on her young face, like a
+shadow on a rose-leaf, while her little hands are folded despairingly
+on her lap. The hem of her snowy robe sweeps the rich surface of the
+carpet, from out which one dainty little foot, in its fairy slipper of
+black satin, peeps forth, wantonly crushing the beautiful bouquet
+which has fallen from the hands of the unhappy fair one.
+
+Every thing in this inviting apartment is arranged with the most
+exquisite taste and elegance. On tables of unique pattern are
+scattered the most costly gems of art and _vertu_--choice paintings
+adorn the walls--flowers, rare and beautiful, lift their heads proudly
+above the works of art which surround them, and in splendid Chinese
+cages, birds of gorgeous plumage have learned to caress the rosy lips
+of their young mistress, or perch triumphantly on her snowy finger.
+Here are books, too, and music--a harp--a piano--while through a half
+open door leading from a little recess over which a _multaflora_ is
+taught to twine its graceful tendrils, a glimpse may be caught of rosy
+silken hangings shading the couch where the queen of this little realm
+nightly sinks to her innocent slumbers.
+
+Eighteen summers have scarce kissed the brow of the fair maid, and
+already the canker worm of sorrow is preying upon her heart-strings.
+Poor thing, so young and yet so sad! What can have caused this
+sadness! Perhaps she loves one whose heart throbs not with answering
+kindness--perhaps loves one faithless to her beauty, or loves where
+cruel fate has interposed the barrier of a parent's frown!
+
+No--her heart is as free and unfettered as the wind.
+
+Ah! then perhaps her bosom friend, the chosen companion of her
+girlhood has proved unkind--some delightful project of pleasure
+perhaps frustrated, or, I dare say she has found herself eclipsed at
+Madame Raynor's _soiree_ by some more brilliant belle--no, no, none of
+these surmises are true, plausible as they appear! Then what is it?
+Perhaps--but you will never guess, and you will laugh incredulously
+when I tell you that poor, poor dear darling Ursula weeps
+because--because--
+
+_She is an heiress!_
+
+That is it--yes, weeps because she is the uncontrolled mistress of one
+hundred thousand dollars in houses, lands and gold, bright gold!
+
+Poor little dear--looking upon fortune as a serious misfortune, and
+even envying those whose daily toil can alone bring them the
+necessaries of life; for, have they friends--they are true
+friends--there is no selfishness in the bond which unites them--while
+she, unhappy child that she is, owes to her rank and riches her
+thousand friends and the crowd of satellites worshiping before her!
+What a foolish notion to enter her little head! True, it is foolish.
+Lovers, too, in plenty sigh at her feet, and in the soft moonlight the
+air is tremulous with sighs and music, as from beneath her window
+steals the soft serenade. But Ursula curls her lip disdainfully, and
+orders her maid to shut out the sweet sounds. Ever that hateful gold
+comes between her and her lovers, and then she wishes her lot was
+humble, that she might be loved for herself alone!
+
+Do you wish a portrait of the unhappy little heiress? Behold her then:
+
+A perfect little sylph, resting on the tiniest of feet, with hands so
+charming that you would feel an almost irresistible desire to fold
+them caressingly within your own--the rich complexion of a brunette
+with the bloom of Hebe on her cheek--her hair like burnished jet--eyes
+large, lustrous and black--but (alas that there should be a _but_!)
+poor Ursula had an unfortunate cast in her left eye--in others words
+she squinted--yes, absolutely squinted!
+
+Dear, dear what a pity!
+
+Yet stop, don't judge the little heiress too hastily, for after all it
+was not a bad squint--indeed, if you knew her, you would say it was
+really a becoming squint, such a roguish, knowing look did it give
+her! Nevertheless, it was a squint, and poor Ursula, notwithstanding
+the bewitching form and features her mirror threw back, fancied this a
+deformity which cast aside all her graces. And here again the _gold_
+jaundiced her imagination and whispered, "were it not for _me_ what a
+horrible squint you would have in the straight forward eyes of the
+world!"
+
+When her parents died Ursula Lovel was but an infant, yet as tender
+and affectionate as parents had been the good uncle and aunt to whose
+love and guardianship she was bequeathed. They had no children, and
+gladly took the little orphan to their bosoms with pity and love--and
+Ursula required all their watchful care, for she was ever a feeble
+child, giving no indications of that sprightly beauty and perfect
+health she now exhibited. Then indeed the squint was truly a
+deformity, for her thin, sallow countenance only made it far more
+conspicuous.
+
+People should be more guarded what they say before children. One good
+old lady by a careless remark instilled into the mind of little
+Ursula a jealousy and distrust, which, but for the good sense maturer
+years brought to bear against such early impressions, would have
+rendered her unhappy for life. Propped up by pillows, she sat at a
+small table amusing herself by building little card houses, and then
+seeing them tumble down with all the kings and queens of her little
+city, when she heard her name mentioned in accents of pity by an old
+lady who had come to pay her aunt a morning visit.
+
+"She is very plain--is not she? What a great misfortune that her
+father should have left her so much money! Poor thing, it will only
+prove a curse to her, for if she lives she will doubtless become the
+prey of some fortune-hunter."
+
+Now what was meant by "fortune-hunter"--whether some giant or horrid
+ogress--the little girl could not tell, but that it was some dreadful
+thing waiting to devour her because she had money, haunted her mind
+continually. She was a child of fine capacity, and at school generally
+ranked the highest in her class--how many times her envious mates
+would say: "Well, well, it is a fine thing to be rich--it is your
+money, Miss Lovel, makes you so much favored--our teachers are both
+deaf and blind to your foibles!" What wonder, then, poor Ursula began
+to distrust herself, and to impugn the kindness of her teachers and
+friends, who really loved her for her sweet disposition, and were
+proud of her scholarship.
+
+But don't think that she has been hugging such unhappy thoughts to her
+bosom ever since, because you have just found her lamenting that she
+is an heiress!
+
+You shall hear. As childhood passed, health bloomed on her cheek, and
+shed its invigorating influence over the mind, and it was only when
+something occurred to arouse the suspicion of early childhood that she
+indulged in such feelings. She was intelligent and accomplished. Sang
+like a bird, painted to nature, and danced like a fairy. But there was
+something more than all this which contributed to her happiness--it
+was the power of doing good--a power which she possessed, and, through
+the judgment of her aunt, practiced. This excellent woman had taught
+her that money was not given her to be all lavished on self--that it
+was her duty, and ought to be her delight, to loose her purse-strings
+to the cries of the poor, and to scatter its glittering contents
+through the homes of the needy. And this did Ursula do--and was
+rewarded by the blessing of those she had relieved, and the happy
+consciousness of having mitigated the sorrows of her fellow mortals.
+
+But now this particular evening when you have seen little Ursula
+drooping under the weight of gold which Fortune it appears has so
+thanklessly showered upon her, she has met with an adventure which
+brings before her with all its tenacity the impression so early
+engendered. And now, as she sits there so sad and sorrowful, she is
+sighing to be loved for herself alone, and wishes her lot had been
+humble, that she might trust to professions, and not be forever
+reminded of that wealth which she fears will always mask the sincerity
+of those around her.
+
+Silly little girl! She would even exchange all the elegancies and
+luxuries of life to feed on love and roses!
+
+This unlucky evening she had shone as the most brilliant belle in the
+crowded assemblage of the fair and fashionable whom Madam Raynor had
+gathered into her splendid rooms. Tired at length with the gay scene
+around her, she had strolled off alone into the conservatory, and
+leaning against a pillar watched from a distance the giddy whirl of
+the waltz--the waving of feathers, the flashing of jewels, and the
+flitting of airy forms through those magnificent apartments. A few
+moments before she left the crowd, she had observed a stranger of very
+dashing air attentively regarding her, and then joining a friend of
+hers appeared to request an introduction. But young Allan was just
+about to join the dance, and ere it was finished Ursula had stolen
+away.
+
+While engaged as before described, she observed the same gentleman
+leaning on the arm of Allan strolling toward the conservatory.
+Concealed by the shadow of a large orange-tree, they passed her
+unobserved--they then paused in their walk, when Ursula suddenly heard
+her own name mentioned, and then the following conversation
+unavoidably fell on her ear:
+
+"Why she squints, Allan!"
+
+"Well, what of that--those that know her best never think of it."
+
+"Pardon me, I consider it a very great defect, and slight as this
+blemish appears in Miss Lovel, her money could never blind me to the
+fact if I knew her ever so well."
+
+"I do not mean to imply," answered Allan, "that being an heiress
+renders the blemish imperceptible--no, it is her truly amiable
+disposition, her goodness, and engaging manners which makes her so
+beautiful to her friends."
+
+"O, a pattern woman!" cried the other, "worse yet!"
+
+"What do you mean by a pattern woman?"
+
+"Why, one of those shockingly amiable, running round into dark alleys,
+charity-dispensing beings--patting white-headed beggar boys, and
+kissing dirt-begrimed babies--who speak in soft, lisping tones of duty
+and benevolence--read the Bible to sick paupers, go to sewing meetings
+and work on flannel--and--"
+
+"There, that will do, Fifield," interrupted Allan, "making some
+allowance, you have drawn Miss Lovel's character to the life. Shall I
+introduce you?"
+
+"O certainly, a cool hundred thousand outweighs all my objections
+against pattern women--I could swallow a sermon every morning with the
+best grace in the world, and even were she as ugly as Hecate, I could
+worship at her feet, and wear the yoke for the sake of the golden
+trappings!"
+
+The young men now passed on, leaving poor Ursula wounded to the quick
+by the heartless remarks of the fortune-hunter. She did not join the
+gay assembly again, but requesting a servant to call her carriage,
+immediately returned home. Now can you wonder at the cloud on her
+brow?
+
+But see, even while we are looking at her, it is clearing away--like
+a sunbeam, out peeps a smile from each corner of her rosy mouth, and
+hark! you may almost hear her merry laugh as clapping her bands she
+exclaims--
+
+"Yes, yes, I'll do it! What a capital idea--excellent, excellent!"
+Then rising and bounding lightly to the inner door she threw it wide,
+saying--
+
+"Here, Hetty, I have something to tell you--come quick."
+
+And at the summons a pretty young girl, seemingly about her own age,
+made her appearance from the chamber.
+
+"There, Hetty, I am better now," said Ursula, "how silly I am to let
+the remarks of such a person have power to move me! But I have such a
+grand project to tell you--come, while you are platting my hair, and,
+in the words of that same amiable youth, taking off all these
+_trappings_, I will let you into my secret."
+
+Hetty took the comb and thridded it through the long tresses of her
+young lady, which, released from the silver arrow so gracefully
+looping them on the top of her head, now fell around her nearly to the
+floor.
+
+"Hetty," exclaimed Ursula, suddenly throwing back her head and looking
+archly at the girl, "Hetty, do you want to see your mother?"
+
+"O, Miss Ursula," cried Hetty, the tears springing to her eyes,
+"indeed, indeed I do!"
+
+"Very well, I promise you then that in less than a week you shall be
+in her arms."
+
+"O, my dear Miss Ursula, do you really mean so?" said Hetty, bending
+over and kissing the glowing cheek of her mistress.
+
+"Yes, I really mean so--but dear, dear, you have run that hair-pin
+almost into my brain--never mind--only be quiet now--there, sit down,
+and I will tell you all about it." There was a roguish expression on
+Ursula's face as she continued: "Yes, you shall go home, and what's
+more, Hetty, I am going with you, and mean to live with you all
+summer, perhaps longer."
+
+"Why, Miss Ursula!"
+
+"Yes I do. And now you must assist me--you must promise me not to
+reveal to any one, not even to your mother, that I am the rich lady
+with whom you live. Remember I am a poor girl--poor as yourself--a
+friend of yours come into the country for--for her health--ha, ha, ha,
+Hetty, look at me--you must contrive to make me look paler, or shall
+this be a _hectic_?"
+
+"But, Miss Ursula--it will never do--you who have always had every
+thing so beautiful around you--you can never live in our humble way!"
+
+"Try me, try me, Hetty--for I am determined to lest my own individual
+merits, and see how far they may gain me the love and esteem of others
+when unsupported by the claims of wealth. Let me see, Hetty, I must
+have some employment aside from helping you to milk the cows and feed
+the pigs. Ah, I have it!" she cried, springing up and turning a
+pirouette--"listen--I will be a _milliner_! you know, aunt thinks I
+have a great knack at cap-making--O excellent idea--I will turn
+milliner for all the farmer's wives and daughters far and near." And
+catching up her embroidered mouchoir she began folding it into a
+turban, and then placing it gracefully on her little head, she turned
+to the laughing girl: "See there now--is not it exquisite--why my caps
+and turbans will turn the heads of all the swains in the village. You
+shall have one first, Hetty--you shall set _your_ cap, and heigh-ho
+for a husband!"
+
+"But your uncle and aunt, Miss Ursula?"
+
+"O, I shall tell them candidly my project. They will laugh at me, I
+know, and try, perhaps, to dissuade me; but, after all, they will let
+me do as I please."
+
+_Twelve_! chimed a beautiful Cupid running off with Time, which,
+exquisitely wrought in gold and pearl, stood on the dressing-table.
+
+In a few moments Hetty had drawn the rose-colored curtains around the
+couch of her young mistress, and left her to dreams as rosy.
+
+
+PART II.
+
+And now will you follow me to another scene--an apartment more
+spacious, and even more elegant, than the one we have just left, save
+that it savors more of the "sterner sex." For instance, we may see a
+brace of pistols, superbly mounted, crossed over the mantel-piece--a
+flute upon the table--a rifle leaning against the wall, and, I
+declare, fishing-tackle thrown carelessly down, all among those
+delicate knackeries so beautifully arranged on yonder marble
+slab--just like the men!
+
+Reclining upon a sofa of crimson satin, wrought with gold thread,
+wrapped in an elegant dressing-robe, with his feet thrust into
+embroidered slippers, is a young man of very pleasing exterior, whom
+we should judge to be about five-and-twenty. The long, slender fingers
+of one hand are half buried in the rich mass of dark-brown hair which
+waves over his temples, the other, hanging over the back of the sofa,
+seems to partake of the disturbance of its master, for it beats and
+thrums the silken covering most unmercifully. See how he knits his
+fine brow, and now waves his arm menacingly in the air--what can be
+the matter!
+
+Ah! you will laugh again when I tell you here is another discontented
+heir of wealth.
+
+There! now he suddenly starts up as if distracted. "_Yelp_, _yelp_!"
+Ah! poor Fido! although your master seems evidently out of humor, he
+would not have kicked your beautiful spotted coat had he seen you!
+There, he caresses you--so fold back your long ears, and wag your tail
+complacently, while we hear what this impatient youth has to say, as
+he strides so rapidly hither and thither.
+
+"Well, no doubt wealth is a very fine thing, if the world would let
+one enjoy it peaceably; but to be thus forever dined, and teaed, and
+courted, and flattered, and smiled at, and bowed at, and winked at,
+when, if it were not for my fortune, I very much doubt whether one of
+these, my exceeding good friends, would give me a dinner to save me
+from starvation. Why I had rather be the veriest boor that holds a
+plough, or a cobbler at his last, than to be, as Shakspeare says, 'the
+thing I am.' I am heartily sick of it, and could almost turn my back
+upon the world, and lead a hermit's life. To be always a mark for
+managing mothers, with great grown-up daughters; aimed at, like a
+target, by scores of black, grey, and blue eyes; to be forever forced
+to waltz with this one, and sing with another--and, ere I know it,
+find myself entrapped into a close _tete-a-tete_ with a third. I wish
+I _was_ married; then one-half at least of my troubles would be
+over--for I should shake off this swarm of female fortune-hunters!
+_Married_! ah! I wish I was! But where can I find one who will love me
+for myself alone, and not for the standing my wealth would give her?
+_Married_! ah! how delightful to come home and find a dear little wife
+waiting with open arms to welcome me, and the rosiest and sweetest of
+lips coaxingly pressed to mine; all my cares forgotten, all my
+vexations subdued by her soothing caresses and tender words. And then
+how enchanting as she warbles like a linnet for my ear alone; how
+enchanting to lean her bewitching little head on my shoulder, and
+inhale the balmy fragrance of her breath. O! I wish I was married!"
+
+And now, so enraptured does this reasonable youth seem with the
+picture he has sketched, that not having any thing else, you see, to
+hug, he throws his arms most lovingly around himself. There, now he
+frowns again, and--hark what more he has to say.
+
+"In fact, I am not sure I have a real friend in the world, for, gild a
+fool or a monkey, and mark what a troop of flatterers fawn around and
+follow admiringly at his heels! And as for choosing a wife, why, were
+I toothless, one-eyed, or deaf as a post, the magic of gold would
+transform me into an Adonis!"
+
+Now stopping before a full-length mirror, he appears to console
+himself for such suppositions, by very complacently regarding his
+truly elegant figure and classic countenance.
+
+A tap at the door, and an arch face, already shaded by the night-coif,
+peeps in.
+
+"What, not yet gone to bed, brother--why what are you studying, to be
+up so late?"
+
+"Studying human nature, Helen--a book with great pretensions to
+excellence, but--"
+
+"Hush, hush, Frank! not a word more," exclaimed Helen, placing her
+little hand over his mouth, "not a word more--you read with defective
+vision! I proclaim the book of human nature to be charming, every page
+teeming with interest, every line traced by the hand divine, a lesson
+for a lifetime. Ah! Frank, remove the film of distrust from your eyes,
+and read this book as it ought to be read, therein you will find
+truth, goodness, and beauty!"
+
+"Would I could think as you do, Helen. I tell you candidly, I am sick
+of the world as I find it, and would gladly give all my wealth and
+expectations to be sure there was one heart that truly loved me--loved
+me for myself alone."
+
+"A very pretty theory, indeed! Well, you must get married, Frank; I
+see no other way to cure you--then you will have a dear little book of
+your own to study--a choice edition of human nature, traced by the
+feather of Cupid."
+
+"Ah! the very thing I was thinking of; but tell me, Helen, where can
+I find that same beautiful work?"
+
+"Where you please, brother--there is no danger that you can sue in
+vain; there is sweet Anna De Kay, roguish little Laura C----, the
+pensive Sarah--"
+
+"O! don't mention them--pray don't name any more of these city
+belles!"
+
+"Well, Frank, human nature is most lovely in the simplicity of country
+life--you must seek some village maid to grace the name of Leland."
+
+"Helen," says Frank, taking her hand, and looking into the large blue
+eyes sparkling so mirthfully, "Helen, I tell you if I could find an
+amiable girl, brought up in all the beautiful simplicity of the
+country, no matter how unskillful in the world's ways--one who,
+ignorant of my wealth and standing, would unite her fate to mine for
+better or for worse--then, Helen, I could fall at her feet, and
+worship her as the star of my life and love."
+
+"Pray, remember, my sentimental brother, ere you squeeze my hand so
+devoutly, that I am not your artless country maid," exclaimed Helen,
+laughing; then, after a moment's pause, she cries, gayly, "ah! I have
+it, Frank; you must masquerade a little, that's all--win your bride
+under false colors, as a sailor would say."
+
+"Helen, you witch, you darling sister," says Frank, kissing her, "I
+will do it--yes, to-morrow I will set forth, like Coelebs, in search of
+a wife! Now you must help me farther with your lively imagination; you
+must choose me a profession to masquerade under. I must, of course,
+for the attainment of my object, sport the character of a poor
+gentleman, struggling with honest poverty to gain a livelihood. Come,
+what shall I be--school-master--singing-master--drawing-master--or--"
+
+"O, the last, by all means!" interrupted Helen. "You will have such a
+fine opportunity of developing the tastes of your fair scholars--ha!
+ha! ha! Frank, methinks I already see thee helping some blushing
+milk-maid, with her pail, or, perhaps, leaning against a rail-fence,
+sketching her, as with bare feet and scanty skirt, she trips through
+the morning dew to feed her feathery brood."
+
+"Well, you may laugh as much as you please," replies Frank, nothing
+daunted, "I am firm in my determination."
+
+"And when, most romantic Coelebs, do you set forth?"
+
+"To-morrow, or next day at furthest. We will talk this over again in
+the morning, it is too late now--so good night, dear Helen, and
+pleasant dreams!"
+
+"Good night. Frank!" and gayly kissing her hand, Helen trips out of
+the room.
+
+Frank Leland laid his head upon his pillow within the walls of a large
+brick mansion, where the hum of city life penetrated, even through the
+thick plate-glass and rich window-hangings. But a miracle; no sooner
+did soft sleep seal his eye-lids, than he found himself in Arcadian
+scenes--shepherdesses tripped gracefully before him with their flocks;
+beautiful maidens led him through flowery fields and shady groves;
+and the little birds _up_ in the trees, and the little romantic fishes
+_down_ in the brooks, all sang of love and happiness.
+
+
+PART III.
+
+Sit down with me under this spreading tree, and let us view the
+charming scene which surrounds us. O, never mind the cows, this is
+their pasture-ground; and see, mid-leg the brook yonder, just released
+from plough, stands the patient ox. Ah! the ducks and geese seem to
+dispute his right. Observe how they shake their wings, as if in
+defiance, and dip their beautiful crests within the sparkling ripples;
+now, how proudly they plume their feathers, and float with head erect
+so gracefully down the silver stream. Do you see yonder old
+farm-house, so old that it seems bending under the weight of years?
+Look at its low, brown eaves, its little narrow windows, half-hidden
+by ivy and honey-suckle; see the old-fashioned double door, and the
+porch, with its well-worn seats. Do you see the swallows skimming
+around the chimney; and don't you hear the hum of the bees--there,
+under that old elm you may see their hives, filled, too, with luscious
+honey. There is the well, with its old sweep, and the "moss-covered
+bucket," too; and look at the corn-crib, and the old barn--and what a
+noisy set of fowls around it, cackling, clucking and crowing, as if
+they owned the soil; and how the pigs are scampering through the
+clover-field; ah! the little wretches, they have stolen a march, or
+rather a caper; at them, old Jowler, at them, my fine fellow, you will
+soon turn them back to their pen, obstinate as they are.
+
+Do you not admire those venerable trees which seem to shelter the old
+house from the rude assaults of the tempest, and to keep out the glare
+of the sun-beams from its chambers. Through what a thicket of
+currant-bushes, and rose-bushes, and lilacs, and snow-balls, the path
+winds from the porch to the little gate--is it not a most charming
+spot? Now look over the brow of the hill--there, you can see the spire
+of the village church; and if you will walk a few paces further to
+yonder green knoll, you will see a cluster of pretty dwellings, and
+comfortable farm-houses, scattered through the valley.
+
+"Hark! don't you hear a merry laugh? so merry and joyous that it can
+only proceed, I am sure, from a happy heart. Keep still--for here
+comes two laughing country-girls--no, as I live, one of them is--no,
+it can't be--yes, it is, the rich young heiress, Ursula Lovel! quick,
+draw behind the tree, and let us hear what she says.
+
+"And so, Hetty, your mother thinks I am the most awkward child she
+ever saw, and wonders where I was brought up, not to know how to knead
+bread, and churn, and milk;" and again that merry laugh goes ringing
+through the air.
+
+"Yes, Miss Ursula; and she wishes--I declare I can hardly keep from
+laughing--she wishes you would stick to your cap-making, and not
+attempt to bake again, for you burned up three loaves."
+
+"Yes, and burned my fingers, too. Well, it is too bad; let me see,
+yesterday I let a pan of milk fall on the old cat, and fed the hens
+with beans, and old Jowler with meal and water; then, this morning I
+beat the eggs and put them into the bread, and the yeast into the
+pumpkin-pies. Too bad! too bad! Why at this rate, Hetty, I shall cost
+your good old parents a fortune!"
+
+"Never mind, Miss Ursula, for mother says, and so does father, that
+you are the dearest, prettiest, and best girl they ever knew; and they
+already love you almost as well as they do me--only they feel sorry
+for you; and mother says if you could not make caps, she don't know
+what _would_ become of you, you are so dreadful shiftless."
+
+Ursula clapped her hands and fairly danced with mirth.
+
+"After all, Hetty, your good mother is right. Let my fortune take
+wings, and with all my accomplishments to aid me, I feel I should be
+illy prepared for the reverse. Now if your mother would only have
+patience to instruct me a little--suffer me to spoil several batches
+of bread--(the pigs would like it, you know,)--burn up a few pounds of
+cake, and waste a quart or two of her rich cream, I declare, I think I
+should learn to be a nice little farmer's maid. What pleases you,
+Hetty--what are you smiling at?"
+
+"Nothing, only farmer Smith's oldest son is coming to see you--_a
+courting_, Miss Ursula; and Esquire Tompkins told father he hoped to
+see you before long the mistress of his beautiful new house; for he
+did not think he should disgrace himself by marrying such a girl as
+you, even if you was only a milliner."
+
+"Why the dear old soul! Come, my false impressions begin to wear away.
+I find I can be loved without the glitter of gold about me. Now let us
+go back to the house, for I have that cap to finish for Mrs. Jones;
+and mind, Hetty, you don't call me _Miss_ Ursula again, in the
+presence of your mother; and don't look so distressed when she chides
+me--it is all for my good, you know."
+
+Now, there they go into the old farm-house, and at the window you may
+see the demure face of Ursula, listening to the good dame, who, with
+snowy cap, and spectacles, seems to be giving her a lecture, while the
+hands of the little milliner are busily trimming a cap placed on the
+block before her.
+
+Over the brow of the hill, and down into the gentle sloping meadow, a
+youth comes walking leisurely. He has a portfolio under his arm, and a
+slight walking-stick in his hand, while the cool linen blouse and
+large straw hat shading him from the sun, bespeak an air of comfort
+really quite refreshing this warm summer day.
+
+What! don't you know him! Ah, yes--I see you recollect Frank Leland,
+our modern Coelebs.
+
+He seems struck by the appearance of the old farm-house; its repose
+is, no doubt, delightful to him; and now, choosing a favorable
+position within the shade of a fine old tree, opens his portfolio, and
+commences to sketch the charmingly rural scene. And, indeed, so intent
+is he upon his task that the sun has already sunk behind the trees,
+and gentle twilight steals on with her starry train ere he rests from
+his employment. Then the old farmer comes out on the porch to take
+his evening pipe; and the good dame sits by his side with her
+knitting, and the sweet voice of Ursula warbles a simple ballad to
+please the ears of the aged pair. The young man bares his brow to the
+delicious breath of evening, and carefully placing his sketch within
+the portfolio, saunters on toward the little gate. And now Ursula
+hushes her song, and the old man advances with friendly greeting,
+
+"Walk in, stranger--walk in. I should think you might be the young man
+I heard tell of to-day in the village--a teacher of something--I
+forget the name."
+
+"A teacher of drawing," said Leland, smiling, as he took a seat on the
+bench by the side of the old man.
+
+"Drawing, _eh_! And what may that be, young sir--some new-fangled
+notion, I'll be bound."
+
+"This may, perhaps, explain better than I can tell you," replied
+Leland, placing the sketch he had just taken in the hand of the old
+man.
+
+"Why, wife--why, bless my soul! why, if I should not think this was
+our old house! Why, stranger, if ever I see any thing so like in my
+born days!"
+
+"Goody gracious preserve me, if it an't, sure enough!" said the dame,
+putting on her spectacles, and eagerly looking over the old man's
+shoulder. "My stars and garters, Hetty, look here--for all the world
+just like it--did you ever!"
+
+The more practiced eye of Ursula detected at once a master-hand in the
+sketch before her; and looking admiringly upon it, she could not
+refrain from exclaiming, "How beautiful!" while Hetty gazed with
+silent wonder upon the stranger who by the magic of his pencil thus
+portrayed the home of her childhood.
+
+The contents of the portfolio were now spread out upon the grass, and
+our masquerading _millionaire_ was greatly amused at the _naivete_ the
+old people displayed, and not a little flattered by the pleasure with
+which _one_ at least of the young girls appeared to look over his
+collection.
+
+"Am I mistaken," said he, at length, "in thinking I heard singing, as
+I came over the meadow?"
+
+"Well, I reckon not," said the old lady, "come, 'Sula, child, go on
+with your song--maybe the young man would like to hear you; it was Old
+Robin Gray she was singing."
+
+Ursula was at length prevailed on to repeat the ballad, which she did
+in a style so simple and unaffected, that, ere she had finished, the
+young artist had made up his mind, that listening to a sweet voice by
+moonlight, beneath a wide-spreading elm, with the stars peeping down
+between the dancing leaves, and the soft evening breeze fanning his
+temples, was far more delightful, than to recline in his
+soft-cushioned box at the Opera, listening even to the delicious notes
+of a Pico, with bright jewels, and still brighter eyes flashing around
+him, and his cheek kissed by the inconstant air wafted from the
+coquettish fan in the hands of smiling beauty. And, moreover, that the
+book of human nature, to be studied in the country, certainly opened
+very beautifully.
+
+The evening passed off pleasantly. Leland confided to the old man his
+poverty, and desire to obtain scholars in his art sufficient to
+enable him to pay his board while in the village; that he had been
+employed by several gentlemen to sketch scenes from nature, and that
+having heard much of the beautiful views in the neighborhood, he had
+been induced to visit the village.
+
+But the old man thought he had much better turn farmer, and offered to
+hire him for eight dollars a month, as he needed a hand in haying
+time. This offer, however, the young man could not accept, being, as
+he said, already engaged to complete the drawings. Then the old man
+told how his fathers had lived there before him, and how by hard labor
+he had been able to keep the old homestead his own; and that his
+daughter, Hetty, had been living with a great heiress, who was very
+fond of her, and who had given her leave to spend the summer at home;
+and how she had come, and brought a poor girl with her, who made caps,
+and such gim-cracks, and that (in a whisper) his old woman thought she
+had never had any bringing-up, poor thing!"
+
+When Leland returned to his lodgings, in the village, he thought over
+his evening adventure with great pleasure. The simplicity of the old
+people charmed him; Hetty he thought a modest, pretty girl; but it was
+the little cap-maker who somehow or other dwelt most forcibly in his
+mind.
+
+"She is certainly quite handsome, notwithstanding she is a little, a
+very little, cross-eyed--it is a pity!" And Leland leaned out the
+window, and whistled "Auld Robin Gray." "How pathetically she warbled
+the line,
+
+    But she looked in my face 'til my heart was like to break;"
+
+and Leland threw off one slipper, and stopped to hum it over again.
+"Her voice only wants a little cultivation"--off goes the other
+slipper, and out goes the head into the moonlight, and in it comes
+again. "Well, I must teach her to draw--her own patterns, at any rate.
+Pleasant old couple; the idea of hiring _me_ for eight dollars a
+month--capital!" and in a fit of laughter he threw himself upon the
+bed. "What a roguish pair of eyes, after all, the little cap-maker
+has!"
+
+Again the dreams of our hero were all Arcadian, and every shepherdess
+was a little cross-eyed, and warbled "Auld Robin Gray."
+
+In the bright moonlight, which, glancing through the flickering
+leaves, streams across the chamber-floor, filling it with her softened
+radiance, sits Ursula. But why so pensive; is it the influence of the
+hour, I wonder--has the gentle moon thus power to sadden her, or--
+
+"Hetty, he has a very fine countenance."
+
+There, you see her pensiveness has found a voice.
+
+"Who, Miss Ursula?"
+
+"Why, this young stranger. He has a fine figure, too; and his manners
+are certainly quite refined."
+
+"Yes, and what pretty pictures he makes."
+
+"True, Hetty, very pretty; he certainly has a genius for the art." A
+long silence. "What a pity he is poor."
+
+"What's a pity, Miss Ursula?" cries Hetty, half asleep.
+
+"O, nothing, nothing--go to sleep, Hetty."
+
+But Ursula still sits in the moonlight, and thinks of the handsome
+young artist. Her generous little heart has already smoothed his path
+to eminence. Yes, she resolves if, upon acquaintance, he proves as
+worthy as he appears--and does she doubt it--not she--that neither
+money nor patronage shall be wanting to his success. Generous little
+cap-maker! And when at length she sought her couch, young Love, under
+the harmless guise of honest Benevolence, perched himself at her
+pillow.
+
+
+PART IV.
+
+And now, every morning sees Leland taking his way to the farm-house;
+and the villagers, good people, have made up their minds that there
+must be some very pretty scenes in that neighborhood.
+
+And so there are, very fine scenes; for, reclining under the shady
+trees, the young artist may be seen, with crayons in hand, the little
+cap-maker in his eye, as, seated on a little bench, she busily plies
+her needle, and sings for his entertainment, meanwhile, some rustic
+ballad. Sometimes, forgetting herself, she executes a brilliant
+_roulade_; and when Leland starts, astonished, and expresses his
+delight, she blushes deeply, and says she _once_ went to the theatre.
+
+And the old dame wonders what on earth they can find to talk about day
+after day, "a sittin' under trees," and tells Hetty to mind her work,
+and not take up any such silly ways. And the old man thinks a hale,
+hearty fellow like that, had better lend a hand to the plough, and not
+sit there spoiling so much white paper; and Hetty roguishly watches
+her young mistress, and smiles slily, and thinks there will be a
+wedding before long.
+
+Ah! happy, satisfied Leland!
+
+For he has won the heart of the charming little cap-maker. He, the
+poor, unpretending artist, he has won her away from the rich Esquire,
+who came rolling down in his carriage to woo her; and from the pale
+young doctor, who knelt tremblingly before her; and from the honest
+farmer, who swore he loved her better than his cattle. He, without
+fortune, without friends, has won her. She loves him, and through
+poverty and hardship will share his fate. And then, when bearing her
+off a happy bride, he thought how she would blush and tremble with
+surprise and sweet timidity when he should reveal his rank, and place
+her in that sphere she was born to grace--what rapturous visions
+danced through his brain!
+
+And no less rapturous were the thoughts of Ursula. She was now
+beloved, truly loved for herself alone--she, a poor, friendless girl.
+No money had shed its enticements around her--there was nothing to
+gain but an innocent heart, and a portionless hand; and yet the
+gifted, but poor artist, who might, by the rank of genius, have
+aspired to the favor of any high-born lady; he has chosen her to share
+his fate and fortunes. How her heart throbs, when she thinks of the
+wealth her hand will confer upon him--of the pride with which she
+shall see him adorning that station for which he is so eminently
+qualified.
+
+Ah! after all, what happiness to be an heiress!
+
+Three months flew by, and brings us to the night before the wedding.
+The lovers are alone, and, for lovers, extremely taciturn--for their
+thoughts are doubtless far into the bright future, o'er which no cloud
+is floating. The countenance of Ursula beams with happiness, yet her
+manner is somewhat abstracted--she is evidently agitated. At length
+Leland speaks,
+
+"Dearest Ursula, it seems to me that no wealth could contribute to our
+happiness; we have youth, health, strength, and loving hearts to bear
+us on our life-journey, as hand-in-hand we meet its pains and
+pleasures. Ah! I can already fancy our pleasant fireside. No one's
+caps will find so ready a sale as yours, dear Ursula; and my pencil,
+too, will be inspired to greater effort by your praise." And Leland
+turned aside to conceal the smile which played round his mouth at the
+deception he was practicing. "But what is the matter, Ursula--what
+agitates you thus; you surely do not repent your promise, beloved
+one!"
+
+"O, no, no, dear Frank! but I have something to tell you, which,
+perhaps, may forfeit me your love."
+
+"Good heavens, Ursula! what mean you! tears, too--speak, speak, what
+is it! is not your heart mine, or have you loved another more truly!"
+
+"No! O, no! and yet, Frank, I am not what I seem--I have deceived you.
+You think me but a poor, friendless girl, dependent upon my needle for
+my maintenance, when, in fact, O, Frank, how shall I say it, I am--
+
+"Speak, dearest!"
+
+"I am an heiress."
+
+Frank sprang to his feet in amazement.
+
+"You--you--dear, artless girl that you are--you an heiress! It can't
+be--it is impossible! and--what a pity!" he adds, aside, as one half
+his airy castle fell to the ground.
+
+"Now, sit down, Frank, and when you have heard my story, and my
+motives for doing as I have done, you will, I trust, pardon the
+duplicity I have been guilty of toward you."
+
+And before she had finished her recital Frank's plans were formed; so,
+falling at her feet, he poured out his acknowledgments for her
+condescension in honoring with her hand one so far beneath her, and
+had the satisfaction--cunning dog--of having a pair of white arms
+thrown around his neck, and a sweet kiss, from sweeter lips, pressed
+upon his brow, as the generous girl assured him that were her fortune
+ten thousand times doubled, she should consider all as dross compared
+with his love.
+
+"Well, I am fairly caught," quoth Frank, in the privacy of his
+apartment, "for I swore I never would marry an heiress. That was a
+rash oath--let it pass. But what a pity dear Ursula has money. I wish
+to my soul her father had not left her a cent--why could not he have
+endowed a hospital. She is a dear, noble girl, willing to bestow it
+all upon one whom she believes struggling with poverty; never mind, I
+shall get the laugh on her yet."
+
+At an early hour the following morning the venerable village pastor
+pronounced the nuptial benediction; and with the hearty good wishes of
+the old farmer and the dame, and followed by the loving eyes of Hetty,
+the new married pair bade farewell to the spot consecrated to so many
+happy hours.
+
+A ride of a few miles brought them to the steamboat; and just as the
+rays of the setting sun gilded the spires and roofs of the city, the
+boat touched the wharf.
+
+And now Frank's heart beat almost audibly, as he thought how rapidly
+the moment was approaching when, throwing off all disguise, he should
+lead his lovely bride to his own princely dwelling.
+
+And Ursula, too, had never looked so beautiful--had never felt so
+proud and happy; proud to present her husband to her good uncle and
+aunt, who were waiting to welcome them; happy that her beloved Frank
+would no longer have to plod on life's dull round in poverty and
+loneliness.
+
+It certainly was happiness to be an heiress.
+
+"Ursula," said Frank, as the carriage rolled rapidly over the
+pavements, "will you do me a favor?"
+
+"Most certainly, dear Frank--what is it?"
+
+"My sister, poor girl," replied Leland, in some embarrassment,
+"resides on the route to _your_ residence; will you alight there just
+for one moment, that I may have the happiness of bringing together the
+two dearest objects of my heart?"
+
+"Order the carriage to stop when you please, Frank--I, too, am
+impatient to embrace your sister," replied the blushing Ursula.
+
+The carriage soon turned into a fashionable street, even at that early
+hour brilliant with gas lights. Elegant equipages rolled past; already
+lights streamed, and music sounded from many splendid dwellings. Soon
+the carriage drew up before one even more splendid--the steps were let
+down--the door thrown wide by a servant in livery, and, with mingled
+pride and tenderness irradiating his fine countenance, and meeting
+with a smile her perplexed and wondering glance, Frank led his fair
+bride into a spacious and beautiful apartment, taste and elegance
+pervading all its arrangements. A young girl sprang from the sofa, and
+came tripping to meet them.
+
+"My sister Helen, dearest Ursula. Helen, embrace your sister, and
+welcome her to the home she is henceforth to grace."
+
+Then leading the agitated girl to a seat, he threw himself on his
+knees before her, saying,
+
+"Pardon, pardon, my dearest wife! I, too, had my secret. No poor
+artist sought your love--I, too, am the heir of wealth; I, too, sought
+to be loved for myself alone. Say that you forgive me, dear one."
+
+Ursula could not speak, but wept her joy and happiness on his bosom.
+
+Helen laughs merrily, yet slily wipes a tear from her eye, then
+kissing them both, she says,
+
+"What think you now of the great book of human nature you went forth
+to study, you discontented ones? You favorites of fortune! ingrates
+that you have been--you foolish pair of lovers! Listen dear brother.
+As the rich Frank Leland you possessed the same attributes of goodness
+as did Frank Leland the poor artist; and you, dear sister, were no
+less lovely and amiable as the heiress of wealth, than as Ursula the
+little cap-maker. See you not, then, that true merit, whether it gilds
+the brow of the rich man or radiates around the poor man's path, will
+find its way to every pure and virtuous mind. Henceforth, you dear
+ones, look at human nature with more friendly eyes, and forget in the
+excellencies of the _many_, the errors of the _few_."
+
+
+
+
+NO, NOT FORGOTTEN.
+
+BY EARLE S. GOODRICH.
+
+
+          For Nature gives a common lot,
+          To live, to love, to be forgot. CONE.
+
+
+    No, not forgotten; there are memories clinging
+      Round every breast that beats to hope and fear
+    In this drear world, until the death's knell, ringing,
+      Chimes with heart-moanings o'er the solemn bier;
+    Then come love's pilgrims to the sad shrine, bringing
+      The choicest offering of the heart--a tear.
+
+    No, not forgotten; else bowed down with anguish
+      Were the brave hearts that mingle in the strife.
+    Patriot and Christian in their toil would languish--
+      Truth lie down-trodden--Error, then, stalk rife
+    Over the body she at last could vanquish--
+      So fond remembrance ceased along with life.
+
+    No, not forgotten; else the faithful beating
+      Of heart to genial heart, that beat again,
+    Were turned to throbbings; and each pulse repeating
+      But the sad echoings of pain to pain.
+    And the blest rapture of the longed for meeting,
+      Then be unsought, or would be sought in vain.
+
+    No, not forgotten; for though fame may fail thee,
+      And love's fond beamings change to glance of scorn--
+    Though those once trusted now may harsh assail thee--
+      Thy friend of yesterday, thy foe this morn--
+    There is, who holds thee dear--do not bewail thee
+      If His blest Book of Life thy name adorn.
+
+
+[Illustration: Sir W. C. Rofs               J. B. Adams
+
+PAULINE GREY
+
+_The Only Daughter_
+
+Engraved Expressly for Graham's Magazine]
+
+
+
+
+PAULINE GREY.
+
+OR THE ONLY DAUGHTER.
+
+BY F. E. F., AUTHOR OF "AARON'S ROD," "TELLING SECRETS," ETC.
+
+[WITH AN ENGRAVING.]
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+
+"Give her what she wants," said Mr. Grey impatiently. "How can you let
+the child cry so?"
+
+"But, my dear," expostulated his wife, "I am afraid it will hurt her."
+
+"Nonsense!" replied Mr. Grey, "it hurts her more to scream so. Here,
+my princess royal," he continued, "take that, and keep quiet, do"--but
+Pauline's spirit was not to be so easily appeased as the impatient
+father imagined, for imperiously spurning with her tiny foot the
+proffered gift, she screamed more indignantly than when it had first
+been refused.
+
+"Hey day, Pauline," said Mr. Grey angrily.
+
+"My darling," interrupted Mrs. Grey, hastily addressing the child,
+"let mamma peel it and put some sugar on it. Come Pauline," she said,
+as she stooped to pick up the orange.
+
+Pauline's cries subsided for a moment, as apparently taking the matter
+in consideration, or else, perhaps only holding her breath for a fresh
+burst, while the tears hung in heavy drops on her long black lashes,
+and her large eyes still sparkled with excitement.
+
+"Let mamma peel it nicely," continued Mrs. Grey. "Come, and we'll go
+and get some sugar."
+
+"Yes, yes, do," said Mr. Grey impatiently. "Now go, Pauline, with your
+mother;" to which the little lady consented, and, tears still upon her
+blooming cheeks, she withdrew with her mother, leaving Mr. Grey to the
+quiet possession of the parlor and tranquil enjoyment of his book.
+
+And thus it was generally with Pauline. What she was refused at first,
+she was coaxed to take at last, and between the indulgence of her
+mother and the impatience of her father, she seldom or never failed to
+have what she wanted.
+
+A passionate determination to have her own way marked her character
+perhaps rather more strongly than that of most spoiled children, for
+nature had endowed her with a strong will, which education had
+fostered, as it almost seemed, with sedulous care. For the fact was
+Mrs. Grey dreaded a contest with Pauline; she screamed so, and Mr.
+Grey got so angry, sometimes with her, and sometimes with the child,
+and altogether it was such a time, that she soon begun to think it was
+better not to thwart Pauline, which certainly was true; for every
+contest ended in a fresh victory on the part of Pauline, and the utter
+discomfiture of Mrs. Grey, and the vexation of Mr. Grey, who, more
+vexed at the contest than the defeat, usually said, "Pshaw! you don't
+know how to manage that child." Thus Pauline, an only child,
+beautiful, gifted and willful, idolized by both parents, soon ruled
+the household.
+
+"I'll not go to that school any more," said Pauline indignantly, as
+she tossed her books down, the second day of her first school
+experience.
+
+"Why not, my love?" asked her mother anxiously.
+
+"I don't like that Miss Cutter," said Pauline, her large black eyes
+dilating as she spoke, and flashing with excitement.
+
+"You don't like Miss Cutter," repeated Mrs. Grey. "Why don't you like
+Miss Cutter, Pauline?"
+
+"She put me on a high bench and said 'chut' to me," replied Pauline.
+"Nobody shall say 'chut' to me, and I wont go there again."
+
+"You'll go there if your mother says so, Pauline," said her father.
+But Pauline knew better than that, and so did Mr. Grey for that
+matter; but Mrs. Grey said, "well, we'll see about it, Pauline. Now go
+and be dressed for dinner."
+
+"I wont go again," said Pauline with determination, as she left the
+room.
+
+"I'm sorry," said Mrs. Grey anxiously, as the child left the room,
+"that Pauline has taken a dislike to Miss Cutter. It was injudicious
+in her to commence her school discipline so rigorously at once."
+
+"Just like those people," said Mr. Grey, testily; "they have no
+judgment--dressed in a little brief authority they make the most of
+it."
+
+"Pauline is such a peculiar child," continued Mrs. Grey, (for all
+people think their children "peculiar," unless they have half a dozen
+of them, and then they know better). "Pauline is such a peculiar child
+that I dislike driving her against her feelings. I am very sorry for
+this," she added, looking much perplexed and embarrassed. "I don't
+know what to do."
+
+Fortunately Pauline had a little cold the next day, or Mrs. Grey
+imagined she had, and so the question of school was dodged for a day
+or two, during which, however, Pauline continued firm in her
+determination of not returning.
+
+By the time she had recovered past all possibility of thinking she was
+not quite as well as usual, Mrs. Grey had reasoned herself into
+thinking, and talked Mr. Grey into believing, that there was so much
+that was injurious in the present mode of school education, that upon
+the whole she would prefer keeping Pauline at home. A governess, under
+her own eye, would do her greater justice and bring her on faster;
+and, above all, she would escape the contamination of indiscriminate
+contact with children of whose tempers and characters Mrs. Grey knew
+nothing.
+
+She need not have said half as much to convince Mr. Grey, for he was
+tired out with the subject, and ready to yield before she was one
+third through; but she was talking as much to satisfy herself that
+what she did was the result of mature reflection, and not to gratify,
+or rather pacify Pauline, as to convince Mr. Grey. Whether she was
+able to attain this point is somewhat doubtful, although the capacity
+people have for self deception is amazing. And to what perfection Mrs.
+Grey may have reached in the happy art, we are not able exactly to
+say.
+
+But the governess was engaged, (a day governess, for neither Mr. Grey
+nor Pauline could have borne the constant presence of even so
+necessary an evil,) and under her tuition Pauline made rapid progress
+in her studies. Miss Burton soon finding that the moral education of
+her little pupil was quite beyond her reach, Mrs. Grey generally
+evading any disputed point between them, and gently waiving what
+authority should have settled, very wisely confined herself to the
+task Mrs. Grey set before her, which was to give Pauline as much
+instruction and as little contradiction as could be combined.
+
+But spite of some drawbacks Pauline made wonderful progress. She was,
+in fact, a child of uncommon abilities, and every thing she applied
+herself to, she mastered almost at once. Her understanding rapidly
+developed, and springing into girlhood while others are yet looked
+upon almost as children, she was a daughter any parents might justly
+be proud of. She was singularly beautiful, too, and no eye could rest
+upon her girlish form and speaking face, her brilliant eye and glowing
+cheek, other than with delight. That Mr. and Mrs. Grey watched her
+with looks of something hardly short of adoration, is scarce to be
+wondered at. She was so animated, so joyous, so radiant with youth,
+health and beauty. There seemed such affluence of all life's best
+gifts, which she scattered so lavishly around her, that the very air
+seemed to grow brighter from her presence, and no one who came within
+the sphere of her influence, could escape the spell of her joyous
+power.
+
+To say that as her mind and person developed, she quite outgrew the
+faults of her childhood, would be rather hazardous. 'T is true, she no
+longer stamped her little foot and burst into passionate tears, as
+when we first made her acquaintance, but she bent her pretty dark
+brows, and said, "I must," in a tone that Mrs. Grey knew meant, "I
+will."
+
+But then who thought of disputing her wishes? Were they not the
+main-spring of the whole concern? What else did father or mother live
+for? Were not her wishes their wishes, her pleasures their pleasures?
+Was not she their idol--their all?
+
+If she would only wrap up warmer, and put thicker shoes on those
+little feet, Mrs. Grey would have asked nothing more. But she was
+slight, and coughed sometimes, and then Mr. Grey said she should not
+have _allowed_ Pauline to go out in those thin shoes, and charged her
+not to permit it another time--but never interfered himself--thus
+throwing all the responsibility, or rather impossibility, of making
+Pauline mind, upon his wife, who indeed always got all Pauline's
+scoldings; for though Mr. Grey might find fault when Pauline was
+absent, one bright smile and brilliant glance from Pauline present,
+was sure to dispel his displeasure.
+
+So Pauline had now reached her seventeenth year, beautiful, gifted,
+high-spirited and generous-hearted. And if willful--why, even that
+seemed to give a _prononce_ shade to her character, that rather
+heightened the brilliancy of its tone.
+
+"You are going to Cecelia Howard's wedding I suppose, Mrs. Grey," said
+Mrs. Graham.
+
+"Of course. She is a niece of my husband's, you know."
+
+"Yes. And Pauline is to be bridemaid, I understand," continued the
+lady.
+
+"Well--I don't know about that," replied Mrs. Grey, hesitatingly.
+
+"But _I_ do," said Pauline in her pretty willful way. "I told Cecelia
+that she might depend on me."
+
+Mrs. Grey looked at her daughter without speaking, though she could
+not but smile at her animated face, while Mrs. Graham said, "Oh yes,
+why not, Mrs. Grey?"
+
+"Pauline is rather young," continued Mrs. Grey, "for such things."
+
+"True," replied the other, "if it were not in the connection. But
+family gayety is quite different."
+
+"Of course," said Mrs. Grey, "if it were not for that, I should not
+think of it."
+
+"Well, but I am going, mamma," said Pauline, "So you may make up your
+mind to that." And Mrs. Grey felt that she might as well at once. So
+after a little more talk about it, and Mr. Grey's saying, "Why,
+certainly, I see no objection to it--and as your cousin wishes it,
+Pauline--if your mother is willing, I am," it was settled.
+
+How beautiful Pauline looked when she came down stairs and presented
+herself before her delighted father, dressed for the wedding. It was
+the first time he had ever seen her in full dress; her white neck and
+round arms uncovered, her rich dark hair looking darker and more
+satinny for the wreath of pale, soft, delicate roses that bound
+it--even the little foot seeming more fairy-like in the small white
+satin slipper that inclosed it. If her father was accustomed to think
+her peerless in the plain, high-necked merino dress in which he
+usually saw her, what did he think of her now, when full dressed, or
+rather undressed, as she stood before him, brilliant in the glow of
+excitement, and fairer and fresher than even the flowers she wore?
+
+He looked at her speechless, and when she said,
+
+"Father, how do you like me?" could only kiss her fair forehead in
+silence.
+
+There was a reception after the wedding, and the beauty of the young
+bridemaid excited no small degree of sensation; for Pauline, having
+been brought up at home, was little known by the young people of her
+own age, and so took society rather by surprise.
+
+"Mrs. Grey," said Mrs. Livingston, "the bride has named Thursday
+evening for me. You will do me the favor, therefore, I hope, of
+considering yourself and your daughter engaged for that evening."
+
+"Not Pauline, my dear madam," said Mrs. Grey. "She does not go out
+this winter. She is so young that I hesitated much even letting her
+act as bridemaid this evening."
+
+"Oh, my dear Mrs. Grey," said Mrs. Livingston, much disappointed,
+"pray reverse your decision--surely for the bridal parties at least. I
+shall be so disappointed, for," with a smile, "I quite counted on the
+presence of your beautiful daughter for the brilliancy of my party;"
+and Pauline approaching just then, she said, "Pray, Miss Pauline, join
+your petitions to mine--I do so want you to come to my party for the
+bride."
+
+"Why, mamma, of course," said Pauline. "The bridemaids must attend the
+bride to the parties given for her--Cecelia says so."
+
+"But, my love," said her mother, "you know I told Cecelia when I
+consented to your being bridemaid, that you were not going out."
+
+"Not generally--no; but just to the bridal parties, mamma. Oh, I
+must"--and there was the little ominous bend of the brows at the words
+"I must," when Mr. Grey coming up, her mother, glad in her turn to
+throw the responsibility on him, said,
+
+"Well, ask your father; see what he says."
+
+"What is it, Pauline?" said Mr. Grey, smiling assent before she had
+spoken.
+
+"May I not, papa, attend the bridal parties with the rest of the
+bridemaids," she said, half pouting. "Cecelia says it will spoil the
+bridal cotillion if I am absent; and then--oh, papa, I must," she
+continued, in a tone of such earnest entreaty, entreaty that seemed to
+admit of no refusal, that he smiled as he said,
+
+"Well, if you _must_, I suppose you must."
+
+"Then I may, papa!" she exclaimed, her dark eyes dilating in their
+peculiar way when any thing particularly delighted or excited her.
+"Now, mamma!" turning triumphantly to her mother, "papa says I may.
+Yes, Mrs. Livingston, mamma _will_ come, and I too--hey, mamma!" and
+Mrs. Grey smiled her assent--and she and Pauline were in for the rest
+of the wedding gayeties.
+
+_Ce n'est que le premier pas qui coute._ Party followed party, and
+Mrs. Grey forgot to ask, or Pauline to care, whether they were bridal
+parties or not, for Pauline was fairly launched. And what a sensation
+she excited--so young--so brilliant--so beautiful. Mr. Grey, too, a
+man of handsome fortune, and Pauline an only daughter. There's a sort
+of charm in that, too, to young men's imaginations. It seems to make a
+girl more like a rare exotic, something of which there are few of the
+kind. And Pauline was a belle of the most decided stamp; and Mr. and
+Mrs. Grey's heads were more turned than was hers by the admiration she
+excited.
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+
+People may talk about young girls' heads being turned, but for my
+part, I think there are no heads so easily turned as old ones.
+Vanity, when it is fresh, like wine, is not as strong and intoxicating
+as when it grows old.
+
+Pauline enjoyed her triumphs like a girl, in all the effervescence of
+youthful spirits, thinking less of her beauty and more of her pleasure
+than her mother, who sat and followed her with her eyes, watching
+every movement, and absorbed almost to the exclusion of every other
+perception, in the surpassing loveliness of her daughter, and the
+admiration that flashed from every eye that turned upon her. And let
+not wise ones say that this was folly, and Mrs. Grey a weak woman for
+yielding to it, for it is human nature, which is too strong to be
+ruled by saws, be they ever so wise. The heart will spring to beauty,
+be it where it may, and no human being alive to poetry, can view God's
+fairest creation in its full perfection, and not feel a throb of
+pleasure. It is not wisdom, but an absence of ideality, of taste, of
+the highest of perceptions, the love of the beautiful, that can let
+any one look unmoved upon a young and beautiful woman. Who would not
+blush for themselves, and deny that they had walked through the halls
+of the Vatican without delight? And will the same person rave about
+the sculptured marble, and yet gaze coldly on the living, breathing
+model? No! and if it is high treason not to worship the one, it is
+false to human nature not to love the other; and the man, woman, or
+child, who affects to under-value beauty, only proclaims the want in
+their own mental constitution. To be without an eye for beauty, is as
+to be without an ear for music, to be wanting in the refinement of the
+higher and more delicate organization of our nature.
+
+Mr. Grey was not a man who usually took much pleasure in society, but
+his grave face lighted up as with a glance of sunshine, when he caught
+a glimpse of his beautiful child, as the crowd opened from time to
+time on the dancers in the thronged rooms, where, night after night,
+he was now condemned to pass his evenings; and when he approached her
+to tell her that the carriage was waiting, and her mother had sent to
+summon her to her side, he could not restrain his smiles when the
+young men crowded round to remind Pauline, one of a waltz, another of
+a polka, and pleading with Mr. Grey for more engagements than she
+could have fulfilled if they had staid all night; and his paternal
+pride had its share of gratification in the homage that even his
+presence could scarcely restrain.
+
+Among the group of idlers ever hovering round Pauline, was one who
+scarcely left her side, a Mr. Wentworth, a young man, and rather good
+looking. He seemed mightily taken with Pauline, and she smiled her
+brightest when she turned to him--but that she did when any one spoke
+to her--for she was in such a gale of spirits, she smiled on all who
+crossed her path.
+
+"Who is that young gentleman dancing with your daughter, Mrs. Grey?"
+asked a lady.
+
+"I don't know any thing about him but his name, which is Wentworth,"
+replied Mrs. Grey. "Mrs. Henderson introduced him to me at her own
+house, and I introduced him to Pauline. That's all I know about him."
+
+"Then I should say," replied the other, smiling, "that it was time you
+knew something more, for he has evidently lost his heart to your
+daughter."
+
+"Oh, I don't know that," replied Mrs. Grey, smiling in her turn, but
+carelessly, as if it was not a matter of much consequence if Pauline
+did break a few hearts more or less.
+
+"There's no doubt about his admiration," continued the lady; "so I
+warn you in time, Mrs. Grey."
+
+Mrs. Grey only smiled again. She did not think the warning worth much.
+Mr. Wentworth might be in love with Pauline--she dared say he
+was--indeed, she had no doubt of it. But what then? She could not be
+responsible for all the young men who fell in love with Pauline. It
+was very natural; and, to tell the honest truth, it rather pleased
+Mrs. Grey to see it. Not that she had the most distant idea that
+Pauline could ever feel any interest in any of the young men she with
+such quiet complacency thought hopelessly in love with her; but poor
+human nature is never weaker than on such subjects, and mothers look
+on amused, and may be, indignant with other mothers for allowing such
+things, till it comes to their turn, and then maternal vanity speaks
+louder than worldly wisdom, or any thing else; and so Mrs. Grey saw
+Mr. Wentworth's devotions with a quiet smile, and never thought it
+worth while to ask any questions about him. "He would not do," she saw
+that at a glance. As to what would, or who would, she had not yet made
+up her mind; but as Mr. Wentworth's pretensions did not seem of any
+decided stamp at all, she never thought there was any possibility of
+his being dangerous.
+
+"I wonder Mrs. Grey allows that young Wentworth to be so attentive to
+her daughter," Mrs. Remson said. "He's a dissipated young man, they
+say."
+
+"I am sorry to see that wild fellow, Wentworth, so much with that
+young beauty, Miss Grey," said another.
+
+"Yes, I am surprised at her parents encouraging it," said a third,
+"for they must see it."
+
+"What kind of a young man is he?" asked Mrs. Graham.
+
+"One that I should be sorry to see attentive to a daughter of mine,"
+replied a gentleman; but none of this reached Mrs. Grey's ears. No one
+told her Mr. Wentworth was wild or dissipated. He was too attentive,
+and they might get themselves in trouble, and be obliged to give
+authority, &c., for what they said--and what authority had they? a
+rumor--a vague report--an impression. Who knew, or ever knows, any
+thing more positive about a young man, except, indeed, young men--and
+they don't choose to tell.
+
+And so the thing went on, and people talked, and wondered, and found
+fault, and everybody but Mr. and Mrs. Grey, whom it most concerned,
+knew a great deal; and they, though they had eyes, saw not; and ears
+had they, but heard not; and understandings, and heeded not--deaf and
+blind, as parents always are, until too late.
+
+The thunderbolt fell at last, however. Mr. Wentworth, in form, asked
+Mr. Grey's consent to address Pauline, which Mr. Grey very decidedly
+refused, looking upon the young man as very presumptuous even to ask
+it; whereupon Mr. Wentworth informed the father that he was authorized
+by his daughter to address him on the subject, and her happiness being
+involved as well as his own, he trusted Mr. Grey would re-consider his
+proposal, and incline more favorably to his suit.
+
+Amazement was Mr. Grey's only feeling on first hearing this
+announcement. He could scarcely believe his ears, much less take in
+the subject-matter in all its bearings.
+
+Again, however, he refused his consent, and forbade Mr. Wentworth to
+think of his daughter.
+
+He immediately communicated the conversation to his wife, who was not
+less surprised than himself, but who relieved him excessively by
+saying at once that there must be some misunderstanding on the young
+man's part, for Pauline, she knew, took no interest in him whatever.
+That is, Mrs. Grey took it for granted that Pauline must see him with
+her eyes, and did not hesitate to answer for the fact.
+
+She went at once to Pauline's room, where she found her lying on the
+sofa, a book open in her hand, but evidently lost in a world of dreamy
+and pleasant revery. With very little circumlocution, for Mrs. Grey
+was too much excited to choose her words carefully, she repeated to
+Pauline her conversation with her father; whereupon Pauline rose, and
+sitting up, her color changing, but her eye clear and bright, said,
+
+"Surely, mother, you knew it all."
+
+"Knew what, Pauline?"
+
+"That Mr. Wentworth was attached to me, and that I--I--"
+
+"Surely, Pauline," exclaimed Mrs. Grey, hastily, "you are not
+interested in him."
+
+"Yes," answered Pauline, roused by her mother's tone and manner to
+something of her old spirit, and looking at her fully and clearly, all
+diffidence having now vanished in the opposition she saw before her,
+"I am--I love him, love him with my whole soul."
+
+"Pauline, my child, are you mad!" almost shrieked Mrs. Grey, shocked
+almost past the power of endurance by her daughter's tones and words.
+
+"_I_ am not mad, no mother," said Pauline, with an emphasis, as if she
+thought her mother might be. "And why do you speak thus to me? You
+introduced Mr. Wentworth yourself to me; you first invited him
+here--and why, mother, do you affect this surprise now?" and Pauline's
+color deepened, and her voice quivered as she thought, with a sense of
+her mother's inconsistency and injustice.
+
+"_I_ introduced him to you, Pauline! Yes, I believe I did--but what of
+that? Do you suppose--no, Pauline, you are a girl of too much sense to
+suppose that I must be willing you should marry every man I introduce
+or invite to the house."
+
+"What are your objections to Mr. Wentworth?" asked Pauline, firmly.
+
+"My objections, Pauline! My child, you drive me almost mad!" said Mrs.
+Grey, her daughter's manner forcing on her more and more the
+conviction of the earnestness of her present fancy--for Mrs. Grey
+could not think it more. "Why, Pauline, I have every objection to him.
+What pretensions has he that should entitle him to dream of you,
+Pauline? You, my child, with your talents and beauty, and
+acquirements, are not surely going to throw yourself away upon this
+young man, who is every way inferior to you."
+
+"Mother," said Pauline, with energy, "you don't know him."
+
+Mrs. Grey was silenced. She did not know him. There was that in his
+countenance, air, and manner, although what might be called rather a
+handsome young man, that is unmistakable to a practiced eye--traces of
+a common mind, a something that had satisfied Mrs. Grey "he would not
+do," when she had dismissed him from her mind. But what had she to say
+to Pauline now?
+
+She talked of her disappointment--of her hopes--her expectations; but
+Pauline said she was not ambitious, and wanted none of these things.
+
+Mrs. Grey was in despair. Pauline grew more and more resolute. Her eye
+flashed, and her color rose, and the brow was bent, as when she was a
+child. She and her mother talked long, and even warmly; and Mrs. Grey
+returned to her husband, leaving Pauline in a state of great
+excitement.
+
+Mr. Grey was much disturbed by what his wife told him; but still,
+though agitated, he was not as distressed as she was. The thing must
+not and should not be--there he was firm--though he was pained,
+exceedingly pained, that Pauline should be unhappy about it.
+
+He looked upon her grief as of course a temporary feeling, but still,
+even for her temporary sorrow he grieved exceedingly.
+
+He wrote that evening to Mr. Wentworth, desiring him to discontinue
+his visits, as he could not sanction his attachment, nor consent to a
+continuance of his attentions.
+
+The letter was dispatched, and both parents felt better for the step.
+They considered the thing as finally at an end; and though Pauline
+might rebel a little at not having been consulted; yet it was done,
+and they seemed to think it could not be undone.
+
+Much they knew about the matter. A letter from the young lover to
+Pauline herself, blew all these wise conclusions to the four winds of
+heaven.
+
+She protested--and with some show of reason--that her father and
+mother had no right to dismiss Mr. Wentworth in this summary way; that
+they had encouraged--certainly permitted his attentions; that her
+mother had introduced him herself--for she harped upon that
+string--and she poured forth such a torrent of words and tears at the
+same time, that Mr. Grey finally said,
+
+"Well, Pauline, to satisfy you, I will make inquiries relative to Mr.
+Wentworth's character and standing, and should the report be
+favorable, and your attachment lasting, I do not know that we should
+have any right to refuse our consent, although it's not a match, my
+child, that we can like. But on the other hand, Pauline, should I find
+him unworthy of you, as I am inclined to believe he is, you, on your
+part, must submit to what is inevitable, for I never will give my
+consent to your marrying a man whose character is not irreproachable."
+
+Partially appeased, Pauline retired to her room, where Mrs. Grey spent
+the rest of the day in trying to convince Pauline that even if Mr.
+Wentworth were respectable in point of character, he was not in mind,
+manner, or appearance, at all her equal. That, in fact, he was a very
+common sort of a person, which was the truth; but strange though the
+fact might be, and there was no more accounting for it than denying
+it, Pauline was desperately in love with this very same very common
+young man; and talk as Mrs. Grey would, she could not change her
+feelings, or make her see him with her eyes.
+
+She could only wait the result of Mr. Grey's investigations; and most
+devoutly she hoped they might prove unfavorable. The idea of his being
+respectable enough for them to be forced to a consent, drove her
+almost wild. Was this, then, to be the end of all her visions for her
+beautiful Pauline!
+
+She could only trust to his being a scamp as her only hope of escape.
+
+                                      [_Conclusion in our next._
+
+
+
+
+THE SAILOR-LOVER TO HIS MISTRESS.
+
+BY R. H. BACON.
+
+
+    When as our good ship courts the gale,
+      To swim once more the ocean,
+    The lessening land wakes in my heart
+      A sad but sweet emotion:
+    For, though I love the broad blue sea,
+      My heart's still true to thee, my love,
+         My heart's still true to thee!
+
+    And when, far out upon the main,
+      We plough the midnight billow,
+    I gaze upon the stars, that shine
+      And smile above thy pillow.
+    And though far out upon the sea,
+      My heart's still true to thee, my love,
+         My heart's still true to thee!
+
+    But when as homeward bound we speed,
+      The swift sea-bird outflying,
+    With throbbing heart I watch the land,
+      Its blue hills far descrying;
+    Impatient, now, to leave the sea.
+      And fold thee to my heart, my love!
+         My heart's still true to thee!
+
+
+
+
+THE PORTRAIT OF GEN. SCOTT.
+
+
+This plate is believed to be one of the most admirable and faithful
+specimens of portraiture ever presented, through the press, to the
+public. We know that it is derived from sources to be relied upon; and
+the reputation of the eminent artist who has executed it is evidence
+that, with such ample materials, his task could not have been illy
+performed.
+
+The events connected with the present war have excited so high a
+degree of interest in the life and character of Gen. Scott, that the
+country has been flooded with biographies good, bad, and indifferent.
+It would not, therefore, be desirable that we should enter into a
+detailed account of the events of a public career long and eventful,
+and every result of which has been honorable to the country.
+
+Gen. Scott was born in 1786, in Virginia. He was educated, for a time,
+at William and Mary College, and pursued the study of the law, until
+military propensities separated him from his profession. In 1808,
+Jefferson appointed him a captain in the army of the United States; in
+1812 he received the commission of lieutenant-colonel, and took post
+on the Canada frontier. In October of that year he greatly
+distinguished himself in the battle of Queenstown Heights. His courage
+was manifested by the most extraordinary daring throughout the entire
+and unequal contest; but his small force was compelled to surrender
+with the honors of war. The whole affair reflected credit upon his
+diminutive force, and upon the young hero who led them. His
+imprisonment was not without dangers that afforded opportunities of
+displaying his lofty courage and chivalrous humanity.
+
+Having been exchanged in May, 1813, he rejoined the army on the
+frontier as adjutant-general. He led the advanced guard, or forlorn
+hope, at the capture of Fort George, displaying extraordinary
+gallantry, and, though wounded, was the first to enter, and raise the
+American flag. His conduct upon this occasion elicited the highest
+praise. In July of the same year, Scott was promoted to the command of
+a double regiment. He was actively engaged in all the subsequent
+efforts of that and the following campaign, and in the intervals of
+service, was employed in instructing the officers in their duties, and
+in drilling the recruits. His eminent services secured him, in March,
+1814, the rank of brigadier general--and he joined General Brown, then
+marching to the Niagara frontier. On the 3d of July, Scott leading the
+van, the Americans crossed the river, and captured Fort Erie. On the
+4th he moved toward Chippewa, in advance of the army, driving the
+British before him. The 5th witnessed the severe and well-contested
+battle of Chippewa. This battle was fought within hearing of the roar
+of Niagara, silenced for a time, as was the earthquake at Cannae, by
+the stormier passions of human conflict. It was a contest between
+divided brethren of the same gallant race; the advantages in the
+battle were all against our country; the glories in the result were
+all with her. Circumstances rendered, in the absence of Gen. Brown,
+Scott, the hero of the field; and profound has been and is the
+gratitude that rewards him.
+
+The 25th of the same month witnessed the still more memorable conflict
+of Niagara. It is not our purpose to describe the battle; suffice it
+to say that it was a contest between warriors worthy of each other's
+steel. Each army, and the flower of the British veterans were present,
+struggled for many hours, and foremost in every daring was found Gen.
+Scott. We need not tell the American reader that we triumphed; but
+Scott, though upon the field throughout the fight, and then, as
+always, in advance, had two horses killed under him, was wounded in
+the side, and at length disabled by a musket-ball through the
+shoulder. After a doubtful and tedious illness he recovered. He
+received from Congress, from the state legislatures, and from the
+people, the amplest evidences of gratitude and admiration.
+
+After the close of the war, Gen. Scott visited Europe, by order of
+government, upon public business; and on his return took command of
+the seaboard. From this time till the Black Hawk War nothing of public
+interest occurred to demand his services. He embarked with a thousand
+troops to participate in that war, in July of 1832; but his operations
+were checked by the cholera. The pestilence smote his army, and he did
+not reach the field before the war was closed. During the prevalence
+of the pestilence he performed in his army every duty among the sick
+that could be expected from a brave, humane, and good man, winning,
+and worthy the title, of the warrior of humanity. He afterward acted
+prominently in effecting the pacification of the warring tribes of the
+North West, and received the official commendation of Secretary Cass.
+
+Gen. Scott was ordered the same year to the Southern Department; and
+during the nullification excitement, is said to have acted, under his
+orders, with great energy and prudence. In 1836 he was ordered to
+Florida, to command the army engaged against the Creeks and Seminoles.
+He spared no effort, and manifested much of enterprise and energy; but
+circumstances, which no skill could have surmounted, rendered his
+exertions ineffectual. His failure was made the subject of inquiry by
+court martial, and he was by the court not merely acquitted, but
+applauded. In 1837, he was ordered to the northern frontier, to meet
+and avert the evil effects of the Canadian rebellion. It is admitted,
+that his efforts were vigorous, wise, and successful, and manifested
+great energy and prudence. In 1838, Gen. Scott was intrusted by the
+government with the removal to the West of the Cherokees. This duty
+was performed with great humanity and ability, and elicited strong
+expressions of gratitude from them, and of praise from the country.
+
+From this duty, completed, he was called to the northern frontier. His
+course there was conciliatory and wise; and doubtless had some
+effect to prevent a conflict with Great Britain.
+
+[Illustration: _ENGRAVED BY T. B. WELCH PHILA^A FOR GRAHAM'S
+MAGAZINE FROM A DAGUERROTYPE BY M. A. ROOT._]
+
+On the commencement of the Mexican war, circumstances prevented
+General Scott from assuming the immediate command of the invading
+force. He was subsequently ordered to the seat of the war; and after a
+series of operations, admitted to be the most brilliant in point of
+science known to modern warfare, he won what were supposed to be
+impregnable, the castle and the town of Vera Cruz. This triumph was
+announced on the 29th of March. The siege occupied fifteen days, and
+was attended with little loss on the side of the Americans. On the
+17th of April, Scott, advancing upon Mexico, issued an order for the
+attack of Cerro Gordo--in which every event that was ordered and
+foreseen seems now to be prophecy; and on the next day he carried that
+Thermopylae of Mexico. The battle was one of the most brilliant in the
+American annals. The orders of Scott, previously given, secure the
+glory of the triumph for himself and his army.
+
+On the 19th, Jalapa was occupied, and on the 22d Perote. In these
+triumphs the army acquired great quantities of munitions. The city of
+Puebla was occupied on the 15th of May: Ten thousand prisoners, seven
+hundred cannon, ten thousand stand of arms, and thirty thousand shells
+and shot were, in the course of these operations, the fruits of
+American skill and valor. But even these achievements were thrown into
+the shade by the glorious triumphs in the vicinity of Mexico. The
+bloody contests at the intrenchments of Contreras, the fortifications
+of Cherubusco and the castle of Chapultepec, and finally the capture
+of Mexico, are of so recent occurrence, and so familiar in all their
+details to the public, that we do not deem it necessary to narrate
+them. Cut off for fifty days from all communications with Vera Cruz,
+the veteran Scott won, with his feeble and greatly diminished force,
+and against defenses deemed impregnable, triumphs that have thrown
+immortal glory around the arms of his country.
+
+Thus segregated, shut out from the hope of home as completely as were
+the soldiers of Cortez when he burned his ships, this little band
+advanced to dangers such as were never before encountered and
+overcome. Science guided and protected the daring invasion; and true
+American hearts, at every bristling danger, supported it, with an
+ardent courage and a calm fortitude scarcely equaled in the wars of
+nations. On the 15th of August, General Scott, by a masterly movement,
+turned the strong works of the Penon and Mexicalzingo, on which the
+enemy had labored and relied. On the 17th the spires of Mexico were in
+sight. The attack upon Contreras took place. It was one of the most
+brilliant achievements of the American arms. San Antonio was also
+carried; and San Pablo assailed, and, after a contest of two hours,
+won. In this battle the general added another to his former scars,
+being wounded in the leg. The terrible conflict of Cherubusco
+succeeded; and again American valor proved invincible. This placed our
+force at the gates of Mexico. The contest was one against four, the
+four having every advantage that military science and superiority of
+position could confer. Having overcome every enemy that dared to
+dispute his path, he spared the city of Mexico. The entire campaign is
+most honorable to the American character and to the reputation of him
+who led it. The impetuosity of his campaigns in the war of 1812 seemed
+mingled with and subdued by the results of a profound study of the
+science of war, in this contest. He dared boldly, and executed
+cautiously, courageously and successfully. Erring in nothing, and
+failing in nothing, he encountered dangers, and passed through scenes
+that belong to romance, but which his iron intellect rendered a
+substantial reality.
+
+
+
+
+O, SCORN NOT THY BROTHER.
+
+BY E. CURTISS HINE.
+
+
+    O, scorn not thy brother,
+      Though poor he may be,
+    He's bound to another
+      And bright world with thee.
+    Should sorrow assail him,
+      Give heed to his sighs,
+    Should strength ever fail him,
+      O, help him to rise!
+
+    The pathway we're roaming,
+      Mid flow'rets may lie,
+    But soon will life's gloaming,
+      Come dark'ning our sky.
+    Then seek not to smother
+      Kind feelings in thee,
+    And scorn not thy brother,
+      Though poor he may be!
+
+    Go, cheer those who languish
+      Their dead hopes among.
+    In whose hearts stern anguish
+      The harp hath unstrung!
+    They'll soon in another
+      Bright land roam with thee,
+    So scorn not thy brother,
+      Though poor he may be!
+
+
+
+
+BEN BOLT.
+
+THE WORDS AND MELODY BY THOMAS DUNN ENGLISH.
+
+ARRANGED FOR THE PIANO FORTE, AND CORDIALLY DEDICATED TO
+
+CHARLES BENJAMIN BOLT, ESQ.
+
+COPYRIGHTED BY GEORGE WILLIG, NO. 171 CHESTNUT STREET, PHILADELPHIA.
+
+
+=Andante con espressione.=
+
+[Illustration: 2 sheets of musical notation]
+
+
+Don't you re-mem-ber sweet Al-ice, Ben Bolt--
+Sweet Al-ice whose hair was so brown--
+Who wept with de-light when you gave her a smile,
+And trem-bled with fear at your frown?
+In the old church yard in the val-ley, Ben Bolt,
+In a cor-ner ob-scure and a-lone,
+They have fit-ted a slab of the gran-ite so gray;
+And Al-ice lies un-der the stone.
+
+
+II.
+
+
+    Under the Hickory tree, Ben Bolt,
+      Which stood at the foot of the hill,
+    Together we've lain in the noonday shade,
+      And listened to Appleton's mill.
+    The mill-wheel has fallen to pieces, Ben Bolt,
+      The rafters have tumbled in,
+    And a quiet which crawls round the walls as you gaze,
+      Has followed the olden din.
+
+
+III.
+
+
+    Do you mind the cabin of logs, Ben Bolt,
+      At the edge of the pathless wood,
+    And the button-ball tree with its motley limbs,
+      Which nigh by the door step stood?
+    The cabin to ruin has gone, Ben Bolt,
+      The tree you would seek in vain;
+    And where once the lords of the forest waved,
+      Grow grass and the golden grain.
+
+
+IV.
+
+
+    And don't you remember the school, Ben Bolt,
+      With the master so cruel and grim,
+    And the shaded nook in the running brook,
+      Where the children went to swim?
+    Grass grows on the master's grave, Ben Bolt,
+      The spring of the brook is dry,
+    And of all the boys that were school-mates then,
+      There are only you and I.
+
+
+V.
+
+
+    There is change in the things that I loved, Ben Bolt,
+      They have changed from the old to the new;
+    But I feel in the core of my spirit the truth,
+      There never was change in you.
+    Twelvemonths twenty have past, Ben Bolt,
+      Since first we were friends, yet I hail
+    Thy presence a blessing, thy friendship a truth--
+      Ben Bolt, of the salt-sea gale.
+
+
+
+
+THE SPIRIT OF SONG.
+
+BY MRS. E. C. KINNEY.
+
+
+    Eternal Fame! thy great rewards,
+      Throughout all time, shall be
+    The right of those old master-bards
+      Of Greece and Italy;
+    And of fair Albion's favored isle,
+    Where Poesy's celestial smile
+      Hath shone for ages, gilding bright
+    Her rocky cliffs, and ancient towers,
+    And cheering this new world of ours
+      With a reflected light.
+
+    Yet, though there be no path untrod
+      By that immortal race--
+    Who walked with Nature, as with God,
+      And saw her, face to face--
+    No living truth by them unsung--
+    No thought that hath not found a tongue
+      In some strong lyre of olden time;
+    Must every tuneful lute be still
+    That may not give a world the thrill
+      Of their great harp sublime?
+
+    Oh, not while beating hearts rejoice
+      In Music's simplest tone,
+    And hear in Nature's every voice
+      An echo to their own!
+    Not till these scorn the little rill
+    That runs rejoicing from the hill,
+      Or the soft, melancholy glide
+    Of some deep stream, through glen and glade,
+    Because 'tis not the thunder made
+      By ocean's heaving tide!
+
+    The hallowed lilies of the field
+      In glory are arrayed,
+    And timid, blue-eyed violets yield
+      Their fragrance to the shade;
+    Nor do the way-side flowers conceal
+    Those modest charms that sometimes steal
+      Upon the weary traveler's eyes
+    Like angels, spreading for his feet
+    A carpet, filled with odors sweet,
+      And decked with heavenly dyes.
+
+    Thus let the affluent Soul of Song--
+      That all with flowers adorns--
+    Strew life's uneven path along,
+      And hide its thousand thorns:
+    Oh, many a sad and weary heart,
+    That treads a noiseless way apart,
+      Has blessed the humble poet's name,
+    For fellowship, refined and free,
+    In meek wild-flowers of poesy,
+      That asked no higher fame!
+
+    And pleasant as the water-fall
+      To one by deserts bound--
+    Making the air all musical
+      With cool, inviting sound--
+    Is oft some unpretending strain
+    Of rural song, to him whose brain
+      Is fevered in the sordid strife
+    That Avarice breeds 'twixt man and man,
+    While moving on, in caravan,
+      Across the sands of Life.
+
+    Yet, not for these alone he sings;
+      The poet's breast is stirred
+    As by the spirit that takes wings
+      And carols in the bird!
+    He thinks not of a future name,
+    Nor whence his inspiration came
+      Nor whither goes his warbled song;
+    As Joy itself delights in joy--
+    His soul finds life in its employ,
+      And grows by utterance strong.
+
+
+
+
+A PARTING.
+
+(AN EXTRACT.)
+
+BY HENRY S. HAGERT.
+
+
+      And now, farewell--and if the warm tear start
+        Unbidden to your eye, oh! do not blush
+      To own it, for it speaks the gen'rous heart,
+        Full to o'erflowing with the fervent gush
+      Of its sweet waters. Hark! I hear the rush
+        Of many feet, and dark-browed Mem'ry brings
+      Her tales of by-gone pleasure but to crush
+        The reed already bending--now, there sings
+    The syren voice of Hope--her of the rainbow wings.
+
+      Ah! well-a-day! Ceased is the witching strain--
+        Fled are they all--and back the senses turn
+      To this dark hour of anguish and of pain--
+        Of rending heart-chords--agony too stern
+      For words to picture it--of thoughts that burn
+        And wither up the heart. I need not tell
+      What now I feel, or if my bosom yearn
+        With love for you at parting--there's a spell
+    To conjure up despair in that wild word--Farewell
+
+
+
+
+REVIEW OF NEW BOOKS.
+
+     _Historical and Select Memoirs of the Empress
+     Josephine, (Marie Rose Tacher de la Pagerie,) First
+     Wife of Napoleon Bonaparte. By M'lle. M. A. Le Normand,
+     Authoress "Des Souvenirs Prophetiques," &c. Translated
+     from the French by Jacob M. Howard, Esq. Philada.:
+     Carey & Hart._
+
+
+The larger portion of this work is made up of the account given by
+Josephine herself of the events of her life; and that part contributed
+by M'lle. Le Normand, completes a biography of the gifted, the
+fortunate and unfortunate queen of Napoleon. The Memoirs of Josephine
+sparkle with French sprightliness, and abound with French sentiment.
+Her style is eminently graceful, and the turn of thought such as we
+would expect from the most accomplished and fascinating woman of her
+times. The narrative is neither very copious nor very regular; but all
+that is told is of the deepest interest. It abounds in domestic
+anecdotes of the great usurper, and reports conversations between him
+and his wife, in which, by the way, her speeches rival, in prolixity,
+those given us by Livy. Many of her views of Bonaparte and herself are
+novel and striking, and calculated, if relied upon, to change opinions
+now generally entertained as truths. In relation to herself, her tone
+is one of almost unvarying self-eulogium; and the amiable and
+excellent qualities which she is known to have possessed need no
+better chronicler. She was of the opinion that her abilities and
+services, which were eminent and various, secured Napoleon's
+advancement at every step of his rapid career from obscurity to the
+imperial throne; and that the loss of her influence and counsels was
+the necessary harbinger of his downfall.
+
+For the movements that secured him the First Consulship, she claims
+almost exclusive credit. That she was an artful politician, and used,
+with great effect, the graces of mind, manner, and person, with which
+she was singularly endowed, to promote the interests of her husband,
+is certain; but it may be doubted whether his mighty genius ever
+leaned for support upon the political skill and counsel of a
+woman--even though that woman were Josephine. She, like her wonderful
+husband, seems to have cherished a superstitious reliance upon
+destiny--a weakness singularly inconsistent with their general
+character. The story of the early prediction that she would become a
+queen is given with an amusing simplicity and earnestness. The
+prophecy is as follows:
+
+"You will be married to a man of a fair complexion, destined to be the
+husband of another of your family. The young lady whose place you are
+called to fill, will not live long. A young Creole, whom you love,
+does not cease to think of you; you will never marry him, and will
+make vain attempts to save his life; but his end will be unhappy. Your
+star promises you two marriages. Your first husband will be a man born
+in Martinique, but he will reside in Europe and wear a sword; he will
+enjoy some moments of good fortune. A sad legal proceeding will
+separate you from him, and after many great troubles, which are to
+befall the kingdom of the _Franks_, he will perish tragically, and
+leave you a widow with two helpless children. Your second husband will
+be of an olive complexion, of European birth; without fortune, yet he
+will become famous; he will fill the world with his glory, and will
+subject a great many nations to his power. You will then become an
+_eminent woman_, and possess a supreme dignity; but many people will
+forget your kindnesses. After having astonished the world, _you will
+die miserable_. The country in which what I foretell must happen,
+forms a part of _Celtic Gaul_; and more than once, in the midst of
+your prosperity, you will regret the happy and peaceful life you led
+in the colony. At the moment you shall quit it, (_but not forever_,) a
+prodigy will appear in the air;--this will be the first harbinger of
+your astonishing destiny."
+
+Any fortune-teller might tell, and no doubt, if she thought it would
+flatter, would tell, a beautiful young girl that her destiny was to be
+a queen; but there is in this prediction a minuteness of detail, that
+cannot be accounted for on the ground of accidental coincidence. It is
+a brief history of her life. Unless we are prepared to believe that an
+ignorant old mulatto woman was gifted by divine Providence with
+supernatural power, constituted a second Witch of Endor, and able by
+"examining the ball of Josephine's left thumb with great attention,"
+to discover the minute particulars of her future life, we must
+discredit the absurdity. A prediction believed sometimes effects its
+own fulfillment; and Josephine, whose ambition seems to have been most
+ardent, may have been inspired with romantic hopes by the foolish
+promise of an ignorant impostor, that she would rise to great
+eminence, and have been stimulated to greater exertions to realize
+those hopes. This may have urged her to intimacy with the corrupt and
+immoral Directory, with whom a beautiful and accomplished woman could
+not fail to be a favorite; may have secured her marriage to a very
+young and ardent man, who all believed must rise to eminence; and may
+have even induced her to excite her husband to the policy which
+secured a crown. But to believe that a prediction, giving all the
+leading events of the lives of several different persons, and those
+persons actors in scenes so wonderful, would be a folly equally weak
+and blasphemous. The same superstition is frequently betrayed in these
+volumes; and we have as many dreams and portents as ever disturbed the
+sleeping and waking hours of the wife of the first Napoleon,
+Caliphurnia.
+
+The pages of these memoirs afford us the harshest and most repulsive
+views of Napoleon's character that we have yet seen. His affectionate
+consort was undoubtedly discerning, and used her keenness of
+perception with proper diligence to discover all her husband's faults.
+We have never shared in the excessive and extraordinary admiration
+with which the character of this man-hater and earth-spoiler is
+regarded in this land of liberty; but it seems to us that the
+portraiture before us would be deemed unjust coming from his foes, and
+is at least singular when traced by the hand of the affectionate and
+gentle Josephine. The praise awarded him is cold, formal and stinted;
+but the censure is interjected among her details with a freedom that
+we could not have anticipated. That she should have resented his
+heartless repudiation of the companion of all his struggles and
+fortunes, is natural, and perhaps just; but that she should have
+revenged the wrong, if indeed that be the motive, by depreciating him
+seems out of character with the Josephine of our imaginations. She
+describes him as vain, cruel, often weak, and at times abjectly
+cowardly. She dwells with great fullness upon his crimes, and passes
+rapidly and coldly over the many great and good things he achieved for
+France. In some instances positive misrepresentations are resorted
+to, calculated to blacken his character. Thus, in relation to the
+disaster at the bridge on the Elster, she says:
+
+"I likewise learned that my husband has passed the only bridge by
+which he could make good his retreat; but in order to prevent pursuit
+by the foreign army, he had ordered it to be blown up at the very
+moment it was covered with thousands of Frenchmen, who were
+endeavoring to fly. By means of this _murderous manoeuvre_ he abandoned
+a part of his army on the bank of the stream."
+
+Now this is a most inhuman calumny, and one that sounds strangely
+coming from a French woman, and that woman the wife of the unfortunate
+Napoleon. Bonaparte's strongest and ablest decryer, Alison, admits
+that the destruction of the bridge was an accident, resulting from the
+mistake of a corporal, who supposed the retreating French upon the
+bridge were the pursuing allies, and fired the train. It is seldom
+that we expect to find extraordinary instances of conjugal affection
+upon thrones; and we are strongly disposed to believe that the love of
+Josephine for her husband has been exaggerated. According to her own
+account, she had many previous draughts made upon her capital stock of
+love; and she describes her marriage with Napoleon as one induced by
+the representations of Barras and Mad. Tallien of the advantages to be
+derived from it. She thus characterizes her feelings toward Bonaparte
+just before marriage. "I discovered in him a tone of assurance and
+exaggerated pretension, which injured him greatly in my estimation.
+The more I studied his character, the more I discovered the oddities
+for which I was at a loss to account; and at length he inspired me
+with so much aversion that I ceased to frequent the house of Mad.
+Chat*** Ren***, where he spent his evenings." Notwithstanding the
+excessive affection professed, a large portion of the period of their
+connection seems to have been embroiled and troubled. Yet there can be
+no doubt that she devoted herself assiduously and faithfully to the
+promotion and protection of the greatness which she shared; and, at
+the close of her career, though she caressed his conquerors, she died
+uttering the warmest expressions of affection for him, even in the
+presence of his foe. The death-scene, as described by M'lle. Le
+Normand, is truly touching. Her last tears fell upon the portrait of
+Napoleon.
+
+The whole story is full of romance, and will be read with great
+interest. The translator has performed his task with eminent ability;
+and the volumes are printed in a style highly creditable to the
+publishers.
+
+
+     _Memoir of Sarah B. Judson, Member of the American
+     Mission to Burmah. By "Fanny Forester." New York: L.
+     Colby & Co._
+
+
+It cannot be necessary for us to recommend to the readers of Graham's
+Magazine any work from the pen of the fascinating "Fanny Forester."
+Her literary history is associated in their minds with the most
+agreeable recollections of a female writer, among the sweetest, the
+most brilliant, the most charming of the many whom our country has
+produced. They will remember her, too, in that most eventful scene and
+surprising change of her life, in which the popular authoress was
+suddenly, and voluntarily, transformed into the humble missionary;
+sacrificing, from a sense of Christian duty, all the pride and
+allurements of literary distinction, along with friends, home, the
+safety and happiness of civilized society, that she might take up the
+cross, and carry it, an offering of salvation, to the benighted
+Heathen of Asia, even in the depths of their own far and pestilential
+climates.
+
+The missionary appears again as on authoress; but it is in the lowly
+attitude of a biographer commemorating the virtues of a departed
+sister and predecessor in the same field of Christian devotion--the
+devoted and sainted woman whose places "Fanny Forester" herself now
+occupies as a wife and missionary, performing the same duties, exposed
+to the same trials and sufferings, in the same distant and perilous
+regions of Asia. The subject and the writer are thus united--we might
+say identified--as parts of the same attractive theme, and co-actors
+in the same sacred drama. Under such circumstances, the Memoir of Mrs.
+Judson could not be otherwise than profoundly interesting; and it will
+prove so, not only to all those who admire the authoress, but to all
+who love the cause to which she has dedicated her talents, her life,
+her fame. It is, indeed, a beautiful, a deeply engaging, an affecting
+volume, uniting a kind of romantic character, derived from the scenes
+and perils it describes, with the deeper interest of a record of the
+evangelization of the heathen. It is peculiarly adapted, too, to the
+reading of people of the world, whose hearts have not yet been warmed,
+or whose minds have not been instructed, on the subject of Christian
+missions. They cannot take it up without reading it; they cannot read
+it without rising better informed, and with better dispositions than
+before, in regard to the great cause which boasts--or has
+boasted--such servants as Mrs. Judson and "Fanny Forester."
+
+
+     _The History of a Penitent. A Guide for the Inquiring,
+     in a Commentary on the One Hundred and Thirtieth Psalm.
+     By George W. Bethune, D.D., Minister of the Third
+     Reformed Dutch Church, Philadelphia. Henry Perkins, 142
+     Chestnut Street._
+
+
+This work, which is beautifully dedicated to Dr. Alexander, is written
+with much of the characteristic force and fervor of its author, and
+with more than his ordinary research and elaboration. He informs us
+that his purpose has been to help the inquiring soul and young
+Christian with counsel taken immediately from the unerring word: he
+has therefore studied conformity to scripture, rather than novelty of
+thought, and plainness more than grace of style. Yet there is in this
+volume much of the author's usual boldness of originality and peculiar
+felicity of expression. Our readers have been made acquainted with the
+high merits of Dr. Bethune as a poet, by his contributions to
+"Graham;" but highly as we appreciate his verse, there is a
+directness, an originality, an old-fashioned power in his prose which
+we prefer, and which we think place him in the first class of American
+writers. On subjects like that treated in the volume before us, his
+whole heart and mind seem to be poured into his pages; and in their
+perusal we doubt whether most to admire the divine or the rhetorician.
+
+
+     _Keble's Christian Year: Thoughts in Verse for the
+     Sundays and Holidays throughout the Year. Philadelphia:
+     Geo. S. Appleton. 148 Chestnut Street._
+
+
+This beautiful volume is printed from the thirty-first London edition.
+Its merits are so well and universally known and appreciated that to
+review it would, to our readers, be tedious as a twice told tale.
+Suffice it to say, that its object is to bring the thoughts and
+feelings of worshipers into more entire unison with those recommended
+and exemplified in the Prayer Book. The poetry of this volume is often
+even worthy the exalted subjects of which it treats, and is never
+unworthy them. Its extraordinary popularity is the best evidence of
+its merit; for poetry is never generally and permanently popular
+without real merit.
+
+
+Transcriber's Note:
+
+1. page 195--removed extra quote at end of paragraph 'boot-maker,
+   landlady, and others?'
+
+2. page 195--removed repeated word 'five'
+
+3. page 198--changed comma to period at end of sentence 'knock the
+   fort to pieces'
+
+4. page 200--corrected typo 'litle' to 'little' in stanza beginning
+   '"Spirit, I am of litle worth,"
+
+5. page 203--added missing end quote at end of poem
+
+6. page 205--removed extraneous double quote mark from sentence '"Pooh!
+   you green-horn!" said Jack Reeves,'
+
+7. page 206--added missing single quote in sentence '...answered the
+   skipper; so suit yourself'
+
+8. page 213--changed punctuation at end of sentence '...now I am willing
+   to die.,' to period + double quote
+
+9. page 213--added missing double quote at end of sentence '...before I
+   sail, with your permission.'
+
+10. page 213--added missing double quote in sentence '...as we drove off.
+    You told the truth...'
+
+11. page 215--changed comma to period at end of sentence 'Yes, dear
+    Frank,"'
+
+12. page 215--added missing double quote to sentence '...thumping his right
+    side, you lacerate my heart...'
+
+13. page 216--added missing double quote at end of sentence '...You are
+    the most angelic, adorable--'
+
+14. page 220--corrected typo 'vison' to 'vision' in line 'Scenes of the
+    past before his vison'
+
+15. page 221--corrected comma to period at end of sentence '...humid
+    with tears,'
+
+16. page 227--removed extra quote at start of sentence 'Ah! happy,
+    satisfied Leland!'
+
+17. page 228--added missing quote at end of article
+
+18. page 229--added missing right bracket to sentence '...and then
+    they know better.'
+
+19. page 231--corrected typo "lanched" to "launched" in sentence '...for
+    Pauline was fairly lanched.'
+
+20. page 240--corrected typo "Chistian" to "Christian" in title block
+    of article
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Graham's Magazine, Vol. XXXII No. 4,
+April 1848, by Various
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GRAHAM'S MAGAZINE ***
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