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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-14 19:53:08 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-14 19:53:08 -0700 |
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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/30116-0.txt b/30116-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9b302c5 --- /dev/null +++ b/30116-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6770 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 30116 *** + +[Illustration: Sir W. C. Rofs, R.A. A.B. Ross +THE UNMARRIED BELLE +Engraved Expressly for Graham's Magazine] + + +GRAHAM'S MAGAZINE. + +VOL. XXXIII. PHILADELPHIA, OCTOBER, 1848. No. 4. + + + + +THE UNMARRIED BELLE. + +BY ENNA DUVAL. + +[SEE ENGRAVING.] + + + Talk not of wasted affection, affection never was wasted; + If it enrich not the heart of another, its waters returning + Back to their springs, like the rain, shall fill them full of refreshment; + That which the fountain sends forth returns again to the fountain. + Patience; accomplish thy labor; accomplish thy work of affection! + Sorrow and silence are strong, and patient endurance is godlike; + Therefore accomplish thy labor of love, till the heart is made godlike, + Purified, strengthened, perfected, and rendered more worthy of heaven! + LONGFELLOW'S EVANGELINE. + + +I was loitering beside my mother's chair, in her drawing-room, one day +on my return from school, listening to the conversation between her +and some morning visiters; they were discussing most earnestly the +merits of a reigning belle. + +"She is, indeed, perfectly beautiful," exclaimed my mother. "I looked +at her the other evening, when I saw her at the last concert, and +thought a more lovely creature could not exist. The music excited her, +and her cheek was delicately flushed, which heightened the brilliancy +of her eyes; her lovely lips were just half apart and trembling with +feeling. Then she understands so well the art and mystery of dressing. +While other young ladies around her were in the full pride of +brilliant _costume_, the eye felt freshened and relieved when looking +at her--there was such a repose in her _demi-toilette_. The simple +white dress was so pure and chaste in its effect, displaying only her +lovely throat, and her beautiful chestnut-brown hair was gathered up +carelessly but neatly, while over one tiny ear fell a rich cluster of +ringlets; then, with all her beauty and exquisite taste, she is so +unconscious, so unstudied. That the world should call Mary Lee a +beauty, I do not wonder; but that society should pronounce her a +belle, is, indeed, a surprise to me--she is so unassuming, so free +from art and _affectation_." + +"So unlike her mother," exclaimed a lady, eagerly. "I think Mary's +success in society is as gratifying as unexpected to Mrs. Lee. She +delayed her _entrée_ into society as long as she could, and used to +lament most piteously to me the trouble she expected to have with her, +from her total want of animation and spirit. But now she seems to have +entirely forgotten her former misgivings, for she takes many airs on +herself about Mary's popularity, talking all the while as though +scarcely any one was good enough for the husband of the daughter she +pronounced one year ago a stupid, inanimate creature." + +"Ah!" said a gentleman, laughing, "the tie now is between young Morton +and Langley, I believe. As Langley is the more _distingué_ of the two, +I suppose the mother will favor him; but if one can judge from +appearances, the daughter prefers Harry Morton." + +"I can assure you," interrupted Mr. Foster, an intimate friend of our +family, "the daughter has quite as much admiration for the rich Mr. +Langley as the mother. There is a little incident connected with that +same concert Mrs. Duval speaks of, that convinces me of the daughter's +powers of management." + +"Shame on you, Philip Foster!" said my mother, "you should not talk +thus of any lady, much less of Mary Lee." + +"What was the incident, Mr. Foster?" eagerly inquired the other +ladies. + +"Yes, do tell us, Phil," urged his gentleman friend. + +My mother looked reproachfully at Mr. Foster, but he shook his head +laughingly at her, as he said, + +"Hear me first, dear Mrs. Duval, before you judge. I was at Mrs. Lee's +two or three mornings since. Several visitors were in the +drawing-rooms, among them Harry Morton, as usual. I was looking at a +new and costly collection of engravings on the _commode_ table, when I +overheard Harry Morton ask Miss Lee if he should join their party at +the concert the next evening. She replied that she regretted they +were not going, for she had already promised her mother to dine and +spend the evening quietly with an old friend. The next evening at the +concert the whole Lee party were there, and our belle, Miss Mary, was +brought in by young Langley, just newly arrived from Europe. The +unconscious _demi-toilette_ Mrs. Duval speaks so admiringly of, had +the desired effect. Langley's taste has been chastened by a voyage +over the Atlantic; the noisy over-dressing of his countrywomen would, +of course, annoy his delicate sense--therefore was the simple home +costume adopted in preference, and the "_available_" Mr. Langley +secured as an admirer." + +"I do not believe any such thing, Philip!" exclaimed my mother, +indignantly. "I will answer for it, there was some mistake. Mary Lee +would scorn a falsehood, and is entirely above all artifice or design. +Mrs. Lee is said to be maneuvering and worldly; if she is, her +daughter is entirely free from such influences." + +"How did Morton take it, Phil?" asked the other friend, laughingly. + +"He was with me," replied Mr. Foster, evidently enjoying with some +little malice my kind mother's annoyance, "we had dropped into the +concert by chance together. He looked thunderstruck, but said nothing, +and did not approach her during the whole evening. She knew he was +there, however, for I saw her return his cold bow in a painfully +embarrassed manner." + +The entrance of some other visiters, connected with the Lees, put an +end to the conversation. That night, when my nurse was undressing me +for bed, I said, + +"What's a belle, Katy?" + +"A very rich and beautiful young lady," replied my nurse, "who has +plenty of lovers, and gets married very soon." + +"Will I ever be a belle?" I innocently inquired, as she gathered up my +rebellious hair under my cap. + +"No," she replied, in impatient tones, "your hair is too straight, and +your skin too yellow; but you must do as you're told to, or else +nobody will even love you; so go to sleep right away." + +I was silenced, and thus obedience was obtained by appealing to my +love of approbation. Many years passed, bringing me to womanhood, when +I discovered the truth of Nurse Katy's reason why I should not be a +belle. Other people decided that my "hair was too straight, and my +skin too yellow," to use Katy's homely, rough words; but her _brusque_ +admonition, that made me go to sleep so quickly when a child, acted +upon me as a woman. My approbativeness once roused, I managed, despite +my want of personal attractions, to secure a host of friends; and the +lesson I then learned, to please others rather than myself for the +sake of gaining their love, has caused my life thus far to be very +sunny and happy, even more so than if I had been the belle my childish +fancy desired. + +One of Nurse Katy's principal attributes of a belle, however, Mary Lee +was deficient in. She did not get married at all--and Mary Lee she +remained all her life. But she was one of the loveliest old maids in +the world, and quite as popular in our circle as she had been in her +own. She had been confined many years with an invalid mother and +paralytic father, but after their death some time, she re-entered +society; and her house was the favorite resort of the new set of young +people, as it had been in her young days. She gave the most delightful +parties, planned the most pleasant enjoyments for us, and although +acknowledging herself to be an old maid, she still retained her +youthful feelings unimpaired. + +Her mind remained in a fresh, healthy state, and her disposition was +still sweet and joyous. How we all loved her; she was our confidante, +adviser and friend. She was still pretty, and might have proved a very +formidable rival had she chosen to enter society as a young lady; but +she preferred being regarded by us as an elder friend. The young +ladies grouped around her as younger sisters; and one half the young +gentlemen would have married her _instanter_, notwithstanding she was +ten or fifteen years their senior. Old maid as she was, strange to +tell, she was a promoter of marriages. The ill-natured called Mary Lee +a match-maker. She certainly did interest herself very much with +lovers, fathoming all the little mysteries of their love-quarrels, and +setting every thing quite straight, even when they seemed in +inextricable confusion. + +Miss Lee had been very fond of my mother, and extended to me the same +regard, therefore I was, notwithstanding the difference in our ages, +on a more intimate footing with her than her other young friends. One +day, as we were discussing the merits of an approaching wedding, the +conversation assumed a confidential tone. + +"Indeed, Enna," she exclaimed, laughingly, "there is nothing more +interesting to me than a couple of lovers full of romance, poetry, and +perfectly blind and uncaring as to the future. I love to watch them in +courtship, lend them a helping hand in the quicksands of that +dangerous but delicious season; and then it makes me so happy to +congratulate them after their troubles are all over, and they are +happily married." + +"Ah! if they only could be sure of happiness," I replied. + +"Shame on you for that old maid's croak!" she said, with a bright +look; "those who are not happy in married life, would never be happy +in any situation. There should be no old maids or old bachelors, Enna; +we would all be happier married; we fail in fulfilling our missions +when we remain single. Hunt up a lover, Enna; let me watch your +courtship, and rejoice over your wedding. As a clever friend of mine +once said, we think poetry as lovers, but in married life we act true +poetry." + +I opened my eyes with astonishment, and innocently asked, "Why is it, +then, you have never married?" + +A shadow crossed over her face, and I felt a desire to recall the +question, for I feared I had called up disagreeable reminiscences, but +the next instant her countenance was as beaming and calm as before. + +"I will tell you, Enna," she said, as she caressingly rested her head +on my shoulder, "why I have never married; but to do that I must +relate the history of my rather uneventful life. My story has but +little interest, but it will gratify the curiosity of one who loves +me. My childhood was spent with an old aunt. She took me when I was a +delicate wee thing, and I remained with her until her death, which +took place when I was nearly grown. She was a dear, good old lady, and +with her my life passed most happily; my short visits home gave me +little pleasure, for my mother was a very worldly, ambitious woman, +and displayed but little tenderness for me, which, when contrasted +with my aunt's fondness and indulgence, made me feel quite as a +stranger in my family; and when Aunt Mary died, I wept as bitterly, +and felt as lonely and bereft of friends, as though I did not possess +a mother, father, and sisters. The two years after my aunt's death +were spent in close attention to those accomplishments which had been +neglected in my education as unnecessary, and which my mother deemed +so essential; and not a day passed without my poor mother's +exclamations of despair over me. + +"'One comfort there is, however,' she would say, 'your aunt's little +fortune of a few thousands will be exaggerated in society, and people +will forget your _mauvaise honte_ in giving you credit for being an +heiress.' + +"But the report of my being an heiress was not needed, for when I +entered society, to my mother's amazement, I created quite a +sensation. I had been looked upon as a pretty girl always; but my +mother had so often declared that I was so inanimate and innocent, she +never would be able to do any thing with me, and my pretty face would +be of no service to me, that I looked upon myself as quite an ordinary +person, and was as much surprised at my belle-hood as my family. I +wonder my little head was not turned with the attentions I received, +so unused as I had been to admiration; it might have been, however, +had not a disappointment--a bitter, heart-aching disappointment, +wearied me of all this adulation and attention. + +"Soon after my entrance into society, I became acquainted with a Mr. +Morton--agreeable, good-looking, and attentive he was, of +course--quite an acquisition to me in my circle of admirers. His +worldly qualifications were not of so brilliant a nature as to attract +my prudent mother's fancy, for he was only a young lawyer of slender +means and moderate practice. I do not think she ever dreamed of the +interest he excited in me, but looked upon him as one of the crowd of +attendants necessarily surrounding a belle. But how differently I +regarded him. The piles of costly bouquets I received daily, gained +but little attention from me, unless I discerned among them the tiny +bunch of sweet-violets, tea-roses, and mignonette, which he once in a +great while sent me. In my ball-tablets my eyes sought the dances +marked down for him; and when he was my partner, the dance, generally +so wearisome, was only too short, too delightful; the reminiscence of +that happy time makes a silly girl of me again. My mother never +imagined he aspired to my hand--she would have looked aghast at the +bare mention of such a probability; but she regarded him as a friend, +and he was a great favorite with her. She used to say young men like +Harry Morton, that knew their places, were invaluable acquaintances +for a belle; thus were we thrown a great deal together. She was so +blind to his real position with me, quick-sighted as she generally was +in other things, I was permitted to have him for my partner in +dancing, even for several quadrilles during an evening; he was my +constant attendant in my daily rides on horseback, and my mother never +hesitated to call upon him if we were at any time in need of an escort +to a ball or opera. He was upon the footing of a brother or cousin in +the family; but, ah! how dear was he to me. Without any actual +explanation, I felt sure of Harry Morton's love. I never had any +doubts or jealousies--we seemed to perfectly understand each other. I +never looked forward to our future--I was too quietly happy in the +present. I only dated from one meeting to another--from the dinner to +the party, when he would be ready to hand us from our carriage, to +take me off my father's arm in compliance with my mother's constant +inquiry and request of, 'Where's Harry Morton? Here, Harry, do take +charge of Mary,' a request which he always seemed delighted to obey. +Then, after the happy good-night, I would lie my head on the pillow to +dream of him and the morning ride we would take together. Why he never +spoke to me of his love I cannot tell. It might have been that +feelings of delicacy restrained him; my father was rich, while he was +but a poor young lawyer; then report had made me an heiress in my own +right, as well as a belle, to my worldly mother's great content. That +he loved me I am sure, though he never told me with his lips. + +"One morning my mother said to me, 'Do not make any engagement for +to-morrow, Mary; we must dine _en famille_ with dear old Mrs. Langley; +we have not been there for a month.' + +"Now this Mrs. Langley was a person of great consideration in my +mother's eyes. She was very wealthy, and, moreover, had been at the +head of the fashionable world for many years. Since my entrance into +society, she had been quite an invalid, and rarely appeared in public, +but it gratified her exceedingly to have her friends around her, for +she dreaded yielding up her command in the world. My mother was an +especial favorite of hers; and after I had taken such a prominent +situation in society, she expressed great regard for me. Once in a +month or so we spent a day with her. She lived in great style--a +stately dinner, and a stupid, grand, heavy evening was the amount of +the visit. How I used to dread the coming of the day; it was the only +time I was separated from Harry, for Mrs. Langley being very +exclusive, and making no new acquaintances, he had no _entrée_ there. +I used to sing for her, arrange her worsteds, tell her of the parties +and different entertainments, and read to her her son's last letter. +She had only one son, and he had been in Europe for two or three +years. He was her idol, and she never tired talking of him. Dear old +lady, my conscience smote me many times for the feelings of impatient +weariness and _ennui_ I would give way to during one of her tedious +dinner parties. + +"The following morning after my mother had announced the visit of +penance, Harry Morton made his appearance in our drawing-rooms, as +usual, with the other morning visiters. Every one was talking of a new +singer who was to make her _debût_ on that evening. + +"'May I join your party at the concert this evening?' Harry asked me, +in a low voice. + +"'I regret exceedingly,' I replied, 'that we are not going to the +concert. I have already promised mamma to spend a quiet day and +evening with an old friend of hers. You must listen attentively to +this new _donna_, and tell me all about her voice if you go.' + +"'I do not think I shall go,' he replied, in low, earnest tones, 'for +I could not enjoy the concert if not with you.' A turn in the general +conversation drew us more into notice, and some ladies and gentlemen +entering, put an end to all further intercourse between us; how long I +remembered and cherished those last words of his. When I made my +appearance in my mother's room at 5 o'clock, shawl and hood in hand, +she regarded me from head to foot smilingly. + +"'What new caprice to-day?' she said, 'and yet I must confess it is +very becoming to you.' + +"I had felt too languid to dress much, and as the weather was warm, +spring being quite far advanced, I had chosen a simple white mull robe +for the visit to our old friend, knowing that we should meet with but +few visiters there. This I explained apologetically to my mother, who +tapped me with her fan good-naturedly, saying that beauties were +cunning creatures, they liked to show once in a while they could defy +the aid of ornament. The first few months of my entrance into society +my mother superintended, with great attention, all my _toilettes_; but +near the close of the season she fell into the general opinion, that +what ever I did was exactly right; and poor little me, that one short +half-year before had no right to express an opinion upon so grave a +subject as dress, was now constantly appealed to; and whatever style I +adopted was perfect in her eyes. Society had placed its stamp upon me, +I could pass current as a coin of high value to her. + +"When I reached Mrs. Langley's, I found the old lady attended by but +one gentleman, who, beside ourselves, was her only visiter. What was +my surprise to hear her introduce him as her son, Templeton Langley. +The dinner passed more pleasantly than usual, for Mr. Langley made +himself very agreeable. After dinner he proposed we should go to the +concert, as he felt an interest in the new _primadonna_, having heard +her at her _debût_ in Europe. I made an objection, which was overruled +by Mrs. Langley's expressing a desire--strange for her--to go +likewise; and we went. I had not been ten minutes in the room when, on +lifting my eyes, the first person I saw was Harry Morton looking +sternly at me. Foolishly, I grew embarrassed, my face burned, and my +whole frame trembled with nervous agitation. He did not approach me, +but gave me only a cold bow. 'He thinks me guilty of falsehood,' I +said to myself. How wretchedly passed the evening, and yet I have no +doubt I was an object of envy to many of my young lady friends. The +rich _distingué_, Templeton Langley showed himself my devoted admirer, +while his mother, the acknowledged leader of _ton_, sat beside us +smiling approvingly. My indifferent, cold manner, my simple costume, +and my beautiful face, completed that evening the conquest of the +fastidious, fashionable young man. You cannot imagine the delight of +my mother, when day after day found Templeton Langley constantly +beside me, she could scarcely restrain her exultation; while I, poor +child, listened with aching, throbbing senses for the approach of one +who never came near me. Two or three weeks passed in a whirl of +gayety. It was the close of the season, and one or two brides in our +circle made the parties very constant. Mrs. Langley proposed that our +family should join her son and herself in their summer visit to the +Lakes; accordingly we did so, and we spent more than three months +traveling. Ere the close of those three months, Templeton Langley +offered himself to me. I could not describe to you the scene that +ensued between my mother and myself when I rejected him. She was a +worldly woman, and my conduct seemed perfectly wild to her. She +remonstrated, persuaded, then reproached me in impatient, angry tones. +My father was a quiet, amiable man, and rarely interfered with my +mother in her management, but he fortunately shook off enough of his +lethargy to come to my rescue at this time. + +"'If Mary does not love Mr. Langley,' he said, 'why urge her to marry +him? Do not scold the poor child,' and he drew me toward him tenderly. + +"Templeton Langley was rather an indifferent person in every way. His +wealth, combined with his situation in the fashionable world, placed +him in a fictitious light; but he had little intelligence, no +originality, and only a passable personal appearance. I was constantly +drawing the comparison between him and Harry Morton. Harry was so +handsome, so brilliant in conversation--and this thought rendered poor +Mr. Langley, with all his fastidious, elegant manners, quite +unbearable to me. To think of being tied to such a man for life was +perfect martyrdom for me; and although hitherto so yielding, I showed +myself on this occasion obstinate. Floods of tears I shed, and my +mother fancied at first she could overcome my 'ridiculous +sentimentality,' as she called it, but in vain; and finding a friend +in my father, I remained firm. I felt more sorry for old Mrs. Langley, +who was, indeed, terribly distressed, but she treated me very kindly, +and exonerated me from all blame. She was, however, really very fond +of me, and had set her heart upon having me for a daughter. Mr. +Langley returned to Europe, and for many months our circle of friends +were quite at a loss to know whether he had offered, been accepted, +or refused, or whether he had only flirted with me. My mother felt too +disappointed to boast of the rejection; and, moreover, she was so +occupied in bringing out my sister, Emma, as to have little time to +think of me or my affairs. My sister was but seventeen, three years +younger than I, but much nearer my age in appearance. I found myself +now of but secondary consideration in my mother's eyes. I fear she +really disliked me then. She was an ambitious woman, and had set her +heart upon my making a brilliant match; this favorite hope of hers I +had blighted, and feeling little interest in society, I became of less +consequence, for my sad, absent manner made me, of course, +uninteresting; therefore, as my reign as a belle was over, my poor +mother now sought to dismiss me from her mind and occupy herself with +other objects. + +"Harry Morton had gone to the Southwest ere we returned from our +summer's journey, and we never met again. A year or so afterward I +heard of his marriage with a dashing southern belle, and he is now a +distinguished man at the South. After these perplexing, unfortunate +misunderstandings, my health failed, and for a long while I was an +invalid, rarely appearing in society. My two sisters, Emma and Alice, +were more lucky than I, for they married happily, and with my mother's +gratified approbation--for they each made the 'best match of their +season.' Neither one was so pretty as I had been, and as my mother +used to ejaculate, + +"'Thank Heaven! neither Emma nor Alice are belles; they at least will +not trouble me with their exaggerated notions about love and all that +nonsense.' + +"I passed a miserable, wretched existence for a year or more after +Harry and I were separated. How earnestly I prayed for death, so +completely prostrated was my spirit by my disappointment. I felt as +lonely as I had at the time of dear Aunt Mary's death. In time, +however, I aroused myself from my morbid feelings, and in reading and +study found at first occupation, then strength and content. + +"The week after my youngest sister was married my father was stricken +down with paralysis. I was the only one at home with my parents, for +my bride sister had sailed for Europe the day after her wedding, and +Emma was far distant in her Southern home, having married a wealthy +South Carolinian two years before. Faithfully I devoted myself to my +father, and when my mother, a year afterward, was seized with a +painful, lingering disease, I made myself so necessary to her comfort, +that she at last acknowledged, that what had appeared to be her +greatest trouble had proved her greatest blessing. She altered very +much before her death, and lost entirely all those worldly feelings +which had actuated her during her early life. She suffered for many +years at times agonizing pain, and during this time I was sole +companion and nurse to my parents. Often I thanked Providence for +having denied to me my early love, granting to me in lieu an +opportunity of fulfilling the most holy of duties. See, Enna, to what +an unromantic and yet enviable state of mind I at last attained. +Believe me, dearest, we never should grieve over unavoidable troubles, +for many times they are but the rough husk of that sweet kernel--a +hidden blessing." + + + + +ZENOBIA. + +BY MYRON L. MASON. + + + 'Twas holyday in Rome. Her sevenfold hills + Were trembling with the tread of multitudes + Who thronged her streets. Hushed was the busy hum + Of labor. Silent in the shops reposed + The implements of toil. A common love + Of country, and a zeal for her renown, + Had warmed all hearts, and mingled for a day + Plebian ardor with patrician pride. + The sire, the son, the matron and the maid, + Joined in bestowing on their emperor + The joyous benedictions of the state. + Alas! about that day's magnificence + Was spread a web of _shame_! The victor's sword + Was stained with cowardice--his dazzling fame + Tarnished by insult to a fallen woman. + Returning from his conquests in the East, + Aurelian led in his triumphant train + Palmyra's beauteous queen, Zenobia, + Whose only crime had been the love she bore + To her own country and her household gods. + + Long had the Orient owned the sovereign sway + Of Rome imperial, and in forced submission + Had bowed the neck to the oppressor's yoke. + The corn of Syria, her fruits and wares, + The pearls of India, Araby's perfumes, + The golden treasures of the mountains, all + Profusely poured in her luxurious lap, + Crowned to the full her proud magnificence. + Rome regal, throned on her eternal hills, + With power supreme and wide-extended hand, + Plundered the prostrate nations without stint + Of all she coveted, and, chiefly thou, + O Liberty, the birthright boon of Heaven. + But Rome had passed her noon; her despotism + Was overgrown; an earthquake was at work + At her foundations; and new dynasties, + Striking their roots in ripening revolutions, + Were soon to sway the destinies of realms. + + The East was in revolt. The myriad seeds + Of dark rebellion, sown by tyranny, + And watered by the blood of patriots slain, + Were springing into life on every hand. + Success was alternating in this strife + 'Twixt power and _right_, and anxious Victory, + With balance poised, the doubtful issue feared. + Amid the fierce contention, 'mid the din + Of war's sublime encounter, and the crash + Of falling systems old, Palmyra's queen + Followed her valiant lord, Palmyra's king. + Ever beside him in the hour of peril, + She warded from his breast the battle's rage; + And in the councils of the cabinet + Her prudent wisdom was her husband's guide. + + Domestic treason, with insidious stab, + Snatched from Zenobia's side her gallant lord, + And threw into her hand the exigencies + Of an unstable and capricious throne. + Yet was her genius not inadequate. + The precepts of experience, intertwined + With intellectual power of lofty grade, + Combined to raise Palmyra's beauteous queen + High in the golden scale of moral greatness. + Under the teachings of the good Longinus + The streams of science flowed into her mind; + And, like the fountain-fostered mountain lake, + Her soul was pure as its ethereal food. + The patronage bestowed on learned men + Declared her love for letters. The rewards, + Rich and unnumbered, she conferred on merit + Her own refined, exalted taste betrayed. + Her graceful and majestic figure, crowned + With beauty such as few but angels wear, + Like the rich casing that surrounds the gem, + Heightened the splendor of her brilliant genius. + Equally daring on the battle-field + And in the chase, her prudence and her courage, + Displayed in many a hot emergency, + Had twined victorious laurel round her brow. + Under her rule Palmyra's fortunes rose + To an unequalled altitude, and wealth + Flowed in upon her like a golden sea, + Her wide dominion, stretching from the Nile + To the far Euxine and Euphrates' flood-- + Her active commerce, whose expanded range + Monopolized the trade of all the East-- + Her stately capital, whose towers and domes + Vied with proud Rome in architectural grace-- + Her own aspiring aims and high renown-- + All breathed around the Asiatic queen + An atmosphere of greatness, and betrayed + Her bold ambition, and her rivalry + With the imperial mistress of the world. + + But 't is the gaudiest flower is soonest plucked; + The sturdiest oak first feels the builder's axe. + Palmyra's rising greatness had awaked + The jealousy of Rome, and Fortune looked + On her prosperity with envious eye. + Under the golden eagles of the empire, + Aurelian's soldiers swept the thirsty sands, + And poured into Palmyra's palmy plains, + A mighty host hot for the battle-field. + Borne on her gallant steed, the warrior queen + The conflict sought, and led her eager troops + Into the stern encounter. Like the storm + Of their own desert plain, innumerable, + They rushed upon the foe, and courted danger. + Amid the serried ranks, whose steel array + Glowed in the noonday sun, and threw a flood + Of wavy sheen into the fragrant air, + Zenobia rode; and, like an angry spirit, + Commissioned from above to chastise men, + Where'er she moved was death. There was a flash + Of scorn that lighted up her fiery eye, + A glance of wrath upon her countenance-- + There was a terror in her frenzied arm + That struck dismay into the boldest heart. + Alas for her, Fortune was unpropitious! + Her fearless valor found an overmatch + In the experienced prudence of Aurelian; + And scarcely could the desert's hardy sons + Cope with the practiced legions of the empire. + The battle gained, Palmyra taken, sacked-- + Its queen a captive, hurled from off a throne, + Stripped of her wide possessions, forced to sue + In humblest attitude for even life-- + The haughty victor led his weary legions + Back to Italia's shores, and in his train + His fallen rival, loaded with chains of gold, + Forged from the bullion of her treasury. + + 'T was holyday in Rome. The morning sun, + Emerging from the palace-crested hills + Of the Campagna, poured a flood of light + Upon the slumbering city, summoning + Its teeming thousands to the festival. + A playful breeze, rich-laden with perfume + From groves of orange, gently stirred the leaves, + And curled the ripples on the Tiber's breast, + Bearing to seaward o'er the flowery plain + The rising peans' joyful melodies. + Flung to the wind, high from the swelling dome + That crowned the Capitol, the imperial banner, + Broidered with gold and glittering with gems, + Unfurled its azure field; and, as it caught + The sunbeams and flashed down upon the throng + That filled the forum, there arose a shout + Deep as the murmur of the cataract. + In that spontaneous outburst of applause + _Rome spoke_; and as the echo smote the hills + It woke the slumbering memory of a time + When Rome was _free_. + + A trumpet from the walls + Proclaimed the day's festivities begun. + Preceded by musicians and sweet singers, + A long procession passed the city-gate, + And, traversing the winding maze of streets, + Climbed to the Capitol. Choice victims, dressed + With pictured ornaments and wreaths of flowers, + An offering to the tutelary gods, + Led the advance. Then followed spoils immense, + Baskets of jewels, vases of wrought gold, + Paintings and statuary, cloths and wares, + Of costliest manufacture, close succeeded + By the rich symbols of Palmyra's glory, + Torn from her temples and her palaces, + To grace a triumph in the streets of Rome. + With toilsome step next walked the captive queen; + And then the victor, in his car of state, + With milk-white horses of Thessalian breed, + And in his retinue a splendid train + Of Rome's nobility. In one long line + The army last appeared in bright array, + With banners high displayed, filling the air + With songs of victory. The pageant proud + Quickened remembrance of departed days, + And warmed the bosoms of the multitude + With deep devotion to the commonwealth. + + High in his gilded chariot, decked in robes + Of broidered purple, and with laurel crowned, + Rode the triumphant conqueror, in his hand + The emblems of his power. The capital + Of his wide empire was inflamed with zeal + To do him honor and exalt his praise. + The world was at his feet; his sovereign will + None dared to question, and his haughty word + Was law to nations. Yet his heart was troubled. + In the dim distance he discerned the flight + Of Freedom, on swift pinions heralding + Enfranchisement to the oppressed of earth. + He knew the feeble tenure of dominion + Based on allegiance with reluctance paid; + And read the future overthrow of Rome + In the unyielding spirit of his victim. + Uncovered in the sun, weary and faint, + Bowed to the earth with chains of ravished gold, + With feet unsandaled, walked Zenobia, + Slave to the craven tyrant's cruelty. + Neither her peerless beauty, nor her sex, + Nor yet her grievous sufferings could melt + The despot's stony heart. She, who surpassed + Her conqueror in all the qualities + Of head or heart which crown humanity + With nobleness and high preëminence-- + She, whose _misfortunes_ in a glorious cause, + And not her _errors_, had achieved her ruin-- + Burdened with ignominy and disgrace + For her resplendent _virtues_, not her _crimes_-- + She who had graced a palace, and dispensed + Pardon to penitence, reward to worth, + And tempered justice with benevolence-- + Wickedly torn from her exalted station, + Now walked a captive in the streets of Rome, + E'en at the feet of the oppressors steeds. + Yet was her spirit all untamed. Disdain + Still sat upon her countenance, and breathed + Unmeasured scorn upon her persecutors. + The blush of innocence upon her cheek, + The burning pride that flashed within her eye, + The majesty enthroned upon her brow, + Told, in a language which the tyrant _felt_, + That her unconquered spirit soared sublime + In a pure orbit whither _his_ sordid soul + Could ne'er attain. Had he a captive led + Some odious wretch, whose sanguinary crimes, + Long perpetrated under sanction of a strength + No arm could reach, had spread a pall of mourning + Over a people's desolated homes, + He then had _right_ to triumph o'er his victim. + But 't was not thus. Insatiable ambition + Had led him to unsheath his victor sword + Against a monarch whose distinctive sway + Ravished from Rome no tittle of her _right_; + And, to augment the aggregate of wrong, + _That monarch was a woman_, whose renown, + Compared with his, was gold compared with brass. + As o'er the stony street the captive paced + Her weary way before the victor's steeds, + And marked the multitudes insatiate gaze, + The look of calm defiance on her face + Told that she bowed not to her degradation. + Her thoughts were not at Rome. Unheeded all, + The billows of the mad excitement dashed + About her, and broke harmless at her feet. + Dim reminiscences of former days + Burst like a deluge on her errant mind; + Leading her backward to the buried past, + When in the artless buoyancy of youth + She sat beneath Palmyra's fragrant shades + And gleaned the pages of historic story, + Red with Rome's bloody catalogue of wrong. + Little she dreamed Palmyra's palaces + Should e'er be scenes of Roman violence; + Little she dreamed that _hers_ should be the lot + (A captive princess led in chains) to crown + The splendor of a Roman holyday. + Alas! the blow she thought not of had fallen. + A bloody struggle, like a dreadful dream, + Had briefly raged, and all to her was lost, + Save the poor grace of a degraded life. + Her sun of glory was gone down in blood-- + The glittering fabric of her power despoiled + To swell the triumph of her conqueror. + But in the wreck of her magnificence, + With eye prophetic, she foresaw the ruin + Of the proud capital of all the world. + She saw the quickening symptoms of rebellion + Among the nations, and she caught their cry + For _freedom_ and for _vengeance_! + + * * * * * + + Hark! the Goth + Is thundering at the gate, His reckless sword + Leaps from the scabbard, eager to vindicate + The cause of the oppressed. A thousand years + The sun has witnessed in his daily course + The tyranny of Rome, now crushed _forever_. + The mighty mass of her usurped dominion, + By its own magnitude at last dissevered, + Is crumbling into fragments; and the shades + Of long-forgotten generations shriek + With fiendish glee over the yawning gulf + Of her perdition. + + + + +TEMPER LIFE'S EXTREMES. + +BY GEORGE S. BURLEIGH. + + + 'Tis wise, in summer-warmth, to look before, + To the keen-nipping winter; it is good, + In lifeful hours, to lay aside some store + Of thought, to leaven the spirit's duller mood; + To mould the sodded dyke, in sunny hour, + Against the coming of the wasteful flood; + Still tempering Life's extremes, that Wo no more + May start abrupt in Joy's sweet neighborhood. + If Day burst sudden from the bars of Night, + Or with one plunge leaped down the sheer abyss, + Painful alike were darkness and the light, + Bearing fixed war through shifting victories; + But sweet their bond, where peaceful twilight lingers, + Weaving the rosy with the sable fingers. + + + + +THE CRUISE OF THE RAKER. + +A TALE OF THE WAR OF 1812-15. + +BY HENRY A. CLARK. + +(_Continued from page 136._) + +CHAPTER V. + +_The Revenge._ + + +The report of the pistol fired by Julia had also been heard upon the +pirate brig. To Florette it gave assurance of the safety of the fair +fugitive. The pirate sprang to his feet, forgetful of his wound, but +fell back helpless upon the companion-way, and soon relapsed into his +former thoughtful state, supposing the sound had come from the deck of +the Raker, though it had seemed much too near and distinct to appear +possible that such was the case. + +The escape of Julia was not discovered until the following morning. +The wrath of the pirate was fearfully vindictive. Even Florette became +alarmed when he fiercely accused her of some share in the +disappearance of the captive girl. This she tremblingly denied, +suggesting the opinion that Julia must have jumped overboard, in her +despair, induced by the threats of the pirate. The loss of the boat +was also noticed, but not connected with the escape of Julia, it being +supposed that it had been carelessly fastened. As a very natural +consequence of his anger, the pirate sought some person on whom he +could vent its fury. + +"Call aft the other woman," shouted he, "unless she, too, has jumped +overboard." + +A grim smile was interchanged between the men who heard this order. +John's true sex had not been long kept concealed after he had reached +the pirate brig, and he had nearly fallen a victim to the rage the +unpleasant discovery excited in the men, but his ludicrous and abject +expressions of terror, though they awoke no emotions of pity, yet +excited the merriment of his captors, and turned their anger into +laughter. A man's garments were thrown to him, in which he speedily +equipped himself, being indeed in no slight degree relieved by the +change. Since that time he had kept himself as much aloof as possible +from the crew, anxiously and fearfully expectant of some sudden +catastrophe, either that his brains would be blown out without +affording him an opportunity to expostulate, or that he would be +called upon to walk the plank. + +He was roused by a heavy hand laid upon his shoulder. + +"O dear, don't," cried John. + +"The captain has sent word for'ard arter you, and faith ye had betther +be in a hurry, for he's a savage when he's mad." + +"O! now I've got to do it." + +"Do what?" + +"Why walk the plank to be sure." + +"Arrah, jewel! don't be onaisy now." + +"Wont I's, don't you think?" + +"Not a bit of it, darling. I think he will be afther running you up to +the yard-arm." + +"But I can't run up it." + +"Ha! ha! but come along, honey." + +Half dragging John after him, the sailor led him to the quarter-deck. + +"Here's the lady, captain, an' faith she's a swate one." + +The truth of the case had already been explained to the pirate. + +"You cowardly fool," said he, "did you expect to escape by such a +subterfuge? Pat, run him up to the yard-arm." + +"Yes, captain, and that will be a relaif to him, for he was mighty +afraid he'd have to walk the plank." + +"He was? well then he shall." + +The vindictiveness of the pirate commander, who had only changed the +mode of John's death because he thought that by so doing he should +render it more fearful and bitter to the victim, was the means of +saving the poor cockney's life. So do revenge and malice often +overreach themselves. + +A long plank was laid out over the side of the brig and John commanded +to walk out on it. He showed a strong disinclination to obeying, but a +huge pistol placed against his forehead quickly influenced his +decision, and with a cry of anguish he stepped out upon it. As the +board tipped he turned to spring back to the brig, but slipping up, +fell upon the board, which he pulled after him into the water. + +"Fool," cried the captain to one of his men, "what did you let the +board loose for, he will float now till the chase picks him up--fire +into him." + +A dozen balls were fired at John, and it seems he was hit, for he let +go the board and sunk. + +"There, captain, he's done for." + +The brig by this time had reached a considerable distance from the +place where John had been committed to the deep, and when he rose to +the surface, as he soon did, he was out of danger from their shot. + +"O dear!" cried he, "I shan't ever get ashore; I never could swim +much." + +The waves threw him against the plank. + +"O! a shark! a shark!" shouted John, "now don't;" and he grasped hold +of the plank in a frenzy of fear. He soon discovered the friendly aid +it would afford him, and held on to it with the tenacity of despair. + +In less than half an hour the Raker came up. John was noticed from its +deck, and a brawny tar seizing a rope and taking two or three turns of +it round his left arm sprang overboard to rescue the half unconscious +cockney. + +As the sailor seized him, John, supposing it to be a shark, uttered a +loud cry and lost all sensation. In this condition he was hauled up to +the deck of the privateer, where, upon recovering his senses, he found +to his great surprise and joy, that instead of being in the belly of +some voracious fish, like Jonah of old, he was in safety, and +surrounded by the crew of his former vessel, the Betty Allen, +including his master. + +The poor fellow was severely wounded by a pistol shot, in the arm, but +regardless of this he was wild in his demonstrations of joy, +especially when told that his young mistress had also escaped. + +Captain Greene found that he had gained little, if any, upon the +pirate during the night, and became convinced that he must again +commence firing upon her, trusting to some lucky ball to carry away a +spar, or failing, to allow the villains to escape the punishment they +so richly deserved, not only for their inhuman treatment of the crew +of the Betsy Allen, but doubtless for numerous other crimes committed +upon the seas, as savage in their conception, and more successful in +their execution. + +The long gun was again uncovered, and a shot dispatched from its huge +portals after the pirate brig. The first ball fired fell short of the +brig, striking the water directly in its wake, and ricochetting again +threw up the water beyond it. + +A succeeding ball, however, did some execution, crashing through her +top-gallant forecastle, but without in any degree lessening her speed. +As every fire from the Raker lessened her speed, Capt. Greene became +exceedingly anxious that no balls should be thrown away, and commanded +Lieut. Morris to point the gun, having more confidence in his skill +than in that of the gunner. The young officer aimed the gun carefully, +and as it was fired three cheers arose from his crew, as they +perceived the pirate's mizzen-mast fall away. + +"She is ours," cried the lieutenant. + +"Stand by, men, to take in sail," shouted the captain. "We will draw +near enough," continued he to Morris, "to fire into her at our +leisure, a pirate is not entitled to a more honorable warfare, and he +seems also to greatly outnumber us in men." + +As the privateer approached the pirate they could not but admire the +singular beauty of her build. She rose and fell upon the waters as +gracefully as a free and wild ocean bird. The long red lines of her +port-holes swept with a gentle curve from stem to stern, and her stem +was so sharp that the bowsprit seemed rather to terminate than to join +it. Twelve carronades occupied a double row of port-holes, and the +deck seemed crowded with men, all armed with cutlases and pistols. + +"A formidable looking set," said Captain Greene, as he laid aside his +glass, "keep the gun lively." + +An ineffectual fire opened upon the privateer from the pirate, but +though they had a swivel of pretty heavy calibre, turning on its axis +amidship in such a manner as to menace at will each point of the +horizon, it was evident that its force was far less than the long gun +of the privateer. + +A well aimed shot brought down the pirate's fore topsail-yard, which +hung in the slings, and succeeding shots did much injury to her masts +and rigging, and at length the main-topmast fell over the side. + +The scene on board the pirate, during this unequal warfare, was one +approaching perplexity and disorder. Their commander stood by the +helm, gazing at the privateer, his brow clouded with angry thought, +and giving little heed to the movements of his crew. He was aroused +from his abstraction by the voice of one of his officers. + +"Captain, this is bad business, what is to be done?" + +The captain gazed at him in silence. + +"The crew are alarmed, and demand of you some relief from this +harassing state. Our guns will not reach the chase, and we cannot +leave her in this crippled state." + +At this moment a heavy ball from the privateer whizzed by them and +buried itself in the main-mast of the brig. + +The captain seemed fully aroused. His eyes flashed with their wonted +fire. He turned toward his crew, and saw at a glance the state of +depression which had fallen upon them all. He even overheard some +muttered words of complaint. + +"Pat," says one, "this seems to be playing a rough game, where nothing +is to be won on our side." + +"Faith, an' ye may say that, but we stand a chance to gain one thing." + +"What may that be, Pat?" + +"O, a two-inch rope, and a run up to the fore yard-arm." + +"The devil! That's not a pleasant thought, Pat." + +"No, but they say it's an aisy death." + +"Silence, men," was heard in the deep tones of the captain's voice. + +In a moment all was still, and every eye turned toward the +companion-way, on which the captain stood, resting one hand upon the +main-boom, as he was exceedingly weak from the wound inflicted by the +ball of Captain Horton. + +"My brave fellows," said their leader, "do not be alarmed, we shall +not be hanged this time. Is our situation any worse than it has been +in times heretofore? Trust in me. Have I ever deceived you--have I +ever failed yet? You know I have not. Where we cannot conquer by fair +battle, we must use stratagem. Be watchful and ready, and we will yet +not only escape yonder vessel, but stand upon her deck as masters." + +The confidence with which he spoke inspired his followers with like +feeling, and with countenances relighted by hope, they returned to +their several stations. Their reliance upon their commander was +unbounded. He had so often triumphed when even greater difficulties +opposed, that they already felt sure of ultimate delivery, now that he +had been restored to his former energy--they had mistaken the lethargy +into which pain and weakness had thrown him for the torpor of despair. +Again the joke and laugh went round, and already they began to compute +their respective shares of booty in the vessel so soon to be theirs, +they knew not how. + +"Haul down the ensign, in token that we surrender," cried the captain. + +A murmur of indignation and surprise arose from the crew. + +"What, men, do you doubt me? 'Tis but a feint. Haul down the flag and +take in sail." + +The men obeyed with alacrity, for they already clearly comprehended +the plan of their leader. It was his intention to entice the privateer +alongside, and, well aware of his own superiority in numbers, to make +a sudden onset upon her deck, and thus, contrary to all laws of +honorable warfare, seize by foul means what could not be obtained in +any other way. + +These pacific indications were viewed with some surprise on board the +privateer. + +"By Heaven!" cried Lieut. Morris, "she's tired of this game soon." + +"Well, she had no other way to do; as it was we should have sunk her +without receiving a shot." + +"It was a losing game for her, true enough." + +"Lay the brig alongside of her," shouted Captain Greene to his men. + +As his men with a cheer began to unfurl all sail, Captain Horton +approached the commander of the privateer. He had up to this period +ventured no interference, both from matter of delicacy, and because he +saw nothing to disapprove of in the course pursued by Captain Greene. + +"My dear sir," said he, as he laid his hand upon the arm of the +captain of the privateer, "allow me to say a word." + +"Certainly, sir," replied the courteous commander. "I ought sooner +than this to have asked your advice." + +"I would not place too great confidence in the pirate's signal of +surrender." + +"Do you apprehend foul play?" + +"Recollect the savage brutality which the fiend has already evinced, +and judge for yourself whether he is worthy of being trusted at all." + +"You are right, sir. Lieut. Morris," continued he, turning to his +young officer. + +"Ay, ay, sir." + +"Load the long gun with grape and canister, and wheel it abaft--load +the larboard guns the same way. Now, my men, don't run too near her. +She must send a boat aboard." + +The privateer approached within half a cable's length of the pirate. + +"Ship ahoy!" cried Captain Greene. + +No answer came from the pirate, but her head was rounded to, so as to +bear directly down on the Raker. + +"Answer me, or I'll fire into you." + +"Fire and be d--d," came from the deck of the pirate, and at the same +time a broadside was poured into the Raker, which killed two or three +men at the guns, and severely wounded Captain Greene. + +"Lieut. Morris," cried he, "take the command of the vessel," and +falling on the deck he was immediately carried below. + +The young officer was fully equal to the emergency of the occasion. At +a glance he perceived that the pirate in the confusion which ensued +from his unexpected broadside, had fallen foul of the privateer's +rigging, and the crowd of his crew in his bow and fore-rigging, all +with cutlases drawn, and ready to spring aboard the privateer, plainly +announced the intention to board. + +"All hands to repel boarders," shouted Morris, and drawing his cutlas +he sprang forward, followed by his men. + +A well contested struggle ensued, the American seamen, indignant at +the foul deceit which had been practiced upon them, fought like +tigers, and for a time kept the pirates at bay--they had indeed, +notwithstanding their superior numbers, nearly driven them from the +deck, when the form of their commander appeared among them. In +consequence of his wound he had, contrary to his custom, entrusted the +command of the boarders to his first lieutenant, and had remained upon +his own vessel watching the fight. He sprung among his crew, with a +sword drawn, and a tight sash bound around his waist, from which the +dark blood was slowly oozing, his wound having burst away from its +ligaments. + +"Cowards!" he shouted, "do ye yield--ye are two to their one." + +Leaping to their front, he struck down a sailor and plunged into the +thickest of the fight. Reanimated by the presence of their leader, who +had so often led them to victory, a new spirit seemed to light up the +fainting courage of the pirates, and with a fierce yell they rushed +forward. The American crew were compelled to fall back before the +fierce assault. At the head of his men Lieut. Morris several times +crossed swords with the pirate captain, but the swaying of the fight +separated them. Perceiving that his men were slowly yielding, though +in good order, Lieutenant Morris, cool and collected, cheered their +courage, and at this moment thought of the long gun which had been +drawn up, loaded to the muzzle with grape and canister, against the +companion-way, and a man with a lighted match stationed by it. + +"Fall back to the quarter-deck," cried the young officer. + +They retreated in close array, and uncovered the mouth of the huge +gun. At the sight of this a cry of dismay broke from the foremost of +the pirates, who broke the front rank, and many of them escaped for +the time by leaping into the sea. + +"Fire," cried Lieut. Morris. In a moment he was obeyed. Wild cries of +agony arose amid the gathering smoke, which, as it rolled away, +revealed a horrible sight. Not a living pirate stood upon the deck of +the privateer. A dense mass of bodies, writhing in pain, lay upon the +fore-deck, and many of the pirates who had jumped into the sea were +seen scrambling up the sides of their own vessel; the pirate chief +lay dead at the head of his followers, foremost in death, as he had +been in life. It was a terrible and revolting scene--the scuppers +literally ran with blood, the bulwarks were bespattered with brains +and pieces of scalps; several limbs were strewn about, and the entire +deck covered with the dead or dying. + +While the crew of the Raker stood for a time awe-struck at the +desolation they had themselves made, the pirates, ferocious to the +last, had regained their own ship and cut her adrift, and as they paid +off fired a broadside into the Raker, which injured several of her +men. Roused by this, the privateersmen rushed to their guns. The +larboard guns, in obedience to the order of Captain Greene, were +already loaded with grape; while with the starboard Morris commanded +his men to keep up a steady fire at the masts and rigging. + +A fortunate shot from the Raker struck the helms-man on board the +pirate, shattering at the same time the tiller. In a moment the brig +was up in the wind, and taken aback, throwing the pirates into +confusion. + +"Ready about," cried Morris, leaping from the carronade-slide on which +he had raised himself, and taking in at a glance the exposed position +of the enemy--"head her round, and stand ready to give the rascals a +taste from our larboard quarter." + +The Raker ranged across the bows of the pirate, and before he could +regain his headway, raked him with a tremendous broadside of the same +deadly missiles which had already destroyed so many of their comrades. +The wild cries of anguish which arose from the clouds of smoke told +with what destructive effect the death-bolts had been hurled. + +The pirate now paid off and returned an ineffectual broadside, but +rendered ungovernable by the loss of her head-sails and tiller, he +immediately broached-to again, and the privateer poured in another +terrible discharge of grape and canister, raking him fore and aft, +then heaving-to and taking up a position on his bow, she fired +broadside after broadside into him in rapid and deadly succession. The +main-mast now fell over the side, and the pirate at the same time fell +off before the wind, and drew out of the deep mantle of smoke which +had for some time covered both vessels. As the smoke slowly curled up +from the deep it was seen that not a living man was visible upon the +deck of the pirate. Several of her guns were dismounted, and her masts +so cut away that she lay upon the waters a helpless and disabled +wreck. Yet the red ensign of death, though rent into ribbons, still +fluttered from the peak, and the young lieutenant hesitated to board, +having learned caution from the treachery of the pirate. + +While the crew of the Raker were thus occupied in watching their +enemy, a light female form was seen to issue from the hatchway and +gaze around the deck of the pirate. She passed from body to body, but +seemed not to find what she sought. At length she turned her eyes, +streaming with tears, toward the Raker, and pointing to the flag above +her, as if to indicate that there was no one to lower it, she knelt +upon the deck, bowing her head upon her hands. Her long hair fell +over her forehead and trailed upon the blood-stained deck, as she +knelt in mute despair among the dying and the dead. It was a mournful +and singular picture of wo, and there were eyes long unused to tears +that filled to overflowing as they gazed upon her. + +A boat was immediately lowered, and Lieutenant Morris with a dozen of +his crew were soon in possession of the pirate's deck. Upon examining +the brig it was found that she was fast filling with water, and after +conveying to the Raker all that they could lay hands on of value, +including a large amount of precious metal, she was left to her fate. +Not one of her crew was found living, so destructive had been the +continual discharge of grape from the Raker. Florette accompanied them +on board, and wept bitterly as she saw the dead body of the pirate +commander lying in front of his slaughtered followers, but suffered +herself to be led below by Julia, who received her with kindness and +gratitude. + +All sail was now set upon the privateer, and she bore away from the +sinking craft of the pirate upon her former course. The latter vessel, +traversed in every direction by the Raker's terrible fire, was rapidly +settling into the ocean. Suddenly, with a sound like the gushing of an +immense water-spout, a huge chasm opened in the waves--the doomed brig +seemed struggling as if with conscious life, and then lashing the +waters with her shattered spars and broken masts, went down forever +beneath the deep waters, over whose bosom she had so long rode as a +scourge and a terror, with blood and desolation following in her wake. + +Among the effects of the pirate captain which had been conveyed on +board the Raker, a manuscript was found, which seemed to be an +autobiography of his life. For what purpose he had written it can +never be known--most probably from an impulsive desire to give vent on +paper to thoughts and feelings which he could not breathe to any +living person, and which he doubtless supposed would never be perused +by human eye--they show that, savage, and lawless, and blood-thirsty +as he had become, strong and terrible motives had driven him into his +unnatural pursuit, and perchance a tear of pity may fall for him, as +the gentle reader peruses the private records of the scourge of the +ocean. + + +CHAPTER VI. + +_The Pirate's Story._ + +I am the youngest son of a gentleman of the northern part of England. +My father's family is as good as any in the county, for without laying +claim to any title of nobility, our blood is as pure and our lineage +as ancient as the most boasted in England. I had but one brother, who +succeeded at our father's death to the broad lands and rich heritage +of our name. The accursed law of primogeniture, to which I owe all the +evil that has befallen me, of course debarred me from all share in the +family estate. I had refused to enter the army, the church or the +navy, though my inclinations were in favor of the latter profession; +yet a stronger claim than ambition or a roving life kept me on the +paternal estate. It was not that I envied my brother the possession of +the wide bounds over which he ruled, or that I found less happiness in +witnessing his, for I loved my brother, as God is my witness, here, in +my lonely cabin, with this great sea around me, and this broad sky +above me; here, though no eye may ever see these lines, I write, do I +repeat it, I loved my brother dearly and proudly. It was love that +kept me idle at home while other young men of England, belonging to +the same position in society as myself, and in the same unfortunate +category of younger sons, were carving out for themselves fame and +wealth in the service of their country. + +Helen Burnett was the loveliest girl I have ever seen, and I loved her +with all the passionate devotedness of a young and ardent heart; she +was to me the light of life, for all was dark when I was not with her. +She was the only daughter of our village curate, and resided near our +family mansion. We had sported together beneath the venerable trees of +the park from the earliest days of childhood. Until I left home for +college she had seemed to me as a sister, and I had loved her as such +until, on returning home from a long absence at college, I found a +blushing and beautiful young woman where I had expected, forgetting +the rapid work of time, to meet with the same playful and lovely child +I had kissed at parting. She was, indeed, beautiful; tall, graceful, +and even commanding in figure, while the mildness of an angel reposed +in the glance of her deep-blue eyes, and the sweet smile that so often +visited her lips, while her pleasantly modulated voice was music +itself. + + "A lyre of widest range, + Touched by all passion--did fall down and glance + From tone to tone, and glided through all change of liveliest + utterance." + +Her hair was of the darkest shade of brown, resting in soft wave-like +smoothness above her high, pale forehead. Alas! that she was _so_ +lovely! had she been less so, either I might not have loved her, or I +might have been permitted by fortune to have been happy with her. + +After leaving college, my time was all devoted to Helen. She loved me +no less than I loved her; and I looked forward to a quiet and happy +life, picturing the future with colorings of the brightest hope and +joyfulness. + +It was at this time that my brother returned from a long tour of the +Continent. He was one of the handsomest men of the day, and had been +distinguished by the appellation which had accompanied him from court +to court, of "the handsome Englishman." He was of a medium stature, +and faultlessly proportioned; his expansive and intellectual forehead +seemed the seat of lofty thought, and his dark flashing eye, intensely +expressive, seemed to penetrate to the heart of all who met its +glance. I see him now--not in his glorious beauty, but pale--pale, +touched by the cold fingers of death. + +I had too much of the pride of my race to live as a dependent on my +brother's bounty, yet I could not bear the thought of leaving Helen. I +was in no situation to marry, and in an undecided state of mind I +suffered the days to glide away. + +My brother had just come back from a day's angling in the trout-stream +that flowed through his lands. He met me at the park-gate. + +"Well, John," said I, "what luck to-day?" + +"O, William," said he, without heeding my question, "I have seen the +most charming girl--the loveliest one that breathes. She outvies all I +have seen in my travels; do you know her. She is the curate's +daughter." + +I felt a sickness at heart, like the bitterness of death--was it a +presentiment, a warning of evil to come. + +"Say, William?" + +"Yes--yes, she is lovely." + +"She is an angel." + +Sir John passed into the park, and I proceeded, with a strange +melancholy I could not dispel, to meet Helen. She was at her father's +door, and greeted me with her accustomed kindness of voice and manner. + +"Why are you so sad this lovely evening William?" + +"Sad!--am I sad?" + +"You look so." + +"Well, I will be so no longer, then;" and I endeavored to shake off my +depression, but not succeeding, I bade her farewell at an earlier hour +than was my custom. + +From that day my brother's angling excursions became more +frequent--but he seldom returned with a full basket. He often spoke to +me of Helen, but I always replied carelessly, and changed the topic of +conversation to something else, yet when alone, I was in continual +torment from my thoughts. I endeavored to console myself with the +reflection that Helen's love was plighted to me, and that she would +not change, yet my thoughts were continually recurring to my brother's +great advantages over me in every respect, not only in fortune but in +personal appearance; and I had already, in my suspicions, placed him +in the light of a rival for the hand of Helen. I knew his high-minded +and honorable disposition too well to fancy for a moment that he would +attempt her ruin; and I also knew that there was nothing in the +inferior station of Helen's family that would prevent him from seeking +her hand in marriage, if she had compelled his love. + +All that followed might perhaps have been prevented had I at first +told my brother frankly of my love for Helen; but a foolish desire to +prove her love for me, and a certain feeling of self-respect kept me +silent. + +It was not a long time before I either saw, or fancied I saw, a change +in the manner of Helen toward me--the thought was torture. I was for +days undecided how to act, but at length determined to learn the true +state of things. I knew my brother was often at the parsonage, and I +trembled for the result. + +"Helen," I asked her, "is not my brother a frequent visitor here?" + +It was twilight, but I thought I observed a heightened color in her +cheek. + +"Yes, he has been here several times since his return." + +"Dear Helen, answer me frankly, has he ever spoken to you of love?" + +She hesitated, but at length replied, + +"He has." + +"And did you not tell him your vows were plighted to another?" + +"My father entered the room before I made any reply at all." + +"Helen, do you love me now the same as ever you have done?" + +"You have my plighted word, William." Yet there was something +bordering on coldness even in the sweet accents with which she spoke; +the nice instinct of love detects each gradation of feeling with an +unerring certainty. I was not satisfied, and when I left her, I was +more unhappy than ever. I longed to speak to my brother on the +subject, yet some indescribable feeling prevented me; and I allowed +the days to glide away, growing more and more troubled in mind as they +passed by. + +I was now convinced that Helen's affection for me was not what it had +been; and after a short interview with her, in which she had again +repeated her love for me, but in such chilling tones that I felt it +was not from the heart she spoke, I sought the chamber of my brother +in a state almost bordering on madness. All of our race have been of +ungovernable passions, but none more so than myself. I paused at his +door to regain in some degree my self-command, then lifting the latch, +I entered. + +"Ah, brother!" said Sir John, in a cheerful tone. + +"Yes, your younger brother," replied I, bitterly. + +Sir John started with wonder. + +"Why, William, what mean you?" + +I paid no heed to the interruption, but continued growing, if +possible, still more enraged as I proceeded. + +"Are not all the broad lands of our family estate yours--its parks, +its meadows, its streams; this venerable mansion, where the _elder +son_ has rioted for so many generations, leaving the younger to make +his way in the world as best he may." + +"Brother, are you mad? My purse is yours--I have nothing that is not +yours." + +"You have every thing, and not content with that, you have sought to +win away the love of my affianced bride." + +"Who mean you, William?" + +"Helen Burnett." + +My brother turned pale, and gazing upon me for a moment with +astonishment, he heaved a deep sigh, and covered his face with his +hands. + +I folded my arms, and stood looking upon him scornfully, for my +passion had made me consider him in the light of one who had knowingly +stolen away my bride. + +Sir John at length uncovered his face and spoke. + +"I would to God, William, you had told me this sooner." + +"Is it then too late?" I inquired, bitterly. + +"Too late--too late for my happiness, but not too late for justice and +honor. She is yours, William, I resign all pretensions to her hand, +and will cease to visit the parsonage." + +I was touched by the generous spirit of my brother, and by the +mournful shadow which clouded his noble brow. I have ever acted from +impulse, and seizing him by the hand, I said, + +"Not so, John--not so! She is, as I have told you, my affianced bride; +her solemn and oft-repeated vows are mine, and I have thought that her +love was forever mine; but this very night I plainly perceived that a +change has been wrought in her feelings. She treated me with coldness +instead of warmth, and maddened by my interview with her, I rushed +into your presence, and have blamed you unjustly." + +"My dear brother--" + +"No, no, John, I was wrong to accuse you. I should have better known +your nobleness. Henceforth let us stand on equal ground; I do not want +an unwilling bride, and if you can win her love from me, take her, +though it drive me mad." + +A gleam of pleasure passed over Sir John's countenance as he replied, + +"Be it so, my brother, it is but honorable; yet will I at once resign +all hope, and leave the country if you but will it so." + +"Sir John, have you reason to think that Helen loves you?" + +"She has never said so, but I did not think she looked coldly upon +me." + +"She is 'false, false as hell!'" + +"My dear William, however this suite terminate, any thing in my power +shall be done for you. If the estates were not entailed, I would at +once give you a deed for half of them, and then I should have no +advantage over you in wealth or position. Here is an order for a +hundred thousand pounds." + +"Sir John I will accept nothing; if I lose Helen, I shall have no more +to live for, and I warn you, if I become mad from disappointment, do +not cross my path, or I know not the consequence." + +"You do not threaten me." + +I felt the turbulent passions of my nature rising within me, and +fearing that I should lose all self-command, I rushed from the room, +and entering the silent park, I wandered from grove to grove till the +cool air of the night had calmed my raging spirit, when I sought my +own chamber. + +I had never told the worthy curate of my love for his daughter, and +Helen had never been accustomed to depend on him for advice or +consolation. It was to her mother that she had always turned for both, +and that mother had died but a year before the return of my brother. +Mr. Burnett was a quiet student, passionately fond of his books, as +innocent of the world as a child, only fretful and peevish when any +thing occurred to disturb the quiet monotony of his existence, and +apparently unconscious that his little Helen had grown from a child +to a woman. His mind was wholly wrapped up in his studies, even at his +meals it was abstracted, and he retired hastily to his closet. Helen +had no inclination to disturb the serenity of his life, until it +became absolutely necessary that he should be made acquainted with her +engagement to me; and I had been too thoughtless of all but my own +happiness to intrude upon his privacy, confident that his sanction to +our marriage would not be refused whenever demanded. + +I had yet to learn the lesson, bitter and agonizing, that no woman is +proof against the captivating temptations of ambition, and the glare +of wealth. I know but little of the sex; they are called angels, and I +had thought Helen was an angel--alas! I found my mistake. I read my +doom in the averted coldness of her glance; I felt it in the unwilling +pressure of her hand whenever we met, and I knew it when I gazed upon +the countenance of my brother, on which was a quiet glow of happiness +his expressive features could not conceal, even when he knew my +searching glance was upon him. O! the agony of feeling which oppressed +me in those bitter days; I felt all the savage passions of my nature +rising within me; there were moments when I felt as if I could gladly +see my brother and Helen stretched dead at my feet. Day by day these +vindictive thoughts increased within me. It wanted but the finishing +stroke to make me completely mad--it came. Though I had long dreaded +to make the trial, on which all my happiness for this world rested, I +at length determined to put it off no longer. + +The shadows of twilight were settling over the earth as I slowly and +sadly approached the parsonage. My head was bowed upon my breast as I +walked with a noiseless step upon the little path that led to the +unpretending dwelling. I was not aware how near I had come, till a ray +of light from the window fell across the path, and recalled me to +myself. As I stopped, I heard the tones of my brother's voice in low +and earnest conversation. I drew nearer, and beheld a sight which +rooted me to the spot, even though I was not wholly unprepared for +such a scene. + +My brother and Helen were seated in the little arbor before the +parsonage, as she and myself had often before sat when I fancied our +love was lasting as life. In the dim light I could see that my +brother's arm was round her waist, and that her head rested upon his +shoulder. I could hear their conversation. + +"And you do love me, then, Helen?" + +I heard no answer, but the long curls moved slightly upon my brother's +shoulder, and as he bent his head and kissed her, I felt that he was +answered--I was answered--that he _was_ loved. + +My brain burned as if on fire--and I sunk to the earth with a low +groan. How long I remained unconscious I do not know; when I +recovered, Helen and Sir John stood beside me. I sprung to my feet, +and gazed upon them with the glare of a maniac. It was so--my brain +was crazed. + +"William," said Helen. + +Her soft voice fell upon my ears with a singular cadence. With a +fierce laugh I struck my brother to the earth, and rushed forth into +the forest. All that night I must have wandered through its depths. I +found myself at the break of day miles from our mansion, lying beneath +an aged oak. I did not seem to know myself. I cannot now describe the +feelings and thoughts which raged within me. The wild storm which is +now lashing the ocean without my cabin is not more wild and +fierce--the black sky above me is not more dark and gloomy. They +seemed at length to settle into one stern, unchanging emotion, and +that was hatred toward my brother, and a stern determination to +revenge upon him the cruel wrong which had driven me mad. + +My path led along the course of a mountain torrent, whose sudden +descent as it hurried toward the river, formed successive water-falls +not unmusical in their cadence. A few purple beech and drooping +willows with here and there a mountain ash, skirted the ravine that +formed its bed; their leaves had fallen before the blasts of autumn, +they seemed emblematic of myself; like me their glory had +departed--they were shorn of their loveliness by the rough storm, left +bare and verdureless in the chilling breath of autumn; the seasons in +their round would restore to them their beauty and their bloom, +clothing their branches again in all the freshness of youth; but what +should give back to me the freshness and youth of the heart? what +restore the desolation of of the soul? + +Weak and exhausted, I flung myself down in a rude grotto, which +commanded a view of the foaming stream as it washed the rocks below; +it was a scene fitted to my mood, for I turned in disgust from the +beautiful landscape an opening in the forest revealed--the beauty of +earth had forever passed away from me. That same opening, however, +unfolded to the sight the gray towers of my family mansion, and at +once I started to my feet and bent my course toward them. + +At length I reached my home--how hateful every thing about the +venerable building seemed. I stole to my chamber, and falling upon my +couch, slept from pure exhaustion. + +It was night when I awoke. I arose, but did not leave my room; seated +by the window with the cold wind of November blowing upon my burning +brow, I nursed my thoughts of vengeance. I forgot that he against whom +I harbored such thoughts was my only brother; I forgot my self-offered +trial of our powers with Helen; I forgot every thing--every thing but +the fiery feeling of revenge. Yes, I was mad. + +Day after day I wandered around the old castle, shunning every one. My +brother strove to converse with me, but glaring upon him like a maniac +as I was, I rushed past him. I felt the poison of hatred working +within me, and I knew the time was coming when my revengeful spirit +would find its vent. + +I often wandered toward the parsonage, but never sought an interview +with Helen. At times I caught a glimpse of her light form as it passed +by a window or before the open door that led into the hall. One +evening I saw my brother enter, and drawing near the window, I saw +through the slightly-parted curtain, such evidence of their mutual +affection, that, if possible, I became more than ever crazy in my +anguish and despair. I waited for him to come out long hours, hours to +me of bitterest sorrow, to him of most intense delight. It was an +exceedingly cold night. A slight snow had fallen during the day, and +the landscape around me glistening in the moonlight, seemed wrapped in +a robe of the purest white. Yet as I gazed all seemed to turn into the +deep hue of blood--wherever I gazed, every thing presented the same +fearful coloring. It was but the shadowy reflection of a coming deed +that should forever stain my soul with a deeper red, that the years of +eternity could never efface. + +At length my brother opened the door of the parsonage and came forth. +Leaning against the trunk of an old tree but a little distance from +them, I saw and heard the parting acts of endearment. At that terrible +moment the determination of my soul was made, and I heard the dark +devil within me whisper one of you must die. I shuddered at the +thought, but when scarcely out of sight of the parsonage, almost as +soon as the door had closed upon the form of Helen, I confronted my +brother. Sir John started back, surprised. + +"What, William, is it you?" + +I laughed scornfully. + +"My poor brother!" + +"Do you dare to pity me--ha! ha! ha! Sir John! one of us must die this +night--here, upon this spot; here are two pistols, take one of them, +and it will be soon seen which is the fated one." + +Sir John mechanically took the pistol; cocking my own, I retired a few +paces, and turning, exclaimed, + +"Are you ready?" + +My words recalled him to himself; flinging his pistol far into the +wood, he exclaimed, + +"I will not fire at my brother." + +"Coward!" + +"The name belongs not to our race; fire at me if you will, I will not +at you." + +Enraged beyond expression, yet even in my madness ashamed to fire at +an unarmed man, I hesitated. + +My brother spoke. + +"Come, William, let us go home." + +"Home!--ha! ha! ha! my home is the wood and the cave! Here, take my +good-night." + +Thus speaking I flung my pistol full at his face with all my strength; +it struck him lengthwise, and being cocked, went off in consequence of +the concussion. + +Sir John fell upon the cold snow. I rushed up to him, and beheld the +blood flowing in torrents from a ghastly wound; the ball had taken a +downward direction, and penetrated the abdomen. + +"William," he said, faintly, "you have murdered me. God forgive you!" + +It seemed as if my reason came back to me at that terrible moment as +suddenly as it had left me. At the report of my pistol, I had heard a +loud scream in the parsonage, and almost at the same time with myself +Helen rushed up to the side of my brother. + +"Oh!" she cried, in accents of agony, "who has done this?" + +"Who!" said I, bitterly, "do you ask? You have done it; but no, Helen, +I do not mean it--let us carry him into the parsonage." + +With difficulty we lifted the body of my brother, and bearing him into +the house, laid him upon a bed. Helen, who had up to this time been +sustained by the necessity of exertion, fainted beside the body. I +stood gazing upon them in stupid despair. The worthy pastor opened the +door of the room; he had heard an unusual noise, and left his books to +learn the cause. + +I stopped not to converse with him, I could not trust myself to speak, +but stooping to the lifeless form of Helen, I imprinted a last kiss +upon her pale lips, and burst from the chamber. I do not know the +result of that fatal night. It may be that my brother and Helen were +both restored to life and happiness. God grant that it was so. It may +be that the spirits of both had already passed to another world when I +broke from the room, leaving the pale and astonished pastor gazing +upon the lifeless bodies of his only daughter and the young lord of +the manor. Years have passed since then, and not a happy hour have +their long ages borne to me; yet methinks if I could but know that my +brother and Helen are living in happiness in the mansion of my +fathers, much that is dark and despairing in the remnant of life would +be taken from the future. + +That night I bade farewell to the haunts of boyhood, and the next day +I was out upon the broad ocean. I had jumped aboard of a little vessel +which was just weighing anchor, without asking its destination or +caring where it bore me. I made brief reply to all interrogatories, +merely showing a purse of gold, which was sufficient answer, inasmuch +as it showed I was not to be an unprofitable part of the cargo. + +Seated upon the companion-way, that evening I watched the receding +shores of my native isle, and as the sunlight went out on its white +cliffs, leaving them in sombre shade, I felt that so had the light of +my life gone out, leaving the darkness of despair forever. Reckless as +I was of the future, and dark as was the past, I was not yet dead to +all emotion, and I could not witness my native land fading from my +view without experiencing those melancholy feelings which the +endearing recollections of former years excite, embittered as they +were with me by the thought that even if I ever should return to the +home of my fathers, I should find no kindred to welcome me back. No +wonder, then, that I felt a chilling sickness of the heart as I caught +a last glimpse of the Wicklow Mountains gleaming in the warm colorings +of the evening sun, as they mingled their hoary summits with the "dewy +skies" of my native isle. + +The vessel on which I had chanced to take passage was bound for the +West Indies. It was a small merchantman, and fell an easy prey to the +first pirate that gave chase. We were boarded and all consigned to +death. When the command was given to the pirates to shoot us all +through the head, I stepped forward with a smile, and a heart +partaking more of gladness than it had felt for long months, a pistol +was at my temple, when the stern voice of the pirate captain commanded +his man to stay his hand. He stepped forward and gazed into my face. + +"My fine fellow, are you not afraid to die?" + +"I have nothing to live for--blow away, and I will thank you." + +"By heaven, you are just the man for us! Now take your choice, I have +no objection to shoot you, indeed it would be rather pleasant than +otherwise, but one of my lieutenants was killed yesterday, and you can +fill his place if you will. I give you five minutes to decide while we +are dispatching these dogs." I gazed upon the cruel work--it did not +shock me; I even smiled at their agony, and had determined to share +their fate, when a momentary thought of the unknown, mysterious +hereafter restrained my advancing step. Am I ready, thought I, to +plunge into its mysteries. I shuddered at the thought. It was not the +beautiful blue sky unrolled above me, nor the broad, playful sea +around that wooed me to life. No, it was that fear of the "something +after death." + +"Are you ready to answer?" + +"I am thine." + +"It is well, throw these carcasses into the sea, and set all sail for +the Bermudas. Well, lieutenant," continued he, as the ship fell off +before the wind, "give us your name, or it will be awkward work +hailing you." + +"William--" I stopped, the pride of my race arose within me. + +"Well?" + +"I will not give my name--call me William, I'll answer to that." + +"Very well--lieutenant William, my lads, your second lieutenant." + +The men seemed to like me from the first, and as I gazed upon them +with a proud, fearless eye, a hearty cheer arose that endorsed my +command. + +Since then my home has been the pirate's deck; my heart has grown +harder and harder with the lapse of time. I love the sight of blood +better than I love the flowing wine--the agonizing shriek of death +better than the sweetest music--like an emissary of evil I gloat over +the tortures of man. I have learned to hate the land of my birth, and +all who first drew breath upon her detested soil. I have been foremost +in every conflict, yet have I not met death--the only foe whom I +cannot conquer by my fierce will and dark heart. + +I could not long remain a subordinate in command. I had become the +idol of our lawless crew, and a single blow from my sword laid our +captain low in death upon his own deck; and I filled his place, +smiling with a fiendish pleasure, as I saw his body thrown into the +waves, and the hungry sharks severing the limbs yet throbbing with +life. I have no feeling for my kind--yet I was not meant for this. +Under happier auspices, I might have been a leader in the ranks of God +as I am now in those of Satan; my sword might have been drawn for my +native land with the purest and loftiest feelings of patriotism, +instead of being turned against her and her children. Even now, in the +midst of my crimes and desolation, my heart throbs when I think of the +great and good of earth, and I feel that, like them, I might have left +a name of boast and pride to mankind; now, I shall perish, unknown and +unwept; the annals of my house shall never record that one of its +scions led a pirate crew to deeds of bloody cruelty and death. Long +since I have buried my name in oblivion--I am dead to my kindred, dead +to the world; the caves of ocean are yawning for the body of the +pirate-chief, and there will he sleep with the howling ocean and the +shrieking storm to sing his requiem and his dirge. + + [_To be continued._ + + + + +DREAMS. + + + Yes, there were pleasant voices yesternight, + Humming within mine ear a tale of truth, + Reminding me of days ere the sad blight + Of care had dimmed the brightness of my youth: + Yes, they were pleasant voices; but, forsooth, + They threw a kind of melancholy charm + Around my heart; as if in vengeful ruth, + Our very dreams have knowledge of the harm + Ourselves do to ourselves, without the least alarm! + + I love such dreams, for at my couch there stood + One who, in other lands, with magic spell, + Had taught my untaught heart to love the good, + The pure, the holy, which in her did dwell. + It was a lovely image, and too well + I do remember me the fatal hour, + When that bright image--but I may not tell + How deep the thraldom, absolute the power-- + My very dreams decide it was her only dower. + + _Sandwich Islands._ + + What are our dreams? A sort of fancy sketches, + Limned on the mind's retina, with a grace + More subtle than the wakeful artist catches, + And tinted with a more ethereal trace. + Our dreams annihilate both time and space, + And waft us, with magnetic swiftness, back + O'er an oblivious decade to the place + Where youth's fond visions clustered o'er our track; + Of youth's fond hopes decayed, alas! there is no lack! + + I love such dreams, for they are more than real; + They have a passion in them in whose birth + The heart receives again its beau ideal-- + Its Platonized embodiment of worth. + Call ye them dreams! then what a mortal dearth + Throws its gaunt shadow o'er our little life! + Our very joy is mockery of mirth, + And our quiescence agony of strife: + If dreams are naught but dreams, what is our real life? + + E. O. H. + + + + +A LEAF IN THE LIFE OF LEDYARD LINCOLN. + +A SKETCH. + +BY MARY SPENCER PEASE. + +It was in the joyous leaf-giving, life-giving month of June, of 18--, +after an absence of six years, that I found myself once more among my +own dearly loved native hills. + +An intense worshiper of Nature, I had gratified to the utmost my +passion and curiosity by exploring all the accessible regions of the +old world. I had studied every scene that was in any way famous, or +_in_famous I might say with regard to some, if the necessity of +clambering down or up unclimbable precipices, or wading through +interminable swamps, could render them so. + +With all the fatigue and hardships I had undergone my reward was +great, and had more than repaid me for the perilous dangers I had +courted and conquered. I had gazed, and dreamed, and raved by turns. I +had been melted into tears of tenderness by the perfect harmony and +loveliness of some scenes, and had been frozen into awe by the +magnificent grandeur and terrible sublimity of others. And, after +those six years of travel in foreign lands, I had returned, my brain +one endless panorama of hills, valleys and cloud-capped mountains, +earth, skies, wood and water. Not one of those gorgeous scenes, +however, had moved me as I was moved when once again I beheld my +boyhood's home--the stately mansion of my fathers. Half hidden, it +rose majestically amid the noble elms that surrounded it; there lay +the velvet-green sloping lawn in front--down which, as a boy, I had +rolled in the summer and sledded in the winter--there the wild, +night-dark ravine in the rear--fit haunt for elves and gnomes--that +terminated amid jagged rocks and tangled trees, in a rushing, roaring +brook of no mean dimensions, almost as large as many of the so-called +rivers of the mother country. Just at this point, at the turn of the +old time-worn stage-road, where the venerable, picturesque old +homestead of my sires burst thus suddenly into view, an opening in the +trees, whether by accident or design, revealed one of the very +merriest, maddest of musical water-falls, that went foaming and +tumbling its snow-white, sparkling waters over a bed of huge rocks, +and then, by a sudden wilful bend, that same loud-uttering brook was +lost to view. + +As the rattling stage neared my home, my heart leaped within me, and +every fibre of it trembled with emotion. I could have hugged and +kissed each familiar sturdy old tree, looking so grand and natural. My +soul warmed and yearned toward the well remembered scene; and as I +thought upon my fond, doting mother and my loving, lovely sisters, and +my ever-indulgent father, I could have wept in the intensity of my +joy at finding myself so near them, and breathing the same free, pure, +health-giving air that had nurtured my childhood. But was there not +sitting directly opposite to me one of the most exquisitely beautiful +of God's lovely women; and did not her saucy, demure eyes seem to read +my very soul? I therefore restrained a display of my feelings, for it +would not have appeared in the least dignified or proper in a +fine-looking young man (such as I imagined myself to be) of +four-and-twenty, to be seen with eyes streaming like a young girl. + +More than once, during our short stage-coach ride had our eyes met; +and hers had revealed to me a living well of spiritual beauty; and +although they were withdrawn as soon as they encountered mine--not +coquettishly, but with true feminine modesty--still they were not +turned away until our mutual eyes had flashed one electrical spark of +mutual understanding and mutual sympathy, that whole volumes of dull +words could never express either as vividly or as truly. What a +heaven-born mystery is contained in the glance of an eye: it can kill +and can make alive; it can fill the heart with a sudden and delicious +ecstasy, and it can plunge it into the deepest, darkest despair. + +I gave her one last look as the stage stopped before my father's door, +and if it expressed one tithe of what I felt, it told her of my warm +admiration of her glorious beauty, and of my sorrow at leaving her, +perhaps forever, without knowing more of her. + +For the time the matchless image of my stage-coach companion was lost +in the loving embraces and tender greetings of my family. I felt it +truly refreshing, after six years of exile from my own kith and kin, +to be caressed and made much of; to be told by three deliciously +beautiful, exquisitely graceful sisters, hanging around one, and +kissing one every other word, to be told how much the few last years +had improved one, how handsome, &c. one was grown; was it not enough +to somewhat turn one's brain, and make one a little vain and +considerably happy. + +In the still hush of the night, after finding myself once more in my +own room--_my_ room, with its cabinets of shells and mosses, that I +had collected when a boy in my various trips to the seashore, all +religiously left arranged as I had left them, its guns, fishing-rods, +stuffed rabbits and birds, its preserved rattle-snakes and cases of +insects, all of which had stood for so long a time in their respective +places that they had become a part of the room--in the still hush of +the night the divine image of my most beautiful stage-coach companion +arose before me. The evening was warm and soft, and gleaming in the +gorgeous moonlight lay that wild, weird ravine, and the ever downward, +foaming water-fall. Its musical utterings, the delicious moonlight, +and my own newly awakened and hitherto invulnerable heart, all +conspired to make me poetical and inspired, or at least to imagine +myself to be so; and pardon me if I gave utterance in verse to some of +my feelings. But do not in the least imagine that you are going by any +means to be presented with a fatiguing copy of my passionate numbers; +in the first place I am very diffident, and in the next--but never +mind the next, I will tell you in plain prose that I felt convinced in +my heart, I felt a rapturous presentiment that the unutterably lovely +being I had that day beheld would ere long be my own dear little wife, +forever and forever. An indistinct dream of having somewhere, at some +time before, known her haunted me and tormented me, but I racked my +brains in vain to recollect the spot or time, and finally came to the +conclusion that it had been in another state of existence we had met. + +I had been home but a few days when business letters came, demanding +the presence of my father or myself in Philadelphia. My father +expressed a desire that I should go, and a certain internal prompting +urged me to comply with his request. The next morning bright and early +found me seated in the same stage-coach in which I had met her. The +due progress of steamboat and cars deposited me safely the day after +in the goodly city of Squareruledom. + +The first leisure moment at my command, I paid my respects to the +family of my father's brother. I found my good uncle and aunt at home; +but my little pet Emily--their only child--whom I had last seen a rosy +romping little imp of twelve--was unfortunately out. My uncle urged me +very hard to make his house my home during my stay in Philadelphia; +but I had taken up my abode in the family of an old college chum of +mine, who had lately commenced the practice of the art of healing, and +who I knew would be none the worse from a little of my help in a +pecuniary way. I therefore declined my kind uncle's request, with a +promise to come and see them often. + +Judge of my inexpressible joy when, turning a corner of a street, +after leaving my uncle's, who should I chance upon but the very being +of whom my brain and heart were full! Yes, there was the identical +she, and bless her dear little heart! she gave me a bright half smile +of recognition, which I returned with as profound a bow as ever +courtier bowed to queen, or devotee to Pope's sublime imperial toe. + +An omnibus came rolling by, which she, with a motion of her neat +little gloved hand, bid stop. She stepped lightly into it, while I, +with my usual impetuosity, without knowing exactly what I was doing, +sprang after her. I consoled myself for my apparent rudeness by +throwing the entire blame upon the elective affinities. + +On we went, and from time to time as I stole a glance at her sweet +face, I thought I detected a sly, mischievous little devil playing +around the corners of her small dimpled mouth, and about the pure lids +of her downcast long-fringed eyes. She never vouchsafed me a look, +however; and as we went on, and as I still watched her lovely face, a +dread vision arose up before me of a six-foot and well proportioned +youth, with fierce whiskers and a moustache of undisputable cut and +style, that I remembered to have seen with the young lady during our +stage-coach ride together--that I remembered, with a terrible +heart-sinking, was impressively attentive to her. I inwardly resolved +to let nature have her way, and let all the hair grow on my face that +would; what if it did grow a little reddish or so--why I should +resemble the rising sun, with my glory like a halo around me. +Seriously, I have long been of the opinion that a shaved face is as +much of a disgrace, and ought to be so considered, as a shaved head +fresh from prison. Why do we not finish the half completed work and +actually shave off the hair of our heads, our eye-brows and lashes, as +well as our beards, and thus go cool and comfortable through the +world? There would be this advantage in it, the disciples of Spurzheim +would have no trouble of making a map of our bumps at sight; and then +think what an immense saving it would be in combs and brushes, to say +nothing of pomatum, which some so freely use. I rejoice sincerely to +see the sudden rise in crops of hair, and most truly hope they will +not have as rapid a fall. Shaving is artificial and injurious, +exposing parts to cold that Nature never meant should be exposed. +Black, white or red--hair is a protection and ornament that no manly +face or head should be without. Rejoice ye, therefore, over every +repentant sinner who tarrieth in Jericho and letteth his beard to +grow. + +But to return to my little omnibus companion, who by this time was +gracefully moving over the smooth gravel-walks of Fairmount--for there +we had stopped--and exceedingly refreshing were its cool shades and +splashing fountains on that sultry June day. I kept as near her as I +could without appearing rude, especially as I had received one or two +half glances from her bright eyes, that nearly annihilated me, such an +unearthly fluttering and bumping in the region of my heart did they +create. Mercy upon me! what would a whole glance do? And for a whole +glance I courageously resolved to strive, let the consequences be what +they might. + +Now do you not expect an earthquake, or a roaring bull, or at least a +rabid dog? It was nothing more however than a refreshing shower of +rain--truly refreshing to my thirsty soul, for it gave me that coveted +_whole_ glance. Heavens! I actually staggered, and would undoubtedly +have fallen had it not been for a friendly sappling--you will sneer at +witless I--that grew near me. But just try the effect upon yourself--a +shock of electricity is nothing in comparison to a shock from a pair +of bright eyes--such eyes as hers. The truth of the case was here, of +a sudden, apparently from out the clear sky, came down, with not a +moment's warning, a perfect avalanche of rain-drops--all expressly got +up, or down, for my benefit, else why did I happen to have an umbrella +in my hand? "A Wise man--" you remember the rest. My beautiful +incognito was away up those long stairs, and walking leisurely around +the immense basin, when the rain came down. I was not very far from +her, and in less than an instant my umbrella was over her pretty +little blue bonnet, with-- + +"Be kind enough to accept my umbrella, Miss"--in the most insinuating +manner of which I was master. + +"Thank you! but I will not deprive you of its shelter," with that +whole glance of which I spoke. So on we went together, and somehow +after we found ourselves under shelter, it was the easiest and most +natural thing in the world to fall into a pleasant conversation. After +talking about the scenery, weather, &c., we had mutually enjoyed +during our short stage ride, I spoke of the beauty around us, and +asked her if she often visited this lovely spot. + +"Not very often," replied she. "It is very beautiful though, in spite +of all they have done to spoil it." + +"To spoil it!" + +"Yes, by making it as much like a chess-board as possible, all +straight lines and stiffness. That is Philadelphia however." + +"Then you are not a Philadelphian, or it is not a favorite city with +you?" + +"There you are mistaken. It is my native place, and a city I love +dearly--with all its formalities and inhospitalities toward strangers. +Philadelphia is a prim matron, with a warm heart but a most frigid, +repulsive exterior, until you become acquainted with her--one of her +particular children." + +"I have been told that there is a finer collection of works of art +here than in any other city in the Union." + +"I believe you have been told correctly. We have more time in our +quiet way to look after and admire the productions of the great +masters. Our taste has wonderfully improved within a few years." + +"I have not been in town long enough to visit any of your show places +yet." + +"How I _should_ like to see that lovely water-fall and the whole of +that beautiful scene on canvas. Do you know I almost envied you a home +in that beautiful house with all its picturesque surroundings." + +"I am truly thankful you had the kind grace to think of me at all." + +"How could I help it? I had a feeling the first moment I saw you that +you and I were destined to be friends. Is there not a certain +mysterious something--call it magnetism or instinct--that either draws +us toward or repels us from every person we meet in either a greater +or less degree? With me this instinct is very strong, and I obey it +implicitly, never in one instance having found it to fail. I know at +once who to trust and who to love. And would know, by the same +unerring law of my nature, who to hate if ever I felt the least +inclination to hate. The only feeling of hate I ever experienced is a +strong desire to avoid all persons or things that are disagreeable to +me. I love harmony the most perfect, and discord is a thing for me to +flee from. I felt toward you a most decided drawing, and I felt a +conviction then, as I do now, that we are to be very near and dear +friends." + +The little angel! I could have hugged and kissed her on the spot; but +I hugged her in my soul, and inwardly vowed to consecrate my life to +her, if the "drawing" she felt for me could be rendered sufficiently +strong to admit of such a thing. On a sudden I bethought me of the +whiskered incognito, her stage attendant. I mustered courage to ask +her in a half laughing way, if that fine-looking fellow she had called +Charles were her brother. + +Instantly her manner changed from that of sweet and almost tender +seriousness to an arch, quizzical one that puzzled me. + +"Oh no, not my brother," said she. + +"_Not_ her brother--a sharp pang of pain shot through me--I was +getting dreadfully jealous--I looked all manner of curiosity and all +manner of questions; she took pity on me and said--a smile still +lurking in the corner of her eye-- + +"He is no more nor less than the intended future husband of the one +you see before you." + +"The future devil! I sincerely beg your pardon, but--you take me by +surprise--I regret--but really I do not feel that it can be so." + +"And why not?" + +"Truly, why not!" + +"He is very handsome." + +"That is as one thinks." + +"And very accomplished." + +"In flattery, most like." + +"And a most profound scholar." + +"In the art of making love, it would seem." + +"But I do not love him." + +"Not love him!" + +"No, nor never can." + +"Then why, my dearest young lady, do you marry him?" + +"You may well ask; why indeed?" + +"You seemed very friendly with him the day I saw you together, and +happier than I could have wished you." + +"That was before I knew I was to be his wife. It has only been decided +upon a few days." + +"And now?" + +"It is a long story, that I may tell you if we should meet again. I +never can love him, though I greatly esteem him, and--" + +"_Esteem!_" + +"A sad substitute for love; but what is love without esteem?" + +"What is esteem without love?" + +"Very true. It was not my own doing, although I reluctantly gave my +consent. If I can with honor release myself from this unfortunate +engagement--I have thought more and more every day since, that love, +true heart-love, is the only tie that should sanction the union of two +beings--but why should I talk in this way to you, a stranger? I cannot +feel, however that you are a stranger; we have surely met before in +some other state of being. I am a firm believer in the beautiful faith +of the transmigration of souls--of pre-existence. What is it that +brings two congenial souls together, uniting them in one hour in more +perfect harmony than whole years could effect among ordinary +acquaintances?" + +"Something unexplainable," I answered, "as it is mysterious. We can +call it elective affinity, and can talk very learnedly upon the +singular attraction of the magnet, as applied to the poles as well as +souls, and we can make vast and wise experiments, and in the end be as +far from the real cause as we were before the Solomonic experiments +were made. The school-boy's reasoning was more to the point-- + + "I do not like you, Dr. Fell, + The reason why I cannot tell." + +I love you dearly, Dr. Fell, the reason why, &c., would be just as +conclusive. We are so accustomed to seeing drops of water drawing near +to meet each other, and mingling in a loving embrace of perfect unity, +that we cease to wonder at the occurrence, as we do also at the fact +that oil and water will not mingle." + +"Just as my soul will _not_ mingle with the souls of some. There is an +antagonism more or less decided between my inner self and many persons +I know; people, too, that I am compelled to be friendly with, and wish +to be friendly with, many of them my cousins and aunts. Then again +toward some am I as irresistibly attracted." + +Her beautiful eyes sought mine frequently during our conversation, and +her glorious soul looked through them--earnest, simple and pure. + +"Just so," resumed she, after a pause, during which her sweet, soft +eyes had been gazing on the dreamy waters. "Just so have I felt +attracted toward you. I could sit down beside you and tell my whole +soul to you as freely as though you were my own brother." + +The word _brother_ sent a disagreeable shiver through me that all her +sweet confidence could not banish. + +"But," exclaimed she, starting up, "what am I doing? The rain has +stopped, and the waning sun warns me that it is time to be at home. +And what _must_ you think of me? I hardly dare to ask the--" + +"That you are the most lovely, most glorious of all Heaven's glorious +creatures; that you--" + +"There, there! if you talk in that way, I shall truly repent having +said all I have to you." + +"Forgive me; though I spoke sincerely, I hope--" + +"I will forgive on condition of good behavior in future. But I must +not stay for another word. Promise me that you will not leave this +spot until ten minutes after the omnibus I shall be in is out of +sight." + +"I promise," said I, reluctantly. + +She gave me her little, soft, ungloved hand at parting; its gentle +pressure sent a thrill of ecstasy through me, and I looked all the +unutterable things that my full soul felt into her warm brown eyes. +And, by the way, I may as well say that my own eyes are--they are a +dark, deep blue, and strangely expressive, if I believe my sisters +and my friends, and--my own glass. + +For one week did I wander up and down the streets, and watch every +omnibus, and stare into the windows and doors of every house I passed. +I peered under every pretty bonnet I met, and was, on the eighth day, +giving full chase to a coquettish little blue one, in the earnest hope +of finding the sweet face of my beautiful incognita hidden under it, +when some one laid a strong grasp on my shoulder, and looking around, +I beheld the generous face of my good uncle. + +"Bless the boy! why, Led, what is your hurry? Your business must have +been _very_ urgent this last week. Why, in the name of all the saints, +have you kept away so studiously? There is poor little Emily actually +dying with anxiety to see you. Bless my soul! is this the way to treat +your friends? But now that I have fairly captured you, I do not intend +to let you go." + +And he did not, and would not; so I had to go with him. And what do +you think? The first object that met my bewildered gaze, as my uncle +led me into the drawing-room, was--herself! her very self! but so +altered, looking so cold and stately. My uncle introduced me to her as +"My daughter Emily, nephew Ledyard." "My daughter Emily" inclined her +beautiful head most graciously, and sweetly smiled, but not one +recognizing glance did she deign to bestow on poor "nephew Ledyard." +Lovely she was, and proud and majestic as a queen. What could it mean? +I made several well-planned alluions to omnibuses and stages, &c., not +one of which did she seem to comprehend. + +Her exceeding beauty still charmed me in spite of her coldness; and I +stayed to tea and then the evening. My cousin sung for me; her voice +was highly cultivated and exceedingly sweet, and full of feeling. Song +after song she poured forth into the listening air, and each song +entranced me more than the last. + +We conversed gayly on several topics, and she grew more and more +familiar with me, alluded playfully to our childish intimacy; still, +to the very close of the evening, did she refuse to remember by look +or word that we had met since children. She evidently wished to +forget, and wished me to forget the whole of that pleasant interview +that had afforded _me_, at least, such soul-felt delight; yet she +acted her part so well, was so careless and unconscious, and withal so +cold and full of queenly dignity, that I went home in a perfect +bewilderment of amazement. + +As I lay tossing on a sleepless bed, and in my heart bitterly railing +against the perversity and incomprehensibility of women, I found +myself incessantly repeating to myself, "Am I Giles, or am I not;" the +truth flashed upon me that I was the unhappy victim of an optical +illusion, that the Cousin Emily I had but a little before left was +simply my Cousin Emily, and not the beautiful being of whom my heart +and life were full--that incessant thinking of her, and seeking her, +had crazed my brain. I relighted my lamp and made my way into the +doctor's study. I read all I could find on the subject of optical +delusion and maniacal hallucination until I convinced myself that I +was laboring under a very alarming attack of one or both, and resolved +on seriously consulting my friend, the doctor, early the next morning. + +I went back to bed with the decided opinion that I was exceedingly to +be pitied--how would it appear in the papers? for I must undoubtedly +grow worse, and it must undoubtedly end in suicide. "Sad occurrence," +"nice young man," "brilliant prospects," "only son of--," and +"promising talents," "laboring under incipient insanity," "fatal cause +unknown," &c., &c. I sympathized with myself until near morning, then +fell into a sleep, which lasted until the bell rung for breakfast. I +dressed in a hurry, and got down before the muffins were quite cold. I +ate a hearty breakfast, read a newspaper or two, and determining on +seeing my cousin again before I made up my mind to ask advice, I soon +found myself at her door. The fresh morning air and the walk had so +invigorated me, that I laughed at my last night's fears, especially as +my lovely cousin came into the drawing-room to receive me, radiant +with health and beauty. I found her just the same as she was the night +before, gay, witty and charming, and as cold as marble. Still I could +not be mistaken; for, with all her feigned coldness--for some good +reason of her own undoubtedly--there was no doubting her identity with +that of my glorious Fairmount vision. + +The day was a lovely one, soft and mild as a June morning could make +it. After conversing on indifferent subjects for a time, I asked her, +remarking on the deliciousness of the morning, if she would not like +to go out with me to Fairmount. She assented with a quiet smile, as +innocently as though she had never in her life before heard of such a +place as Fairmount. + +"The little-deceiver!" thought I. "Which way shall we go?" said I, +aloud, and very significantly, "shall we take the omnibus?" + +"I will order the carriage," replied she, with a slight shrug; "I +never ride in those omnibusses, one meets with such odd people." + +"_Never?_" asked I, emphatically. + +"Certainly, never!" answered she, with much apparent surprise. + +My drive was a delightful one. How could it be otherwise, with a +glorious day surrounding me, and a gloriously beautiful cousin sitting +beside me, with whom I could not exactly make up my mind whether to +fall desperately _in_ love, or desperately _out_ of love. I, too, such +an enthusiastic lover of beauty. But she chose to be so different from +what she was at our first meeting--so reserved, that I could not +decide whether I most loved or was most indifferent to her. + +We rode all the morning, and I left her, promising to call again in +the evening. I walked the streets until dark, the whole affair vexed +me so much--I, such a hater of all mysteries, the most impatient of +all breathing mortals. I determined to come at once to an +understanding with my perverse little cousin, and to decide at once +the puzzling question whether to love or not to love. + +In the evening I found myself alone with my little tormentor. + +"Now, sweet Cousin Emily," said I, playfully, "you have been teazing +me long enough with your pretty affectation of ignorance and +innocence--not but that you are as ignorant as the rest of your sweet +sex, and as innocent too--but, I beseech you, lay by this +masquerading, you have played possum long enough. I humbly implore of +you to be the same to me that you were in our first visit to +Fairmount--the earnest, simple-hearted Cousin Emily you then were." + +"Mr. Lincoln speaks in enigmas; I must confess I do not understand his +meaning, nor his elegant allusion to 'playing possum.'" + +This she said with so much haughtiness, that I was taken all aback. +Rallying, however, in a moment I determined not to give up the point. + +"I beseech of you to pardon the inelegance of my expression, and also +my pertinacity in insisting upon some explanation of your manner +toward me. It will all do very well for the stage," continued I, +bitterly, "but in real life, among cousins, and two that have met so +frankly, and in such sincerity, I feel that our acquaintanceship must +at once end, pleasant as it has been, as it might be to me, unless you +lay aside this assumed coldness. It harasses me more than I can +express. Emily, after seeing you in the stage-coach, I thought I had +never met with one half so lovely, and I could think of nothing but +you. After remaining at home but one week, business called me to +Philadelphia. Judge of my delight when almost the first object that +met my view was your beautiful, unforgotten little self. You were just +stepping into one of those very omnibusses you have since seen fit to +decry. What followed you must remember as distinctly as I--no _not_ as +distinctly, for the whole of that delicious interview is engraven on +my heart--one of the sun-bright scenes of my life that I can never +forget. And now, after that beautiful interchange of thought and soul +that promised--every thing, do I find you cold, impassive. If you +repent the trust you so freely reposed in me, in all frankness, say +so; but for the sweet love of heaven, do not pretend to such--" + +"For the sweet love of heaven what is the man raving about? Are you +mad, dear cousin, insane? Poor Cousin Ledyard! Or is it--?" her whole +manner changed, her brilliant eyes lighted up with intense fire. How +beautiful she looked! I could have knelt and worshiped her, though, +strange to say, my restless, ardent love for her had entirely abated. +"Yes!" exclaimed she, "it must be so;" and with that she clasped her +small white hands, and throwing back her fine head, laughed with all +her heart, and strength, and soul. + +This was very pleasant for me; still I had to join her laugh, it was +so genuine and infectious. + +"Forgive me, dear cousin, forgive me for my rude laughter; forgive me +also for my folly in attempting to deceive you. You will hereafter +find me the same you found me in our first pleasant interview. Here is +my hand--I will not explain one other word to-night; I hear voices on +the stairs. Come here to-morrow evening at eight, and you shall know +all--all my reasons." + +"And why not to-morrow morning, cruel cousin?" + +"I am engaged all of the day to-morrow. I go with mamma and papa out +of town, ten miles or so, to dine; a stupid affair, but mamma wishes +it." + +"But before you go--just after breakfast." + +"No, no--come in the evening." + +By this time the voices heard on the stairs had entered the room in +the shape of a merry half-dozen of my cousin's young friends. Feeling +too agitated for society, I withdrew. + +And now another night and a whole day more of suspense--that pale +horror, that come in what shape it will, even in the shape of a +beautiful cousin, always torments the very life from my heart. + +All the clocks in town were striking eight as I rung my uncle's bell. +I found the drawing-room full of company, at which I felt vexed and +disappointed. + +My lovely cousin came up to me and placed her arm within mine, and led +me through the next room into the conservatory, and there, seated amid +the rare eastern flowers, herself the queen of them, was, gracious +heaven! I dared scarcely breathe, so great was my fear of dispelling +the beautiful illusion. It was she! none other; my stage-coach +companion--my Fairmount goddess. The musical, measured voice of my +statue-like Cousin Emily brought me to myself. + +"Allow me. Cousin Ledyard, to introduce you to _my_ Cousin Emily." + +There they both stood, one Cousin Emily, calm, stately, serene; the +other trembling and in blushes. + +I looked from one to the other in the most ludicrous bewilderment, yet +each glance showed me more and more what a wonderful fool I had been +making of myself for the last few days. Still they were strangely +alike; their own kindred could not at times distinguish one from the +other. My heart could feel the difference. _My_ Emily was a child of +nature, the other bred in a more conventional school. My Emily was a +shade less tall, less stately, less Grecian, and exquisitely more +lovely, and loving. + +But that double wedding _was_ a grand one. By what means my Emily +contrived to disentangle herself from that handsome-whiskered +"Charles," and to entangle him fast in the chains of the other Emily, +any one who wishes to know, and will take the trouble, can have all +due information on the subject, and can also learn how I wooed my +peerless Emily and won her, by coming to our lovely picturesque +dwelling, situate in one of the most romantic spots in the country. I +write you all to come, one by one, and spend a month with me, and you +shall know all the particulars. You will find my little Emily a +pattern housekeeper; you will also find a ready welcome. Bless her +sweet face! There she sits, at the moment that I am writing this to +you, with her willow arms twined around the exquisite form of her +little lily-bud boy, and bending low her graceful form over him, +hushing to sleep the very bravest, noblest, merriest little specimen +of babyhood--the exact image of his enraptured father. + + + + +THE DEFORMED ARTIST. + +BY MRS. E. N. HORSFORD. + + + The twilight o'er Italia's sky + Had wove a shadowy veil, + And one by one the solemn stars + Looked forth serene and pale; + As quickly the waning light + Through a high casement stole, + And fell on one with silver hair, + Who shrived a passing soul. + + No costly pomp and luxury + Relieved that chamber's gloom, + But glowing forms, by limner's art + Created, thronged the room: + And as the low winds echoed far + The bell for evening prayer, + The dying painter's earnest tones + Fell on the languid air. + + "The spectral form of Death is nigh, + The thread of Life is spun, + Ave Maria! I have looked + Upon my latest sun. + And yet 'tis not with pale disease + This frame is worn away, + Nor yet--nor yet with length of years-- + A child but yesterday" + + "I found within my father's hall + No fervent love to claim-- + The curse that marked me from my birth + Devoted me to shame. + I saw upon my brother's brow + Angelic beauty lay, + The mirror gave me back a form + That thrilled me with dismay." + + "And soon I learned to shrink from all, + The lowly and the high; + To see but scorn on every lip, + Contempt in every eye. + And for a time e'en Nature's smile + A bitter mockery wore, + For beauty stamped each living thing + The wide creation o'er;" + + "And I alone was cursed and loathed; + 'Twas in a garden bower + I knelt one eve, and scalding tears + Fell fast on many a flower; + And as I rose I marked with awe + And agonizing grief, + A frail mimosa at my feet + Fold close each fragile leaf." + + "Alas! how dark my lot if thus + A plant could shrink from me; + But when I looked again I marked + That from the honey-bee, + The falling leaf, the bird's gay wing, + It shrunk with pain and fear, + A kindred presence I had found, + Life waxed sublimely clear." + + "I climbed the lofty mountain height + And communed with the skies, + And felt within my grateful heart + Strange aspirations rise. + Oh! what was this humanity + When every beaming star + Was filled with lucid intellect, + Congenial, though afar." + + "I mused beneath the avalanche, + And traced the sparkling stream, + Till Nature's face became to me + A passion and a dream:" + Then thirsting for a higher lore + I left my childhood's home, + And stayed not till I gazed upon + The hills of fallen Rome. + + "I stood amid the forms of light, + Seraphic and divine, + The painter's wand had summoned from + The dim Ideal's shrine; + And felt within my fevered soul + Ambition's wasting fire, + And seized the pencil with a vague + And passionate desire" + + "To shadow forth, with lineaments + Of earth, the phantom throng + That swept before my sight in thought, + And lived in storied song. + Vain, vain the dream--as well might I + Aspire to build a star, + Or pile the gorgeous sunset clouds + That glitter from afar." + + "The threads of life have worn away, + Discordantly they thrill, + But soon the sounding chords will be + Forever mute and still. + And in the spirit-land that lies + Beyond, so calm and gray, + I shall aspire with truer aim-- + Ave Maria! pray!" + + + + +A FAREWELL TO A HAPPY DAY. + +BY FRANCES S. OSGOOD. + + + Good-bye--good-bye, thou gracious, golden day: + Through luminous tears, thou smilest, far away + In the blue heaven, thy sweet farewell to me, + And I, through _my_ tears, gaze and smile with thee. + + I see the last faint, glowing, amber gleam + Of thy rich pinion, like a lovely dream, + Whose floating glory melts within the sky, + And now thou'rt passed forever from mine eye! + + Were we not friends--_best_ friends--my cherished day? + Did I not treasure every eloquent ray + Of golden light and love thou gavest me? + And have I not been true--most true to thee? + + And _thou_--thou earnest like a joyous bird, + Whose sacred wings by heaven's own air were stirred. + And lowly sang me all the happy time + Dear, soothing stories of that blissful clime! + + And more, oh! more than this, there came with thee, + From Heaven, a stranger, rare and bright to me, + A new, sweet joy--a smiling angel-guest, + That softly asked a home within my breast. + + For talking sadly with my soul alone, + I heard far off and faint a music-tone, + It seemed a spirit's call--so soft it stole + On fairy wings into my waiting soul. + + I _knew_ it summoned me to something sweet, + And so I followed it with faltering feet; + And found--what I had prayed for with wild tears-- + A rest, that soothed the lingering grief of years! + + So for that deep, perpetual joy, my day! + And for all lovely things that came to play + In thy glad smile--the pure and pleading flowers + That crowned with their frail bloom thy flying hours-- + + The sunlit clouds--the pleasant air that played + Its low lute-music 'mid the leafy shade-- + And, dearer far, the tenderness that taught + My soul a new and richer thrill of thought-- + + For these--for all--bear thou to Heaven for me + The grateful thanks with which I mission thee! + Then should thy sisters, wasted, wronged, upbraid, + Speak _thou_ for me--for thou wert not betrayed! + + 'Twas little--true--I could to thee impart-- + I, with my simple, frail and wayward heart; + But that I strove the diamond sands to light, + In Life's rich hour-glass, with _Love's_ rainbow flight; + + And that one generous spirit owed to me + A moment of exulting ecstasy; + And that I won o'er wrong a queenly sway-- + For this, thou'lt smile for me in Heaven, my Day! + + + + +SAM NEEDY. + +A TALE OF THE PENITENTIARY. + +BY LOUIS FITZGERALD TASISTRO. + + +Several years ago, a man of the name of Samuel Needy, a poor artisan, +was living in London. He had with him a wife, and a child by this +wife. This artisan was skillful, quick, intelligent, very ill-treated +by education, very well-treated by nature--able to think, but not to +read. One winter his work failed him--there was neither fire nor food +in his garret; the man, the woman, and the child were cold and hungry; +he committed a theft; it is unnecessary to state what he stole, or +whence he stole it. Suffice it to know, that the consequences of this +theft were three days' food and fire to the wife and child, and five +years of imprisonment to the man. + +Sam Needy, lately an honest man, now and henceforth a thief, was +dignified and grave in appearance; his high forehead was already +wrinkled, though he was still young; some gray lines lurked among the +black and bushy tufts of his hair; his eye was soft, and buried deep +beneath his lofty and well-turned eye-brow; his nostrils were open, +his chin advancing, his lip scornful; it was a fine head--let us see +what society made of it. + +He was a man of few words--more frequent gestures--somewhat imperious +in his whole manner, and one to make himself obeyed; of a melancholy +air--rather serious than suffering; for all that he had suffered +enough. + +In the place where he was confined there was a director of the +work-rooms--a kind of functionary peculiar to prisons, who combined in +himself the offices of turnkey and tradesman, who would at the same +time issue an order to the workman and threaten the prisoner--put +tools in his hand and irons on his feet. This man was a variety of his +own species--a man peremptory, tyrannical, governed by his fancies, +holding tight the reins of his authority, and yet, on occasion, a boon +companion, jovial and condescending to a joke--rather hard than +firm--reasoning with no one--not even himself--a good father, and +doubtless a good husband--(a duty, by the way, and not a virtue;) in +short, evil but not bad. The principal, the diagonal line of this +man's character was obstinacy; he was proud of it, and therein +compared himself to Napoleon, when he had once fixed what he called +_his will_ upon an absurdity, he went to its furthest length, holding +his head high, and despising all obstacles. Such violence of purpose +without reason, is only folly tied to the tail of brute force, and +serving to lengthen it. For the most part, whenever a catastrophe, +whether public or private, happens amongst men, if we look beneath the +rubbish with which it strews the earth, to find in what manner the +fallen fabric had been propped, we shall, with rare exceptions, +discover it to have been blindly put together by a weak and obstinate +man, trusting and admiring himself implicitly. Many of the smaller of +these strange fatalities pass in the world for providences. Such was +he who was the director of the work-rooms in the House of Correction +where poor Sam Needy was sent to undergo his sentence. Such was the +stone with which society daily struck its prisoners to draw sparks +from them. The sparks which such stones draw from such flints often +kindle conflagrations. + +In a short time Sam found the prison air natural to him, and appeared +to have forgotten every thing; a certain severe serenity, which +belonged to his character, had resumed its mastery. + +In about the same time he had acquired a singular ascendency over all +his companions, as if by a sort of silent agreement, and without any +one knowing wherefore, not even himself. All these men consulted him, +listened to him, admired and imitated him, (the last point to which +admiration can mount.) It was no slight glory to be obeyed by all +these lawless natures; the empire had come to him without his own +seeking--it was a consequence of the respect with which they beheld +him. The eye of a man is a window, through which may be seen the +thoughts which enter into and issue from his heart. + +Place an individual who possesses ideas among those who do not, at the +end of a given time, and by a law of irresistible attraction, all +their misty minds shall draw together with humility and reverence +round his illuminated one. There are men who are iron, and there are +men who are loadstone. Sam Needy was loadstone. In less than three +months he had become the soul, the law, the order of the work-room; he +was the dial, concentrating all rays; he must even himself have +sometimes doubted whether he were king or prisoner--it was the +captivity of a pope among his cardinals. + +By as natural a reaction, accomplished step by step, as he was loved +by the prisoners, so was he detested by the jailers. It is always +thus, popularity cannot exist without disfavor--the love of the slaves +is always exceeded one degree by the hate of their masters. + +Sam Needy was, by his particular organization, a great eater; his +stomach was so formed, that food enough for two common men would +hardly have sufficed for his nourishment. Lord Slickborough had one of +these large appetites, and laughed at it; but that which is a cause of +gayety for a British peer, with a rent-roll of fifty-thousand pounds +a year, is a heavy charge to an artisan, and a misfortune to a +prisoner. + +Sam Needy, free in his own loft, worked all day, earned his four +pounds of bread, and ate it; Sam Needy, in prison, worked all day, +and, for his pains, received invariably one pound and a half of bread, +and four ounces of meat; the ration admits of no change. Sam was +therefore constantly hungry whilst in the House of Correction; he was +hungry, and no more--he did not speak of it because it was not his +nature so to do. + +One day Sam, after devouring his scanty pittance, had returned to his +work, thinking to cheat his hunger by it--the rest of the prisoners +were eating cheerily. A young man, pale, fair, and feeble-looking, +came and placed himself near him; he held in his hand his ration, as +yet untouched, and a knife; he remained in that situation, with the +air of one who would speak, and dares not. The sight of the man, and +his bread and meat annoyed Sam. + +"What do you want?" said he, rudely. + +"That you would do me a service," said the young man, timidly. + +"What?" replied Sam. + +"That you would help me to eat this--it is too much for me." + +A tear stood in the proud eye of Sam; he took the knife, divided the +young man's ration into two equal parts, took one of them, and began +eating. + +"Thank you," said the young man; "if you like, we will share together +every day." + +"What is your name?" said Sam. + +"Heartall." + +"Wherefore are you here?" + +"I have committed a theft." + +"And I too," said Sam. + +Henceforth they did thus share together every day. Sam Needy was +little more than thirty years old, but at times he appeared fifty, so +stern were his thoughts usually. Heartall was twenty--he might have +been taken for seventeen, so much innocence was there in his +appearance. A strict friendship was knit up between the two, rather of +father to son than brother to brother, Heartall being still almost a +child, Sam already nearly an old man. They wrought in the same +work-room--they slept under the same vault--they walked in the same +airing-ground--they ate of the same bread. Each of these two friends +was the universe to the other--it would seem that they were happy. + +Mention has already been made of the director of the work-rooms. This +man, who was abhorred by the prisoners, was often obliged, in order to +enforce obedience, to have recourse to Sam Needy, who was beloved by +them. On more than one occasion, when the question was, how to put +down a rebellion or a tumult, the authority without title of Sam Needy +had given powerful aid to the official authority of the director; in +short, to restrain the prisoners, ten words from him were as good as +ten turnkeys. Sam had many times rendered this service to the +director, wherefore the latter detested him cordially. He was jealous +of him; there was at the bottom of his heart a secret, envious, +implacable hatred against Sam--the hate of a titular for a real +sovereign--of a temporal against a spiritual power; these are the +worst of all hatreds. + +Sam loved Heartall greatly, and did not trouble himself about the +director. One morning when the turnkeys were leading the prisoners, +two by two, from their dormitory to the work-room, one of them called +Heartall, who was by the side of Sam, and informed him that the +director wished to see him. + +"What does he want with you?" said Sam. + +"I do not know," replied the other. + +The turnkey took Heartall away. + +The morning past; Heartall did not return to the work-room. When the +dinner hour arrived, Sam expected that he should rejoin Heartall in +the airing-ground--but no Heartall was there. He returned into the +work-room, still Heartall did not make his appearance. So passed the +day. At night, when the prisoners were removed to their dormitory, Sam +looked out for Heartall, but could not see him. It would seem that he +must have suffered much at that moment, for he addressed the +turnkey--a thing which he had never done before. + +"Is Heartall sick?" was his question. + +"No," replied the turnkey. + +"Why is it, then, that he has not again made his appearance to-day?" + +"Ah," replied the turnkey, carelessly, "they have put him in another +ward." + +The witnesses who deposed to these facts at a later period, remarked, +that at this answer, Sam's hand, in which was a lighted candle, +trembled a little. He again asked, calmly, + +"Whose order was this?" + +The turnkey said "Mr. Flint's." + +The name of the director of the work-rooms was Flint. + +The next day went by like the last, but no news of Heartall. + +That evening, when the day's work ended, Mr. Flint came to make his +usual round of inspection. As soon as Sam Needy saw him, he took off +his cap of coarse wool, buttoned his gray vest, sad livery of the +work-house, (it is a principle in prisons, that a vest, respectfully +buttoned, bespeaks the favor of the superior officers,) and placed +himself at the end of his bench, waiting till the director came by. He +passed. + +"Sir," said Sam. + +The director stopped and turned half round. + +"Sir," said Sam, "is it true that Heartall's ward has been changed?" + +"Yes," returned the director. + +"Sir," continued Sam, "I cannot live without Heartall; you know that +with the ration of the house I have not enough to eat, and that +Heartall shared his bread with me." + +"That was his business," replied the director. + +"Sir, is there no means of getting Heartall replaced in the same ward +as myself?" + +"Impossible! it is so decided." + +"By whom?" + +"By myself." + +"Mr. Flint," persisted Sam, "the question is my life or death, and it +depends upon you." + +"I never revoke my decisions." + +"Sir, is it because I have given you offence?" + +"None." + +"In that case," said Sam, "why do you separate me from Heartall?" + +"_It is my will_" said the director. + +With this explanation he went away. + +Sam Needy stooped his head and made no answer. Poor caged lion, from +whom they had taken his dog! + +The grief of this separation in no way changed the prisoner's almost +disease of voracity. Nor was he, in other respects, obviously altered. +He did not speak of Heartall to any of his comrades. He walked alone +in the airing-ground, in the hours of recreation, and suffered +hunger--nothing more. + +Nevertheless, those who knew him well, remarked something of a +sinister and sombre expression which daily overspread his countenance +more and more. In other respects he was gentler than ever. Many wished +to share their ration with him, but he refused with a smile. + +Every evening, after the explanation which the director had given him, +he committed a sort of folly, which, in so grave a man, was +astonishing. At the moment when the director, in the progress of his +habitual duty, passed by Sam Needy's working-frame, he would raise his +eyes, gaze steadily upon him, and then address to him, in a tone full +of distress and anger, combining at once menace and supplication, +these two words only--"_remember Heartall_!" the director would either +appear not to hear, or pass on, shrugging his shoulders. + +He was wrong. It became evident to all the lookers on of these strange +scenes, that Sam Needy was inwardly determined on some step. All the +prison awaited with anxiety the result of this strife between +obstinacy and resolution. + +It has been proved, that once Sam said to the director, "Listen, sir, +give me back my comrade; you will do well to do it, I assure you. Take +notice that I tell you this." + +Another time, one Sunday, when he had remained in the airing-ground +for many hours in the same attitude, seated on a stone, his elbows on +his knees, and his forehead buried in his hands, one of his +fellow-convicts approached him, and cried out, laughing, + +"What are you about here, Sam?" + +Sam raised his stern head slowly, and said, "_I am sitting in +judgment!_" + +At last, on the evening of the 1st of November, 1833, at the moment +when the director was making his round, Sam Needy crushed under his +foot a watch-glass, which he had that morning found in the corridor. +The director inquired whence that noise proceeded. + +"It is nothing," said Sam. "It is I, Mr. Flint--give me back my +comrade." + +"Impossible!" said his master. + +"It must be done though," said Sam, in a low and steady voice, and +looking the director full in the face, added, "reflect, this is the +first of November, I give you till the 10th." + +A turnkey made the remark to Mr. Flint that Sam Needy threatened him, +and that it was a case for solitary confinement. + +"No, nothing of the kind," said the director, with a disdainful smile, +"we must be gentle with these sort of people." + +On the morrow, another convict approached Sam Needy, who walked by +himself, melancholy, leaving the other prisoners to bask in a patch of +sunshine at the further corner of the court. + +"What now, Sam--what are you thinking of? You seem sad." + +"_I am afraid_," said Sam, "_that some misfortune will happen soon to +this gentle Mr. Flint_." + +There are nine full days from the 1st to the 10th of November. Sam +Needy did not let one pass without gravely warning the director of the +state, more and more miserable, in which the disappearance of Heartall +placed him. The director, worn out, sentenced him to four-and-twenty +hours of solitary confinement, because his prayer was too like a +demand. This was all that Sam Needy obtained. + +The 10th of November arrived. On this day Sam arose with such a serene +countenance as he had not worn since the day when _the decision_ of +Mr. Flint had separated him from his friend. When risen, he searched +in a white wooden box, which stood at the foot of his bed, and +contained his few possessions. He drew thence a pair of sempstress's +scissors. These, with an odd volume of Cowper's poems, were all that +remained to him of the woman he had loved--of the mother of his +child--of his happy little home of other days. Two articles, totally +useless to Sam; the scissors could only be of service to a woman--the +book to a lettered person. Sam could neither sew nor read. + +At the time when he was traversing the old hall, which serves as the +winter walk for the prisoners, he approached a convict of the name of +Dawson, who was looking with attention at the enormous bars of a +window. Sam was holding the little pair of scissors in his hands; he +showed them to Dawson, saying, "To-night I will divide those bars with +these scissors." + +Dawson began to laugh incredulously. Sam joined him. + +That morning he worked with more zeal than usual--faster and better +than ever before. A little past noon he went down on some pretext or +other to the joiner's workshop, on the ground-floor, under the story +in which was his own. Sam was beloved there as every where else; but +he entered it seldom. Thus it was--"Stop, here's Sam!" They got round +him; it was a perfect holyday. He cast a quick glance around the room. +Not one of the overlookers was there. + +"Who has a hatchet to lend me?" said he. + +"What to do?" was the inquiry. + +"Kill the director of the work-rooms." + +They offered him many to choose from. He took the smallest of those +which were very sharp, hid it in his trowsers, and went out. There +were twenty-seven prisoners in that room. He had not desired them to +keep his secret; they all kept it. They did not even talk of it among +themselves. Every one separately awaited the result. The thing was +straight-forward--terribly simple. Sam could neither be counseled nor +denounced. + +An hour afterward he approached a convict sixteen years old, who was +lounging in the place of exercise, and advised him to learn to read. +The rest of the day was as usual. At 7 o'clock at night the prisoners +were shut up, each division in the work-room to which they belonged, +and the overseers went out, as it appears was the custom, not to +return till after the director's visit. Sam was locked in with his +companions like the rest. + +Then there passed in this work-room an extraordinary scene, one not +without majesty and awe, the only one of the kind which is to be told +in this story. There were there (according to the judiciary deposition +afterward made) four-and-twenty prisoners, including Sam Needy. As +soon as the overseers had left them alone, Sam stood up upon a bench, +and announced to all the room that he had something to say. There was +silence. + +Then Sam raised his voice, and said, "You all know that Heartall was +my brother. Here they do not give me enough to eat; even with the +bread which I can buy with the little I earn, it is not sufficient. +Heartall shared his ration with me. I loved him at first because he +fed me, then because he loved me. The director, Mr. Flint, separated +us; our being together could be nothing to him--but he is a +bad-hearted man, who enjoys tormenting others. I have asked him for +Heartall back again. You have heard me. He will not do it. I gave him +till the 10th, which is to-day, to restore Heartall to me. He ordered +me into solitary confinement for telling him so. I, during this time, +have sat in judgment upon him, and condemned him to death. In two +hours he will come to make his round. I warn you that I am about to +kill him. Have you any thing to say on the matter?" All continued +silent. + +He went on; he spoke (so it appears) with a peculiar eloquence, which +was natural to him. He declared that he knew he was about to do a +violent deed, but could not think it wrong. He appealed to the +conscience of his four-and-twenty listeners. He was placed in a cruel +extremity; the necessity of doing justice to himself was a strait into +which every man found himself driven at one time or other; he could +not, in truth, take the director's life without giving his own for it; +but it was right to give his life for a just end. He had thought +deeply on the matter, and that alone, for two months; he believed he +was not carried away by passion, but if it were so, he trusted they +would warn him. He honestly submitted his reasons to the just men whom +he addressed. He was about to kill Mr. Flint; but if any one had any +objection to make, he was ready to hear it. + +One voice alone was raised to say, that before killing the director, +Sam ought to make one last attempt to soften him. + +"It is fair," said Sam. "I will do so." + +The great clock struck the hour--it was eight. The director would make +his appearance at nine. + +No sooner had this extraordinary court of appeal ratified the sentence +he had submitted to it, than Sam resumed his former serenity. He +placed upon the table all the linen and garments he possessed--the +scanty property of a prisoner--and calling to him, one after the +other, those of his companions whom he loved best after Heartall, he +divided all amongst them. He only kept the little pair of scissors. +Then he embraced them all. Some of them wept--upon these he smiled. + +There were moments in this last hour, when he chatted with so much +tranquillity, and even gayety, that many of his comrades inwardly +hoped, as they afterward declared, that he might perhaps abandon his +resolution. + +He perceived a young convict who was pale, who was gazing upon him +with fixed eyes, and trembling doubtless from expectation of what he +was about to witness. "Come, courage, young man," said Sam to him, +softly, "it will be only the work of a moment." + +When he had distributed all his goods, made all his adieux, pressed +all their hands, he interrupted the restless whisperings which were +heard here and there in the dim corners of the work-room, and +commanded that they should return to their labor. All obeyed him in +silence. + +The apartment in which this passed was an oblong hall, a +parallelogram, lighted with windows on its two longer sides, and with +two doors opposite each other at the two ends of the room. The +working-frames were ranged on each side near the windows, the benches +touching the wall at right angles, and the space left free between the +two rows of frames formed a sort of avenue, which went straight from +one door to the other, crossing the hall entirely. It was this which +the director traversed in making his inspection; he was to enter at +the south door, and go out by the north, after having looked at the +workmen on the right and left. Commonly he passed through quickly and +without stopping. + +Sam Needy had reseated himself on his bench, and had betaken himself +to his work. All were in expectation--the moment approached; on a +sudden they heard the clock strike. Sam said, "It is the last +quarter." Then he rose, crossed gravely a part of the hall, and placed +himself, leaning on his elbow, on the first frame on the left hand +side, close to the door of entrance; his countenance was perfectly +calm and benign. + +Nine o'clock struck--the door opened--the director came in. + +At that moment the silence of the work-room was as of a chamber full +of statues. + +The director was alone as usual; he entered with his jovial, +self-satisfied, and stubborn air, without noticing Sam, who was +standing at the left side of the door, his right hand hidden in his +trowsers, and passed rapidly by the first frames, tossing his head, +mumbling his words, and casting his glance, which was law, here and +there, not perceiving that the eyes of all who surrounded him were +fixed upon him as upon a fearful phantom. On a sudden he turned +sharply round, surprised to hear a step behind him. + +It was Sam Needy, who for some instants followed him in silence. + +"What are you about there?" said the director. "Why are you not in +your place?" + +Sam Needy answered respectfully, "Because I have something to say to +you, Mr. Flint." + +"What about?" + +"Concerning Heartall." + +"Still Heartall!" exclaimed the director. + +"Always," replied Sam. + +"Be quiet," said the director, walking on again. "You are not content, +then, with your four-and-twenty hours of solitary confinement?" + +Sam followed him--"Mr. Flint, give me back my comrade." + +"Impossible!" + +"Sir," said Sam, in a tone which might have softened the heart of a +fiend, "I entreat you, restore Heartall to me. You shall see how well +I will work. To you who are free, it is no matter--you do not know +what the worth of a friend is; but I have only the four walls of my +prison. You can come and go, I have nothing but Heartall--give him +back to me. Heartall fed me--you know it well. It will only cost you +the trouble of saying yes. What can it be to you that there should be +in the same room one man called Sam Needy, another called +Heartall?--for the thing is simply that, Mr. Flint; good Mr. Flint, I +beseech you earnestly, for Heaven's sake!" + +Sam had probably never before said so much at one time to a jailer; +exhausted with the effort, he paused. The director replied, with an +impatient gesture, + +"Impossible--I have said it; speak to me no more about it, you wear me +out." + +Then, as if in a hurry, he stepped on more quickly, Sam following. +Thus speaking, they had reached the door of exit; the prisoners looked +after them, and listened breathlessly. + +Sam gently touched the director's arm. "At least let me know why I am +condemned to death--tell me why you have separated him from me?" + +"I have told you," answered the director; "_it is my will_." + +He turned his back upon Sam, and was about to take hold of the latch +of the door. + +On this answer Sam had retreated a step; the assembled statues who +were there saw him bring out his right hand, and the hatchet with it; +it was raised, and ere the victim could utter one cry, three blows, +one upon the other, had cleft his skull. At the moment, when he fell +back, a fourth blow laid his face open; then, as if his frenzy, once +let loose, _could not stop_, Sam struck a fifth blow; it was +useless--he was dead. + +"Now for the other!" cried the murderer, and threw away the hatchet. +That other was himself. They saw him draw from his bosom the small +pair of scissors, and before any one could attempt to hinder him, bury +them in his breast. The blade was too short to penetrate. He struck +them in again and again, so many as twenty times. "Accursed heart! +cannot I then reach you?" and finally fell in a dead swoon, bathed in +his blood. + +Which of these men was the victim of the other? + +When Sam returned to consciousness, he was in bed, well attended, his +wounds carefully bandaged; a humane nurse was about his pillow, and +more than one magistrate, who asked him, with the appearance of great +interest, "Are you better?" + +He had lost a great quantity of blood, but the scissors with which he +had wounded himself, had done their duty ill--none of the wounds were +dangerous. + +The examinations commenced. They asked him if it were he who had +killed the director of the work-rooms. He replied, "It was." They +asked him why he had done it. He answered--_it was his will._ + +After this the wounds festered. He was seized with a severe fever, of +which he only did not die. November, December, January, and February, +went over in recovering him and preparing for his trial; physicians +and judges alike made him the object of their care--the former healed +his wounds, the latter made ready his scaffold. To be brief, on the +5th of April, 1834, he appeared, being perfectly cured, before the +Court of Sessions. + +Sam made a good appearance before the court; he had been carefully +shaved, his head was bare; he was dressed in the sad prison livery of +two shades of gray. + +When the trial was entered upon, a singular difficulty presented +itself. Not any of the witnesses of the events of the 10th of +November, would make a deposition against Sam. The presiding judge +threatened them with his discretionary power in vain. Sam then +commanded them to give evidence. All their tongues were loosed. They +related what they had seen. + +Sam Needy listened with profound attention. When one of them, out of +forgetfulness, or affection for him, omitted some of the circumstances +chargeable upon the accused, Sam supplied them. By this means the +chain of facts which has been related was unfolded before the court. + +There was one moment when some of the females present wept. The clerk +of the court summoned the convict, Heartall. It was his turn to come +forward. He entered, staggering with emotion--he wept. The police +could not prevent his falling into the arms of Sam. Sam raised him, +and said with a smile to the attorney-general, "Here is a villain who +shares his bread with those who are hungry." Then he kissed Heartall's +hand. + +The list of witnesses having been gone through, the attorney-general +rose and spoke in these words: "Gentlemen of the jury, society would +be shaken to its foundation if public vengeance did not overtake such +great criminals as this man, who, etc., etc." + +After this memorable discourse, Sam's advocate spoke. The pleader +against, and the pleader for, made each in due order, the evolutions +which they are accustomed to make in the arena which is called a +criminal court. + +Sam did not think that all was said that might be said. He arose in +his turn. He spoke in a manner which must have amazed all the +intelligent persons present on the occasion. It appeared as if there +were more of the orator than the murderer in this poor artisan. He +spoke in an upright attitude, with a penetrating and well-managed +voice; with an open, sincere, and steadfast gaze, with a gesture +almost always the same, but full of command. There were moments in +which his genuine, lofty eloquence stirred the crowd to a murmur, +during which Sam took breath, casting a bold gaze upon the bystanders. +Then again, this man, who could not read, was as gentle, polished, +select in his language, as a well-informed person--at other moments +modest, measured, attentive, going step by step over the irritating +parts of the argument, courteous to his judges. Once only he gave way +to a burst of passion. The attorney-general had proved in his speech +that Sam Needy had assassinated the director without any violence on +his part, and consequently _without provocation_. + +"What!" exclaimed Sam Needy, "I have not been provoked! Ay--it is very +true--I understand you. A drunken man strikes me with his dagger--I +kill him, I have been provoked; you show mercy to me, you send me to +Botany Bay. But a man who is not drunk, who has the perfect use of his +reason, wrings my heart for four years, humbles me for four years, +pierces me with a weapon every day, every hour, every minute, in some +unexpected point for four years. I had a wife, for whose sake I became +a thief--he tortures me through that wife; a child for whom I +stole--he tortures me through that child. I have not bread enough to +eat--a friend gives it me; he takes away my friend and my food. I ask +for my friend back--he condemns me to solitary confinement. I speak to +him--him, the spy--respectfully; he answers me in dog's language. I +tell him I am suffering--he tells me I wear him out. What would you, +then, that I should do? I kill him. It is well--I am a monster; I have +murdered this man; I have not been provoked. You take my life for +it--be it so." + +The debates being closed, the presiding judge made his impartial and +luminous summing up. The results were these: a wicked life--a wretch +in purpose. Sam Needy had begun by stealing--he then murdered. All +this was true. + +When the jury were about being conducted to their apartment, the judge +asked the accused if he had any thing to say upon the questions before +them. + +"Little," replied Sam, "only this; I am a thief and an assassin. I +have stolen, and have slain a man. But why have I stolen? Why have I +murdered? Add these two questions to the rest, gentleman of the jury." + +After a quarter of an hour's deliberation on the part of the twelve +individuals whom he had addressed as _gentlemen of the jury_, Sam +Needy was condemned to death. + +Their decision was read to Sam, who contented himself with saying, "It +is well--but why has this man stolen? Why has this man murdered? These +are questions to which they make no answer." + +He was carried back to prison--he supped almost gayly. + +He had no wish to make an appeal against his sentence. The old woman +who had nursed him entreated him with tears to do so. He complied out +of kindness to her. It would appear as if he had resisted till the +very last moment, for when he signed his petition in the register, the +legal delay of three days had expired some minutes before. The +benevolent old nurse gave him a crown. He accepted the money and +thanked her. + +While his appeal was pending, offers of escape were made him. There +was thrown, one after the other, in his dungeon, through its air-hole, +a nail, a bit of iron file, and the handle of a bucket. Any of these +three tools would have been sufficient to so skillful a man as Sam +Needy to cut through his irons. He gave up the nail, the file, and the +handle to the turnkey. + +On the 10th of June, 1834, seven months after the deed, its expiation +arrived. That day, at seven o'clock in the morning, the recorder of +the tribunal entered Sam Needy's dungeon, and announced to him that he +had not more than an hour to live. His petition was rejected. + +"Come," said Sam, coldly, "I have this night slept well, without +troubling myself that I should sleep still better the next." + +It would appear as if the words of strong men always receive a certain +dignity from approaching death. + +The chaplain arrived--then the executioner. He was humble to the one, +gentle to the other. + +He maintained a perfect ease of spirit. He listened to the chaplain +with extreme attention, accusing himself of many things, and +regretting that he had not been instructed in religion. + +At his request they had given him back the scissors with which he had +wounded himself. One blade, which had been broken in his breast, was +wanting. He entreated the jailor to have these scissors taken to +Heartall as from himself. + +He besought those who bound his hands to place in his right hand the +crown-piece which the good nurse had given him--the only thing which +was now remaining to him. + +At a quarter to eight he was led out of his prison, with the customary +mournful procession which attends the condemned. He was pale; his eyes +were fixed on the chaplain--but he walked with a firm step. + +He ascended the scaffold gravely. He shook hands with the chaplain +first, then the executioner, thanking the one, forgiving the other. +The executioner _pushed him back gently_, says one account. At the +moment when the assistant put the hideous rope round his neck, he made +a sign to the chaplain to take the crown-piece which he had in his +right hand, and said to him, "_For the poor_." At that moment the +clock was striking eight, the sound from the steeple drowned his +voice, and the chaplain answered that he could not hear him. Sam +waited for an interval between two of the strokes, and repeated with +gentleness, "_For the poor_." + +The eighth stroke had scarcely sounded when this noble and intelligent +criminal was launched into eternity. + + + + +THE ANGEL OF THE SOUL. + +BY J. BAYARD TAYLOR. + + + Una stella, una notte, ed una croce. _Antonio Bisazza._ + + + Silence hath conquered thee, imperial Night! + Thou sit'st alone within her void, cold halls, + Thy solemn brow uplifted, and thy soul + Paining the space with dumb and mighty thought. + The dreary wind ebbs, voiceless, round thy form, + Following the stealthy hours, that wake no stir + In the hushed velvet of thy mantle's fold. + Thy thoughts take being: down the dusky aisles + Go shapes of good, and beckoning ghosts of crime, + And dreams of maddening beauty--hopes, that shine + To darken, and in cloudy height sublime, + The spectral march of some approaching Doom! + Nor these alone, oh! Mother of the world, + People thy chambers, echoless and vast; + Their dewy freshness like ambrosial cools + Life's fever-thirst, and to the fainting soul + Their porphyry walls are touched with light, and gleams + Of shining wonder dazzle through the void, + Like those bright marvels which the travele'rs torch + Wakes from the darkness of three thousand years, + In rock-hewn sepulchres of Theban kings. + Prophets, whose brows of pale, unearthly glow + Reflect the twilight of celestial dawns, + And bards, transfigured in immortal song, + Like eager children, kneeling at thy feet, + Unclasp the awful volume of thy lore. + + My soul goes down thy far, untrodden paths, + To the dim verge of being. There its step + Touches the threshold of sublimer life, + And through the boundless empyrean leaps + Its prayer, borne like a faint, expiring cry, + To angel-warders, listening as they pace + The crystal walls of Heaven. Down the blue fields + Of the untraveled Infinite, they come: + Beneath their wings one sweet, dilating wave + Thrills the pure deep, and bears my soul aloft, + To walk amid their shining groups, and call + Its guardian spirit, as an orphan calls + His vanished brother, taken in childhood home: + + "White through my cradled dreams thy pinions waved, + Lost Angel of the Soul! thy presence led + The babe's faint gropings through the glimmering dark + And into Being's conscious dawn. Thy hand + Held mine in childhood, and thy beaming cheek + Lay close, like some fond playmate's, to mine own. + Up to that boundary, whence the heart leaps forth + To life, like some wild torrent, when the rains + Pour dark and full upon the cloudy hills, + Thy gentle footsteps wandered near to mine. + Be with me now! Oh, in the starry hush + Of the deep night, that holds the earthly down + In all my nature, bring to me again + The early purity, which kept thy hand + From the entrancing harp it held in Heaven! + Through the warm starting of my hoarded tears, + Let me behold thine eyes divine, as stars + Gleam through the twilight vapors of the sea! + + "Not yet hast thou forsaken me. The prayer + Whose crowning fervor lifts my nature up + Midway to God, may still evoke thy form. + Thou hast been with me, when the midnight dew + Clung damp upon my brow, and the broad fields + Stretched far and dim beneath the ghostly moon; + When the dark, awful woods were silent near, + And with imploring hands toward the stars + Clasped in mute yearning, I have questioned Heaven + For the lost language of the book of Life. + Oh, then thy face was glorious, and thy hair + On the white moonbeam floating, veiled thy brow, + But in the holy sadness of thine eye + Which held my spirit, tremblingly I saw, + Through rushing tears, the sign of angel-grief + O'er the false promise of diviner years. + From the far glide of some descending strain + Of tenderest music I have heard thy voice; + And thou hast called amid the stormy rush + Of grand orchestral triumph, with a sound + Resistless in its power. I feel the light, + Which is thine atmosphere, around my soul, + When a great sorrow gulfs it from the world. + + "Come back! come back! my heart grows faint, to know + How thy withdrawing radiance leaves more dim + The twilight borders of the night of Earth. + Now when the bitter truth is learned; when all + That seemed so high and good but mocks its seeming-- + When the warm dreams of youth come shivering back, + In the cold chambers of the heart to die-- + When, with the wrestling years, familiar grows + The merciless hand of pain, desert me not! + Come with the true heart of the faithful Night, + When I have cast away the masquing garb + Of hollow Day, and lain my soul to rest + On her consoling bosom! From the founts + Of thine exhaustless light, make clear the road + Through toil and darkness, into God's repose!" + + + + +SCOUTING NEAR VERA CRUZ. + +A SKETCH OF THE LATE CAMPAIGN. + +BY ECOLIER. + + +Hours before day, Lieutenant Rolfe and his party were threading the +mazes of the chapparal. The moon glistened upon their bayonets and +bright barrels. Their path lay in a southwesterly direction, near the +old road to Orizava. Here it passed through a glade or opening, where +the moonbeams fell upon a profusion of flowers, there it reëntered +dark alleys among the clustering trees, where the "trail arms" was +given in a half whisper. The boughs met and locked overhead, and the +thick foliage hid the moon from sight. Now a bright beam escaping +through some chance opening in the leaves, quivered along the path, +and scared the wolf in his midnight wanderings. Out again upon the +open track through the soft grass, and winding around the wild maguey, +or under the claw-shaped thorns of the musquit. A deer sprung from his +lair among the soft flowers--looked back for a moment at the strange +intruders, and frightened at the gleaming steel, dashed off into the +thicket. The woods are not silent by night, as in the colder regions +of the north. The southern forest has its voices, moonlit or dark. All +through the livelong night sings the mock-bird--screams the "loreto." +From dark till dawn, you hear the hoarse baying of the "coyote," and +the dismal howl of the gaunt gray wolf. The cicada fills the air with +its monotonous and melancholy notes. In all these sounds there is a +breathing, a wild voluptuousness that tells you you are wandering in +the clime of the sun--amidst scenes like those rendered classical by +the pen of St. Pierre. They who have read the sweet French romance, +will recognize his faithful painting of tropical pictures. The sunny +glades--and shady arbors--the broad green and yellow leaves--the tall +palm-trees, with their long, lazy feathers and clustering fruits +waving to the slightest breeze, and looking the same as in that sea +island where they flung their changing shadows over the loves of Paul +and Virginia. Scouting at night, and to strangers (as were Rolfe and +his men) in the land, was not without its perils. Objects of alarm +were near and around. The nopal rose before you like the picket of an +enemy. Its dark column gleaming under the false light of the moon is +certainly some sentinel on the outpost. A halt is the consequence, and +silent and cat-like one of the party, on his hands and knees, steals +nearer and nearer, through the thorny brambles, until the true nature +of the apparition betrays itself, in the shape of a huge column of +prickly pear. He then returns to his comrades, and the obstacle is +passed, some one as he passes, with a muttered curse, slashing his +sabre through the soft trunk of the harmless vegetable. + +The wild maguey grasps you by the leg, as though some hideous monster +had sprung from the bushes. You start and rush forward, only to be +dragged back among the elastic leaves. It is useless to struggle. You +must either return and unwind yourself by gentle means, or leave the +better part of your cloth inexpressibles in the ruthless fangs of the +plant. The ranchero fences his limbs with leather, or with leggings of +tiger-skin. It is not fancy or choice to wear leather breeches in +Mexico. Necessity has something to say in fixing the fashion of your +small clothes. + +When day broke, Rolfe and his party were ten miles from camp--ten +miles from the nearest American picket, and with only thirty men! They +were concealed in a thicket of aloes and musquit. This thicket crowned +the only eminence for miles in any direction. It commanded a view of +the whole country southward to the Alvarado. + +As the sun rose the forest echoed with sounds and song. The leaves +moved with life, as a thousand bright-plumed birds flashed from tree +to tree. The green parrot screamed after his mate, uttering his wild +notes of endearment. They are seen in pairs flying high up in the +heavens. The troupiale flashed through the dark foliage like a ray of +yellow light. Birds seemed to vie with each other in their songs of +love. Amidst these sounds of the forest, the ear of Rolfe caught the +frequent crowing of cocks, the barking of dogs, and the other +well-known sounds of the settlement. These were heard upon all sides. +It was plain that the country was thickly settled, though not a house +was visible above the tree-tops. The thin column of blue smoke as it +rose above the green foliage proved the existence of dwellings. + +At some distance, westward, an open plain lay like an emerald lake. +The woods that bordered it were of a darker hue than the meadow-grass +upon its bosom. In this plain were horses feeding, and Rolfe saw at a +glance that they were picketed. Some of them had dragged their +laryettes and were straying from the group. There appeared to be in +all about an hundred horses. It was plain that their owners were not +far off. A thin blue smoke that hung over the trees on one side of the +meadow gave evidence of a camp. The baying of dogs came from this +direction, mingled with the sounds of human voices. It was evidently a +camp of the "Jarochos," (guerilleros.) + +Suddenly a bugle sounded, wild and clear above the voices of the +singing-birds, a few notes somewhat resembling the dragoon +stable-call. The horses flung up their heads and neighed fiercely, +looking toward the encampment. Presently a crowd of men were seen +running from the woods, each carrying a saddle. The few strays that +had drawn their pickets during the night, came running in at the +well-known voices of their masters. The saddles were flung on and +tightly girthed--the bits adjusted and the laryettes coiled and hung +to the saddle-horns, in less time than an ordinary horseman would have +put on a bridle. Another flourish of the bugle, and the troop were in +their saddles and galloping away over the greensward of the meadow in +a southerly direction. The whole transaction did not occupy five +minutes, and it seemed to Rolfe and his party, who witnessed it, more +like a dream than a reality. The Jarochos were just out of musket +range. A long shot might have reached them, but even had Rolfe +ventured this, it would have been with doubtful propriety. Rumor had +fixed the existence of a large force of the enemy in this +neighborhood. It was supposed that at least a thousand men were on the +Alvarado road, with the intention of penetrating our lines, with +beeves for the besieged Veracruzanos. + +"They got off in good time, sergeant," muttered Rolfe, "had they but +waited half an hour longer--Oh! for a score of Harney's horses!" + +"Lieutenant, may I offer an opinion?" asked the sergeant, who had +raised himself and stood peering through the leafy branches of a +cacuchou-tree. + +"Certainly, Heiss, any suggestion--" + +"Wal, then--thar's a town," the sergeant lifted one of the leafy +boughs and pointed toward the south-east--a spire and cross--a white +wall and the roofs of some cottages were seen over the trees. "Raoul +here, who's French, and knows the place, says it's Madalin--he's been +to it--and there's no good road for horses direct from here--but the +road from Vera Cruz crosses that meadow far up--now, lieutenant, it's +my opinion them thieving Mexicans is bound for that 'ere place--Raoul +says it's a good sweep round--if we could git acrosst this yere strip +we'd head 'em sure." + +The backwoodsman swept his broad hand toward the south, to indicate +the strip of woods that he desired to cross. The plan seemed feasible +enough. The town, although seemingly near, was over five miles +distant. The road by which the guerrilleros had to reach it was much +farther. Could Rolfe and his party meet them on this road, by an +ambuscade, they would gain an easy victory, although with inferior +numbers, and Rolfe wished to carry back to camp a Mexican prisoner. +This was the object of the scout, to gain information of the force +supposed to be in the rear of our lines. The men, too, were eager for +the wild excitement of a fight. For what came they there? + +"Raoul," said Rolfe, "is there any path through these woods?" + +"Zar is, von road I have believe--oui--Monsieur Lieutenant." + +Raoul was a dapper little Frenchman, who had joined the army at Vera +Cruz, where we found him. He had been a sort of market-gardener for +the plaza, and knew the back country perfectly. He had fallen into bad +odor with the rancheros of the _Tierra Caliente_, and owed them no +good-will. The coming of the American army had been a perfect godsend +to Raoul, who was now an American volunteer, and, as circumstances +afterward proved, worthy of the title. + +"Close teecket, monsieur," continued the Frenchman, "but there be von +road, I make ver sure, by that tree, vot you call him, big tree." + +Raoul pointed to some live-oaks that formed a dark belt across the +woods. + +"Take the lead, Raoul." + +The little Frenchman sprung out in front and commenced descending into +the dark woods beneath. The party was soon winding through the shadowy +aisles of a live-oak forest. The woods were at first open and easy. +After a short march they came to a small stream, bright and silvery. +But what was the surprise of Rolfe to find that the path here gave +out, and on the opposite bank of the rivulet the trees grew closer +together, and the woods were almost woven into a solid mass, by the +lianas and other creeping plants. These were covered with blossoms. In +some places a wall of snow-white flowers rose up before you. Pyramidal +forms of foliage, green and yellow, over which hung myriads of +vine-blossoms, like a scarlet mantle. Still there was no path--at +least to be trodden by human foot. Birds flew around, scared in their +solitary haunts. The armadilla and the wolf stood at a distance with +glaring eyes. The fearful-looking guana scampered off upon the +decaying limbs of the live-oak, or the still more fearful cobra di +capella glided almost noiselessly over the dry leaves and brambles. + +Raoul confessed that he had been deceived. He had never traveled this +belt of timber. The path was lost. + +This was strange. A path had conducted them thus far, but on reaching +the stream had suddenly stopped. Soldiers went up and down the +water-course, and peeped through the trellis of vines, but to no +purpose. In all directions they were met by an impenetrable chapparal. + +Chafing with disappointment, the young officer was about to retrace +his way, when an exclamation from Heiss recalled him. The backwoodsman +had found a clew to the labyrinth. An opening led into the thicket. +This had been concealed by a perfect curtain of closely woven vines, +covered with thick foliage and flowers. It appeared at first to be a +natural door to the avenue which led from this spot, but a slight +examination showed that these vines had been trained by human hands, +and that the path itself had been kept open by the same agency. +Branches were here and there lopped off and cast aside, and the ground +had the marks of human footsteps. The track was clear and beaten, and +Rolfe ordering his men to follow noiselessly, in Indian file, took the +lead. For at least two miles they traced the windings of this forest +road, through dark woods, occasionally opening out into green flowery +glades. The bright sky began to gleam through the trees. Farther on +and the breaks became larger and more frequent. An extensive clearing +was near at hand. They reached it, but to their astonishment, instead +of a cultivated farm, which they had been expecting to see, the +clearing had more the appearance of a vast flower-garden. The roofs +and turrets of a house were visible near its centre. The house itself +appeared of a strange oriental style, and was buried amidst groves of +the brightest foliage. Several huge old trees spread their branches +over the roof, and their leaves hung around the fantastic turrets. + +What should have been fields were like a succession of huge +flower-beds--and large shrubs, covered with sheets of pink and white +blossoms that resembled wild roses. This shrubbery was high enough to +conceal the approach of Rolfe and his party as they followed the +path--apparently the only one which led to the house. + +On nearing this, the officer halted his men in a little glade, and +taking with him Heiss and the boy Gerry, (who might return for the men +in case of a surprise,) proceeded to reconnoitre the strange-looking +habitation. + +A wall of ivy, or some perennial vine, lay between him and the house. +A curtain of green leaves covered the entrance through this wall. This +appeared to have grown up by neglect. As Rolfe lifted this festoon, to +pass through, the sound of female voices greeted him. These voices +reached his ear in tones of the lightest mirth. At intervals came a +clear ringing laugh from some throat of silver, and then a plunging, +splashing sound of water. Rolfe conjectured that some females were in +the act of bathing, and not wishing to intrude upon them sat down for +a moment outside the wall. The sounds of merriment were still heard, +and among the soft tones the officer imagined that he could +distinguish the coarser voice of a man. Curiosity now prompted him to +enter. Moreover, he reflected that if there were men there already +there could not be much impropriety in his taking a share in the +amusement. + +Drawing aside the curtain of leaves he looked in. The interior was a +garden, but evidently in a neglected state. It appeared the ruin of a +once noble garden and shrubbery. Broken fountains and statues +crumbling among weeds, and untrained rose-trees, met the eye. The +voices were more distinct, but those who uttered them were hidden by +a hedge of jessamines. Rolfe stepped silently up to this hedge and +peeped through an opening. The picture presented was indeed an +enchanting one. + +A large fountain lay between him and the house filled with crystal +water. In this fountain two young girls were plunging and diving about +in the wildest abandon of mirth. The water was not more than waist +deep, and the arms and bosoms of the young girls appeared above its +surface. They were strikingly alike, in all except color. In this +there was a marked contrast. The neck, arms and bosom of one seemed +carved from snow-white marble, while the other's complexion was almost +as dark as mahogany. There was the same cast of features, the same +expression in both countenances, and their forms, just emerging from +the slender figure of girlhood, were exactly alike. Their long hair +trailed after them, black and luxuriant, on the surface of the water, +as they plunged and swam from one side of the basin to the other. A +huge negress sat upon the edge of the fountain, seemingly enjoying the +bath as much as those who partook of it. It was the voice of this +negress that Rolfe had mistaken for that of a man. + +The young officer did not hesitate a moment, but stole gently back and +regained his comrades. + +Then striking through the flowery fields that stretched away toward +the wood in the rear, he commenced searching for the path that led +from the woods in a direction opposite to that whence he had come, +without disturbing the inmates of this peaceful mansion. Finding this +path on the other side, the party entered and hastily kept on, in +order to intercept the guerilleros, whom they still hoped to fall in +with. In these hopes they were not disappointed, for emerging from the +woods near Medellin they came upon the guerilleros, with whom they had +a sharp skirmish. Rolfe and his party were successful, killing two of +the guerrilla and taking the same number prisoners. + +The young girls continued their pleasant pastime, little dreaming how +near to them had been these strange and warlike visiters. + + + + +I WANT TO GO HOME + +BY RICHARD COE, JR. + + + "I want to go home!" saith a weary child, + That hath lost its way in straying; + Ye may try in vain to calm its fears, + Or wipe from its eyes the blinding tears, + It looks in your face, still saying-- + "I want to go home!" + + "I want to go home!" saith a fair young bride, + In anguish of spirit praying; + Her chosen hath broken the silver cord-- + Hath spoken a harsh and cruel word, + And she now, alas! is saying-- + "I want to go home!" + + "I want to go home!" saith the weary soul, + Ever earnest thus 'tis praying; + It weepeth a tear--heaveth a sigh-- + And upward glanceth with streaming eye + To its promised rest, still saying-- + "I want to go home!" + + + + +THE HUMBLING OF A FAIRY. + +BY G. G. FOSTER. + + +The Princess Dewbell was confessed to be the queen of the ball, +notwithstanding that the beauty and grace and wit of the whole realm +were there, for it was the birth-night festival of the fairy princess, +and her royal father, with all a parent's fond pride, had exhausted +invention, and impoverished extravagance, to give _éclat_ to the +occasion. The walls of his ancestral palace were sparkled all over +with dew-drops, which a troop of early bees had spent all the summer +mornings in collecting and preserving in the royal patent +dew-preserver, invented by one of the native geniuses of the realm. +These brilliant mirrors, flashing in the light of ten thousand +fire-flies of the royal household, whose whole lives had been expended +in learning how to carry their dainty lamps about so as to produce the +finest effects, reflected the forms of the ladies and the dazzling +military trappings of the handsome cavaliers, (there was war at that +time between the glorious empire of Fairydom and the weak and +infatuated republic of Elfland on its southern borders, and the +epaulette and spurs were the only pass to the hearts of the fair,) +imbuing them with an infinitude of prismatic hues, all softened into a +kind of timed starlight, exquisite as the dying voice of music. In +this gorgeous saloon, at the head of which sat, well pleased, the +benevolent old King Paterflor and his modest and still lovely queen +Sweetbine, all were noble and accomplished and beautiful and gay; but +the charms of the Princess Dewbell, just bursting into the richness of +full-grown fairyhood, were so surpassing that none had ever been found +to question, even in their own hearts, her supremacy. This, perhaps, +may appear strange to many of my pretty readers, but they must +remember that mine is a faithful chronicle of fairies--not of women. +The princess was standing lightly touching--it could not be said that +she leaned against--the slender stalk of a garden lily, that rose like +an emerald column of classic mould above her lovely form, and expanded +into a graceful dome of transparent and crimson-veined cornelian above +her head. Her eyes were cast pensively (at the Musical Fund Hall it +would have been called coquettishly) upon the ground, and ever and +anon she tossed her proud head with an imperious gesture, until the +streaming curls waved and parted around her cheek and neck, like +vine-leaves about a marble column as the south wind creeps among them +soliciting for kisses. The lady Dewbell, amid all this scene of +enchantment, which spread out before and around her, as if her own +loveliness had breathed it into existence, still was discontented; +sad, perhaps, at the total absence of care in her bosom, and sighing +for a sorrow. Unhappy lady Dewbell! She had so many hundred times been +told, what she herself believed full well, that she was absolutely +the most beautiful creature in existence, that the tale had lost its +interest. The champagne of flattery, its creaming foam long ago melted +into the brain, stood untasted before her, dull and flat as the +subsided fountain poured by the last rain-shower into the tulip's cup. +And so the fairy princess stood listless and apart from the joyous +revel, her little form swaying lightly to and fro, with the +undulations of the lily-stem against which she more perceptibly +rested. It is well for Root and Collins and Plumbe that the royal +daguerreotyper was laid up in a cowslip, with a broken skylight which +he had received in a rough-and-tumble with a gnat, about the ownership +of a particular ray of light, at last sunsetting. + +But if the lady Dewbell were queen of the ball, the noble knight Sir +Timothy Lawn was as undisputedly worthy of the post of honor among her +gallant train of admirers. Indeed, it was universally known, of course +as a profound secret among the gossips of the palace, that Sir Timothy +was the declared lover of the proud Dewbell, and it was even whispered +that she had actually been seen hanging around his neck one bright +June morning, in a sweet clover-nook by the brook-side, while he bent +tenderly over her, his eyes filled with tears of rapture. But as this +story could only be traced to a rough beetleherd, who said he saw the +lovers thus as he was driving his herd of black cattle to water, it +was not generally believed. At any rate, all the ladies were decidedly +of opinion that Sir Timothy was in every way a match for the haughty +beauty, and that if she did not accept him while he was in the humor +she would be very likely to go farther and fare worse. In fact, +several old maids and bluestockings, over their dishes of scandal and +marsh-fog, (both of which they made uncommonly strong,) openly avowed +it as their opinion, that he was a great deal too good for her, and +that, if the truth must be told, the princess was an impertinent, +saucy and irreverent creature, who hadn't the slightest respect for +her superiors. "As to her beauty," said one of these crones, whose +little face was very much of the size and complexion of a dried +camomile-flower, and who was shrewdly suspected of qualifying her +marsh-fog with pale pink-brandy--"As for her beauty, that is all in my +eye. I have seen plenty of your plump, smooth-skinned pieces of paint +and affectation fade in my time, little as I have yet seen of life. +Mark my words--before we have reached our prime, my great lady +princess will be as ugly as--" + +"As ugly as yourself, granny! Ha, ha, ha! ho, ho, ho! haw, haw, haw!" +shouted a mirthful voice, while an indescribably comic face, half cat +and half baby, appeared for a single glimpse above the burdock leaf +behind which the spinsters were holding their _conversazione_. + +"There's that imp Puck again, as sure as I am a woman!" exclaimed the +gentle Mrs. Mullenstalk, rising hastily and spilling a dish of fog all +over the front of her new green and yellow striped grass dress, as she +ran toward the spot whence the voice had proceeded. "I'll to the +palace this very night, and lay my complaint against that wretch. +We'll see whether virtuous ladies are to be insulted in this manner, +and their helplessness trampled under foot!" + +The intruder had already disappeared; but as the amiable Mrs. +Mullenstock got her spectacles adjusted, she just caught sight of him +throwing a somerset into a pumpkin-flower; while his laugh still +sounded faintly upon the air, mingled with snatches of a wild refrain, +of which she could only distinguish these lines: + + "Oh ho, Granny Mullenstock, how envious you be; + I'll plague you to death, or the hornets catch me!" + +The spinster shook her fist and grinned horribly at the broad-mouthed, +innocent yellow flower, down whose throat the varlet had leaped--but +chancing at that moment to catch a glimpse of her own face in a little +bit of mica, which served her for a toilet-mirror, she uttered the +least bit of a little shriek in the world and fainted--her companions, +who had by this time gathered round her, exchanging sly winks and +malicious looks of gratification as she went off. + +But we must return to the ball-room, where the fire-flies have got +sleepy, and many of them had already put out their lamps and retired, +and the brilliant company of dancers and promenaders has dwindled down +to a few sets, composed of those ladies who had not been asked to +dance in the height of the evening, and some sour-looking gentlemen in +very tight coats and pants, who had "got the mitten" from their +sweethearts at the door, and were desperately trying to do the amiable +out of sheer revenge. At length even these disappeared; the saloons +were entirely deserted, save by the beautiful mother moonbeam, who +slept upon the fragrant turf, her babe, the silver starlight, folded +lovingly within her bosom. + +Yet no, the scene is not quite solitary. Carefully bending aside the +tall, slender spears of diamond-tipped grass that perpetually guarded +the sacred domain of the imperial palace, a cavalier in full armor +appears, making way for a lady, whose long veil of the finest spider's +web completely conceals her head and form, making her seem like an +exhalation, taking, as its highest gift of grace, the shape of woman. +The two advance slowly and cautiously to the centre of the saloon, and +then the cavalier, throwing himself on his knees, (that's the way +fairies invariably make love,) beseeches his companion to have pity +upon him. The lady throws back her veil with a motion of indescribable +grace, and looking down into the upturned face of her lover, seriously +a moment, then lightly, utters a low laugh, and replies, + +"Very well, Sir Timothy Lawn, upon my word! Quite prettily done, +indeed! You must have been taking lessons of Signor Sweetbriar, the +royal parson. Now do run and bring me a glass of geranium-dew--I +protest I have drank scarcely a drop all the evening." + +"Not one word, then, for your poor lover and true knight," sighed Sir +Timothy, in a tone of the deepest despondence. + +"I did not come here to listen to school-boy nonsense," said the lady +Dewbell, with a haughty and impatient motion of the head. "I came to +get a glass of geranium-water. But, as you decline obliging me to that +extent, I suppose I must e'en get it for myself. Good-night to you, +Sir Timothy! Pleasant dreams!" and she disappeared. + +The knight was for a moment confounded; then rising slowly, he pointed +to a bright star that shone directly above him, winking and winking +with all its might, as much as to say, "what a green-horn you are!" +and swore an oath that no fairy should ever henceforth have power over +his heart, till she who had so wantonly scorned and insulted him +should beg to be forgiven. As he was turning sadly away, to seek his +solitary chamber in the upper branch of a bachelor's button, on the +other side of the brook, the elf-clown Puck stood before him, looking +as demure as puss herself. + +"Well, fool," said the knight, somewhat impatiently, "how long hast +thou been listening here?" + +"As long as my ears, your worship," replied the urchin, undauntedly, +"and they were long enough to hear that your worship's valiancy is a +very much over-praised commodity--since a maiden's dainty veil of +knitted night-air has proved too strong for him. + + The knight he sued, and the knight he sighed, + But he went away without supper or bride." + +"Silence, imp! or I 'll make thine ears, of which thou hast had such +pestilent service, shorter by a span." + +"No, I thank your valiancy! my ears do very well as they are. And I +came to do you a good turn by offering you the use of them. But as +your worship is so high and dry in Dundrum Bay, as we say at sea, I'll +e'en get back to my nap in the hazle copse again." + +"Nay, good Puck, I meant thee no harm, as thou knowest well enough. +Since thou knowest my innermost grief, let me hear thy fool's advice +in the matter." + +"If I gave thee advice, I were in truth a fool. But I'll very +willingly forgive thee this time, and tell thee what I overheard +to-night at the palace." + +"Ah, that's a good Puck!" + +"That depends on circumstances, your valiancy. I am somewhat like a +dish of toasted gallinippers--whether it is palatable or not depending +very much in the way it is served. But this is what I heard his +majesty say to her majesty. 'Sweetbine, my dear,' said he, 'don't you +think Dewbell has a fancy for our brave and noble knight, Sir Timothy +Lawn?' 'Why, my love,' replied her majesty, 'I have long been almost +certain that she loved him. But she is such a confirmed flirt I am +afraid she can never be brought to say so. I haven't the least idea +that she would not reject Sir Timothy, were he to propose.' 'We must +cure her of this fatal pride and folly,' replied his majesty, 'and I +think that, with a little of your assistance, I can manage it +capitally.' And then the dear old people passed into the royal +bed-chamber, in the japonica wing, and I heard no more." + +"I'll to the king." + +"And I'll to a better friend than he; if you permit me, your worship, +I take my _bough_ and _leave_." + +"Avaunt, vile punning Puck! Thou hast been to Philadelphia, where all +the streets rhyme, and every corner is a pun upon the next. May the +fiend unquip thee! Away!' + +"If thou I kest not jokes, thou hadst best stick to thy +bachelor's-buttonhood. I tell thee, marriage is a capital joke." + +"What knowest thou of marriage?" + +"I am one of its fruits." + +"A bitter jest, indeed, and plucked ere half ripened. St. Bulwer! but +thou wilt be a mother's blessing when thou art fully grown!" + +"Better save thy wits, sir knight! Thou wilt have a plentiful lack of +them ere the honeymoon be out of the comb. A pleasant roost in thy +bachelor's hall, and many of them!" and the vagabond sprung upon the +back of a green lizard creeping silently through the grass, and +sticking his heels into his astonished charger, dragoon-fashion, +disappeared down the bank of the brook. + +The old king and his good wife, Sweetbine, were very much grieved at +the foolish trifling of their daughter, Dewbell--for they were well +assured that Dewbell loved the noble knight, Sir Timothy, and that it +was only a spirit of mere wantonness that led her to vex and torment +him. Long into the night did the royal couple converse, striving to +devise some means of bringing their wayward daughter to her senses. +They at last hit upon a plan, which they fondly hoped might be the +means of securing the happiness of their child, and settling her +comfortably in life. + +The next morning his majesty sent for the dwarf, Puck, to his private +cabinet, and received him with an unusually grave and troubled aspect. + +"Venerable sire," said Puck, making a mock reverence, and scarcely +able to suppress a chuckle at the solemn looks of his master, "what +facetious dream hath been playing its mad pranks about thy sacred +pillow? Never saw I kingly face so mirthfully beprankt." + +"Come hither, good Puck," said the king, patiently, "and when thou +hast made thy breakfast of fun upon thy poor master, listen to him +seriously." + +"Dear prince", said the dwarf, suddenly running up to the king and +casting himself weeping at his feet, "art thou, then, really troubled? +Forgive thy poor slave!" and he began blubbering in the most pitiable +manner, while he looked up into the face of the king with such a look +of wo-begone and ludicrous despair, that Paterflor himself could +scarce refrain from bursting into laughter. + +"Thou hast done nothing wrong, good Puck--handsome Puck," said the +king, chucking his favorite under the chin. "I have need of thee. +Here is my signet-ring. Bring me straight hither a young and handsome +peasant, one who has never been seen by the court, nor any inhabitant +of the palace. He must be intelligent, conscientious, and trustworthy. +Dost thou know of such a one?" + +"Yes, your majesty, I think I do. My friend, young Paudeen O'Rafferty, +the son of the old forest-keeper, has just returned from Ireland, +where he was carried by the fairies at his christening, and has been +kept ever since until now, trying to get through the rent made by Mr. +O'Connell in the pockets of his relatives. He's as tight an Irish lad +as your majesty ever saw; and as for his honesty, I'll endorse it with +both hands. The O'Raffertys are constitutionally honest." + +"Well, bring him hither at once. I shall be ready to receive him." + +Puck, with his funny face entirely restored to good humor, left the +palace by a private gate, and running across a beautiful meadow, +disappeared in the dark green forest. Idle lingerer as he was, he felt +a strong inclination, at every hazel-copse he passed, to stop and have +a chat with the rabbits he knew were hid beneath it; and more than +once he was on the point of running up to a friendly deer and kissing +his cold, black nose, just for auld lang syne. But, for a wonder, he +was constant to his errand, and ran straight on--not stopping even to +throw stones at a squirrel by the way--till he came to the forester's +hut. + +He found the old forester and his wife alone. They received him +kindly, for, notwithstanding his mad pranks, Puck was a favorite every +where, and especially among the poor and humble, who were always safe +from his mischievous propensities. The young Paudeen was out a little +bit in the forest, but would return directly. + +"And what brings good Master Puck from among the great lords and +beautiful ladies of the coort to our poor little shieling, not bigger +nor betther than the mud cabins of ould Ireland itself?" inquired the +old woman, who had grown, with age and toil, wrinkled deaf and sour. + +"I'll explain all that as soon as Paudeen comes home," replied the +grave and mysterious Puck; "but, in the meantime, how do you get on +Mr. O'Rafferty, and what is the news in the forest?" + +"We get on but poorly," said the old forester, "and the news is, that +the people at the other side of the forest, where the potatoes have +all rotted, and the land is wore down to its bare bones, for want of +rest like, are very bad. Some of the women and childhers have already +starved, and the men have for the most part took to dhrinken and +fighten, till things is in a mighty bad way." + +"Yes," chimed in the old woman, who seemed to have caught by instinct +the subject of conversation, "and the poor stharven people say, too, +that there is plenty of money squandhered upon extravagance by the +king and his coort to give them all bread; and that the forests that +is kept for the deers and craythurs to be killed for the spoort of the +big folks, would give every man a bit of fresh land, and that the +potatoes would grow well enough then." + +"Auch, Peggy, will ye have us hung for parjery, out and out!" +exclaimed the terrified husband, casting a deprecating look at Puck. +"Poor craythur, she doesn't know what she is saying." + +At this juncture the young Paudeen made his appearance, and put a stop +to a conversation that was becoming decidedly stupid. He made his +respects cordially to Puck; and when he heard his errand, seemed +amazed and delighted. After a good deal of difficulty, the old lady +was made to understand what was the desire of the king. + +"Hooh!" exclaimed the old crone, leaping from her seat and dancing +about the room, "the dhrame's come true at last! Och, hullybaloo! +didn't I know that the pretty Paudeen wasn't born for the pig-stye! +Bedad, but he'll ruffle the gentles! Wont you, darlint?" and the old +woman fell upon her son's neck, smothering him with kisses, while the +poor youth could hardly keep his legs under the vigor of her maternal +caresses. + + +PART II. + +In a few days after the interview of Puck and Paudeen in the hut of +the forester, there was great excitement at the court of Fairyland. +The fashionable milliners and dress-makers never had seen such a +time--orders from the aristocracy poured in upon them by scores, and +their doors were beset by fashionable carriages, and little fairy +footmen caparisoned in long coats with many capes, and broad, red +bands fastened with shining buckles round their hats. The great +_artistes_ who were at the head of these establishments saw themselves +amassing fortunes from the sudden influx of fashionable custom. But +the poor little fairy seamstresses, who sat up all night, sometimes +without time to eat or sleep, from sunset to sunset, so that all these +splendid dresses might be finished in time--they did not fare so well. +They grew pale and sick, and sat swaying and swinging about as they +worked, until one might have thought them the ghosts of fairy workers, +come back for a ghostly midnight frolic in their old haunts. It was +melancholy enough, truly; but then nobody knew any thing about it. The +rich ladies, when their splendid robes came home, did not stop to +think that good, earnest, faithful fairy hearts had embroidered the +roses that adorned the skirts from their own cheeks, and spangled them +with the broken fragments of their youth's faded dreams. If they had-- + +Well, and if they had? + +That is not at all to the purport of my story; and so I will proceed +to let the reader into the secret of all this flutter and fluster. A +great prince had made his appearance at the court of Paterflor, and +had created almost as great an excitement in Fairyland as a new prima +donna with bright eyes and a _sfogato_ voice among mere mortals. +Nobody knew exactly who he was, but he came from a great way off, and +had a name as long as a province, and, beside being incalculably +wealthy, it was universally voted (ladies vote in Fairyland) that he +was the very handsomest love of a fairy knight that ever jingled +spurs, or sighed at the feet of beauty. He had come to court evidently +with the "highest recommendations" to the king, such as would have +procured him immediate access into the first "circles," even in +Philadelphia, where society lives behind barred doors, and goes about +armed cap-a-pie against encroachment or intrusion. He had been at once +received at the royal table, and a splendid suite of apartments had +been assigned him in the palace itself. Such extraordinary attentions +from the imperial family, of course, made the stranger a favorite and +a welcome guest wherever he appeared; and there was not a lady at +court who would not have given her eyes--if it would not have spoiled +her beauty--for a smile from his magnificent mouth. + +It was discovered, however, at a very early stage of the proceedings, +that the chief object of the prince's admiration was the lady Dewbell, +who, proud as she was, could not help feeling flattered by the evident +and special devotion of one for whom the whole of her sex were dying. +Sir Timothy Lawn, who, from pique or melancholy, or from some unknown +cause, had left the court the very day after the arrival of the new +prince, was not entirely forgotten, but was laid away carefully on a +back shelf of her heart; and the lady Dewbell never had been so +beautiful, so fascinating, so joyous and irresistible. Courts are as +fickle as coquettes; and before the month had passed, in a series of +brilliant _fêtes_ and entertainments, at all of which the prince and +princess were the reigning toast, it was regarded as a settled thing +that there would, ere the maple leaves grew red in the dying gaze of +the year, be a royal marriage in Fairyland. + +But while to all around the beautiful Dewbell was ever the same +careless, saucy and happy creature as ever, in her heart she nursed a +bitter sorrow. After many and severe struggles, she was forced at last +to make to herself the humiliating acknowledgment that she deeply and +truly loved Sir Timothy Lawn, that noble and chivalric spirit, whom +her unworthy trifling had driven--so her frightened heart interpreted +it--in disgust from her. Compelled in common courtesy to receive the +devoted attentions of the stranger prince, and to hear every day and +every hour repeated the earnest solicitations of her father that she +should school herself to regard the stranger as her future husband, +her little fairy heart was quite broken with its ceaseless struggles. +Her pride and self-will were entirely vanquished, and she felt herself +truly the most miserable of fairy maidens. Suicide is of course a +thing strictly prohibited among immortals; but had it been otherwise, +I sadly fear that one of the lady Dewbell's spider-web silk hose would +some morning have been found without a garter, and she herself hanging +like a beauteous exhalation among the elm-leaves in the morning +sunshine. Oh, had Sir Timothy been there then, he would have found, +instead of his imperious and tantalizing coquette, the tenderest and +truest of disconsolate maidens, ready to melt into his arms between +the delicious pause of a sigh and a kiss. "Naughty, cruel Sir Timothy! +Horrid creature! to take all my nonsense for real earnest, and to go +away and leave me to be persecuted to death!" exclaimed the lady +Dewbell, with an uncontrollable burst of tears, as she threw herself, +her toilet half finished, and her hair all strewn over her face and +shoulders, upon her little praying cushion. "What will become of poor +Bell!" + +"What ails my daughter?" said the sweet, soft voice of the queen +mother, as she knelt tenderly over her child, and pressed her head to +her bosom. "Tell your sorrows to your mother." + +"Oh, mother, _I_ am the most wretched fairy that ever existed. I don't +want to marry that odious, red-haired stranger; and my father has made +me promise that the wedding shall take place on Halloween--and I--I +have consented. But I love Sir Timothy; and I wont marry any body but +him," sobbed the poor creature, convulsively, as she cast herself upon +the floor, and looked up to her mother, terrified and half frantic. + +"But, dearest, you know you laughed at poor Sir Timothy's vows--and he +is so sensitive." + +"Oh, yes, I know I did, but I'll never do so any more. _If_ Sir +Timothy will only come back and forgive me, and marry me, just this +once, I will never, never offend him again as long as I live--never, +never, never! Do, mamma, do make him come back!" + +"Poor child! I will certainly do all I can. But you have promised to +be married on Halloween." + +"Oh, yes, but that is a good fortnight off, and you can bring Sir +Timothy back before then, you know, and he can kill this horrid +stranger, and then every body will be _so_ happy!" and the face of the +volatile creature began already to re-clothe itself in smiles. + +"I fear you are mistaken, love," said her mother, solemnly, and +shaking her head in an impressive manner, she added, "do not deceive +yourself with such fallacies, my daughter; your princely word is +passed, your father's royal honor is pledged, and you must be married +on Halloween." + +The lady Dewbell, sobbing hysterically, again looked up. She was +alone; at the same moment the cat-and-baby face of Puck glanced by the +window, and a wild, mischievous laugh melted away into a song, of +which the lady only caught the two last lines: + + "He rideth fast, and he rideth well, + But his heart still clings to the pretty Bell." + +"Oh, bless thee, dear Puck!" sighed the haply wondering lady, rising +and leaning from the window. "May thy sweet prophecy come true!" + + +PART III. + +'T is Halloween midnight. Through the tall windows of the venerable +church streamed in the broad moonlight, in bright silver floods, that +lost themselves in the profound recesses of the distant aisles, or +fell like many-colored snow-flakes upon the marble floor. Entering +without sound, came up the middle aisle the royal wedding-procession. +First walked the father, the royal Paterflor, looking stern and +determined, yet, it must be confessed, a little roguish about the +crowsfeet. Upon his arm leaned his pale and stricken daughter, the +once proud, joyous and imperious Princess Dewbell. She was pale as a +lily's cup, and drooping as its stem. She never raised her head from +her bosom, and her eyes, once sparkling like fountains of light, were +hidden beneath their willowy lids. Next comes the "red-haired prince," +as the lady Dewbell had scornfully denominated him, (his head _was_ a +little inclined to flame, dear reader, between you and me,) +respectfully conducting the ever sweet and placid Queen Woodbine; and +after them a troop of merry and gayly-dressed fairies, both ladies and +gentlemen, but very demure and solemn; while Puck, in the united +capacity of Hymen and Grand Usher, was dodging about with his flaming +torch, now in front, now in rear, now here, now there, and every where +imparting an air of grotesqueness to the whole affair. + +At the altar the party stopped, and ranging themselves in the approved +order for such occasions, the priest--a grave and reverend bullfrog, +whose surplice was scrupulously neat and tidy--proceeded with the +ceremony. When he came to the question, "dost thou, my daughter, +freely and voluntarily bestow thy hand and thy affections upon this +man, Paudeen O'Rafferty, commonly called Pat?" + +The pale and shrinking lady raised her head and opened her great +ox-like eyes; the bridegroom looked sheepish and hung his head; King +Paterflor seemed suddenly troubled with a severe fit of coughing, and +the priest could scarcely forbear a chuckle. + +"Father, dear father, what is the meaning of this cruel joke?" +exclaimed the poor lady Dewbell, running to her father and catching +hold of his arm. But the old king's cough was still very troublesome. +She then appealed to the priest, but he seemed deaf, and only made a +grum kind of noise in his throat, that sounded a good deal like "Pat +O'Rafferty." + +"Who, then, are you, sir?" demanded she, at last, of the groom, +turning suddenly and imperiously upon him her piercing gaze. + +"So plaze yer ladyship, I am Paudeen O'Rafferty, the son of the +forester--at yer ladyship's sarvice." + +The fairy princess was about to faint, in the most approved manner, +and had already selected a convenient cushion upon which to fall, when +a tall and noble form crossed the moon-ray, and Sir Timothy Lawn stood +before her. + +"Beloved princess," said he, kneeling, and respectfully taking her +hand, "I hope my presence is not disagreeable to the queen of my +heart, for whose love I have so long pined. Speak to me frankly, sweet +lady Dewbell, tell me, can you love me? Will you permit me to call you +mine forever?" + +The lady Dewbell changed her intention respecting the cushion upon +which she had intended to faint, and, somehow, found herself before +she was half conscious of it, in her lover's arms. An explanation +ensued; the prince Paudeen gave up his post of honor to Sir Timothy; +the ceremony was concluded on the spot; and as the gay and joyous +party left the church, Puck was seen sitting at the organ accompanying +himself in a sort of wild yet sweet chant, of which the lady Dewbell +easily distinguished-- + + "Oh, a merry tale will the gossips tell, + Of the happy mishap of the proud lady Bell." + + + + +A NIGHT THOUGHT. + +BY THOMAS BUCHANAN READ. + + + Long have I gazed upon all lovely things, + Until my soul was melted into song, + Melted with love till from its thousand springs + The stream of adoration, swift and strong, + Swept in its ardor, drowning brain and tongue, + Till what I most would say was borne away unsung. + + The brook is silent when it mirrors most + Whate'er is grand or beautiful above; + The billow which would woo the flowery coast + Dies in the first expression of its love; + And could the bard consign to living breath + Feelings too deep for thought, the utterance were death! + + The starless heavens at noon are a delight; + The clouds a wonder in their varying play, + And beautiful when from their mountainous height + The lightning's hand illumes the wall of day:-- + The noisy storm bursts down--and passing brings + The rainbow poised in air on unsubstantial wings. + + But most I love the melancholy night-- + When with fixed gaze I single out a star + A feeling floods me with a tender light-- + A sense of an existence from afar, + A life in other spheres of love and bliss, + Communion of true souls--a loneliness in this! + + There is a sadness in the midnight sky-- + An answering fullness in the heart and brain, + Which tells the spirit's vain attempt to fly + And occupy those distant worlds again. + At such an hour Death's were a loving trust, + If life could then depart in its contempt of dust. + + It may be that this deep and longing sense + Is but the prophecy of life to come; + It may be that the soul in going hence + May find in some bright star its promised home; + And that the Eden lost forever here + Smiles welcome to me now from yon suspended sphere. + + There is a wisdom in the light of stars, + A wordless lore which summons me away-- + This ignorance belongs to earth which bars + The spirit in these darkened walls of clay, + And stifles all the soul's aspiring breath;-- + True knowledge only dawns within the gales of Death. + + Imprisoned thus, why fear we then to meet + The angel who shall ope the dungeon-door, + And break these galling fetters from our feet, + To lead us up from Time's benighted shore? + Is it for love of this dark cell of dust, + Which, tenantless, awakes but horror and disgust? + + Long have I mused upon all lovely things; + But thou, oh Death! art lovelier than all; + Thou sheddest from thy recompensing wings + A glory which is hidden by the pall-- + The excess of radiance falling from thy plume + Throws from the gates of Time a shadow on the tomb. + + + + +THE BARD. + +BY S. ANNA LEWIS. + + + Why should my anxious heart repine + That Wealth and Power can ne'er be mine, + And Love has flown-- + That Friendship changes as the breeze? + Mine is a joy unknown to these; + In Song's bright zone, + To sit by Helicon serene, + And hear the waves of Hippocrene + Lave Phoebus' throne. + + Here deathless lyres the strains prolong, + That gush from living founts of song, + Without a cross; + Here spirits never feel the weight + Of Wrong, or Envy, or of Hate, + Or earthly loss; + The pomp of Pelf--the pride of Birth-- + The gilded trappings of this earth + Return to dross. + + Oh, ye! who would forget the ills + Of earth, and all the bosom fills + With agony! + Come dwell with me in Fancy's dream, + Beside this lovely fabled stream + Of minstrelsy; + And let its draughts celestial roll + Into the deep wells of thy soul + Eternally. + + God always sets along the way + Of weary souls some beacon ray + Of light divine; + And only when my spirit's wings + Are weary in the quest of springs + Of Song, I pine; + If I could always heavenward fly, + And never earthward turn mine eye, + Bliss would be mine. + + + + +THE WILL. + +BY MISS E. A. DUPUY + + +PART I. + + There is peace in the Night of the Early Dead-- + It will yield to a glorious morrow! _Clarke_. + +Amid all the brightness and bloom which the imagination conjures up, +when we think of the sunny islands lying within the tropics, many +mournful associations arise and cast a sadness over the picture. Very +few have not had within the circle of their relatives, or friends, +some cherished one, who has vainly sought the balmy breezes of those +favored spots, with the feverish hope that amid their loveliness Death +would forget to launch his arrows for them. + +Alas! to die among strangers is usually the fate of those who are thus +lured from their homes by a deceitful hope. There, where Nature wears +a perpetual verdure--where the fervid sun brings forth a luxuriance of +vegetation unknown in more northern regions, the wearied spirit sinks +to repose, soothed, or saddened, by the glow of existence around. + +A spacious apartment on the southern side of a highly ornamented +villa, opened into a magnificent garden, filled with orange-trees, +oleanders, and many other gorgeous flowers peculiar to the climate of +Cuba; while in the distance the sunlight gleamed upon a row of +towering palms, whose stately columns, crowned by their verdant +coronal, resembled the pillars of some mighty temple, which found a +fitting canopy in the blue arch of heaven, glowing with the gorgeous +hues of a tropical sunset. + +The floor of this room was inlaid with marble of different colors, and +the couch and windows were draped with snowy lace, lightly embroidered +at the edges, and looped with cords of blue and silver--tables with +marble tops, supporting porcelain vases filled with flowers, were +placed between the windows, for these ephemeral children of sunshine +were dear to the heart of the dying one. Beside one of these stood a +large cushioned chair, in which reclined a young man of delicate +features and wasted form. He appeared in the last stages of his fell +disease, and the friends who had received him beneath their roof to +die, wondered that he should have been deluded with the hope that +health could ever again reanimate his bowed and shrunken form. There +was an expression of care upon his sharpened features--a feverish +restlessness in his manner, which betrayed the spirit's unrest. + +At his feet sat a young girl, whose brilliant complexion and +pale-brown hair betrayed her Saxon origin; the finely rounded figure, +the delicately formed feet and hands, and the gracefully turned head +and bust, were all evidences of the grade of life to which she +belonged. She held the burning hand of the invalid between her own +soft, cool palms, and sung in a sweet low voice an old ballad which +told of the ancient greatness of the Saxon race. At a short distance +from them sat an elderly lady, clad in deep mourning, and her saddened +countenance corresponded well with her weeds. + +The young man made an impatient movement, and said--"Sing not to me +England's former prowess, dear Edith. What to the dying can such +themes be but a bitter mockery? Take your guitar, my sister, and throw +your soul into its vibrating strings, while you sing me such a lay as +I can fancy the angels of Heaven to be pouring forth around the throne +of God." + +"Shall I sing the chants of our church, dearest Edgar?" said Edith in +a subdued voice. + +"Yes--yes--they breathe peace and resignation into my restless soul. +When I am dying, my sister, stifle your own feelings as you love me, +and pour into my failing senses those magnificent strains. If God sees +fit to tear me from you before I can legally provide for you and my +beloved mother, I shall be enabled to forget the bitter truth in +listening to your sweet voice. You promise me this, Edith?" + +"I do--Heaven will sustain me even then, my darling brother, and give +me power to forget my own anguish in soothing your last moments." + +Edith Euston pressed his hand to her lips, and raising from the floor +a guitar which lay beside her, she poured forth a strain of melody +which seemed to soothe the senses of the invalid to rest. His eyes +closed, and an expression of repose rested on his worn features. + +Twilight deepened over the earth--a single ray of light, from the +reddened sky, fell through the open window upon the figure of the +young girl, and the mother, who sat silent and abstracted, thought as +she glanced upon her that even in a higher world her beloved Edith +could wear no lovelier outward semblance than was now hers. There was +an expression of elevated feeling, of pure tenderness in her upturned +face which revealed the high and noble soul within. One fitted to +suffer and conquer in the dark struggle which she felt awaited her. + +Hers were not the only eyes which contemplated that lovely picture of +sisterly devotion upon that twilight eve. Another stood without, +beneath the shadow of a high hedge, and gazed upon the unconscious +musician with even deeper admiration; and his dark, expressive +features lighted up with an emotion almost of reverence. The stars +came forth in the translucent depths of ether; the young moon cast her +tremulous light over the garden, yet still the intruder lingered in +his place of concealment. Twice he put the boughs aside, as if to +approach the room and announce his presence, but again receded, as if +irresolute and uncertain as to the effect his presence might produce. + +At length all became silent. The tones of the instrument died slowly +away, and the voice of the singer ceased to pour forth its song. The +windows were still unclosed, for the invalid had reached that +distressing stage in his malady, when his oppressed breathing required +a constant circulation of free air. A lamp burning beneath an +alabaster shade was swung from the centre of the ceiling, and its +mellow lustre diffused a faint moonlight radiance throughout the +apartment. + +With suppressed breathing the two ladies watched the sleep of the sick +youth, and he who had so earnestly observed every movement of Edith, +ventured to approach so near the open window that the heavy and +interrupted respiration of young Euston was distinctly audible to him; +while his eagle eye sought to penetrate the shadow in which his +features reposed, that he might read upon them the ravages made by +approaching dissolution. + +As he stood thus, the moonlight revealed a tall, well proportioned +figure, clad in a suit of black, well fitted to his form. His +prominent features and flashing black eyes were half concealed by a +large straw hat, which was carelessly placed upon his head. As he +gazed upon the sleeping form, his lips curled, and a strange +expression of exultation came to his face; his eye wandered +triumphantly to the fair brow of Edith. + +"Twice rejected," he muttered half audibly--"twice rejected, and with +scorn, by yon dainty girl; now methinks my vengeance is almost within +my grasp. I hold her future destiny in my power; for this boy _cannot_ +drag out his existence another week. Yes, Edith--to labor you have not +been bred--to beg you will be ashamed, and he who vainly hopes that +time will be granted him to deprive me of my inheritance, will perish +from my path, just as he believes himself on the verge of consummating +his hatred to me." + +Edith softly arose, and making a sign to her mother, glided +noiselessly from the room by a distant window, which opened to the +floor. The intruder hesitated a moment, and then followed her with +light and rapid steps. The flutter of her white dress guided him to +the retreat she had chosen, and she had scarcely thrown herself upon a +rustic seat beneath the shelter of some orange-boughs, and given vent +to her painfully repressed emotion, by a burst of tears, when the dark +stranger stood before her. She started up and would have fled, but he +spoke, and the sound of his voice seemed to bind her to the spot as by +a spell. + +"Why would you fly from me, Edith?" he asked. "I come in the spirit of +good-will to you and yours." + +A struggle seemed to be passing in the mind of the young girl. She +wiped her tears away, and after a pause answered in a tone which +faltered at first, but grew firm, and even haughty as she proceeded, + +"What has brought you hither, Mr. Barclay? Yet why do I ask? To exult +in the fate of your unfortunate victim; to watch each painful breath +which brings him nearer to his grave, with the certainty that the +very eagerness with which he desires a few more days of existence, +that he may fulfill a sacred duty, is fast wearing away the faint +thread that yet binds him to life. Oh false, unfeeling man! depart, I +pray you, if one human instinct yet remains within your callous heart, +and leave my unhappy brother to die in peace." + +She turned to depart, but Barclay stepped forward and placed his hand +on her arm, as if to detain her. She shrunk from his touch with an +expression of loathing, which called the crimson to his cheek, but he +suppressed his emotion, and said calmly-- + +"I knew that you would soon need a protector, Miss Euston, and I came +hither with the faint hope that I might be able to overcome your cruel +prejudices against me--that I might become to you a friend at least, +if no dearer title were allowed me." + +"You a friend to _me_!" exclaimed Edith impetuously. "You, who lured +my brother from his home, to wreck his existence in the life of +dissipation to which you tempted him. Ever feeble from his boyhood, +you knew that little was needed to destroy his frail constitution--yet, +because he stood between you and the possession of wealth, his life +was offered as the sacrifice to your criminal cupidity. And now you +come hither to watch the last fluttering throes of existence, fearful +that Death may delay his arrows until he shall have passed that hour +which entitles him to dispose of his property--and disappoint your +hopes, by bequeathing his wealth to those who are dearest to him." + +"You are excited, Edith. You judge me too severely. Edgar's own +headlong passions destroyed him. I merely urged him to do as others of +his years and station, without foreseeing such fatal results. My love +for you would have prompted me to save your brother." + +"Speak not to me of love--dare not approach the sister of your victim +with proffers of affection. The death of Edgar may leave me +penniless--nearly friendless--I have been tenderly nurtured, but I +would sooner embrace a life of sternest self-denial, of utter poverty, +than link myself with infamy in your person. Leave me--and dare not +approach the room of my brother, to imbitter his last hours by your +presence." + +"And your mother, my fair heroine?" said Barclay, in a tone of sarcasm +bordering on contempt. "What will become of her if you persist in the +rejection of the only person in the wide world on whom you have any +claim? She is old, feeble, broken in health and spirit. Ah! will not +your proud heart faint when you behold her sharing this life of +poverty and self-denial, which seems to you so much more attractive +than the home and protection I offer you?" + +Edith stifled the tears that sprung anew to her eyes, and after a +brief struggle said with composure-- + +"My mother is too honorable--she has too bitter a disdain of meanness +ever to wish her child to sacrifice the truth and integrity of her +soul, by accepting the hand of one for whom she has no respect." + +"By Heaven!" said Barclay passionately, "you force me to throw away +the scabbard and declare war to the knife. Be it so, then. Yonder weak +boy cannot survive five of the ten days yet required to complete his +majority. Then comes to me--yes to _me_--all his wealth; and only as +_my_ wife shall one ray of my prosperity shine upon you. The gray +hairs of your only parent may be brought to the grave by want and +sorrow, and unless you relent toward me my heart shall be steeled to +her sufferings." + +At this picture, which was only too likely to be realized, the courage +of the unhappy Edith forsook her, and she exclaimed in faltering +tones-- + +"My dear, dear mother! for her sake any other sacrifice might be +borne--but not this--not this. My brother yet lives, and Heaven may in +pity prolong his existence beyond the hour he so anxiously prays to +see. Then we escape your power." + +Barclay laughed mockingly. + +"This is the fifteenth, and he is not of age until the twenty-fifth, +exactly at the second hour of the morning. One moment only before that +time should Death claim his victim the estate is mine, and you +dependent on my bounty. Think you that the frail and wasted ghost of a +man who struggles for breath in yonder room can live through another +week? Hope--yes, hope for the best, for despair will come soon enough. +I feel as secure of my inheritance as though it were already mine." + +Edith proudly motioned him from her path, and fled toward the house, +with his mocking words still ringing in her ears. Her brother yet +slept, and as she gazed upon his sunken features it seemed to her as +if death were already stamped upon them, and she bent her head above +his still face, to convince herself that he yet breathed. + +Barclay and Euston were distantly related, and had both been educated +by an eccentric kinsman, with the belief among their connections that +he designed dividing his ample fortune between them. To the surprise +and chagrin of Barclay, he found on the death of Colonel Euston that +the whole of his estate was bequeathed to his young cousin, encumbered +with an annuity to himself, which appeared to one of his expensive +tastes, and lavish prodigality, as absolute poverty. + +Edgar Euston was then but seventeen years of age, and of a delicate +bodily organization, which did not promise length of days. A clause in +Colonel Euston's will offered a temptation to Barclay, which he had +not sufficient principle to resist. If Euston died before attaining +his majority the estate was to pass into the hands of his kinsman, and +no mention was made of the mother or sister of the young heir. Barclay +reflected that if he could remove Euston from his path, before he +attained his twenty-first year, the coveted wealth would yet be his. + +From that hour he made every effort to win the confidence and +affection of young Euston. He was his senior by nearly ten years, and +possessed a knowledge of the world, and a fascination of manner which +was extremely attractive to a youth who had passed the greater portion +of his life, at a country residence, in the society of his mother and +sister. Euston entered one of our Northern colleges, and under the +auspices of his kinsman he soon achieved a reputation which was far +more applauded by the wild students than agreeable to the professors. +He blindly followed wherever Barclay led, and before he entered his +twenty-first year he returned to his early home, with a constitution +completely broken by the reckless life he had led, and the symptoms of +early decay in his flushed cheek and hollow cough. Vain had been the +entreaties and remonstrances of his mother and sister; under the +influence of his tempter, they were utterly disregarded--until the +hand of disease was laid upon him, and he felt that the only atonement +he could offer for all the suffering he had inflicted upon them would +probably be denied to him. + +He earnestly desired to live, that he might reach that age which would +entitle him to make a legal transfer of his property to those who were +deservedly dear to him, for in the event of his death without a will, +his mother and sister would be left entirely dependent on the tender +mercies of his successor. An unfortunate lawsuit had deprived his +mother of the property which had become hers on the death of his +father, and his own reckless extravagance had dissipated more than the +annual revenue of his own property since it came into his possession. + +Too late he discovered the baseness of Barclay's motives, and +renounced all intercourse with him--but he would not thus be cast off. +He had seen and loved the noble-hearted Edith, and he forced his +hypocritical offers of service upon the afflicted family, until Edith +distinctly assured him that he need never hope for a return to his +passion. + +Euston had long since abandoned all hope of recovery, but he sought +the mild climate of Cuba, trusting that the fatal day might be +deferred until he had secured independence to his family, but his +physician feared that the very eagerness of his wishes would +eventually defeat them. It was mournful, and deeply touching, to +witness that clinging to existence in one so young, not from love of +life itself, but from a desire to perform an act of justice. That +completed, his mission on earth was ended, and Death might claim him +without a murmur. + +The hours dragged heavily on toward the desired day, and each one as +it passed appeared to hurry the poor invalid with rapid strides toward +the grave, that seemed eager to claim its prey. Barclay had not again +ventured to intrude on Edith, but he nightly hovered around the room +of the dying youth, and gloated on the wasted and death-like form +which held his earthly fortunes in his hands. + +A skillful physician had accompanied Euston from his native land, and +his unremitting attention, aided by the tender nursing of his +affectionate sister, seemed as if they would eventually reap their +reward in the preservation of life beyond the hour of his majority. + +In pain and weariness time slowly waned, but it still left him life +and an unclouded mind; and the bold, bad heart, that nightly watched +him, feared that the wealth he so ardently coveted, might yet elude +his grasp. + +The evening of the twenty-fifth at last arrived. Euston reclined in +his chair as we first beheld him, wrapped in a brocade dressing-gown, +whose brilliant colors made his extreme pallor the more remarkable; a +table was drawn close beside him, and on it, at his own desire, was +placed his repeater, from which his eyes scarcely wandered. His breath +came slowly and gaspingly, and at brief intervals his physician +moistened his parched lips with a restorative cordial, and murmured +words of encouragement in his ear. + +As before, Edith sat at his feet, with her guitar, ready to stifle her +deep emotion, and fulfill her promise to sing to him while his parting +soul was struggling for release from its earthly tenement. His mother +leaned over his chair, and bathed his cold brow with her burning +tears; in the back-ground sat a clergyman, gazing on the scene with +absorbing interest. + +Each one in that hushed room felt the approach of the stern tyrant, +and all prayed fervently that his dart might be stayed yet a few +hours. + +"My sister, sing to me. Soothe me into quietness by the loved tones of +your voice. It is my _only_ hope for life beyond the desired hour," +murmured the dying youth. + +With tremulous fingers Edith touched the chords, and poured forth the +solemn strains to which he loved to listen, and he sunk back and +closed his eyes. At first her voice faltered, but she gradually +regained her self-command, and never had those clear, rich tones +uttered a sweeter strain, than that which floated around the +fluttering spirit, which struggled to release itself from the +attenuated form of the early doomed. + +Barclay stood without, watching the scene with breathless interest, +and a terrible struggle was passing in his dark and stormy soul. +Euston might live beyond the hour of two, and he would then be a +beggar. His eye wandered toward Edith, so nobly devoted, so purely +beautiful; and the tempter whispered, + +"She might save you--ennoble you; the love, the sweet influence of +such a woman are all powerful. Once yours, you could surround her with +such an atmosphere of care and tenderness, that her heart must be won +to love you--to forget the past. Without her, you are doomed--doomed. +What matters a few more moments of existence to one like him, when the +eternal welfare of a human being hangs trembling in the balance? +Deprived of the means of living, Edith will have no choice--she must +marry you, or debase her pride of soul before the iron sway of +poverty. Her mother is old--infirm; and for her sake, the daughter +will listen to your proffers of love. Take your destiny into your own +hands. Cowardly soul! why falter now? It is but completing your own +work. He is _your_ victim--you know it, and feel it in every pulse of +your throbbing heart. Years of usefulness might have been his, but for +you; then complete the sacrifice without hesitation. What avails it +to have accomplished so much, if the reward escapes you at the last +moment?" + +Such were the wild thoughts that oppressed his soul during those +terrible hours. He saw that the parchment which disinherited him was +placed beside Euston, and the pen stood in the inkstand, ready to do +its service, so soon as the hand of the watch pointed to the hour of +two; and he ground his teeth in impotent rage, as the moments flitted +by, and Euston yet continued to breathe. + +Terrible is the watch of love beside the flitting soul which parts in +peace; but how much more awful was that vigil, in which the anguish of +bereavement was doubly embittered by the fear of future want to those +who had been reared amid all the refinements of luxury. The mother +looked upon her remaining child, and felt that she was not formed to +struggle with poverty and neglect, and the daughter bent her earful +eyes on that venerable form, and in the depths of her soul, prayed +that her old age might be spared the grinding cares of want. + +The watch struck the half hour--then the quarter--and a feeble motion +of Euston stopped the hand of Edith as she swept it over the strings +of her instrument. She arose and stood beside him; a breathless +silence reigned throughout the apartment, only broken by the +monotonous ticking of the watch, which struck upon the excited nerves +of those around with a sound as distinct as the reverberations of +thunder. + +Not a word was uttered until the hand pointed to the hour, then, as if +endued with sudden energy, the dying man stretched forth his hand, and +grasping the pen, said in a firm, distinct voice, + +"Now let me sign my name, and yield up my spirit to the angel that has +been beckoning me away for hours. My mother--my sister, God has +vouchsafed to me a mercy I did not deserve. Thank Heaven! your +interests are safe. You are free from _his_ power." + +At that instant a strange cry was heard; a bird flew into the room, +and, dazzled by the light, flapped his wings against the shade of the +lamp, overturned it, and left the apartment in utter darkness. In the +confusion of the moment, a figure glided through the open window, and +stood beside the chair of Euston. He noiselessly placed his firm grasp +upon his laboring breast, and held it there a single instant. A faint +rattling sound was heard, and Edith wildly called for lights. + +Noiselessly as he had entered glided that dark form from the side of +his victim, and buried itself in the shadows of the trees without. +Many lights flashed into the room--they glared coldly on the face of +the dead, and the mother sunk senseless in the arms of her daughter. + + +PART II. + +Several months have passed away, and Mrs. Euston and her daughter have +returned to their native land. A single room in an obscure +boarding-house in the heart of a southern city was occupied by both. +The expenses of their voyage to New Orleans, and a few months sojourn +in their present abode, humble as it was, had nearly exhausted their +slender resources. Edith had made many efforts to procure a few +scholars to instruct in music and drawing, but the departure of the +greater portion of the wealthy, during the unhealthy season, had +deprived her of those she had been able to obtain. She thought of +going out as a daily governess, but the feeble health and deep +dejection of her mother, offered an insuperable objection to such an +arrangement. When she left her alone even for an hour, she usually +found her in such a state of nervous excitement on her return, as was +painful to behold. + +Edith is seated near the only window of their sordid apartment in the +afternoon of a sultry summer day; the sun is shining without with +overpowering splendor; a heated vapor rises from the paved streets and +seems to shimmer in the breathless atmosphere. Edith had lost all the +freshness and roundness of youth; her cheek was deadly white, and her +emaciated form seemed to indicate the approach of the terrible disease +of which her brother had died. She was sewing industriously, and her +air of weariness and lassitude betrayed the strong mastery of the +spirit over the body, in the continuance of her employment. + +Mrs. Euston was lying on the bed; and twenty years seemed to have +passed over her since the night of her son's death. The oppressive +heat had induced her to remove her cap, and her long hair, white as +the snows of winter, lay around her wasted and furrowed features. From +infancy the respect and observance due to one of high station had been +bestowed upon her, and the reverse in their fortunes was more than she +could bear. At first, her high-toned feelings had shrunk from +obligations to the new heir, and she approved of Edith's rejection; +but as time passed, amid privations to which she had never been +accustomed, her very soul revolted against their miserable mode of +living. + +To a woman of refined feelings and vivid imagination, the coarse and +sordid realities around her were sufficiently heart-sickening, without +having the terrible fear forced upon her that her only child was +hurrying to the grave through her exertions to keep them literally +from starvation. Her daughter now thought she slept, but her mind was +far too busily occupied to permit the sweet influences of slumber to +soothe her into a momentary forgetfulness of her bitter grief. +Suddenly she unclosed her eyes, and spoke. + +"Edith, my child, lay aside that work--such constant employment is +destroying you. Is it not time that we heard from Robert Barclay? +Surely he will not be relentless, when he hears that your health is +failing. After all, Edith, you need not be so averse to receiving +assistance from him; the property he holds is rightfully ours." + +"Mother," replied Edith, a faint flush mounting to her cheek, "for +your sake I have submitted to humiliate myself before our ruthless +kinsman, but I fear it will be in vain. Only as his wife will my +claims on his humanity and justice be acknowledged. Would you not +shrink, dearest mother, from condemning your child to such a doom? +Could you not better bear to stand above my grave, and know me at +peace within it, than to behold me wedded to this unprincipled man, to +whose pernicious example my brother owed his early doom?" + +"Speak not of dying, my daughter," said the poor mother, hysterically, +"I cannot bear it; I am haunted by the fear that I shall at last be +left on earth alone. I daily behold you fading before my eyes without +the power to avert the fate I see written upon your pale cheek and +wasted form. As Robert's wife you would have a luxurious home, the +means of gratifying refined tastes, and of contributing to the +happiness of others. He may atone to me, by the preservation of one +child, for the destruction of the other." + +"Mother, your fears for me blind you to the truth. Are not mental +griefs far more difficult to bear than the privations of poverty, +galling as they are? As Mr. Barclay's wife, I should loathe myself for +the hypocrisy I should be compelled to practice toward him; and the +wealth for which I had sold myself, would allow me leisure to brood +over my own unworthiness, until madness might be the result. No, no, +mother--come what may, I never can be so untrue to myself as to become +the wife of Robert Barclay." + +"God help us, then!" said Mrs. Euston, despondingly. + +A carriage drove to the door, and a gentleman alighted from it. Edith +heard the bustle, but she did not look out to see what occasioned it, +and she was startled from her painful reverie by a knock on the door. +She opened it, and started back with a faint cry as she recognized +Barclay. + +"The landlady told me to come up," he said, as he glanced around the +wretched apartment, and a slight twinge of remorse touched his heart +as he remarked the changed appearance of Edith. She motioned him to +enter, while Mrs. Euston arose from the bed, and offered him a seat. + +"I concluded it would be best to reply to your communication in +person," said he to Mrs. Euston, as he took the offered chair. "I come +with the most liberal intentions, provided Miss Euston will listen to +reason. I am grieved to see you in a place so unsuited to your former +station as this wretched apartment." + +"And yet," said Edith, "I have passed some pleasant hours in this +room, comfortless as it looks. So long as I had the hope of being able +to provide for our wants by my own exertions, I found contentment in +its humble shelter." + +"Your happiness must then be truly independent of outward +circumstances," replied Barclay, with a touch of his old sarcasm. "I +supposed, from the tenor of your mother's petition, that you had begun +to repent of your high-toned language to me in our last interview, and +would now accede to terms you once spurned, as the price of my +assistance to you and yours." + +Edith curbed her high spirit, and calmly replied, "You misunderstood +my mother's words. As the mother of the late heir, she justly +considers herself entitled to a pittance from your estate, and she +claimed from your humanity, what she was hopeless of obtaining from +your sense of justice. For myself, I hoped for nothing from either, +but I acquiesced in her application. I am sorry that you have founded +on it expectations which must prove fallacious." + +"Then, madam, I need remain no longer," said Barclay, addressing Mrs. +Euston. "Your daughter remembers our interview previous to, and after, +the death of her brother; the only terms on which I would assist you +were then explicitly expressed." + +Mrs. Euston caught his hand, and bowed her venerable head upon it. + +"Have mercy, Robert, upon my gray hairs--my daughter; look at her--she +is dying by inches--she is stifling in this wretched spot. The money +that was my son's should surely buy a shelter for us. Leave us not +helpless, hopeless. My God! my God! give me eloquence to plead for my +child!" and she threw herself upon the floor, and raised her clasped +hands to heaven. + +"Madam," said Barclay, "it only rests with your daughter to have mercy +upon you and herself. Where, I ask you, is her filial piety, when she +beholds you suffer thus, and relents not toward one who offers her a +love that has survived coldness, contempt, contumely." + +Edith approached her mother, and assisted her to rise. + +"My dearest mother, calm yourself. Humble not yourself thus before our +oppressor. God is just--is merciful. He will not forget the widow and +the orphan in their extremity. Leave us, Mr. Barclay; had my wishes +alone been consulted, you never would have been called on thus to +witness our misfortunes." + +Barclay bowed, and haughtily strode from the room. + +"Another month of privation," he muttered, "and she will surely be +mine or Death's. It does not much matter to which she belongs. Ah, if +she only knew all!" and he sprung into his cabriolet, and dashed off +toward the more aristocratic portion of the city. + +In the hope that Edith would be forced to relent, Barclay had remained +in New Orleans thus late in the season, and he resolved to linger yet +a little longer, until want and suffering should leave her no choice. +His passion for her was one of those insanities to which men of his +violent character are often liable. He desired her as the one great +gift, which was to purify, to exalt him in the scale of humanity. The +delicate beauty of her person, the sensibility of her soul, the grace +of her manner, rendered her irresistibly attractive to him; but so +selfish was his love, that he would sooner have seen her perish at his +feet, than have rendered her assistance, except at the price proposed. + +Another month passed by, and still there was no news of Edith or her +mother. He grasped the daily paper, almost with a sensation of fear, +and glanced at the column of deaths, which at that season usually +contains a goodly array. Their names were not yet among them, or +perchance in their poverty and obscurity they would not find +admittance even among the daily list of mortality. + +The yellow fever had commenced its annual ravages, and Barclay +retreated to a country-house in the vicinity, owned by a friend, and +dispatched a confidential servant to inquire concerning Mrs. Euston +and her daughter. They were still in the same place, but the mother +had been ill, and was still confined to her bed. + +One morning, about two weeks afterward, Barclay was seated in a +delightful little saloon, over a late breakfast. The room was +furnished with every appliance of modern luxury, and the morning air +stirred the branches of noble trees without, whose verdant shade +completely shut out the glare of the sun. A servant entered, and +presented to him a letter which had just been left. The irregular hand +with which it was directed, prevented him from recognizing the writing +of Edith, and when he opened the missive, which had evidently been +blotted with her bitter tears, a flush of triumph mounted to his +cheek, and he exclaimed with an oath, + +"Mine at last!--I knew it must end thus!" + +The letter contained the following words: + + "After a night of such suffering as casts all I have + previously endured into the shade, I address you. My + mother now lies before me in that heavy and death-like + sleep which follows utter exhaustion. Her state of + health for the last month has demanded my constant + care, and the precarious remuneration I have been able + to obtain for sewing, I have thus been compelled to + give up. We have parted with every souvenir of our + better days--even our clothing has been sacrificed, + until we have but a change of garments left; and now + our landlady insists on being paid the small sum we owe + her, or we must leave her house to-day. She came into + our room last evening, and the scene which ensued threw + my mother into such a state of nervous excitement, that + she has not yet recovered from it. + + "I cannot disguise from myself that she is very ill. If + she awakes to a renewal of the same anguish, I dare not + contemplate the consequences. You know that I do not + love you, Mr. Barclay. I make no pretension to a change + in my feelings; repugnant as it must be to a heart of + sensibility, I must view this transaction as a matter + of bargain and sale. I will accept your late offer, to + save my mother from further suffering, and to gain a + home for her declining years. + + "For myself, I will endeavor to be to you--but why + should I promise any thing for myself. God alone can + give me strength to live after the sacrifice is + completed. + + "EDITH." + +There was much in this letter that was wounding to his vanity, and +bitter to his feelings; but he had triumphed! The stately pride of +this girl was humbled before him--her spirit bowed in the dust before +the gaunt spectre she had thought herself capable of braving. She +would be his--the fair, the pure in heart, would link herself to vice, +infamy and crime, for money. Money! the world's god! See the countless +millions groveling upon the earth before the great idol--the golden +calf, which so often brings with it as bitter a curse as was denounced +against the people of old, when they forsook the living and true God +for its worship. + +Can it not buy every thing--even woman's love, or the semblance of it, +which would serve him just as well? He, the murderer of the brother, +would purchase the compliance of the sister with this magical agent; +but--and his heart quailed at the thought--could it buy self-respect? +Could it enable him to look into the clear eye of that woman he would +call his wife, and say, "My soul is worthy to be linked with thine in +the realms of eternity." + +No--he felt that the sacrilegious union must be unblessed on earth, +and severed in heaven, yet he shrunk not from his purpose. + +He lost no time in seeking Edith; Mrs. Euston was yet buried in the +leaden slumber produced by a powerful narcotic. The unhappy girl +received him alone, and he remarked that his words of impassioned love +brought no color to her marble cheek--no emotion to her soul; she +seemed to have steeled herself for the interview, and it was not until +he pressed the kiss of betrothal upon her pallid lips, that she +betrayed any sensibility--then a thrill, a shudder pervaded her whole +frame, and he supported her nearly insensible form several moments +before she regained power to sustain herself. Could he have looked +into that breaking heart, and have read there all the bitter loathing, +the agonized struggles for self-control, would he have persisted in +his suit? Yes--for this was a part of his vengeance for the slights +she had put upon him; and in the future, if she did not play the part +he thus forced upon her, with all the devotion he should exact, had he +not bitter words at his command to taunt her with the scene of that +morning? + +A physician was called in, who advised the removal of Mrs. Euston +while she slept; and arrangements were soon made to accomplish it. The +family to whom Barclay's present retreat belonged, were spending the +summer at the north, and their house had been left at his disposal. He +determined to remove Mrs. Euston and her daughter thither, while he +took up his own abode, until the day of his marriage, with a bachelor +friend in the neighborhood. + +Edith demanded an interval of a week before their union took place, +which he reluctantly granted. Naturally prodigal, he employed the time +in ordering the most elegant _trousseau_ for his bride. She who so +lately was struggling with bitter want, was now surrounded by servants +eager to anticipate every wish, while Barclay played the devoted +lover. Edith prayed earnestly for power to regard him with such +feelings as alone could hallow the union they were about to form. Vain +were her lonely struggles--her tearful supplications; a spectral form +seemed to rise ever between them, and reproach her that she had been +so untrue to herself, even for the preservation of a mother. + +The only thing that consoled her for her great sacrifice, was that her +beloved mother seemed to revive to some sense of enjoyment, when she +again found herself surrounded by that comfort to which she had been +accustomed. Weakened in mind as in body, Mrs. Euston fondly flattered +herself that her daughter might yet be happy amid the splendors of +wealth; and the poor mother welcomed the arbiter of their future fate +with smiles and courteous words, to which he listened with politeness, +and scorned as the hollow offspring of necessity. + +The dreaded day at length arrived, and with the calmness of exhausted +emotion, Edith prepared herself for the ceremony which was to consign +her to the protection of Barclay. She believed her earthly fate +sealed, and resignation was all she could command. + +Amid all her suffering, there was one thought which arose perpetually +before her; there was one human being on earth who would have risked +his life to serve or save her, and she knew that a heart worthy of her +love would hear the history of her enforced marriage with bitter +disappointment and anguish. + +Near the home of her infancy dwelt a family of sons and daughters with +whom she had been reared in habits of intimacy. Between herself and +the eldest son a strong attachment had grown up; it had never been +expressed in words, yet each felt as well assured of the affection of +the other, as if a thousand protestations had been uttered. About the +time that Mrs. Euston and her daughter left their own home to travel +with their beloved invalid, Walter Atwood bade adieu to his paternal +home, on a tour to Europe, where he was to complete his professional +education as a medical man. + +Mrs. Euston's place passed into the hands of strangers, and after a +few months all intercourse by letter ceased between their former +friends and themselves. After the death of her son, the bereaved +mother would not consent to return to their former neighborhood, and +thus all trace of them was lost to the Atwoods; but Edith knew in her +deep heart that Walter would return--would seek her; and it was this +conviction which gave her firmness to resist so long the overtures of +Barclay. + +Now all was at an end; another hour and the right even to think of him +would no longer be hers. Her mother entered her room, folded her to +her breast, and whispered, + +"The hour has arrived, my child. Robert is here with the clergyman. Do +not keep them waiting." + +"I am quite ready, mother," said Edith, calmly, and she advanced +without hesitation toward the door, for she heard an impatient step +without, which she well knew. Barclay awaited her in the hall--he +impetuously seized her hand and drew it beneath his arm. + +At that moment the door-bell was violently pulled, and both turned +impulsively to see who made so imperious a demand for admittance. + +At the open door stood two figures, one of a young man, who appeared +deeply agitated, for his features, beneath the light of the lamps, +seemed white and rigid, as if cut from marble. Over his shoulder +appeared a swarthy face, with a pair of bright, keen eyes, gleaming +from beneath overhanging brows. + +Edith and Barclay both uttered an exclamation--but they were very +different in their character. In the impulse of the moment, the former +drew her hand forcibly from him who sought to retain it, and with one +bound, was in the arms of the foremost stranger, as she exclaimed, + +"Walter--my saviour--my preserver! you have come at last!" + +The face of Atwood lost its unnatural rigidity as he pressed her to +his heart, and said, + +"Thank Heaven! I am not then too late!" + +Barclay advanced threateningly, + +"What does this mean, sir? Are you aware that such conduct in my house +is not to be tolerated--that you shall answer for it to me with your +life?" + +"It means, Mr. Barclay, that I come with authority to prevent the +unholy alliance you were about to force upon this helpless and +unprotected girl, to place the seal upon your crimes, by clasping in +wedlock the hand of the sister with that which is red with the +brother's blood." + +"'T is false--the boy killed himself, as Edith herself knows full +well. Am I to be held accountable for the dissipation of a young fool, +who, when once the curb was removed, went headlong to destruction +without the necessity of any prompting from me." + +"We will waive that part of the question, if you please, Mr. Barclay. +I have brought with me one who can prove much more than that. Come +forward, Antoine." + +The Frenchman advanced, and Barclay grew pale as he recognized him. + +"Let us retire to a private room," continued Atwood, in a lower +tone--"I would not have Mrs. Euston and her daughter hear too +suddenly the developments I am prepared to make." + +Then turning to Edith he said-- + +"You are saved, my dear Edith. Retire with your mother, while I settle +with Mr. Barclay." + +Mechanically Barclay led the way into an adjoining room. When there, +he turned haughtily and said-- + +"Now, sir, explain yourself--tell me why my privacy is thus invaded, +and--" + +Atwood interrupted him. + +"It is useless to attempt bravado with me, sir. Your whole career is +too intimately known to me to render it of any avail. You know that +from my boyhood I have loved Miss Euston, for you may remember a +conversation which took place between us several years since, when you +were received as a visiter at her mother's house. Jealousy enabled you +to penetrate what had been carefully veiled from others, and you taxed +me with what I would not deny. Do you remember the words you used to +the boy you then spoke to? That you would move heaven and earth to win +Edith Euston." + +"To what does all this tend?" asked Barclay, in an irritated tone. + +"Patience, and you will see. I returned from Europe and found that +Mrs. Euston's family had left for Havanna. Her lawsuit had gone +against her, and she had lost her home. Nothing more was known of her. +I lost no time in following her. I reached Cuba, and after many +inquiries, traced her to the house of the family which had received +her beneath their roof. There I heard the history of her son's unhappy +death, at the moment he was about to confer independence upon his +mother and sister. _You_ were mentioned as a visiter after his death; +your _generous_ offer to share with Miss Euston as your wife the +wealth which should have been hers was dwelt on. All this aroused a +vague suspicion in my mind. I made minute inquiries, and traced you +through all the orgies of your dissipation. One night I was following +up the inquiry, and I entered a tavern much frequented by foreigners. +A man sat apart in gloomy silence. One of his comrades said-- + +"'Antoine grieves over the loss of his bird. All the money the +American paid him does not make him forget that he sold his best +friend!' + +"By an electric chain of thought, the incident which attended poor +Euston's last moments, occurred to me. I approached the man, and +addressed him in French, for I saw that he was a native of that +country. I spoke of his bird. He shook his head and said-- + +"'It is not the loss of the bird, monsieur, but the use that was made +of him, that troubles my conscience.' + +"In short, to condense a long story, I learned from Antoine, that he +remained in your lodgings several days, until the mackaw he sold to +you became sufficiently accustomed to you to be caressed without +biting. During that time you had a room darkened, and required him to +train the bird to fly at a light and overturn it. When he was +dismissed, his curiosity was excited, and he watched your movements. +He nightly dogged your steps, and traced you to the garden of the +villa. He stood within a few feet of you on the night of Euston's +death, and beheld the use to which you put his bird. His eyes, +accustomed to the gloom without, beheld your dark form glide to the +side of your victim. He saw your murderous hand pressed upon the +breast of the dying youth." + +"'T is false--false. I defy him to prove it." + +"It is true, sir--the evidence is such as would condemn you in any +court; and now listen to me. I offer you lenient terms, in +consideration of the ties of relationship which bind you to those you +have so cruelly oppressed. One third of the fortune for which you have +paid so fearful a price shall be yours, if you will sign a paper I +have with me, which will restore the remainder to Mrs. Euston. If you +refuse, I have in my pocket a writ of arrest, and the officers are in +the shrubbery awaiting my orders to execute it. Comply with my terms +and I suffer you to escape." + +Thus confronted by imminent danger, Barclay seemed to lose his courage +and presence of mind. He measured the floor with rapid steps a few +moments, and then turning to Atwood motioned for the paper, to which +he affixed his signature without uttering a word. + +"There is yet another condition," said Atwood. + +"Leave this country within forty-eight hours. If, after that time, I +am made aware of your presence within the jurisdiction of the United +States, I will have you arrested as a murderer. The peace of mind of +those I have rescued from your power shall not be periled by your +presence within the same land they inhabit." Barclay ground his teeth +with rage. + +"I _shall_ leave it, be assured, but not to escape from this absurd +charge." + +"Go then. I care not from what motive." + +Another instant, and Barclay had passed from the room. Edith and her +mother traveled to their former home in the beautiful land of Florida, +under the protection of Atwood, and there, amid rejoicing friends, +surrounded by all the happy associations of her bright youth, she gave +her hand to her faithful lover. + +Barclay perished in a street brawl, in a foreign land, and the whole +of her brother's estate finally devolved upon her. + + + + +A VOICE FOR POLAND. + +BY WM. H. C. HOSMER. + + + Up, for encounter stern + While unsheathed weapons gleam; + The beacon-fires of Freedom burn, + Her banners wildly stream; + Awake! and drink at purple springs-- + Lo! the "White Eagle" flaps his wings + With a rejoicing scream, + That sends an old, heroic thrill + Through hearts that are unconquered still. + + Leap to your saddles, leap! + Tried wielders of the lance, + And charge as when ye broke the sleep + Of Europe, at the call of France: + The knightly deeds of other years + Eclipse, ye matchless cavaliers! + While plume and penon dance-- + That prince, upon his phantom steed, + In Ellster lost your ranks shall lead. + + Flock round the altar, flock! + And swear ye will be free; + Then rush to brave the battle shock + Like surges of a maddened sea; + Death, with a red and shattered brand + Yet clinging to the rigid hand, + A blissful fate would be, + Contrasted with that darker doom + A branded brow--a living tomb. + + Speed to the combat, speed! + And beat oppression down, + Or win, by martrydom, the meed + Of high and shadowless renown; + Ye weary exiles, from afar + Came back! and make the savage Czar + In terror clutch his crown; + While wronged and vengeful millions pour + Defiance at his palace-door. + + Throng forth with souls to dare, + From huts and ruined halls! + On the deep midnight of despair + A beam of ancient glory falls: + The knout, the chain and dungeon cave + To frenzy have aroused the brave; + Dismembered Poland calls, + And through a land opprest, betrayed, + Stalks Kosciusko's frowning shade. + + + + +TO HER WHO CAN UNDERSTAND IT. + +BY MAYNE REID. + + + They tell me, lady, that thy heart is changed-- + That on thy lip there is another name; + I'll not believe it--though for life estranged-- + I know thy love's lone worship is the same. + The bee that wanders on the summer breath, + May wanton safely among leaves and flowers, + But by the honied jar it clings till death-- + There is no change for hearts that loved like ours. + + You may not mock me--'tis an idle game-- + The lip may lie, the eye with bright beguiling + May, from the world, conceal a suffering flame, + But 'tis the eye and not the heart is smiling; + And I, too, have that power of deceiving, + By the strong pride of an unfeeling will, + The cold and cunning world in its believing-- + What boots it all? The heart will suffer still. + + Comes there not o'er thy spirit, when 'tis dreaming + In the lone hours of the voiceless night, + When the sweet past like a new present seeming, + Brings back those rosy hours of love and light? + Comes there not o'er thy dreaming spirit then + Delicious joy--although 'tis but a vision-- + That we have met, caressed and kissed again, + And revel still among those sweets Elysian? + + Comes there not o'er thy spirit when it wakes, + And finds, with sleep, the vision too hath parted + A lone depression, till thy proud heart aches, + And from thy burning orb the tear hath started? + And with sad memories through thy bosom thronging, + Within thy heart's most secret deep recesses + Feel'st thou not then an agony of longing + To dream again of those divine caresses? + + To dream them o'er and o'er, or deem them real, + While penitence is speaking in thy sighs-- + For this, unlike thy dream, is not ideal-- + It brings the pallid cheek, the moistened eyes: + Then, lady, mock not love so deeply hearted, + With that light seeming which deceit can give-- + The love I promised thee, when last we parted, + Shall never be another's while _you_ live. + + +[Illustration: Engraved by W. E. Tu +A PIC NIC ON OLDEN TIME. +Engraved Expressly for Graham's magazine] + + + + +A PIC-NIC IN OLDEN TIME. + +BY QUEVEDO. + +[SEE ENGRAVING.] + + +Joy is as old as the universe, yet as young as a June rose: and a +pic-nic has of all places been its delight, since the little quiet +family _fêtes champêtres_ of Adam and Eve in the garden of Eden. So it +is of no especial consequence in what reign of what kingdom our clever +artist has laid his scene--and sooth to say, from the diversified and +pleasantly incongruous costume and accessories of the picture, it +might puzzle an uninitiated to tell. But we, who are in the secrets of +Maga, and to whom the very brain-workings of her poets and painters +are as palpable as the crystal curdling of the lake beneath the filmy +breath of the Frost King, of course know all about it, and will +whisper in your ear the key to the pretty harmonies of wood and sky +and happy faces which he has spread out in a sort of visible cavatina, +or dear little love-song, beneath your eye. + +It was a gay time at Sweetbriar Lodge--for the fair Alice Hawthorn had +just been married to the Squire of Deerdale, and the happy pair +(new-married people were even in those times happy, although they were +not so set down in the newspapers,) had determined to spend the +honeymoon quietly at home, like sensible people, instead of posting +off to Bath or Brighton; or mewing themselves up in some outlandish +corner of the country, where they could see and hear nothing but +themselves, until they were ready to commence the married life by +being cloyed with each other's society. The season was mid-summer, and +the weather so balmy and beautiful that after wandering about in the +woods and fields all day, and watching the moon creep stealthily up +the sky to view herself in the fountain, one felt a longing to make +his bed on the fresh turf under the katydid's bower, and sleep there. +Of course I don't mean the young and happy bridegroom. He never +dreamed of being absent from his Alice; and he even felt quite jealous +of her little sister Emma, who used sometimes to come and put her +laughing, roguish face and curly head between the lovers, as they were +sitting on the sofa or reclining on the green turf by the little +fountain. + +But Alice had another sister, older than herself, and who had already +refused several excellent offers of marriage--declaring that she +intended to live and die single, unless she should fall in love with +some wandering minstrel or prince in disguise, like Lalla Rookh. Her +name was Hortensia; but on account of her proud indifference to the +attentions and compliments which were every where offered to her +wonderful beauty, she was usually called Haughty Hawthorn--a name +which seemed to please her better than all the flatteries of which she +was the object. She was already twenty-two, and ripening into the full +magnificence of glorious womanhood--her heart yet untouched by the +electric dart of love, and her fancy free as the birds of air. + +Now it was quite natural that the gentle Alice, whom love had made so +happy, should willingly enter into a conspiracy with her husband and a +parcel of the young people of the neighborhood against the peace and +comfort of her haughty sister--deeming of course--as I myself am also +of opinion--that a young lady out of love ought to be supremely +miserable, whatever she herself may think about it. + +Keeping in view the peculiar requisites required by Haughty in a +lover, the plan was to get up an old-fashioned pic-nic, at which a +young friend of Squire Deerdale, who was studying for an artist, and +had just returned from Italy, where he had picked up a little music as +well as painting, should be introduced after a mysterious fashion, +which would be sure to inflame the imagination of the loveless lady. +The artist, according to the squire, was handsome as a prince and +eloquent as a minstrel, and his extensive practice in Rome had made +him perfect master of the fine arts, the art of making love included. +So the pic-nic was proposed that very evening, to take place the next +day. Hortensia, who was fond of frolick and fun as the best of them, +albeit not yet in love, fell at once into the snare; and the squire +carelessly led the conversation to turn upon the sudden and unexpected +arrival of the young Duke of St. James upon his magnificent estate +adjoining Sweetbriar Lodge, which he said had taken place that very +day. + +"The duke," said the squire, "is, as you all have heard, one of the +most romantic and sentimental youths in the world, and quite out of +the way of our ordinary extravagant, matter-of-fact young nobility. I +had the pleasure of meeting him when I was in Rome, and could not help +being charmed with him. He read and wrote poetry divinely, played the +mandolin like St. Cecilia, and sung like an improvisatore. I met him +to-day, as he was approaching home in his carriage, and found him, as +well as I could judge from a five minutes' conversation, the same as +ever. I say nothing--but should a fresh-looking, golden-haired, +dreamy-eyed youth be seen at our pic-nic to-morrow, I hope he will be +greeted with the courtesy and welcome due not only to a neighbor but a +man of genius." + +This adroitly concocted speech was drank in like wine by the +unsuspicious Hortensia. A duke! a poet! a romantic man of genius! What +was it made her heart beat so rapidly?--_her_ heart, that had never +beat out of time save over the page of the poet or the novelist--or +may be in the trance of some beautiful midnight dream, such as love to +hover around the pillows of fair maidens, and who can blame them? + +The next morning, as Willis says of one of his fine days, was astray +from Paradise; and bright and early our pic-nickers, comprising a +goodly company of young people, married and single, with several +beautiful children, including of course the roguish Emma, were on the +field selected for the day's campaign. It was a lovely spot. Under a +noble oak whose limbs, rounded into a leafy dome, shed a palpitating +shadow around a sweet little fountain, guarded by a marble naiad, +gathered the merry company upon the green velvet ottoman, +daisy-spangled, that ran around this splendid natural saloon, bower +and drawing-room combined. The day had fulfilled the golden promise of +the early morning; the air, impregnated with a sparkling, effervescing +sunshine, was as bewitching as the breath of champagne foam, and our +adventurers were in the liveliest and gayest spirits. + +Noon was culminating, and the less excitable and more worldly portion +of the company began to be thinking seriously of the bountiful +refection which had been provided for the grand occasion. Hortensia, +it was observed by Squire Deerdale and his wife, and the others who +were in the secret, had seemed absent and thoughtful, all the morning, +and little Emma had teased her sufficiently for not playing with her +as usual. At this moment a young man was seen coming down the broad +sloping glade at the foot of which the party were seated. The squire +immediately rose and welcomed the stranger, introducing him to his +bride and sister-in-law, and expressing his pleasure that he had come. +"We almost began to fear," he added, "that you had forgotten our +humble festival." + +"A _fête_ thus embellished," replied the stranger, bowing with +peculiar grace to the ladies, and glancing admiringly at Hortensia, +"is not an affair to be so easily forgotten by a wanderer who comes, +after years of exile, to revive beneath the blue skies and bluer eyes +of his native land." + +"But your mandolin, Signor Foreigner; I hope you have not forgotten +that?" + +"Oh no indeed," returned the stranger with a musical laugh, "I never +forget my little friend, whose harmonies have often been my only +company. Here it comes," pointing to a lad who just then came up, +bearing a handsome though outlandish-looking guitar gingerly across +his arm. + +Another of the party had also brought his guitar, and the two were +soon tinkling away at different parts of the grounds--the latter +surrounded by half a dozen young men and women, and several beautiful +children; while the stranger, throwing himself on the grass at the +feet of Hortensia, upon whose lap nestled the little Emma, began a +simple ballad of the olden time--while the squire and his bride stood +against the old oak behind Hortensia. At length the strain of the +young musician changed, subsiding into low and plaintive undulations. + +"It is time for us to go," whispered Alice to her husband; "we are +evidently _de trop_ here"--and the wedded pair glided noiselessly off, +casting mischievous glances at the haughty Hortensia, who sat +absorbed in the music, and tears of sympathy and rapture ready to fall +from her eyes. It was a clear case of love at first sight. + +From this pleasant reverie both musician and listener were suddenly +roused by little Emma, who, raising her head and shaking back the long +ringlets from her face, exclaimed, + +"Oh, sister, hear that! There goes the champagne, and I am so hungry. +Come, let us go to dinner." + +"Excuse me, madam," exclaimed the stranger, ceasing to play and +springing to his feet, "your beautiful little monitor is right. I was +already forgetting myself and venturing to dream as of old;" and he +offered his arm to Hortensia, with that polite freedom not only +permitted, but enjoined, by the etiquette of the pic-nic. + +"And do you call it forgetfulness to dream?" inquired Hortensia. + +"With so fair a reality before me, yes; but at other times to dream is +to live." + +"Oh, yes, it _is_ nice to dream!" broke in the little Emma. "Almost as +nice as a wedding. Now last night I dreamt that you were married, +Haughty, like sister Alice." + +A lambent rosy flame seemed to envelop for an instant the beautiful +Hortensia, disappearing instantly, yet leaving its scarlet traces on +cheek and brow. + +"What say you, my pretty one," said the stranger, patting the lovely +child upon the head, "what say you to a sandwich and a glass of wine +with me, here on the greensward? (They had now approached the +_table_--if a snow-white damask spread upon the velvet grass, and +loaded with tempting viands could be called so.) Is not that better +than dreams?" + +"I love wine, sir, but mamma and sister say I shouldn't drink it, +because it makes my eyes red. Now _your_ eyes are as bright as stars. +Do you drink wine?" + +It was the stranger's turn to blush. And this little childish prattle +seemed to have removed the barrier of strangership from between the +two young people, who exchanged glances of a sort of merry vexation, +and seemed to understand each other as if they were old friends. + +That was a merry meal, "all under the greenwood tree," and on the +margin of that sweet little fountain, whose waters came up to the very +lip of the turf, which it refreshed with a sparkling coolness that +ever renewed the brightness of the flowers upon its bosom. After the +dinner was over, a dance was proposed, and the services of the +handsome stranger, as musician, were cheerfully offered and promptly +accepted. It was observed, however, that Hortensia, usually crazy for +dancing, strolled pensively about with little Emma at her side, and at +length seated herself on a little grassy bank, remote from the +dancers, yet where she could overlook the scene. + +There was a little pause in the dance, and Squire Deerdale approached +the stranger and whispered, + +"Do you like her?" + +"She's as beautiful as Juno, but I dare not hope that she would ever +love a poor vagabond like me. She deserves a prince of the blood, at +the very least." + +"Never mind!--_Vedremo_, as we say in Italy;" and with a laugh the +young man bounded again into the dance, while the stranger redoubled +his attention to his guitar. + +The day began to wane, and the shadows of a neighboring mountain to +creep slowly across the lea; and yet, so absorbed was that gay company +in the merry pleasures of the day, that hours glided by unnoticed; and +it was not until the round, yellow moon rose over the eastern hills, +as if peeping out to see the sun set, that they thought of breaking up +a scene of little less than enchantment. + +The stranger scarcely left the side of Hortensia, who seemed +completely subdued and fascinated by the serious eloquence, the +inexhaustible brilliancy of his conversation, as well as enthralled by +the classic beauty of his face, and the respectful yet tender glances +which he from time to time cast upon her face. It may also be supposed +that the hints casually dropped by the squire the night before, +respecting his distinguished acquaintance, the young Duke of St. +James, had not been without their effect. Sooth to say, however, that +the hitherto cold and impassive Hortensia was really in love, and that +she had too much self-respect to make any conditions in the bestowal +of her admiration. She was haughty, proud and ambitious--yet at the +same time high-minded and generous where her feelings were really +interested. + +Much may be accomplished in an afternoon between two congenial hearts +that meet for the first time; and it is not at all surprising that on +their way home the stranger and Hortensia should have lingered a +little behind the rest of the party, engaged in deep and earnest talk. + +"Beautiful being," whispered the stranger, "I have at length found my +heart's idol, whom in dreams I have ever worshiped. What need of long +acquaintanceship between hearts made for each other? Lady, I love +you!" + +"Sir, sir, I beg you to pause. You know not what you are saying--you +cannot mean that--" + +"But I tell you he does mean it, though," exclaimed a merry voice +close at the lady's elbow; and turning round, she saw her mischievous +brother-in-law, who had been demurely following their tardy footsteps. + +"Brother! you here! I--really--am quite astonished!" + +"And," interrupted the stranger, while a dark flush came over his +face, "allow me to say, Squire Deerdale, that I also am astonished at +this violation of the rights of a friendship even so old and sincere +as ours." + +"Well, well, I beg your pardon, fair lady; and as for you, sir, after +you have heard my explanation, I shall be prepared to give you any +satisfaction you may require. You must know, then, my dear old friend, +that from a few careless words I dropped last evening, by way of joke, +this young lady has imbibed the idea that you are the young Duke of +St. James in disguise; and for the purpose of preventing any +misunderstandings for the future, it is requisite that my sister and +my friend Walter Willie, the artist, should comprehend one another's +position fully." + +"Good heavens! madam, you cannot believe that I was accessory to this +mad prank of your brother's? Do not believe it for the world." + +"No, no, I acquit you and every body but myself. I am sure I intended +no harm by my thoughtless joke. Come, come, make up the matter at +once, so that I may hasten back to Alice, who will begin to grow +jealous, directly." + +"Madam, dear madam, (Hortensia turned away her head with an imperious +gesture,) I have only to beg your pardon for having too long intruded +upon your attention, and to take my leave. The poor artist must still +worship his ideal at a distance. For him there is but the world of +imagination. No such bright reality as being beloved rests in his +gloomy future. Farewell!" and the young man, bowing for a moment over +the hand of Hortensia, withdrew. + +"Brother, brother, what have you done!" passionately exclaimed the +beauty, in a voice choked by sobs. "For a foolish joke you have driven +away the only being who has ever interested my lonely heart. And now I +can never, never be happy again." + +"But, dear Hortensia, would you stoop to love a mere artist?" + +"Stoop, sir,--stoop! I know not what you mean. Think you so meanly of +me as to believe I would sell myself for wealth and a title? Proud I +may be--but not, I thank God, mercenary nor mean. And what a lofty, +noble spirit is that of your friend! What lord or duke could match the +height of his intellect or the gorgeousness of his imagination. Oh, +too soon my beautiful dream is broken!" and the young lady, all power +of her usual self-restraint being lost, wept like a child upon the +shoulder of her brother. + +"Nay, nay, sister dear, weep not," at length said the squire, tenderly +raising her head and leading her homeward. "All is not lost that is in +danger. And so that you really _have_ lost your hard little heart to +my noble, glorious friend, I'll take care that it is soon +recovered--or at any rate another one quite as good. Come, come, cheer +up! All will go well." + +The squire, although not usually rated as a prophet, predicted rightly +for once; for the very next day saw young Walter Willie at Sweetbriar +Lodge, with a face as handsome and happy as the morning. Hortensia was +ill, and must not be disturbed; and at this information his features +suddenly became overcast, as you may have seen a spring sky by a thick +cloud, springing up from nobody knows where. However, the squire +entered directly after, and whispered a few words to his guest, which +seemed to restore in a measure the brightness of his look. + +"And you really think, then, that I may hope?" + +"Nay, my friend, you may do as you like about that. All men may hope, +you know Shakspeare says. But I tell you that Hortensia has fallen in +love with your foolish face--it's just like her!--and that's all about +it. Come in and take some breakfast. Oh, I forgot--you've no appetite. +Of course not. Well, you'll find some nice fresh dew in those +morning-glories yonder, and I will rejoin you in a minute. We 'll make +a day of it." + +That evening the moon shone a million times brighter, the sky was a +million times bluer, and the nightingale sung a million times sweeter +than ever before. At least so thought the beautiful Hortensia and her +artist-lover, as they strolled, arm-in-arm, through the woody lawn +that skirted the garden of Sweetbriar Lodge, and held sweet converse +of immortal things by gazing into each other's eyes. And so ends our +veracious history of the Pic-Nic in Olden Time. + + + + +TO THE VIOLET. + +BY H. T. TUCKERMAN. + + + Sweet trophy of life's morning, fresh and calm, + Dropped from the gleanings of relentless time, + How from thy dainty chalice steals the balm + That hung like incense o'er its dewy prime! + + The lily's stateliness thou dost not own, + Nor glow voluptuous of the damask rose, + Thou canst not emulate the laurel's crown, + Nor, like the Cereus, watch while all repose. + + And these gay rivals of parterre and field + May freely drink the sunshine and the dew, + But only unto thee does heaven yield + The pure reflection of her cloudless blue. + + Thy tint will sometimes darken till it wear + A purple such as decked the eastern kings, + And yet, like innocence, all unaware + Its tribute to the wind thy blossom flings. + + Symbol of what is cherished and untold, + Thy fragrance oft reveals thee to the sight, + Peering in beauty from the common mould, + As casual blessings the forlorn requite. + + Thy image upon Laura's robe was wrought, + O'er which her poet with devotion mused, + And gentle souls, I ween, have ever caught + From thee a solace that the world refused. + + The Tuscan flower-girls delight to cheer + Each pensive exile with thy scented leaves, + Fit largess of a clime to fancy dear, + Which a new blandishment from thee receives. + + Grief's frenzy, when it melts, of thee will rave, + As of a thing too winsome to decay, + And thus Laertes at his sister's grave + Bids violets spring from her unsullied clay. + + Lowly incentive to celestial thought! + We ne'er with listless step can pass thee by, + For thou with tender embassies art fraught, + Like the fond beaming of a northern eye. + + Hence thou art sacred to our human needs; + Laid on the maiden's white and throbbing breast + Thy delicate odor for the absent pleads, + And mourners strew thee where their idols rest. + + In those wild hours when feeling chafed its bound, + And deepened more that utterance was denied, + In thee persuasive messengers I found + That reached the haven of love's wayward tide. + + And I have borne thee to the couch of death + When naught remained to do but wait and pray, + And marked the sudden flush and quickened breath + That proved thee dear though all had passed away! + + + + +THEY MAY TELL OF A CLIME. + +TO ---- ----. + +BY CHARLES E. TRAIL. + + + They may tell of a clime more delightful than this, + The land of the orange, the myrtle and vine; + Where the roses blush red beneath Zephyr's warm kiss, + And the bright beams of summer unceasingly shine. + But I know a sweet valley, a beautiful spot, + Where the turf is so green, and the breezes are bland; + And methinks, if you'll share there my ivy-crowned cot, + There'll be no place on earth like my own native land. + + A palace 'neath Italy's star-covered sky, + Unblest by thy presence would desolate be; + But cheered by the light of thy soft beaming eye, + Ah! sweet were a tent in the desert with thee. + For 'tis love--O! 'tis love which thus hallows the ground, + And brightens the gloom of the anchorite's cell; + And the Eden of earth--wheresoe'er it be found-- + Is the spot where the heart's cherished idol doth dwell. + + Then come to my cottage--though cool be the shade, + And verdant the sod 'neath the wide-spreading bough-- + Where the wood-dove its nest 'mid the foliage hath made, + Yet lone is that cottage, and desolate now. + For as the green forest, bereft of the dove, + No more with sweet echoes would musical be-- + Even so is the rose-mantled bower of love, + Unblest and uncheered, if not gladdened by thee. + + + + +A DREAM WITHIN A DREAM + +BY C. A. WASHBURN. + + +I dreamed that for a long time I courted Charlotte--what need of +dreaming? It was true. Nevertheless I dreamed that for a long time I +courted Charlotte, and at last, which was not true, married her. And I +thought that Charlotte and I lived very happily together. + +She loved me better than she ever thought she could before we were +married, for I loved her exceedingly, and was very kind to her. + +I remember how long it was that I wooed her. Always hoping, though +sometimes fearing that she would never love me so as to marry me; how, +when at last we were married, and I carried her home to my pretty +cottage, I could hardly contain myself for joy; and when I saw her +seated in our own parlor on the wedding eve, I could not keep a tear +from trickling down my cheek; and how she kissed away the tear, and +when she knew the cause, how she burst into a flood of tears, and said +she would love me the better for my having loved her so; and how that +we were from that time wholly united in heart and sympathy. + +Then, in the course of time, we had two darling children, which we +both loved--and I thought my cup of happiness completed. I had been an +ambitious man in my youth, and had experienced much of the +disappointment incident to a life for fame. But when God had given us +two such lovely children, I thought it was abusing his mercy to +neglect them for the applause of the world--and so devoted myself +entirely to their welfare. If I worked hard and was inclined to feel +peevish and cross, I thought how that I was laboring to make happy, +and good, and great, the dear boys, and I forgot every thing else. If +I became tired of the turmoil of life, I was the more happy when I got +home, for the children were always waiting and glad to see me, and +their presence immediately banished all anxiety and care. They seemed +so happy when I came--for Charlotte used to teach them to prize my +presence by dating their pleasures by my arrival; that I thought it +joy enough for one mortal to have looked upon the impersonation of +innocence and joy in his own children. + +Then, when the boys were asleep, how we used to talk about them; how +anxious we were when either of them was restless or unquiet! How we +used to reckon on the joy they would give us in age, and how in the +happiness of our lot we shed tears of happines and joy! With what +fervor did we unite in prayer for their health and preservation, and +wish all the world as happy as we were. We became selfish in our joy, +and felt to care little for any thing but home, and in our enjoyment +of the gift we had like to have forgotten the Giver. + +But at length Charlie, the younger boy, was sick, and we feared he +would die. We then remembered in whose hands his life was, and, I +believe, ever after regarded our treasures as trusts committed to our +keeping. Charlie suffered great pain, but he complained not. His very +submission smote our hearts, and though we could not think he was to +die, yet we thought he was too good to live. Benny could no longer +smile upon us, but watched by his brother's bed without speaking or +moving, unless to do him some service. We felt anxious about Charles, +yet forbore to speak of our anxiety, though when he was asleep we +could no longer conceal our sorrow and fears. And when one day the +physician imprudently said in his hearing that he feared Charles would +die, he looked at him in surprise, as if he had not thought of that; +and kissing the fevered brow of his sick brother, he came and stood by +his mother's side, and looking in her face as much as to say you wont +let brother die, he saw a tear in the clear blue eye of his mother, +and he sobbed aloud; and Charlotte could contain herself no longer, +but dropped hot tears on his face faster than she could kiss them +away. Then I feared if Charlie should die lest Benny should die too; +and then I knew that Charlotte could not bear all this, and I prayed +in my heart to God for Charles. And the next day, when the good +physician said the danger was past, we felt to thank God that he had +so chastened our affections, and ever loved him the more. + +So we lived in love and happiness for many years, and all that time +not a shade of discord passed between us; and I often thought what a +dreary world this had been to me if Charlotte had never been mine. I +used to pity my bachelor neighbor, and, as I thought, I could see the +tear of disappointment in his eye when he witnessed my happy lot. I +saw it was a vision, and only the figure of Margaret, my once loved +and pretty sister, who existed then but in the land of spirits, was +before me. + +And I told Margaret of the vision, and could not repress a sigh that +it was not reality; and musing long on what I was, and what I might +have been had nature dealt with me more kindly, until the vision +returned. Again I lived the life of youth's fancy. + +But the boys now began to mingle a little with the world, and we +feared we were not equal to the task of educating them. We trembled +when we thought of the dangers before them, though we could not +believe it possible that they should ever do wrong. Alas! what trouble +was before us! + +I had carried home a box of strawberries, and set them in the pantry, +and setting myself down in the library, waited for Charlotte to come +home from shopping. I saw Charlie come from the pantry, but thought +nothing at the time, and when Benny came in, bade him bring them to me +that I might divide them between them--they were gone; Charles must +have taken them, for no one else had been in the pantry. I called him +to me, and asked if he had taken them. I asked without concern, for I +knew if he had, he did it supposing it to be right. He said, "No, +sir." "Ah," said I, "you did." He then inquired what ones I meant, and +I told him, and told him he must confess it, or I must punish him. But +when I talked so seriously of punishment, he seemed confounded. He +turned pale, and only said, "I did not do it." That was a trying +moment; and when Charlotte came in, we considered long and anxiously +what we ought to do. Should we let the theft go unpunished, and the +falsehood to be repeated. Again we urged him to confess. The answer +was still the same. There was no alternative but a resort to what I +had prayed Heaven might spare me. I punished him severely, but he +confessed not. I wished I had not begun, but now I must go on. I still +increased the castigation, and it was only when I told him that I +would stop when he owned the theft, and not before, that he confessed +he had taken the berries. + +After this cruel punishment he went out and found Benny, who had been +crying piteously all the time, and then my two boys went and hid +themselves. I would have suffered the rack to have recalled that hour. +It was too late. On going into the kitchen shortly after, I found a +poor woman of the neighborhood with the box, which she said her +thievish son had confessed he stole from the pantry. Perhaps some +parents imagine the feelings of Charlotte and myself when we made this +discovery. But they are few. The boys both shunned us, and we dreaded +to see them. But at last we sent for them to come in, and they dared +not refuse to obey. I took Charles in my arms. I asked him to forgive +me; I told him who took the berries; I shed tears without measure; I +begged him to forgive me--to kiss me as he was wont. He could not do +it. It was cold and mechanical. His little heart seemed broke. Had he +died I thought I could have borne it, but I could not endure this. +When he slept he was fitful and troubled; ah! his troubles could not +be greater than mine. I slept not that night; no, nor for many nights +after that; but I watched him in his sleep, and many a hot tear did I +drop on his cheek, which he wiped off as poison; and for many weeks I +would rise several times every night, and go and gaze on his yet +pretty face, on which was stamped the curse for my own cruel haste. + +In the midst of these sore trials, the lovely face of Margaret again +appeared before me, and again the vision vanished into nothing. And I +told her this part of the dream, and even then could not suppress a +tear that it was a dream, and that the children of W---- could never +have an existence or a name. + +Then the kind Margaret spoke words of comfort to me, and made me +repress the half-formed feeling of discontent. + +"Have you not," said she, "said you would be satisfied for only one +hour of the love of Charlotte?" + +"True," I replied, "and that dream was worth more than all my life +before." + +"Have you not known in that the joys of a parent, and have you not +seen what sorrows and trials might have been yours, from which you +have now escaped? And do you now complain of your lot, W----? You know +not the designs of Providence. Will not Charlotte be yours in the +world to come?" + +"God grant it!" said I; "but where will be Benny and Charles? They can +never be, and I shall die, and the flame of parental love will burn in +me, and never can it have an object." + +"Hush you!" said Margaret, "cannot God give you in the other world +those spirits of fancy? Did you not enjoy them in the dream, and +cannot the same power make you enjoy them in Elysium? Is it nothing +that God has done for you in showing you what might have been, and +what can be _there_? Are you still ungrateful, and do you still +distrust his goodness? Is it nothing that he has kept you from +temptation, and that you have so clear a conscience? Will you not be +worthy of Charlotte in heaven; and have you no gratitude for all this? +Have you not dear friends still; and will not Margaret be a +guardian-angel to you so long as you sojourn in this valley of tears?" + +"Ah!" said I, "I am blest beyond my deserts, and I will no more +complain, but thank my heavenly Father for the dream-children he hath +given me." + +I felt reproved by the words of Margaret, for I felt I had often +indulged in useless repinings; and I determined I would do so no more, +but patiently await my time to enjoy the loved ones, both real and +ideal, in heaven. I again turned to speak to Margaret--but Margaret +had vanished to the land of spirits, and I was alone, the solitary man +I had long been. It was but a dream within a dream. + + + + +PASSED AWAY. + +BY W. WALLACE SHAW. + + + With wearied step, and heavy heart, + O'erburdened with life's woes-- + My soul bowed down with grief and care + The orphan only knows-- + I strayed along old ocean's shore, + Where I had wandered oft before, + My grief to hide from men; + + I listened--something seemed to say-- + The joys that once did fill thy breast + Where, oh! where are they? + A voice that mingled with the roar + Of dashing waves against the shore, + In hollow tone, replied-- + "They _bloomed_; and _died_!" + + + + +AN EVENING SONG, + +BY PROFESSOR WM. CAMPBELL. + +[AN EXTRACT.] + + + Lyre of my soul, awake--thy chords are few, + Feeble their tones and low, + Wet with the morning and the evening dew + Of ceaseless wo. + The time hath been to me and thee, my lyre, + When soul of fire + Was ours, and notes and aspirations bold + Of higher hopes and prouder promise told-- + Those days have flown-- + Now we are old, + Old and alone! + + Old in our youth--for sorrow maketh old, + And disappointment withereth the frame, + And harsh neglect will smother up the flame, + That else had proudly burned--and the cold + Offcasting of affection will repel + The warm life-current back upon the heart, + And choke it nigh to bursting--yet 't is well, + And wise-intended, that the venomed dart + Shall bear its sure and speedy remedy. + Why should the wretched wish to live? to be + One in this cold wide world--ever to feel + That others feel not--wounds that will not heal-- + A bruised, though yet unbroken spirit's strife-- + A waning and a wasting out of life-- + A longing after loving--and the curse + To know + One's self unknown-- + In secrecy a hopeless hope to nurse-- + Down to the grave to go + Unloved--alone! + + Yet not alone! Pardon, thou gentle breeze, + That comest o'er the waters with the tread + Of beauty stealing to the sufferer's bed, + To cool the burning brow, and whisper peace. + Pardon, ye sweet wild flow'rets, that each morn + Woo us to brush the dew-drop from the lid + Of tearful innocence, and meekly warn + Of worth in garb of lowliest texture hid. + Beings of gentlest life, ye murmuring streams, + Lull of our waking, music of our dreams, + Ye things of artless merriment, that throw + Around you gladness, wheresoe'er ye flow-- + And ye dark mountains, down whose changeful sides + The mystic guardian, giant shadow strides, + Whose kindly frown, howe'er the storms prevail, + Peace and repose ensureth to the vale-- + Ye tall proud forests, that forever sway + In kingly fury, or in graceful play-- + Ye bright blue waters whose untiring drip + Against this island shore doth lightly break, + Gentle and noiseless as the parting lip + Of dreaming infant on its mother's cheek, + Pardon my rash averment--pardon, ye + Flow'rets and streamlets, mountains, woods and waves, + That pour into the soul a melody, + Like to the far down music of the caves + Of ocean, heard not, felt not, save within, + Seeking to joy the darker depths to win-- + Oh! while your sweet and sacred voices steal + Into my spirit, as the joyous fall + Of the warm sunbeam on the frozen rill, + To wake the voice that slumbereth, and call + To bear you company + In your glad hymnings, let the wretched own + He cannot be + Alone! + + Never alone!--awake, my soul--on high + The glorious sun his thousand rays has flung + Athwart the vaulted sky-- + Lo! there the heavens their mighty harp have strung, + The gold, the silver and the crimson chord, + To hymn their evening hymn unto the Lord. + Hark! heard ye not that glorious burst of song, + Which, touched by hands unseen, those chords sent forth, + Bidding the attuned spheres the notes prolong + Deeper and louder, till the trembling earth + Catcheth the thrilling strain-- + Echoeth back again-- + From the bosom of ocean a voice + Pealeth forth, and the mountains rejoice + And the plains and the woods and the valleys rebound, + And the Universe all is a creature of sound, + That runneth his race + Through the infinite regions of infinite space, + Till arrived at the throne + Of HIM who alone + Is worthy of honor and glory and praise. + + And it is ever thus--morn, noon and eve, + And in the still midnight, undying + Choirs of creation's minstrels weave + Sweet symphony of incense, vying + In wrapt intricacy of endless songs. + Ever, oh ever thus they sing, + But to our soul's dull ear belongs + Seldom the trancing sense + To list the universal worshiping, + Thrill with the glorious theme, and drink its eloquence. + + Mocking all our soul's desiring, + Distant now the notes are stealing, + And the minstrels high reining, + Drapery blue their forms concealing. + + + + +THE OCEAN-BURIED. + +COMPOSED, AND DEDICATED TO MISSES HARRIET AND MARY HALSEY, + +Of Blooming Grove, O. C., N. Y., + +BY MISS AGNES H. JONES. + + +=Andantino Soave=. + + +[Illustration: music] + + "Bury me not in the deep, deep sea." The words came faint and mournfully, + From the pallid lips of a youth who lay On the cabin couch where, + +[Illustration: music] + + day by day, He had wasted and pined, till o'er his brow The death shade + had slowly pass'd, and now, When the land and his fond loved home were + nigh, They had gath'rd around to see him die. + + + Let my death-slumber be where a mother's prayer + And sister's tears can be blended there. + Oh, it will be sweet ere the heart's throb is o'er, + To know, when its fountain shall gush no more, + That those it so fondly has yearn'd for will come, + To plant the first wild-flower of spring on my tomb. + Let me lie where lov'd ones can weep over me-- + Bury me not in the deep, deep sea! + + And there is another, her tears would be shed + For him who lays far in an ocean bed; + In hours that it pains me to think of now, + She has twin'd these locks and kiss'd this brow-- + In this hair she has wreathed shall the sea-snake hiss? + The brow she has press'd shall the cold wave kiss? + For the sake of that bright one that wails for me, + Bury me not in the deep, deep sea! + + "She hath been in my dreams"--his voice failed short, + They gave no heed to his dying prayer.-- + They have lowered him o'er the vessel's side-- + Above him hath closed the solemn tide. + Where to dip her wing the wild fowl rests-- + Where the blue waves dance with their foamy crests-- + Where the billows bound and the winds sport free, + They have buried him there, in the deep, deep sea. + + + + +REVIEW OF NEW BOOKS. + + + _Calaynos: A Tragedy. By George H. Boker, E. H. Butler + & Co. Philadelphia, pp. 218._ + +The spirit of English poetry has been for years eminently lyric; the +few attempts at the epic or dramatic having been laid aside, if not +permanently, at least for a time. The age has been too busy in working +out, with machinery and steam, its own great epic thought, to find +leisure to listen to any thing longer than a single bugle-blast +encouraging its advancement. We cannot but believe, however, if we may +be allowed an analogical inference, that the age is fast approaching +the climax of its utilitarian inventions, and that man, instead of +chasing through unknown regions every will-o-wisp of his brain, in the +hope of bringing it a captive to the Patent-office, will sit modestly +down to apply to their various uses the discoveries already made. Then +will the healthy feast of literature once more begin, and the public +cease to be surfeited by the watery hash which has been daily set +steaming before them. In the volume under consideration we think we +can discern the promise of the return of the good old spirit of +English poetry--of solid honest thought expressed in straight forward +Saxon. The story, which is one of the chivalrous days of Spain, while +it is devoid of trick is full of thrilling interest, and its style, +while it is eminently poetical, neither swells into bombast nor +descends to the foppery so common among the verse-makers of our day. +There is a stately, old-fashioned tread in the diction, as of a man in +armor, who, should he attempt to gather flowers of mere prettiness, +would crush them at the first touch of his iron gauntlet, and who, if +he seems to move ungracefully at times, owes his motion to his weight +of mail. Calaynos, the hero, is in every respect a nobleman, not only +in blood, but what is better, in mind. He is a scholar, one who, in +the words of Dona Alda his wife, + + --uses time as usurers do their gold, + Making each moment pay him double interest. + +He is a philosopher-- + + Things nigh impossible are plain to him; + His trenchant will, like a fine-tempered blade, + With unturned edge, cleaves through the baser iron. + +He is generous and has + + --a predetermined trust in man; + +and holds that + + He who hates man must scorn the Source of man, + And challenge as unwise his awful Maker. + +The character of Dona Alda is noble and womanly--her chief trait being +her great pride and jealous care of her honor. She conceives that no +one will brave the + + --peril, such as he must brook, + Who dares to love the wife of great Calaynos. + +Her maid, Martina, tells her that + + --Queens of Spain + Have had their paramours-- + +and she replies, + + --So might it be, + _Yet never hap to bride of a Calaynos_! + +Don Luis, the villain of the plot, thus paints his own picture: + + --I was not formed for good: + To what Fate orders I must needs submit: + The sin not mine, but His who made me thus-- + Not in my will but in my nature lodged. + + * * * * * + + I will grasp the stable goods of life, + Nor care how foul the hand that does the deed. + +Martina is admirably drawn; her wit is excellent, and as exhaustless +as it is keen. She says of Calaynos-- + + He looks on pleasure as a kind of sin, + Calls pastime waste-time---- + + * * * * * + + I heard a man, who spent a mortal life + In hoarding up all kinds of stones and ores, + Call one, who spitted flies upon a pin, + A fool to pass his precious lifetime thus. + +She says of Oliver, Calayno's secretary, + + Yes, there he goes-- + Backward and forward, like a weaver's shuttle, + Spinning some web of wisdom most divine. + +She addresses him thus-- + + Our clay, the preachers say, was warmed to life; + But yours, your dull, cold mud, was froze to being. + _I would not be the oyster that you are + For all the pearls of wisdom in your shell!_ + +All the persons of the play are vivid and life-like. With the +beginning of the third act the interest becomes intense, and nothing +could be more vigorous and touching than the action and depth of +pathos toward the close of the piece. Every page teems with fine +thoughts and images, which lead us to believe that the mine from which +this book is a specimen, contains a golden vein of poetry which will +go far to enrich our native literature. + + + _Literary Sketches and Letters: Being the Final + Memorials of Charles Lamb, Never before Published. By + Thomas Noon Talfourd. New York: D. Appleton & Co. 1 + vol. 12mo._ + +The present work is important in more respects than one. It was needed +to clear up the obscurity which rested on several points of Lamb's +life, and it was needed to account for some of the peculiarities of +his character. The volume proves that this most genial and kindly of +humorists was tried by as severe a calamity as ever broke down the +energies of a great spirit, and the frailties commonly associated with +his name seem almost as nothing compared with the stern duties he +performed from his early manhood to his death. The present volume is +calculated to increase that personal sympathy and love for him, which +has ever distinguished the readers of Lamb from the readers of other +authors, and also to add a sentiment of profound respect for his +virtues and his fortitude. The truth is that Lamb's intellect was one +of the largest and strongest, as well as one of the finest, among the +great contemporary authors of his time, and it was altogether owing to +circumstances, and those of a peculiarly calamitous character, that +this ample mind left but inadequate testimonials of its power and +fertility. He is, and probably will be, chiefly known as an original +and somewhat whimsical essayist, but his essays, inimitable of their +kind, were but the playthings of his intellect. + +Talfourd has performed his editorial duties with his usual taste and +judgment, and with all that sweetness and grace of expression which +ever distinguishes the author of Ion. His sketches of Lamb's +companions are additions to the literary history of the present +century. Lamb's own letters, which constitute the peculiar charm of +the book, are admirable--the serious ones being vivid transcripts of +his moods of mind, and some of them almost painful in their direct +expression of agony, and the semi-serious rioting in mirth, mischief +and whim, full of wit and meaning, and full also of character and +kindliness. One of his early letters he closes, as being from his +correspondent's "afflicted, headachey, sore-throatey, humble servant." +In another he calls Hoole's translation of Tasso "more vapid than +smallest small beer, 'sun-vinegared.'" In speaking of Hazlitt's +intention to print a political pamphlet at his own expense, he comes +out with a general maxim, which has found many disciples: "The first +duty of an author, I take it, is never to pay any thing." When Hannah +More's Coelebs in Search of a Wife appeared, it was lent to him by a +precise lady to read. He thought it among the poorest of common +novels, and returned it with this stanza written in the beginning: + + If ever I marry a wife + I'd marry a landlord's daughter, + For then I may sit in the bar, + And drink cold brandy-and-water. + +In speaking of his troubles toward the close of his life, he has a +strange, humorous imagination, in every way worthy of his peculiar +genius: "My bedfellows are cough and cramp; _we sleep three in a +bed_." + +The present volume is elegantly printed, and will doubtless have a +run. It is full of matter, and that of the most interesting kind. No +reader of Lamb, especially, will be without it. + + + + _Modern French Literature. By L. Raymond de Vericour. + Edited by W. S. Chase, A. M. Boston: Gould, Kendall & + Lincoln. 1 vol. 12mo._ + +This work is the English production of a native Frenchman, and was +written for one of Chambers's series of books for the people. It is +edited, with notes alluding particularly to writers prominent in the +late French Revolution, by a young American scholar, who has recently +resided in France. The book, though deficient and sometimes incorrect +in details, deserves much praise for its general correctness and +accuracy. The author, though by no means a critic of the first class, +is altogether above the herd of Grub street hacks who commonly +undertake the popularizing of literary history. He is no Winstansley +and no Cibber. The range of his reading appears to be extensive. His +judgments are somewhat those of a school-master, but one of the +highest grade. There are several amusing errors relating to the +position of English authors, to some of which we cannot help alluding, +as they seem to have escaped the vigilant eye of the editor. Speaking +of Guizot and Sismondi as the leaders of the school of French +philosophical historians, he remarks that "the English language +possesses some good specimens of this class of history; the most +remarkable are Gibbon's Decline and Fall and the works of Mr. Millar." +This is as if the author had said that England possessed some good +specimens of the Romantic Drama, the most remarkable being +Shakspeare's Macbeth and the works of Mr. Colman. + +Again, in speaking of the novels of Paul de Kock, and protesting +against those English critics who call him the first writer of his +time and country, he says that it is as ridiculous as it would be in +Frenchmen to exalt the novels of Charles Dickens above Ivanhoe, +_Philip Augustus_ and Eugene Aram, The idea of a Frenchman thinking it +a paradox to rank Dickens above James, or even Bulwer, shows how +difficult it is for a foreigner, especially a Frenchman, to pass +beyond the external form of English literature. + +The author deserves the praise of being a sensible man, in the English +meaning of the phrase. There is one sentence in his introductory +which proves that his mind has escaped one besetting sin of the French +intellect, which has prevented its successful cultivation of politics +as a practical science. In speaking of the histories of Thiers and +Mignet, he says that they "have hatched a swarm of _Jeunes Prances_, +vociferating in their wild aberrations, emphatic eulogies on Marat, +Coulhon and Robespierre, and breathing a love of blood and +destruction, which they call the progressive march of events." + + + _Rise and Fall of Louis Philippe, Ex-King of the + French, Giving a History of the French Revolution from, + its Commencement in 1789. By Benj. Perley Poore, + Boston: Wm. D. Ticknor & Co. 1 vol. 12mo._ + +Of all the publications we have seen relating to Louis Philippe this +is the most complete and the most agreeable. The author, from his long +residence in Paris, and from his position as Historical Agent of the +State of Massachusetts, was enabled to collect a large mass of matter +relating to French history, and also to learn a great deal respecting +the Orleans dynasty, which would not naturally find its way into +print. The present volume, though it has little in relation to the +first French Revolution not generally known by students, embodies a +large number of important facts respecting Louis Philippe, which we +believe are now published for the first time. The biography itself has +the interest of a romance, for few heroes of novels ever were, in +imagination, subjected to the changes of fortune which Louis +encountered in reality. Mr. Poore's view of his character is not more +flattering than that which commonly obtains--on both sides of the +Atlantic. To sustain this disparaging opinion of his subject, however, +he is compelled to suppose policy and hypocrisy as the springs of many +actions which a reasonable charity would pronounce virtuous and +humane. It must be conceded that the conduct of the king during the +last few days of his reign was feeble, if not cowardly, but his +uniform character in other periods of his life was that of a man +possessing singular readiness and coolness in times of peril, and +encountering obstacles with a courage as serene as it was adventurous. + + + _The Tenant of Wildfield Hall. By Acton Bell, Author of + Wurthuring Heights.. New York: Harper & Brothers. 1 + vol. 12mo._ + +The appearance of this novel, so soon after the publication of +Wurthuring Heights, is an indication of Mr. Bell's intention to be a +frequent visiter, or visitation, of the public. We are afraid that the +personages he introduces to his readers will consist chiefly of one +class of mankind, and this class not the most pleasing. He is a +monomaniac on the subject of man's rascality and brutality, and crowds +his page with forcible delineations of offensive characters and +disgusting events. The power he displays is of a high but limited +order, and is exercised chiefly to make his readers uncomfortable. To +be sure the present novel is not so bad as Wurthuring Heights in the +matter of animal ferocity and impish diabolism; but still most of the +characters, to use a quaint illustration of an eccentric divine, "are +engaged in laying up for themselves considerable grants of land in the +bottomless pit," and brutality, blasphemy and cruelty constitute their +stock in trade. The author is not so much a delineator of human life +as of inhuman life. There are doubtless many scenes in The Tenant of +Wildfield Hall drawn with great force and pictorial truth, and which +freeze the blood and "shiver along the arteries;" but we think that +the author's process in conceiving character is rather logical than +imaginative, and consequently that he deals too much in unmixed +malignity and selfishness. The present novel, with all its peculiar +merits, lacks all those elements of interest which come from the +generous and gentle affections. His champagne enlivens, but there is +arsenic in it. + + + _Brothers and Sisters. By Frederika Bremer. Translated + by Mary Howitt. New York: Harper & Brothers._ + +This is by no means one of Miss Bremer's best productions, but it is +not on that account a commonplace production. The pathos, the +cheerfulness, the elevation, the sweet humane home-feeling of the +Swedish novelist, are here in much of their old power, with the +addition of universal philanthropy and the rights of labor. But we +fear that the original vein of our authoress is exhausted, and that +she is now repealing herself. It is a great mistake to suppose that a +new story, new names of characters, additional sentiments nicely +packed in new sentences, make a new novel, when the whole tone and +spirit of the production continually reminds the reader of the +authors previous efforts. It is no depreciation of Miss Bremer's +really fine powers to assert, that she lacks the creative energy of +Scott, or the ever active fancy and various observation of Dickens. + + + _Grantley Manor. By Lady Georgiana Fullerton. New York: + D. Appleton & Co. 1 vol. 12mo._ + +This is altogether one of the finest novels which have appeared for +many years. It is written with much beauty of style; evinces a +creative as well as cultivated mind, and contains a variety of +characters which are not only interesting in themselves, but have a +necessary connection with the plot and purpose. The mind of the author +has that combination of shrewdness and romantic fervor, of sense and +passion, so necessary to every novelist who desires to idealize +without contradicting the experience of common life. + + +EDITOR'S TABLE. + +To the readers of "Graham."--A series of misfortunes having bereft me +of any proprietory interest in this Magazine, the present publishers +have made a liberal arrangement with me, and for the future, the +editorial and pictorial departments of Graham's Magazine will be under +the charge of Joseph R. Chandler, Esq., J. Bayard Taylor, Esq., and +myself. + +It is due to the subscribers to "Graham" from me, to state, that from +the first hour I took charge of it, the warmest support and +encouragement were given me, and from two not very profitable +magazines "Graham" sprung at once into boundless popularity and +circulation. Money, as every subscriber knows, was freely expended +upon it, and an energy untiring and sleepless was devoted to its +business management, and had I not, in an evil hour, forgotten my own +true interests, and devoted that capital and industry to another +business which should have been confined exclusively to the magazine, +I should to-day have been under no necessity--not even of writing this +notice. + +I come back to my first love with an ardor undiminished, and an energy +not enervated, with high hopes and very bold purposes. What can be +done in the next three years, time, that great solver of doubts, must +tell. What a daring enterprize in business can do, I have already +shown in Graham's Magazine and the North American--and, alas! I have +also shown what folly can do, when business is forgotten--but I can +yet show the world that he who started life a poor boy, with but eight +dollars in his pocket, and has run such a career as mine, is hard to +be put down by the calumnies or ingratitude of any. Feeling, +therefore, that having lost one battle, "there is time enough to win +another," I enter upon the work of the "redemption of Graham," with +the very confident purposes of a man who never doubted his ability to +succeed, and who asks no odds in a fair encounter. + + GEO. R. GRAHAM. + + +An Acquisition.--Our readers will share in the pleasure with which it +is announced, that JOSEPH R. CHANDLER, Esq., the accomplished writer, +and former editor of "_The United States Gazette_," will hereafter be +"_one of us_" in the editorial management of Graham's Magazine. There +are few writers in the language who equal, and none excel Mr. Chandler +in graceful and pathetic composition. His sketches live in the hearts +of readers, while they are heart-histories recognized by thousands in +every part of the laud. An article from Mr. Chandler's pen may be +looked for in every number, and this will cause each number to be +looked for anxiously. + + +Editors Looking Up.--It is expected that an early number of "Graham" +will be graced with a portrait of our distinguished rival of the +"Lady's Book," that gentleman having "in the handsomest manner," as +they say in theatricals, sat for a picture of his goodly countenance +and proportions. At our command this has been transferred to steel, to +be handed over to the readers of "Graham," by Armstrong, an artist +whose ability is a fair warrant for a fine picture. Now if any of our +fair readers fall in love with Godey, we shall take it as a formal +slight, and shall insist upon having our face _run_ through an edition +of a magazine, to be gazed at and loved by thousands of as fine +looking people as can be crowded upon a subscription book. + + +W. E. TUCKER, ESQ.--We are very much gratified to be able to state, +that an arrangement has been made by the proprietors of "Graham" with +Mr. W. E. Tucker, whose exquisite title-pages and other gems in the +way of engraving are familiar to our readers, and that _for the year +1849, he engraves exclusively for Graham's Magazine_. + +This is but the beginning of arrangements proposed to revive the +original splendor of the pictorial department of this magazine, while +the literary arrangements are in the same style of liberality which +has ever distinguished "Graham." "There is a good time a-coming boys" +in 1849. + + +Sketches From Europe.--In the present absorbing state of affairs +abroad, it will please our readers to know, that we have engaged an +accomplished writer to furnish sketches of European manners, events +and society, such as escape the daily journals, for the pages of the +magazine. These sketches will occasionally be illustrated with +engravings of scenery and persons taken on the spot, and cannot fail +to add to the value of "Graham." + + +Gems From Late Readings.--We shall introduce into the next number of +Graham a department which we think cannot fail to be of interest, by +selections from authors which it is not possible for all the readers +of Graham to have seen. Culling such passages as may strike us in our +reading as worthy of wide circulation and preservation. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Graham's Magazine Vol XXXIII No. 4 +October 1848, by Various + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 30116 *** diff --git a/30116-8.txt b/30116-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..15fc1dc --- /dev/null +++ b/30116-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7166 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Graham's Magazine Vol XXXIII No. 4 October +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 XXXIII No. 4 October 1848 + +Author: Various + +Editor: George R. Graham + Robert T. Conrad + +Release Date: September 28, 2009 [EBook #30116] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GRAHAM'S MAGAZINE, OCTOBER 1848 *** + + + + +Produced by David T. Jones, Juliet Sutherland and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Canada Team at +http://www.pgdpcanada.net + + + + + + + +[Illustration: Sir W. C. Rofs, R.A. A.B. Ross +THE UNMARRIED BELLE +Engraved Expressly for Graham's Magazine] + + +GRAHAM'S MAGAZINE. + +VOL. XXXIII. PHILADELPHIA, OCTOBER, 1848. No. 4. + + + + +THE UNMARRIED BELLE. + +BY ENNA DUVAL. + +[SEE ENGRAVING.] + + + Talk not of wasted affection, affection never was wasted; + If it enrich not the heart of another, its waters returning + Back to their springs, like the rain, shall fill them full of refreshment; + That which the fountain sends forth returns again to the fountain. + Patience; accomplish thy labor; accomplish thy work of affection! + Sorrow and silence are strong, and patient endurance is godlike; + Therefore accomplish thy labor of love, till the heart is made godlike, + Purified, strengthened, perfected, and rendered more worthy of heaven! + LONGFELLOW'S EVANGELINE. + + +I was loitering beside my mother's chair, in her drawing-room, one day +on my return from school, listening to the conversation between her +and some morning visiters; they were discussing most earnestly the +merits of a reigning belle. + +"She is, indeed, perfectly beautiful," exclaimed my mother. "I looked +at her the other evening, when I saw her at the last concert, and +thought a more lovely creature could not exist. The music excited her, +and her cheek was delicately flushed, which heightened the brilliancy +of her eyes; her lovely lips were just half apart and trembling with +feeling. Then she understands so well the art and mystery of dressing. +While other young ladies around her were in the full pride of +brilliant _costume_, the eye felt freshened and relieved when looking +at her--there was such a repose in her _demi-toilette_. The simple +white dress was so pure and chaste in its effect, displaying only her +lovely throat, and her beautiful chestnut-brown hair was gathered up +carelessly but neatly, while over one tiny ear fell a rich cluster of +ringlets; then, with all her beauty and exquisite taste, she is so +unconscious, so unstudied. That the world should call Mary Lee a +beauty, I do not wonder; but that society should pronounce her a +belle, is, indeed, a surprise to me--she is so unassuming, so free +from art and _affectation_." + +"So unlike her mother," exclaimed a lady, eagerly. "I think Mary's +success in society is as gratifying as unexpected to Mrs. Lee. She +delayed her _entrée_ into society as long as she could, and used to +lament most piteously to me the trouble she expected to have with her, +from her total want of animation and spirit. But now she seems to have +entirely forgotten her former misgivings, for she takes many airs on +herself about Mary's popularity, talking all the while as though +scarcely any one was good enough for the husband of the daughter she +pronounced one year ago a stupid, inanimate creature." + +"Ah!" said a gentleman, laughing, "the tie now is between young Morton +and Langley, I believe. As Langley is the more _distingué_ of the two, +I suppose the mother will favor him; but if one can judge from +appearances, the daughter prefers Harry Morton." + +"I can assure you," interrupted Mr. Foster, an intimate friend of our +family, "the daughter has quite as much admiration for the rich Mr. +Langley as the mother. There is a little incident connected with that +same concert Mrs. Duval speaks of, that convinces me of the daughter's +powers of management." + +"Shame on you, Philip Foster!" said my mother, "you should not talk +thus of any lady, much less of Mary Lee." + +"What was the incident, Mr. Foster?" eagerly inquired the other +ladies. + +"Yes, do tell us, Phil," urged his gentleman friend. + +My mother looked reproachfully at Mr. Foster, but he shook his head +laughingly at her, as he said, + +"Hear me first, dear Mrs. Duval, before you judge. I was at Mrs. Lee's +two or three mornings since. Several visitors were in the +drawing-rooms, among them Harry Morton, as usual. I was looking at a +new and costly collection of engravings on the _commode_ table, when I +overheard Harry Morton ask Miss Lee if he should join their party at +the concert the next evening. She replied that she regretted they +were not going, for she had already promised her mother to dine and +spend the evening quietly with an old friend. The next evening at the +concert the whole Lee party were there, and our belle, Miss Mary, was +brought in by young Langley, just newly arrived from Europe. The +unconscious _demi-toilette_ Mrs. Duval speaks so admiringly of, had +the desired effect. Langley's taste has been chastened by a voyage +over the Atlantic; the noisy over-dressing of his countrywomen would, +of course, annoy his delicate sense--therefore was the simple home +costume adopted in preference, and the "_available_" Mr. Langley +secured as an admirer." + +"I do not believe any such thing, Philip!" exclaimed my mother, +indignantly. "I will answer for it, there was some mistake. Mary Lee +would scorn a falsehood, and is entirely above all artifice or design. +Mrs. Lee is said to be maneuvering and worldly; if she is, her +daughter is entirely free from such influences." + +"How did Morton take it, Phil?" asked the other friend, laughingly. + +"He was with me," replied Mr. Foster, evidently enjoying with some +little malice my kind mother's annoyance, "we had dropped into the +concert by chance together. He looked thunderstruck, but said nothing, +and did not approach her during the whole evening. She knew he was +there, however, for I saw her return his cold bow in a painfully +embarrassed manner." + +The entrance of some other visiters, connected with the Lees, put an +end to the conversation. That night, when my nurse was undressing me +for bed, I said, + +"What's a belle, Katy?" + +"A very rich and beautiful young lady," replied my nurse, "who has +plenty of lovers, and gets married very soon." + +"Will I ever be a belle?" I innocently inquired, as she gathered up my +rebellious hair under my cap. + +"No," she replied, in impatient tones, "your hair is too straight, and +your skin too yellow; but you must do as you're told to, or else +nobody will even love you; so go to sleep right away." + +I was silenced, and thus obedience was obtained by appealing to my +love of approbation. Many years passed, bringing me to womanhood, when +I discovered the truth of Nurse Katy's reason why I should not be a +belle. Other people decided that my "hair was too straight, and my +skin too yellow," to use Katy's homely, rough words; but her _brusque_ +admonition, that made me go to sleep so quickly when a child, acted +upon me as a woman. My approbativeness once roused, I managed, despite +my want of personal attractions, to secure a host of friends; and the +lesson I then learned, to please others rather than myself for the +sake of gaining their love, has caused my life thus far to be very +sunny and happy, even more so than if I had been the belle my childish +fancy desired. + +One of Nurse Katy's principal attributes of a belle, however, Mary Lee +was deficient in. She did not get married at all--and Mary Lee she +remained all her life. But she was one of the loveliest old maids in +the world, and quite as popular in our circle as she had been in her +own. She had been confined many years with an invalid mother and +paralytic father, but after their death some time, she re-entered +society; and her house was the favorite resort of the new set of young +people, as it had been in her young days. She gave the most delightful +parties, planned the most pleasant enjoyments for us, and although +acknowledging herself to be an old maid, she still retained her +youthful feelings unimpaired. + +Her mind remained in a fresh, healthy state, and her disposition was +still sweet and joyous. How we all loved her; she was our confidante, +adviser and friend. She was still pretty, and might have proved a very +formidable rival had she chosen to enter society as a young lady; but +she preferred being regarded by us as an elder friend. The young +ladies grouped around her as younger sisters; and one half the young +gentlemen would have married her _instanter_, notwithstanding she was +ten or fifteen years their senior. Old maid as she was, strange to +tell, she was a promoter of marriages. The ill-natured called Mary Lee +a match-maker. She certainly did interest herself very much with +lovers, fathoming all the little mysteries of their love-quarrels, and +setting every thing quite straight, even when they seemed in +inextricable confusion. + +Miss Lee had been very fond of my mother, and extended to me the same +regard, therefore I was, notwithstanding the difference in our ages, +on a more intimate footing with her than her other young friends. One +day, as we were discussing the merits of an approaching wedding, the +conversation assumed a confidential tone. + +"Indeed, Enna," she exclaimed, laughingly, "there is nothing more +interesting to me than a couple of lovers full of romance, poetry, and +perfectly blind and uncaring as to the future. I love to watch them in +courtship, lend them a helping hand in the quicksands of that +dangerous but delicious season; and then it makes me so happy to +congratulate them after their troubles are all over, and they are +happily married." + +"Ah! if they only could be sure of happiness," I replied. + +"Shame on you for that old maid's croak!" she said, with a bright +look; "those who are not happy in married life, would never be happy +in any situation. There should be no old maids or old bachelors, Enna; +we would all be happier married; we fail in fulfilling our missions +when we remain single. Hunt up a lover, Enna; let me watch your +courtship, and rejoice over your wedding. As a clever friend of mine +once said, we think poetry as lovers, but in married life we act true +poetry." + +I opened my eyes with astonishment, and innocently asked, "Why is it, +then, you have never married?" + +A shadow crossed over her face, and I felt a desire to recall the +question, for I feared I had called up disagreeable reminiscences, but +the next instant her countenance was as beaming and calm as before. + +"I will tell you, Enna," she said, as she caressingly rested her head +on my shoulder, "why I have never married; but to do that I must +relate the history of my rather uneventful life. My story has but +little interest, but it will gratify the curiosity of one who loves +me. My childhood was spent with an old aunt. She took me when I was a +delicate wee thing, and I remained with her until her death, which +took place when I was nearly grown. She was a dear, good old lady, and +with her my life passed most happily; my short visits home gave me +little pleasure, for my mother was a very worldly, ambitious woman, +and displayed but little tenderness for me, which, when contrasted +with my aunt's fondness and indulgence, made me feel quite as a +stranger in my family; and when Aunt Mary died, I wept as bitterly, +and felt as lonely and bereft of friends, as though I did not possess +a mother, father, and sisters. The two years after my aunt's death +were spent in close attention to those accomplishments which had been +neglected in my education as unnecessary, and which my mother deemed +so essential; and not a day passed without my poor mother's +exclamations of despair over me. + +"'One comfort there is, however,' she would say, 'your aunt's little +fortune of a few thousands will be exaggerated in society, and people +will forget your _mauvaise honte_ in giving you credit for being an +heiress.' + +"But the report of my being an heiress was not needed, for when I +entered society, to my mother's amazement, I created quite a +sensation. I had been looked upon as a pretty girl always; but my +mother had so often declared that I was so inanimate and innocent, she +never would be able to do any thing with me, and my pretty face would +be of no service to me, that I looked upon myself as quite an ordinary +person, and was as much surprised at my belle-hood as my family. I +wonder my little head was not turned with the attentions I received, +so unused as I had been to admiration; it might have been, however, +had not a disappointment--a bitter, heart-aching disappointment, +wearied me of all this adulation and attention. + +"Soon after my entrance into society, I became acquainted with a Mr. +Morton--agreeable, good-looking, and attentive he was, of +course--quite an acquisition to me in my circle of admirers. His +worldly qualifications were not of so brilliant a nature as to attract +my prudent mother's fancy, for he was only a young lawyer of slender +means and moderate practice. I do not think she ever dreamed of the +interest he excited in me, but looked upon him as one of the crowd of +attendants necessarily surrounding a belle. But how differently I +regarded him. The piles of costly bouquets I received daily, gained +but little attention from me, unless I discerned among them the tiny +bunch of sweet-violets, tea-roses, and mignonette, which he once in a +great while sent me. In my ball-tablets my eyes sought the dances +marked down for him; and when he was my partner, the dance, generally +so wearisome, was only too short, too delightful; the reminiscence of +that happy time makes a silly girl of me again. My mother never +imagined he aspired to my hand--she would have looked aghast at the +bare mention of such a probability; but she regarded him as a friend, +and he was a great favorite with her. She used to say young men like +Harry Morton, that knew their places, were invaluable acquaintances +for a belle; thus were we thrown a great deal together. She was so +blind to his real position with me, quick-sighted as she generally was +in other things, I was permitted to have him for my partner in +dancing, even for several quadrilles during an evening; he was my +constant attendant in my daily rides on horseback, and my mother never +hesitated to call upon him if we were at any time in need of an escort +to a ball or opera. He was upon the footing of a brother or cousin in +the family; but, ah! how dear was he to me. Without any actual +explanation, I felt sure of Harry Morton's love. I never had any +doubts or jealousies--we seemed to perfectly understand each other. I +never looked forward to our future--I was too quietly happy in the +present. I only dated from one meeting to another--from the dinner to +the party, when he would be ready to hand us from our carriage, to +take me off my father's arm in compliance with my mother's constant +inquiry and request of, 'Where's Harry Morton? Here, Harry, do take +charge of Mary,' a request which he always seemed delighted to obey. +Then, after the happy good-night, I would lie my head on the pillow to +dream of him and the morning ride we would take together. Why he never +spoke to me of his love I cannot tell. It might have been that +feelings of delicacy restrained him; my father was rich, while he was +but a poor young lawyer; then report had made me an heiress in my own +right, as well as a belle, to my worldly mother's great content. That +he loved me I am sure, though he never told me with his lips. + +"One morning my mother said to me, 'Do not make any engagement for +to-morrow, Mary; we must dine _en famille_ with dear old Mrs. Langley; +we have not been there for a month.' + +"Now this Mrs. Langley was a person of great consideration in my +mother's eyes. She was very wealthy, and, moreover, had been at the +head of the fashionable world for many years. Since my entrance into +society, she had been quite an invalid, and rarely appeared in public, +but it gratified her exceedingly to have her friends around her, for +she dreaded yielding up her command in the world. My mother was an +especial favorite of hers; and after I had taken such a prominent +situation in society, she expressed great regard for me. Once in a +month or so we spent a day with her. She lived in great style--a +stately dinner, and a stupid, grand, heavy evening was the amount of +the visit. How I used to dread the coming of the day; it was the only +time I was separated from Harry, for Mrs. Langley being very +exclusive, and making no new acquaintances, he had no _entrée_ there. +I used to sing for her, arrange her worsteds, tell her of the parties +and different entertainments, and read to her her son's last letter. +She had only one son, and he had been in Europe for two or three +years. He was her idol, and she never tired talking of him. Dear old +lady, my conscience smote me many times for the feelings of impatient +weariness and _ennui_ I would give way to during one of her tedious +dinner parties. + +"The following morning after my mother had announced the visit of +penance, Harry Morton made his appearance in our drawing-rooms, as +usual, with the other morning visiters. Every one was talking of a new +singer who was to make her _debût_ on that evening. + +"'May I join your party at the concert this evening?' Harry asked me, +in a low voice. + +"'I regret exceedingly,' I replied, 'that we are not going to the +concert. I have already promised mamma to spend a quiet day and +evening with an old friend of hers. You must listen attentively to +this new _donna_, and tell me all about her voice if you go.' + +"'I do not think I shall go,' he replied, in low, earnest tones, 'for +I could not enjoy the concert if not with you.' A turn in the general +conversation drew us more into notice, and some ladies and gentlemen +entering, put an end to all further intercourse between us; how long I +remembered and cherished those last words of his. When I made my +appearance in my mother's room at 5 o'clock, shawl and hood in hand, +she regarded me from head to foot smilingly. + +"'What new caprice to-day?' she said, 'and yet I must confess it is +very becoming to you.' + +"I had felt too languid to dress much, and as the weather was warm, +spring being quite far advanced, I had chosen a simple white mull robe +for the visit to our old friend, knowing that we should meet with but +few visiters there. This I explained apologetically to my mother, who +tapped me with her fan good-naturedly, saying that beauties were +cunning creatures, they liked to show once in a while they could defy +the aid of ornament. The first few months of my entrance into society +my mother superintended, with great attention, all my _toilettes_; but +near the close of the season she fell into the general opinion, that +what ever I did was exactly right; and poor little me, that one short +half-year before had no right to express an opinion upon so grave a +subject as dress, was now constantly appealed to; and whatever style I +adopted was perfect in her eyes. Society had placed its stamp upon me, +I could pass current as a coin of high value to her. + +"When I reached Mrs. Langley's, I found the old lady attended by but +one gentleman, who, beside ourselves, was her only visiter. What was +my surprise to hear her introduce him as her son, Templeton Langley. +The dinner passed more pleasantly than usual, for Mr. Langley made +himself very agreeable. After dinner he proposed we should go to the +concert, as he felt an interest in the new _primadonna_, having heard +her at her _debût_ in Europe. I made an objection, which was overruled +by Mrs. Langley's expressing a desire--strange for her--to go +likewise; and we went. I had not been ten minutes in the room when, on +lifting my eyes, the first person I saw was Harry Morton looking +sternly at me. Foolishly, I grew embarrassed, my face burned, and my +whole frame trembled with nervous agitation. He did not approach me, +but gave me only a cold bow. 'He thinks me guilty of falsehood,' I +said to myself. How wretchedly passed the evening, and yet I have no +doubt I was an object of envy to many of my young lady friends. The +rich _distingué_, Templeton Langley showed himself my devoted admirer, +while his mother, the acknowledged leader of _ton_, sat beside us +smiling approvingly. My indifferent, cold manner, my simple costume, +and my beautiful face, completed that evening the conquest of the +fastidious, fashionable young man. You cannot imagine the delight of +my mother, when day after day found Templeton Langley constantly +beside me, she could scarcely restrain her exultation; while I, poor +child, listened with aching, throbbing senses for the approach of one +who never came near me. Two or three weeks passed in a whirl of +gayety. It was the close of the season, and one or two brides in our +circle made the parties very constant. Mrs. Langley proposed that our +family should join her son and herself in their summer visit to the +Lakes; accordingly we did so, and we spent more than three months +traveling. Ere the close of those three months, Templeton Langley +offered himself to me. I could not describe to you the scene that +ensued between my mother and myself when I rejected him. She was a +worldly woman, and my conduct seemed perfectly wild to her. She +remonstrated, persuaded, then reproached me in impatient, angry tones. +My father was a quiet, amiable man, and rarely interfered with my +mother in her management, but he fortunately shook off enough of his +lethargy to come to my rescue at this time. + +"'If Mary does not love Mr. Langley,' he said, 'why urge her to marry +him? Do not scold the poor child,' and he drew me toward him tenderly. + +"Templeton Langley was rather an indifferent person in every way. His +wealth, combined with his situation in the fashionable world, placed +him in a fictitious light; but he had little intelligence, no +originality, and only a passable personal appearance. I was constantly +drawing the comparison between him and Harry Morton. Harry was so +handsome, so brilliant in conversation--and this thought rendered poor +Mr. Langley, with all his fastidious, elegant manners, quite +unbearable to me. To think of being tied to such a man for life was +perfect martyrdom for me; and although hitherto so yielding, I showed +myself on this occasion obstinate. Floods of tears I shed, and my +mother fancied at first she could overcome my 'ridiculous +sentimentality,' as she called it, but in vain; and finding a friend +in my father, I remained firm. I felt more sorry for old Mrs. Langley, +who was, indeed, terribly distressed, but she treated me very kindly, +and exonerated me from all blame. She was, however, really very fond +of me, and had set her heart upon having me for a daughter. Mr. +Langley returned to Europe, and for many months our circle of friends +were quite at a loss to know whether he had offered, been accepted, +or refused, or whether he had only flirted with me. My mother felt too +disappointed to boast of the rejection; and, moreover, she was so +occupied in bringing out my sister, Emma, as to have little time to +think of me or my affairs. My sister was but seventeen, three years +younger than I, but much nearer my age in appearance. I found myself +now of but secondary consideration in my mother's eyes. I fear she +really disliked me then. She was an ambitious woman, and had set her +heart upon my making a brilliant match; this favorite hope of hers I +had blighted, and feeling little interest in society, I became of less +consequence, for my sad, absent manner made me, of course, +uninteresting; therefore, as my reign as a belle was over, my poor +mother now sought to dismiss me from her mind and occupy herself with +other objects. + +"Harry Morton had gone to the Southwest ere we returned from our +summer's journey, and we never met again. A year or so afterward I +heard of his marriage with a dashing southern belle, and he is now a +distinguished man at the South. After these perplexing, unfortunate +misunderstandings, my health failed, and for a long while I was an +invalid, rarely appearing in society. My two sisters, Emma and Alice, +were more lucky than I, for they married happily, and with my mother's +gratified approbation--for they each made the 'best match of their +season.' Neither one was so pretty as I had been, and as my mother +used to ejaculate, + +"'Thank Heaven! neither Emma nor Alice are belles; they at least will +not trouble me with their exaggerated notions about love and all that +nonsense.' + +"I passed a miserable, wretched existence for a year or more after +Harry and I were separated. How earnestly I prayed for death, so +completely prostrated was my spirit by my disappointment. I felt as +lonely as I had at the time of dear Aunt Mary's death. In time, +however, I aroused myself from my morbid feelings, and in reading and +study found at first occupation, then strength and content. + +"The week after my youngest sister was married my father was stricken +down with paralysis. I was the only one at home with my parents, for +my bride sister had sailed for Europe the day after her wedding, and +Emma was far distant in her Southern home, having married a wealthy +South Carolinian two years before. Faithfully I devoted myself to my +father, and when my mother, a year afterward, was seized with a +painful, lingering disease, I made myself so necessary to her comfort, +that she at last acknowledged, that what had appeared to be her +greatest trouble had proved her greatest blessing. She altered very +much before her death, and lost entirely all those worldly feelings +which had actuated her during her early life. She suffered for many +years at times agonizing pain, and during this time I was sole +companion and nurse to my parents. Often I thanked Providence for +having denied to me my early love, granting to me in lieu an +opportunity of fulfilling the most holy of duties. See, Enna, to what +an unromantic and yet enviable state of mind I at last attained. +Believe me, dearest, we never should grieve over unavoidable troubles, +for many times they are but the rough husk of that sweet kernel--a +hidden blessing." + + + + +ZENOBIA. + +BY MYRON L. MASON. + + + 'Twas holyday in Rome. Her sevenfold hills + Were trembling with the tread of multitudes + Who thronged her streets. Hushed was the busy hum + Of labor. Silent in the shops reposed + The implements of toil. A common love + Of country, and a zeal for her renown, + Had warmed all hearts, and mingled for a day + Plebian ardor with patrician pride. + The sire, the son, the matron and the maid, + Joined in bestowing on their emperor + The joyous benedictions of the state. + Alas! about that day's magnificence + Was spread a web of _shame_! The victor's sword + Was stained with cowardice--his dazzling fame + Tarnished by insult to a fallen woman. + Returning from his conquests in the East, + Aurelian led in his triumphant train + Palmyra's beauteous queen, Zenobia, + Whose only crime had been the love she bore + To her own country and her household gods. + + Long had the Orient owned the sovereign sway + Of Rome imperial, and in forced submission + Had bowed the neck to the oppressor's yoke. + The corn of Syria, her fruits and wares, + The pearls of India, Araby's perfumes, + The golden treasures of the mountains, all + Profusely poured in her luxurious lap, + Crowned to the full her proud magnificence. + Rome regal, throned on her eternal hills, + With power supreme and wide-extended hand, + Plundered the prostrate nations without stint + Of all she coveted, and, chiefly thou, + O Liberty, the birthright boon of Heaven. + But Rome had passed her noon; her despotism + Was overgrown; an earthquake was at work + At her foundations; and new dynasties, + Striking their roots in ripening revolutions, + Were soon to sway the destinies of realms. + + The East was in revolt. The myriad seeds + Of dark rebellion, sown by tyranny, + And watered by the blood of patriots slain, + Were springing into life on every hand. + Success was alternating in this strife + 'Twixt power and _right_, and anxious Victory, + With balance poised, the doubtful issue feared. + Amid the fierce contention, 'mid the din + Of war's sublime encounter, and the crash + Of falling systems old, Palmyra's queen + Followed her valiant lord, Palmyra's king. + Ever beside him in the hour of peril, + She warded from his breast the battle's rage; + And in the councils of the cabinet + Her prudent wisdom was her husband's guide. + + Domestic treason, with insidious stab, + Snatched from Zenobia's side her gallant lord, + And threw into her hand the exigencies + Of an unstable and capricious throne. + Yet was her genius not inadequate. + The precepts of experience, intertwined + With intellectual power of lofty grade, + Combined to raise Palmyra's beauteous queen + High in the golden scale of moral greatness. + Under the teachings of the good Longinus + The streams of science flowed into her mind; + And, like the fountain-fostered mountain lake, + Her soul was pure as its ethereal food. + The patronage bestowed on learned men + Declared her love for letters. The rewards, + Rich and unnumbered, she conferred on merit + Her own refined, exalted taste betrayed. + Her graceful and majestic figure, crowned + With beauty such as few but angels wear, + Like the rich casing that surrounds the gem, + Heightened the splendor of her brilliant genius. + Equally daring on the battle-field + And in the chase, her prudence and her courage, + Displayed in many a hot emergency, + Had twined victorious laurel round her brow. + Under her rule Palmyra's fortunes rose + To an unequalled altitude, and wealth + Flowed in upon her like a golden sea, + Her wide dominion, stretching from the Nile + To the far Euxine and Euphrates' flood-- + Her active commerce, whose expanded range + Monopolized the trade of all the East-- + Her stately capital, whose towers and domes + Vied with proud Rome in architectural grace-- + Her own aspiring aims and high renown-- + All breathed around the Asiatic queen + An atmosphere of greatness, and betrayed + Her bold ambition, and her rivalry + With the imperial mistress of the world. + + But 't is the gaudiest flower is soonest plucked; + The sturdiest oak first feels the builder's axe. + Palmyra's rising greatness had awaked + The jealousy of Rome, and Fortune looked + On her prosperity with envious eye. + Under the golden eagles of the empire, + Aurelian's soldiers swept the thirsty sands, + And poured into Palmyra's palmy plains, + A mighty host hot for the battle-field. + Borne on her gallant steed, the warrior queen + The conflict sought, and led her eager troops + Into the stern encounter. Like the storm + Of their own desert plain, innumerable, + They rushed upon the foe, and courted danger. + Amid the serried ranks, whose steel array + Glowed in the noonday sun, and threw a flood + Of wavy sheen into the fragrant air, + Zenobia rode; and, like an angry spirit, + Commissioned from above to chastise men, + Where'er she moved was death. There was a flash + Of scorn that lighted up her fiery eye, + A glance of wrath upon her countenance-- + There was a terror in her frenzied arm + That struck dismay into the boldest heart. + Alas for her, Fortune was unpropitious! + Her fearless valor found an overmatch + In the experienced prudence of Aurelian; + And scarcely could the desert's hardy sons + Cope with the practiced legions of the empire. + The battle gained, Palmyra taken, sacked-- + Its queen a captive, hurled from off a throne, + Stripped of her wide possessions, forced to sue + In humblest attitude for even life-- + The haughty victor led his weary legions + Back to Italia's shores, and in his train + His fallen rival, loaded with chains of gold, + Forged from the bullion of her treasury. + + 'T was holyday in Rome. The morning sun, + Emerging from the palace-crested hills + Of the Campagna, poured a flood of light + Upon the slumbering city, summoning + Its teeming thousands to the festival. + A playful breeze, rich-laden with perfume + From groves of orange, gently stirred the leaves, + And curled the ripples on the Tiber's breast, + Bearing to seaward o'er the flowery plain + The rising peans' joyful melodies. + Flung to the wind, high from the swelling dome + That crowned the Capitol, the imperial banner, + Broidered with gold and glittering with gems, + Unfurled its azure field; and, as it caught + The sunbeams and flashed down upon the throng + That filled the forum, there arose a shout + Deep as the murmur of the cataract. + In that spontaneous outburst of applause + _Rome spoke_; and as the echo smote the hills + It woke the slumbering memory of a time + When Rome was _free_. + + A trumpet from the walls + Proclaimed the day's festivities begun. + Preceded by musicians and sweet singers, + A long procession passed the city-gate, + And, traversing the winding maze of streets, + Climbed to the Capitol. Choice victims, dressed + With pictured ornaments and wreaths of flowers, + An offering to the tutelary gods, + Led the advance. Then followed spoils immense, + Baskets of jewels, vases of wrought gold, + Paintings and statuary, cloths and wares, + Of costliest manufacture, close succeeded + By the rich symbols of Palmyra's glory, + Torn from her temples and her palaces, + To grace a triumph in the streets of Rome. + With toilsome step next walked the captive queen; + And then the victor, in his car of state, + With milk-white horses of Thessalian breed, + And in his retinue a splendid train + Of Rome's nobility. In one long line + The army last appeared in bright array, + With banners high displayed, filling the air + With songs of victory. The pageant proud + Quickened remembrance of departed days, + And warmed the bosoms of the multitude + With deep devotion to the commonwealth. + + High in his gilded chariot, decked in robes + Of broidered purple, and with laurel crowned, + Rode the triumphant conqueror, in his hand + The emblems of his power. The capital + Of his wide empire was inflamed with zeal + To do him honor and exalt his praise. + The world was at his feet; his sovereign will + None dared to question, and his haughty word + Was law to nations. Yet his heart was troubled. + In the dim distance he discerned the flight + Of Freedom, on swift pinions heralding + Enfranchisement to the oppressed of earth. + He knew the feeble tenure of dominion + Based on allegiance with reluctance paid; + And read the future overthrow of Rome + In the unyielding spirit of his victim. + Uncovered in the sun, weary and faint, + Bowed to the earth with chains of ravished gold, + With feet unsandaled, walked Zenobia, + Slave to the craven tyrant's cruelty. + Neither her peerless beauty, nor her sex, + Nor yet her grievous sufferings could melt + The despot's stony heart. She, who surpassed + Her conqueror in all the qualities + Of head or heart which crown humanity + With nobleness and high preëminence-- + She, whose _misfortunes_ in a glorious cause, + And not her _errors_, had achieved her ruin-- + Burdened with ignominy and disgrace + For her resplendent _virtues_, not her _crimes_-- + She who had graced a palace, and dispensed + Pardon to penitence, reward to worth, + And tempered justice with benevolence-- + Wickedly torn from her exalted station, + Now walked a captive in the streets of Rome, + E'en at the feet of the oppressors steeds. + Yet was her spirit all untamed. Disdain + Still sat upon her countenance, and breathed + Unmeasured scorn upon her persecutors. + The blush of innocence upon her cheek, + The burning pride that flashed within her eye, + The majesty enthroned upon her brow, + Told, in a language which the tyrant _felt_, + That her unconquered spirit soared sublime + In a pure orbit whither _his_ sordid soul + Could ne'er attain. Had he a captive led + Some odious wretch, whose sanguinary crimes, + Long perpetrated under sanction of a strength + No arm could reach, had spread a pall of mourning + Over a people's desolated homes, + He then had _right_ to triumph o'er his victim. + But 't was not thus. Insatiable ambition + Had led him to unsheath his victor sword + Against a monarch whose distinctive sway + Ravished from Rome no tittle of her _right_; + And, to augment the aggregate of wrong, + _That monarch was a woman_, whose renown, + Compared with his, was gold compared with brass. + As o'er the stony street the captive paced + Her weary way before the victor's steeds, + And marked the multitudes insatiate gaze, + The look of calm defiance on her face + Told that she bowed not to her degradation. + Her thoughts were not at Rome. Unheeded all, + The billows of the mad excitement dashed + About her, and broke harmless at her feet. + Dim reminiscences of former days + Burst like a deluge on her errant mind; + Leading her backward to the buried past, + When in the artless buoyancy of youth + She sat beneath Palmyra's fragrant shades + And gleaned the pages of historic story, + Red with Rome's bloody catalogue of wrong. + Little she dreamed Palmyra's palaces + Should e'er be scenes of Roman violence; + Little she dreamed that _hers_ should be the lot + (A captive princess led in chains) to crown + The splendor of a Roman holyday. + Alas! the blow she thought not of had fallen. + A bloody struggle, like a dreadful dream, + Had briefly raged, and all to her was lost, + Save the poor grace of a degraded life. + Her sun of glory was gone down in blood-- + The glittering fabric of her power despoiled + To swell the triumph of her conqueror. + But in the wreck of her magnificence, + With eye prophetic, she foresaw the ruin + Of the proud capital of all the world. + She saw the quickening symptoms of rebellion + Among the nations, and she caught their cry + For _freedom_ and for _vengeance_! + + * * * * * + + Hark! the Goth + Is thundering at the gate, His reckless sword + Leaps from the scabbard, eager to vindicate + The cause of the oppressed. A thousand years + The sun has witnessed in his daily course + The tyranny of Rome, now crushed _forever_. + The mighty mass of her usurped dominion, + By its own magnitude at last dissevered, + Is crumbling into fragments; and the shades + Of long-forgotten generations shriek + With fiendish glee over the yawning gulf + Of her perdition. + + + + +TEMPER LIFE'S EXTREMES. + +BY GEORGE S. BURLEIGH. + + + 'Tis wise, in summer-warmth, to look before, + To the keen-nipping winter; it is good, + In lifeful hours, to lay aside some store + Of thought, to leaven the spirit's duller mood; + To mould the sodded dyke, in sunny hour, + Against the coming of the wasteful flood; + Still tempering Life's extremes, that Wo no more + May start abrupt in Joy's sweet neighborhood. + If Day burst sudden from the bars of Night, + Or with one plunge leaped down the sheer abyss, + Painful alike were darkness and the light, + Bearing fixed war through shifting victories; + But sweet their bond, where peaceful twilight lingers, + Weaving the rosy with the sable fingers. + + + + +THE CRUISE OF THE RAKER. + +A TALE OF THE WAR OF 1812-15. + +BY HENRY A. CLARK. + +(_Continued from page 136._) + +CHAPTER V. + +_The Revenge._ + + +The report of the pistol fired by Julia had also been heard upon the +pirate brig. To Florette it gave assurance of the safety of the fair +fugitive. The pirate sprang to his feet, forgetful of his wound, but +fell back helpless upon the companion-way, and soon relapsed into his +former thoughtful state, supposing the sound had come from the deck of +the Raker, though it had seemed much too near and distinct to appear +possible that such was the case. + +The escape of Julia was not discovered until the following morning. +The wrath of the pirate was fearfully vindictive. Even Florette became +alarmed when he fiercely accused her of some share in the +disappearance of the captive girl. This she tremblingly denied, +suggesting the opinion that Julia must have jumped overboard, in her +despair, induced by the threats of the pirate. The loss of the boat +was also noticed, but not connected with the escape of Julia, it being +supposed that it had been carelessly fastened. As a very natural +consequence of his anger, the pirate sought some person on whom he +could vent its fury. + +"Call aft the other woman," shouted he, "unless she, too, has jumped +overboard." + +A grim smile was interchanged between the men who heard this order. +John's true sex had not been long kept concealed after he had reached +the pirate brig, and he had nearly fallen a victim to the rage the +unpleasant discovery excited in the men, but his ludicrous and abject +expressions of terror, though they awoke no emotions of pity, yet +excited the merriment of his captors, and turned their anger into +laughter. A man's garments were thrown to him, in which he speedily +equipped himself, being indeed in no slight degree relieved by the +change. Since that time he had kept himself as much aloof as possible +from the crew, anxiously and fearfully expectant of some sudden +catastrophe, either that his brains would be blown out without +affording him an opportunity to expostulate, or that he would be +called upon to walk the plank. + +He was roused by a heavy hand laid upon his shoulder. + +"O dear, don't," cried John. + +"The captain has sent word for'ard arter you, and faith ye had betther +be in a hurry, for he's a savage when he's mad." + +"O! now I've got to do it." + +"Do what?" + +"Why walk the plank to be sure." + +"Arrah, jewel! don't be onaisy now." + +"Wont I's, don't you think?" + +"Not a bit of it, darling. I think he will be afther running you up to +the yard-arm." + +"But I can't run up it." + +"Ha! ha! but come along, honey." + +Half dragging John after him, the sailor led him to the quarter-deck. + +"Here's the lady, captain, an' faith she's a swate one." + +The truth of the case had already been explained to the pirate. + +"You cowardly fool," said he, "did you expect to escape by such a +subterfuge? Pat, run him up to the yard-arm." + +"Yes, captain, and that will be a relaif to him, for he was mighty +afraid he'd have to walk the plank." + +"He was? well then he shall." + +The vindictiveness of the pirate commander, who had only changed the +mode of John's death because he thought that by so doing he should +render it more fearful and bitter to the victim, was the means of +saving the poor cockney's life. So do revenge and malice often +overreach themselves. + +A long plank was laid out over the side of the brig and John commanded +to walk out on it. He showed a strong disinclination to obeying, but a +huge pistol placed against his forehead quickly influenced his +decision, and with a cry of anguish he stepped out upon it. As the +board tipped he turned to spring back to the brig, but slipping up, +fell upon the board, which he pulled after him into the water. + +"Fool," cried the captain to one of his men, "what did you let the +board loose for, he will float now till the chase picks him up--fire +into him." + +A dozen balls were fired at John, and it seems he was hit, for he let +go the board and sunk. + +"There, captain, he's done for." + +The brig by this time had reached a considerable distance from the +place where John had been committed to the deep, and when he rose to +the surface, as he soon did, he was out of danger from their shot. + +"O dear!" cried he, "I shan't ever get ashore; I never could swim +much." + +The waves threw him against the plank. + +"O! a shark! a shark!" shouted John, "now don't;" and he grasped hold +of the plank in a frenzy of fear. He soon discovered the friendly aid +it would afford him, and held on to it with the tenacity of despair. + +In less than half an hour the Raker came up. John was noticed from its +deck, and a brawny tar seizing a rope and taking two or three turns of +it round his left arm sprang overboard to rescue the half unconscious +cockney. + +As the sailor seized him, John, supposing it to be a shark, uttered a +loud cry and lost all sensation. In this condition he was hauled up to +the deck of the privateer, where, upon recovering his senses, he found +to his great surprise and joy, that instead of being in the belly of +some voracious fish, like Jonah of old, he was in safety, and +surrounded by the crew of his former vessel, the Betty Allen, +including his master. + +The poor fellow was severely wounded by a pistol shot, in the arm, but +regardless of this he was wild in his demonstrations of joy, +especially when told that his young mistress had also escaped. + +Captain Greene found that he had gained little, if any, upon the +pirate during the night, and became convinced that he must again +commence firing upon her, trusting to some lucky ball to carry away a +spar, or failing, to allow the villains to escape the punishment they +so richly deserved, not only for their inhuman treatment of the crew +of the Betsy Allen, but doubtless for numerous other crimes committed +upon the seas, as savage in their conception, and more successful in +their execution. + +The long gun was again uncovered, and a shot dispatched from its huge +portals after the pirate brig. The first ball fired fell short of the +brig, striking the water directly in its wake, and ricochetting again +threw up the water beyond it. + +A succeeding ball, however, did some execution, crashing through her +top-gallant forecastle, but without in any degree lessening her speed. +As every fire from the Raker lessened her speed, Capt. Greene became +exceedingly anxious that no balls should be thrown away, and commanded +Lieut. Morris to point the gun, having more confidence in his skill +than in that of the gunner. The young officer aimed the gun carefully, +and as it was fired three cheers arose from his crew, as they +perceived the pirate's mizzen-mast fall away. + +"She is ours," cried the lieutenant. + +"Stand by, men, to take in sail," shouted the captain. "We will draw +near enough," continued he to Morris, "to fire into her at our +leisure, a pirate is not entitled to a more honorable warfare, and he +seems also to greatly outnumber us in men." + +As the privateer approached the pirate they could not but admire the +singular beauty of her build. She rose and fell upon the waters as +gracefully as a free and wild ocean bird. The long red lines of her +port-holes swept with a gentle curve from stem to stern, and her stem +was so sharp that the bowsprit seemed rather to terminate than to join +it. Twelve carronades occupied a double row of port-holes, and the +deck seemed crowded with men, all armed with cutlases and pistols. + +"A formidable looking set," said Captain Greene, as he laid aside his +glass, "keep the gun lively." + +An ineffectual fire opened upon the privateer from the pirate, but +though they had a swivel of pretty heavy calibre, turning on its axis +amidship in such a manner as to menace at will each point of the +horizon, it was evident that its force was far less than the long gun +of the privateer. + +A well aimed shot brought down the pirate's fore topsail-yard, which +hung in the slings, and succeeding shots did much injury to her masts +and rigging, and at length the main-topmast fell over the side. + +The scene on board the pirate, during this unequal warfare, was one +approaching perplexity and disorder. Their commander stood by the +helm, gazing at the privateer, his brow clouded with angry thought, +and giving little heed to the movements of his crew. He was aroused +from his abstraction by the voice of one of his officers. + +"Captain, this is bad business, what is to be done?" + +The captain gazed at him in silence. + +"The crew are alarmed, and demand of you some relief from this +harassing state. Our guns will not reach the chase, and we cannot +leave her in this crippled state." + +At this moment a heavy ball from the privateer whizzed by them and +buried itself in the main-mast of the brig. + +The captain seemed fully aroused. His eyes flashed with their wonted +fire. He turned toward his crew, and saw at a glance the state of +depression which had fallen upon them all. He even overheard some +muttered words of complaint. + +"Pat," says one, "this seems to be playing a rough game, where nothing +is to be won on our side." + +"Faith, an' ye may say that, but we stand a chance to gain one thing." + +"What may that be, Pat?" + +"O, a two-inch rope, and a run up to the fore yard-arm." + +"The devil! That's not a pleasant thought, Pat." + +"No, but they say it's an aisy death." + +"Silence, men," was heard in the deep tones of the captain's voice. + +In a moment all was still, and every eye turned toward the +companion-way, on which the captain stood, resting one hand upon the +main-boom, as he was exceedingly weak from the wound inflicted by the +ball of Captain Horton. + +"My brave fellows," said their leader, "do not be alarmed, we shall +not be hanged this time. Is our situation any worse than it has been +in times heretofore? Trust in me. Have I ever deceived you--have I +ever failed yet? You know I have not. Where we cannot conquer by fair +battle, we must use stratagem. Be watchful and ready, and we will yet +not only escape yonder vessel, but stand upon her deck as masters." + +The confidence with which he spoke inspired his followers with like +feeling, and with countenances relighted by hope, they returned to +their several stations. Their reliance upon their commander was +unbounded. He had so often triumphed when even greater difficulties +opposed, that they already felt sure of ultimate delivery, now that he +had been restored to his former energy--they had mistaken the lethargy +into which pain and weakness had thrown him for the torpor of despair. +Again the joke and laugh went round, and already they began to compute +their respective shares of booty in the vessel so soon to be theirs, +they knew not how. + +"Haul down the ensign, in token that we surrender," cried the captain. + +A murmur of indignation and surprise arose from the crew. + +"What, men, do you doubt me? 'Tis but a feint. Haul down the flag and +take in sail." + +The men obeyed with alacrity, for they already clearly comprehended +the plan of their leader. It was his intention to entice the privateer +alongside, and, well aware of his own superiority in numbers, to make +a sudden onset upon her deck, and thus, contrary to all laws of +honorable warfare, seize by foul means what could not be obtained in +any other way. + +These pacific indications were viewed with some surprise on board the +privateer. + +"By Heaven!" cried Lieut. Morris, "she's tired of this game soon." + +"Well, she had no other way to do; as it was we should have sunk her +without receiving a shot." + +"It was a losing game for her, true enough." + +"Lay the brig alongside of her," shouted Captain Greene to his men. + +As his men with a cheer began to unfurl all sail, Captain Horton +approached the commander of the privateer. He had up to this period +ventured no interference, both from matter of delicacy, and because he +saw nothing to disapprove of in the course pursued by Captain Greene. + +"My dear sir," said he, as he laid his hand upon the arm of the +captain of the privateer, "allow me to say a word." + +"Certainly, sir," replied the courteous commander. "I ought sooner +than this to have asked your advice." + +"I would not place too great confidence in the pirate's signal of +surrender." + +"Do you apprehend foul play?" + +"Recollect the savage brutality which the fiend has already evinced, +and judge for yourself whether he is worthy of being trusted at all." + +"You are right, sir. Lieut. Morris," continued he, turning to his +young officer. + +"Ay, ay, sir." + +"Load the long gun with grape and canister, and wheel it abaft--load +the larboard guns the same way. Now, my men, don't run too near her. +She must send a boat aboard." + +The privateer approached within half a cable's length of the pirate. + +"Ship ahoy!" cried Captain Greene. + +No answer came from the pirate, but her head was rounded to, so as to +bear directly down on the Raker. + +"Answer me, or I'll fire into you." + +"Fire and be d--d," came from the deck of the pirate, and at the same +time a broadside was poured into the Raker, which killed two or three +men at the guns, and severely wounded Captain Greene. + +"Lieut. Morris," cried he, "take the command of the vessel," and +falling on the deck he was immediately carried below. + +The young officer was fully equal to the emergency of the occasion. At +a glance he perceived that the pirate in the confusion which ensued +from his unexpected broadside, had fallen foul of the privateer's +rigging, and the crowd of his crew in his bow and fore-rigging, all +with cutlases drawn, and ready to spring aboard the privateer, plainly +announced the intention to board. + +"All hands to repel boarders," shouted Morris, and drawing his cutlas +he sprang forward, followed by his men. + +A well contested struggle ensued, the American seamen, indignant at +the foul deceit which had been practiced upon them, fought like +tigers, and for a time kept the pirates at bay--they had indeed, +notwithstanding their superior numbers, nearly driven them from the +deck, when the form of their commander appeared among them. In +consequence of his wound he had, contrary to his custom, entrusted the +command of the boarders to his first lieutenant, and had remained upon +his own vessel watching the fight. He sprung among his crew, with a +sword drawn, and a tight sash bound around his waist, from which the +dark blood was slowly oozing, his wound having burst away from its +ligaments. + +"Cowards!" he shouted, "do ye yield--ye are two to their one." + +Leaping to their front, he struck down a sailor and plunged into the +thickest of the fight. Reanimated by the presence of their leader, who +had so often led them to victory, a new spirit seemed to light up the +fainting courage of the pirates, and with a fierce yell they rushed +forward. The American crew were compelled to fall back before the +fierce assault. At the head of his men Lieut. Morris several times +crossed swords with the pirate captain, but the swaying of the fight +separated them. Perceiving that his men were slowly yielding, though +in good order, Lieutenant Morris, cool and collected, cheered their +courage, and at this moment thought of the long gun which had been +drawn up, loaded to the muzzle with grape and canister, against the +companion-way, and a man with a lighted match stationed by it. + +"Fall back to the quarter-deck," cried the young officer. + +They retreated in close array, and uncovered the mouth of the huge +gun. At the sight of this a cry of dismay broke from the foremost of +the pirates, who broke the front rank, and many of them escaped for +the time by leaping into the sea. + +"Fire," cried Lieut. Morris. In a moment he was obeyed. Wild cries of +agony arose amid the gathering smoke, which, as it rolled away, +revealed a horrible sight. Not a living pirate stood upon the deck of +the privateer. A dense mass of bodies, writhing in pain, lay upon the +fore-deck, and many of the pirates who had jumped into the sea were +seen scrambling up the sides of their own vessel; the pirate chief +lay dead at the head of his followers, foremost in death, as he had +been in life. It was a terrible and revolting scene--the scuppers +literally ran with blood, the bulwarks were bespattered with brains +and pieces of scalps; several limbs were strewn about, and the entire +deck covered with the dead or dying. + +While the crew of the Raker stood for a time awe-struck at the +desolation they had themselves made, the pirates, ferocious to the +last, had regained their own ship and cut her adrift, and as they paid +off fired a broadside into the Raker, which injured several of her +men. Roused by this, the privateersmen rushed to their guns. The +larboard guns, in obedience to the order of Captain Greene, were +already loaded with grape; while with the starboard Morris commanded +his men to keep up a steady fire at the masts and rigging. + +A fortunate shot from the Raker struck the helms-man on board the +pirate, shattering at the same time the tiller. In a moment the brig +was up in the wind, and taken aback, throwing the pirates into +confusion. + +"Ready about," cried Morris, leaping from the carronade-slide on which +he had raised himself, and taking in at a glance the exposed position +of the enemy--"head her round, and stand ready to give the rascals a +taste from our larboard quarter." + +The Raker ranged across the bows of the pirate, and before he could +regain his headway, raked him with a tremendous broadside of the same +deadly missiles which had already destroyed so many of their comrades. +The wild cries of anguish which arose from the clouds of smoke told +with what destructive effect the death-bolts had been hurled. + +The pirate now paid off and returned an ineffectual broadside, but +rendered ungovernable by the loss of her head-sails and tiller, he +immediately broached-to again, and the privateer poured in another +terrible discharge of grape and canister, raking him fore and aft, +then heaving-to and taking up a position on his bow, she fired +broadside after broadside into him in rapid and deadly succession. The +main-mast now fell over the side, and the pirate at the same time fell +off before the wind, and drew out of the deep mantle of smoke which +had for some time covered both vessels. As the smoke slowly curled up +from the deep it was seen that not a living man was visible upon the +deck of the pirate. Several of her guns were dismounted, and her masts +so cut away that she lay upon the waters a helpless and disabled +wreck. Yet the red ensign of death, though rent into ribbons, still +fluttered from the peak, and the young lieutenant hesitated to board, +having learned caution from the treachery of the pirate. + +While the crew of the Raker were thus occupied in watching their +enemy, a light female form was seen to issue from the hatchway and +gaze around the deck of the pirate. She passed from body to body, but +seemed not to find what she sought. At length she turned her eyes, +streaming with tears, toward the Raker, and pointing to the flag above +her, as if to indicate that there was no one to lower it, she knelt +upon the deck, bowing her head upon her hands. Her long hair fell +over her forehead and trailed upon the blood-stained deck, as she +knelt in mute despair among the dying and the dead. It was a mournful +and singular picture of wo, and there were eyes long unused to tears +that filled to overflowing as they gazed upon her. + +A boat was immediately lowered, and Lieutenant Morris with a dozen of +his crew were soon in possession of the pirate's deck. Upon examining +the brig it was found that she was fast filling with water, and after +conveying to the Raker all that they could lay hands on of value, +including a large amount of precious metal, she was left to her fate. +Not one of her crew was found living, so destructive had been the +continual discharge of grape from the Raker. Florette accompanied them +on board, and wept bitterly as she saw the dead body of the pirate +commander lying in front of his slaughtered followers, but suffered +herself to be led below by Julia, who received her with kindness and +gratitude. + +All sail was now set upon the privateer, and she bore away from the +sinking craft of the pirate upon her former course. The latter vessel, +traversed in every direction by the Raker's terrible fire, was rapidly +settling into the ocean. Suddenly, with a sound like the gushing of an +immense water-spout, a huge chasm opened in the waves--the doomed brig +seemed struggling as if with conscious life, and then lashing the +waters with her shattered spars and broken masts, went down forever +beneath the deep waters, over whose bosom she had so long rode as a +scourge and a terror, with blood and desolation following in her wake. + +Among the effects of the pirate captain which had been conveyed on +board the Raker, a manuscript was found, which seemed to be an +autobiography of his life. For what purpose he had written it can +never be known--most probably from an impulsive desire to give vent on +paper to thoughts and feelings which he could not breathe to any +living person, and which he doubtless supposed would never be perused +by human eye--they show that, savage, and lawless, and blood-thirsty +as he had become, strong and terrible motives had driven him into his +unnatural pursuit, and perchance a tear of pity may fall for him, as +the gentle reader peruses the private records of the scourge of the +ocean. + + +CHAPTER VI. + +_The Pirate's Story._ + +I am the youngest son of a gentleman of the northern part of England. +My father's family is as good as any in the county, for without laying +claim to any title of nobility, our blood is as pure and our lineage +as ancient as the most boasted in England. I had but one brother, who +succeeded at our father's death to the broad lands and rich heritage +of our name. The accursed law of primogeniture, to which I owe all the +evil that has befallen me, of course debarred me from all share in the +family estate. I had refused to enter the army, the church or the +navy, though my inclinations were in favor of the latter profession; +yet a stronger claim than ambition or a roving life kept me on the +paternal estate. It was not that I envied my brother the possession of +the wide bounds over which he ruled, or that I found less happiness in +witnessing his, for I loved my brother, as God is my witness, here, in +my lonely cabin, with this great sea around me, and this broad sky +above me; here, though no eye may ever see these lines, I write, do I +repeat it, I loved my brother dearly and proudly. It was love that +kept me idle at home while other young men of England, belonging to +the same position in society as myself, and in the same unfortunate +category of younger sons, were carving out for themselves fame and +wealth in the service of their country. + +Helen Burnett was the loveliest girl I have ever seen, and I loved her +with all the passionate devotedness of a young and ardent heart; she +was to me the light of life, for all was dark when I was not with her. +She was the only daughter of our village curate, and resided near our +family mansion. We had sported together beneath the venerable trees of +the park from the earliest days of childhood. Until I left home for +college she had seemed to me as a sister, and I had loved her as such +until, on returning home from a long absence at college, I found a +blushing and beautiful young woman where I had expected, forgetting +the rapid work of time, to meet with the same playful and lovely child +I had kissed at parting. She was, indeed, beautiful; tall, graceful, +and even commanding in figure, while the mildness of an angel reposed +in the glance of her deep-blue eyes, and the sweet smile that so often +visited her lips, while her pleasantly modulated voice was music +itself. + + "A lyre of widest range, + Touched by all passion--did fall down and glance + From tone to tone, and glided through all change of liveliest + utterance." + +Her hair was of the darkest shade of brown, resting in soft wave-like +smoothness above her high, pale forehead. Alas! that she was _so_ +lovely! had she been less so, either I might not have loved her, or I +might have been permitted by fortune to have been happy with her. + +After leaving college, my time was all devoted to Helen. She loved me +no less than I loved her; and I looked forward to a quiet and happy +life, picturing the future with colorings of the brightest hope and +joyfulness. + +It was at this time that my brother returned from a long tour of the +Continent. He was one of the handsomest men of the day, and had been +distinguished by the appellation which had accompanied him from court +to court, of "the handsome Englishman." He was of a medium stature, +and faultlessly proportioned; his expansive and intellectual forehead +seemed the seat of lofty thought, and his dark flashing eye, intensely +expressive, seemed to penetrate to the heart of all who met its +glance. I see him now--not in his glorious beauty, but pale--pale, +touched by the cold fingers of death. + +I had too much of the pride of my race to live as a dependent on my +brother's bounty, yet I could not bear the thought of leaving Helen. I +was in no situation to marry, and in an undecided state of mind I +suffered the days to glide away. + +My brother had just come back from a day's angling in the trout-stream +that flowed through his lands. He met me at the park-gate. + +"Well, John," said I, "what luck to-day?" + +"O, William," said he, without heeding my question, "I have seen the +most charming girl--the loveliest one that breathes. She outvies all I +have seen in my travels; do you know her. She is the curate's +daughter." + +I felt a sickness at heart, like the bitterness of death--was it a +presentiment, a warning of evil to come. + +"Say, William?" + +"Yes--yes, she is lovely." + +"She is an angel." + +Sir John passed into the park, and I proceeded, with a strange +melancholy I could not dispel, to meet Helen. She was at her father's +door, and greeted me with her accustomed kindness of voice and manner. + +"Why are you so sad this lovely evening William?" + +"Sad!--am I sad?" + +"You look so." + +"Well, I will be so no longer, then;" and I endeavored to shake off my +depression, but not succeeding, I bade her farewell at an earlier hour +than was my custom. + +From that day my brother's angling excursions became more +frequent--but he seldom returned with a full basket. He often spoke to +me of Helen, but I always replied carelessly, and changed the topic of +conversation to something else, yet when alone, I was in continual +torment from my thoughts. I endeavored to console myself with the +reflection that Helen's love was plighted to me, and that she would +not change, yet my thoughts were continually recurring to my brother's +great advantages over me in every respect, not only in fortune but in +personal appearance; and I had already, in my suspicions, placed him +in the light of a rival for the hand of Helen. I knew his high-minded +and honorable disposition too well to fancy for a moment that he would +attempt her ruin; and I also knew that there was nothing in the +inferior station of Helen's family that would prevent him from seeking +her hand in marriage, if she had compelled his love. + +All that followed might perhaps have been prevented had I at first +told my brother frankly of my love for Helen; but a foolish desire to +prove her love for me, and a certain feeling of self-respect kept me +silent. + +It was not a long time before I either saw, or fancied I saw, a change +in the manner of Helen toward me--the thought was torture. I was for +days undecided how to act, but at length determined to learn the true +state of things. I knew my brother was often at the parsonage, and I +trembled for the result. + +"Helen," I asked her, "is not my brother a frequent visitor here?" + +It was twilight, but I thought I observed a heightened color in her +cheek. + +"Yes, he has been here several times since his return." + +"Dear Helen, answer me frankly, has he ever spoken to you of love?" + +She hesitated, but at length replied, + +"He has." + +"And did you not tell him your vows were plighted to another?" + +"My father entered the room before I made any reply at all." + +"Helen, do you love me now the same as ever you have done?" + +"You have my plighted word, William." Yet there was something +bordering on coldness even in the sweet accents with which she spoke; +the nice instinct of love detects each gradation of feeling with an +unerring certainty. I was not satisfied, and when I left her, I was +more unhappy than ever. I longed to speak to my brother on the +subject, yet some indescribable feeling prevented me; and I allowed +the days to glide away, growing more and more troubled in mind as they +passed by. + +I was now convinced that Helen's affection for me was not what it had +been; and after a short interview with her, in which she had again +repeated her love for me, but in such chilling tones that I felt it +was not from the heart she spoke, I sought the chamber of my brother +in a state almost bordering on madness. All of our race have been of +ungovernable passions, but none more so than myself. I paused at his +door to regain in some degree my self-command, then lifting the latch, +I entered. + +"Ah, brother!" said Sir John, in a cheerful tone. + +"Yes, your younger brother," replied I, bitterly. + +Sir John started with wonder. + +"Why, William, what mean you?" + +I paid no heed to the interruption, but continued growing, if +possible, still more enraged as I proceeded. + +"Are not all the broad lands of our family estate yours--its parks, +its meadows, its streams; this venerable mansion, where the _elder +son_ has rioted for so many generations, leaving the younger to make +his way in the world as best he may." + +"Brother, are you mad? My purse is yours--I have nothing that is not +yours." + +"You have every thing, and not content with that, you have sought to +win away the love of my affianced bride." + +"Who mean you, William?" + +"Helen Burnett." + +My brother turned pale, and gazing upon me for a moment with +astonishment, he heaved a deep sigh, and covered his face with his +hands. + +I folded my arms, and stood looking upon him scornfully, for my +passion had made me consider him in the light of one who had knowingly +stolen away my bride. + +Sir John at length uncovered his face and spoke. + +"I would to God, William, you had told me this sooner." + +"Is it then too late?" I inquired, bitterly. + +"Too late--too late for my happiness, but not too late for justice and +honor. She is yours, William, I resign all pretensions to her hand, +and will cease to visit the parsonage." + +I was touched by the generous spirit of my brother, and by the +mournful shadow which clouded his noble brow. I have ever acted from +impulse, and seizing him by the hand, I said, + +"Not so, John--not so! She is, as I have told you, my affianced bride; +her solemn and oft-repeated vows are mine, and I have thought that her +love was forever mine; but this very night I plainly perceived that a +change has been wrought in her feelings. She treated me with coldness +instead of warmth, and maddened by my interview with her, I rushed +into your presence, and have blamed you unjustly." + +"My dear brother--" + +"No, no, John, I was wrong to accuse you. I should have better known +your nobleness. Henceforth let us stand on equal ground; I do not want +an unwilling bride, and if you can win her love from me, take her, +though it drive me mad." + +A gleam of pleasure passed over Sir John's countenance as he replied, + +"Be it so, my brother, it is but honorable; yet will I at once resign +all hope, and leave the country if you but will it so." + +"Sir John, have you reason to think that Helen loves you?" + +"She has never said so, but I did not think she looked coldly upon +me." + +"She is 'false, false as hell!'" + +"My dear William, however this suite terminate, any thing in my power +shall be done for you. If the estates were not entailed, I would at +once give you a deed for half of them, and then I should have no +advantage over you in wealth or position. Here is an order for a +hundred thousand pounds." + +"Sir John I will accept nothing; if I lose Helen, I shall have no more +to live for, and I warn you, if I become mad from disappointment, do +not cross my path, or I know not the consequence." + +"You do not threaten me." + +I felt the turbulent passions of my nature rising within me, and +fearing that I should lose all self-command, I rushed from the room, +and entering the silent park, I wandered from grove to grove till the +cool air of the night had calmed my raging spirit, when I sought my +own chamber. + +I had never told the worthy curate of my love for his daughter, and +Helen had never been accustomed to depend on him for advice or +consolation. It was to her mother that she had always turned for both, +and that mother had died but a year before the return of my brother. +Mr. Burnett was a quiet student, passionately fond of his books, as +innocent of the world as a child, only fretful and peevish when any +thing occurred to disturb the quiet monotony of his existence, and +apparently unconscious that his little Helen had grown from a child +to a woman. His mind was wholly wrapped up in his studies, even at his +meals it was abstracted, and he retired hastily to his closet. Helen +had no inclination to disturb the serenity of his life, until it +became absolutely necessary that he should be made acquainted with her +engagement to me; and I had been too thoughtless of all but my own +happiness to intrude upon his privacy, confident that his sanction to +our marriage would not be refused whenever demanded. + +I had yet to learn the lesson, bitter and agonizing, that no woman is +proof against the captivating temptations of ambition, and the glare +of wealth. I know but little of the sex; they are called angels, and I +had thought Helen was an angel--alas! I found my mistake. I read my +doom in the averted coldness of her glance; I felt it in the unwilling +pressure of her hand whenever we met, and I knew it when I gazed upon +the countenance of my brother, on which was a quiet glow of happiness +his expressive features could not conceal, even when he knew my +searching glance was upon him. O! the agony of feeling which oppressed +me in those bitter days; I felt all the savage passions of my nature +rising within me; there were moments when I felt as if I could gladly +see my brother and Helen stretched dead at my feet. Day by day these +vindictive thoughts increased within me. It wanted but the finishing +stroke to make me completely mad--it came. Though I had long dreaded +to make the trial, on which all my happiness for this world rested, I +at length determined to put it off no longer. + +The shadows of twilight were settling over the earth as I slowly and +sadly approached the parsonage. My head was bowed upon my breast as I +walked with a noiseless step upon the little path that led to the +unpretending dwelling. I was not aware how near I had come, till a ray +of light from the window fell across the path, and recalled me to +myself. As I stopped, I heard the tones of my brother's voice in low +and earnest conversation. I drew nearer, and beheld a sight which +rooted me to the spot, even though I was not wholly unprepared for +such a scene. + +My brother and Helen were seated in the little arbor before the +parsonage, as she and myself had often before sat when I fancied our +love was lasting as life. In the dim light I could see that my +brother's arm was round her waist, and that her head rested upon his +shoulder. I could hear their conversation. + +"And you do love me, then, Helen?" + +I heard no answer, but the long curls moved slightly upon my brother's +shoulder, and as he bent his head and kissed her, I felt that he was +answered--I was answered--that he _was_ loved. + +My brain burned as if on fire--and I sunk to the earth with a low +groan. How long I remained unconscious I do not know; when I +recovered, Helen and Sir John stood beside me. I sprung to my feet, +and gazed upon them with the glare of a maniac. It was so--my brain +was crazed. + +"William," said Helen. + +Her soft voice fell upon my ears with a singular cadence. With a +fierce laugh I struck my brother to the earth, and rushed forth into +the forest. All that night I must have wandered through its depths. I +found myself at the break of day miles from our mansion, lying beneath +an aged oak. I did not seem to know myself. I cannot now describe the +feelings and thoughts which raged within me. The wild storm which is +now lashing the ocean without my cabin is not more wild and +fierce--the black sky above me is not more dark and gloomy. They +seemed at length to settle into one stern, unchanging emotion, and +that was hatred toward my brother, and a stern determination to +revenge upon him the cruel wrong which had driven me mad. + +My path led along the course of a mountain torrent, whose sudden +descent as it hurried toward the river, formed successive water-falls +not unmusical in their cadence. A few purple beech and drooping +willows with here and there a mountain ash, skirted the ravine that +formed its bed; their leaves had fallen before the blasts of autumn, +they seemed emblematic of myself; like me their glory had +departed--they were shorn of their loveliness by the rough storm, left +bare and verdureless in the chilling breath of autumn; the seasons in +their round would restore to them their beauty and their bloom, +clothing their branches again in all the freshness of youth; but what +should give back to me the freshness and youth of the heart? what +restore the desolation of of the soul? + +Weak and exhausted, I flung myself down in a rude grotto, which +commanded a view of the foaming stream as it washed the rocks below; +it was a scene fitted to my mood, for I turned in disgust from the +beautiful landscape an opening in the forest revealed--the beauty of +earth had forever passed away from me. That same opening, however, +unfolded to the sight the gray towers of my family mansion, and at +once I started to my feet and bent my course toward them. + +At length I reached my home--how hateful every thing about the +venerable building seemed. I stole to my chamber, and falling upon my +couch, slept from pure exhaustion. + +It was night when I awoke. I arose, but did not leave my room; seated +by the window with the cold wind of November blowing upon my burning +brow, I nursed my thoughts of vengeance. I forgot that he against whom +I harbored such thoughts was my only brother; I forgot my self-offered +trial of our powers with Helen; I forgot every thing--every thing but +the fiery feeling of revenge. Yes, I was mad. + +Day after day I wandered around the old castle, shunning every one. My +brother strove to converse with me, but glaring upon him like a maniac +as I was, I rushed past him. I felt the poison of hatred working +within me, and I knew the time was coming when my revengeful spirit +would find its vent. + +I often wandered toward the parsonage, but never sought an interview +with Helen. At times I caught a glimpse of her light form as it passed +by a window or before the open door that led into the hall. One +evening I saw my brother enter, and drawing near the window, I saw +through the slightly-parted curtain, such evidence of their mutual +affection, that, if possible, I became more than ever crazy in my +anguish and despair. I waited for him to come out long hours, hours to +me of bitterest sorrow, to him of most intense delight. It was an +exceedingly cold night. A slight snow had fallen during the day, and +the landscape around me glistening in the moonlight, seemed wrapped in +a robe of the purest white. Yet as I gazed all seemed to turn into the +deep hue of blood--wherever I gazed, every thing presented the same +fearful coloring. It was but the shadowy reflection of a coming deed +that should forever stain my soul with a deeper red, that the years of +eternity could never efface. + +At length my brother opened the door of the parsonage and came forth. +Leaning against the trunk of an old tree but a little distance from +them, I saw and heard the parting acts of endearment. At that terrible +moment the determination of my soul was made, and I heard the dark +devil within me whisper one of you must die. I shuddered at the +thought, but when scarcely out of sight of the parsonage, almost as +soon as the door had closed upon the form of Helen, I confronted my +brother. Sir John started back, surprised. + +"What, William, is it you?" + +I laughed scornfully. + +"My poor brother!" + +"Do you dare to pity me--ha! ha! ha! Sir John! one of us must die this +night--here, upon this spot; here are two pistols, take one of them, +and it will be soon seen which is the fated one." + +Sir John mechanically took the pistol; cocking my own, I retired a few +paces, and turning, exclaimed, + +"Are you ready?" + +My words recalled him to himself; flinging his pistol far into the +wood, he exclaimed, + +"I will not fire at my brother." + +"Coward!" + +"The name belongs not to our race; fire at me if you will, I will not +at you." + +Enraged beyond expression, yet even in my madness ashamed to fire at +an unarmed man, I hesitated. + +My brother spoke. + +"Come, William, let us go home." + +"Home!--ha! ha! ha! my home is the wood and the cave! Here, take my +good-night." + +Thus speaking I flung my pistol full at his face with all my strength; +it struck him lengthwise, and being cocked, went off in consequence of +the concussion. + +Sir John fell upon the cold snow. I rushed up to him, and beheld the +blood flowing in torrents from a ghastly wound; the ball had taken a +downward direction, and penetrated the abdomen. + +"William," he said, faintly, "you have murdered me. God forgive you!" + +It seemed as if my reason came back to me at that terrible moment as +suddenly as it had left me. At the report of my pistol, I had heard a +loud scream in the parsonage, and almost at the same time with myself +Helen rushed up to the side of my brother. + +"Oh!" she cried, in accents of agony, "who has done this?" + +"Who!" said I, bitterly, "do you ask? You have done it; but no, Helen, +I do not mean it--let us carry him into the parsonage." + +With difficulty we lifted the body of my brother, and bearing him into +the house, laid him upon a bed. Helen, who had up to this time been +sustained by the necessity of exertion, fainted beside the body. I +stood gazing upon them in stupid despair. The worthy pastor opened the +door of the room; he had heard an unusual noise, and left his books to +learn the cause. + +I stopped not to converse with him, I could not trust myself to speak, +but stooping to the lifeless form of Helen, I imprinted a last kiss +upon her pale lips, and burst from the chamber. I do not know the +result of that fatal night. It may be that my brother and Helen were +both restored to life and happiness. God grant that it was so. It may +be that the spirits of both had already passed to another world when I +broke from the room, leaving the pale and astonished pastor gazing +upon the lifeless bodies of his only daughter and the young lord of +the manor. Years have passed since then, and not a happy hour have +their long ages borne to me; yet methinks if I could but know that my +brother and Helen are living in happiness in the mansion of my +fathers, much that is dark and despairing in the remnant of life would +be taken from the future. + +That night I bade farewell to the haunts of boyhood, and the next day +I was out upon the broad ocean. I had jumped aboard of a little vessel +which was just weighing anchor, without asking its destination or +caring where it bore me. I made brief reply to all interrogatories, +merely showing a purse of gold, which was sufficient answer, inasmuch +as it showed I was not to be an unprofitable part of the cargo. + +Seated upon the companion-way, that evening I watched the receding +shores of my native isle, and as the sunlight went out on its white +cliffs, leaving them in sombre shade, I felt that so had the light of +my life gone out, leaving the darkness of despair forever. Reckless as +I was of the future, and dark as was the past, I was not yet dead to +all emotion, and I could not witness my native land fading from my +view without experiencing those melancholy feelings which the +endearing recollections of former years excite, embittered as they +were with me by the thought that even if I ever should return to the +home of my fathers, I should find no kindred to welcome me back. No +wonder, then, that I felt a chilling sickness of the heart as I caught +a last glimpse of the Wicklow Mountains gleaming in the warm colorings +of the evening sun, as they mingled their hoary summits with the "dewy +skies" of my native isle. + +The vessel on which I had chanced to take passage was bound for the +West Indies. It was a small merchantman, and fell an easy prey to the +first pirate that gave chase. We were boarded and all consigned to +death. When the command was given to the pirates to shoot us all +through the head, I stepped forward with a smile, and a heart +partaking more of gladness than it had felt for long months, a pistol +was at my temple, when the stern voice of the pirate captain commanded +his man to stay his hand. He stepped forward and gazed into my face. + +"My fine fellow, are you not afraid to die?" + +"I have nothing to live for--blow away, and I will thank you." + +"By heaven, you are just the man for us! Now take your choice, I have +no objection to shoot you, indeed it would be rather pleasant than +otherwise, but one of my lieutenants was killed yesterday, and you can +fill his place if you will. I give you five minutes to decide while we +are dispatching these dogs." I gazed upon the cruel work--it did not +shock me; I even smiled at their agony, and had determined to share +their fate, when a momentary thought of the unknown, mysterious +hereafter restrained my advancing step. Am I ready, thought I, to +plunge into its mysteries. I shuddered at the thought. It was not the +beautiful blue sky unrolled above me, nor the broad, playful sea +around that wooed me to life. No, it was that fear of the "something +after death." + +"Are you ready to answer?" + +"I am thine." + +"It is well, throw these carcasses into the sea, and set all sail for +the Bermudas. Well, lieutenant," continued he, as the ship fell off +before the wind, "give us your name, or it will be awkward work +hailing you." + +"William--" I stopped, the pride of my race arose within me. + +"Well?" + +"I will not give my name--call me William, I'll answer to that." + +"Very well--lieutenant William, my lads, your second lieutenant." + +The men seemed to like me from the first, and as I gazed upon them +with a proud, fearless eye, a hearty cheer arose that endorsed my +command. + +Since then my home has been the pirate's deck; my heart has grown +harder and harder with the lapse of time. I love the sight of blood +better than I love the flowing wine--the agonizing shriek of death +better than the sweetest music--like an emissary of evil I gloat over +the tortures of man. I have learned to hate the land of my birth, and +all who first drew breath upon her detested soil. I have been foremost +in every conflict, yet have I not met death--the only foe whom I +cannot conquer by my fierce will and dark heart. + +I could not long remain a subordinate in command. I had become the +idol of our lawless crew, and a single blow from my sword laid our +captain low in death upon his own deck; and I filled his place, +smiling with a fiendish pleasure, as I saw his body thrown into the +waves, and the hungry sharks severing the limbs yet throbbing with +life. I have no feeling for my kind--yet I was not meant for this. +Under happier auspices, I might have been a leader in the ranks of God +as I am now in those of Satan; my sword might have been drawn for my +native land with the purest and loftiest feelings of patriotism, +instead of being turned against her and her children. Even now, in the +midst of my crimes and desolation, my heart throbs when I think of the +great and good of earth, and I feel that, like them, I might have left +a name of boast and pride to mankind; now, I shall perish, unknown and +unwept; the annals of my house shall never record that one of its +scions led a pirate crew to deeds of bloody cruelty and death. Long +since I have buried my name in oblivion--I am dead to my kindred, dead +to the world; the caves of ocean are yawning for the body of the +pirate-chief, and there will he sleep with the howling ocean and the +shrieking storm to sing his requiem and his dirge. + + [_To be continued._ + + + + +DREAMS. + + + Yes, there were pleasant voices yesternight, + Humming within mine ear a tale of truth, + Reminding me of days ere the sad blight + Of care had dimmed the brightness of my youth: + Yes, they were pleasant voices; but, forsooth, + They threw a kind of melancholy charm + Around my heart; as if in vengeful ruth, + Our very dreams have knowledge of the harm + Ourselves do to ourselves, without the least alarm! + + I love such dreams, for at my couch there stood + One who, in other lands, with magic spell, + Had taught my untaught heart to love the good, + The pure, the holy, which in her did dwell. + It was a lovely image, and too well + I do remember me the fatal hour, + When that bright image--but I may not tell + How deep the thraldom, absolute the power-- + My very dreams decide it was her only dower. + + _Sandwich Islands._ + + What are our dreams? A sort of fancy sketches, + Limned on the mind's retina, with a grace + More subtle than the wakeful artist catches, + And tinted with a more ethereal trace. + Our dreams annihilate both time and space, + And waft us, with magnetic swiftness, back + O'er an oblivious decade to the place + Where youth's fond visions clustered o'er our track; + Of youth's fond hopes decayed, alas! there is no lack! + + I love such dreams, for they are more than real; + They have a passion in them in whose birth + The heart receives again its beau ideal-- + Its Platonized embodiment of worth. + Call ye them dreams! then what a mortal dearth + Throws its gaunt shadow o'er our little life! + Our very joy is mockery of mirth, + And our quiescence agony of strife: + If dreams are naught but dreams, what is our real life? + + E. O. H. + + + + +A LEAF IN THE LIFE OF LEDYARD LINCOLN. + +A SKETCH. + +BY MARY SPENCER PEASE. + +It was in the joyous leaf-giving, life-giving month of June, of 18--, +after an absence of six years, that I found myself once more among my +own dearly loved native hills. + +An intense worshiper of Nature, I had gratified to the utmost my +passion and curiosity by exploring all the accessible regions of the +old world. I had studied every scene that was in any way famous, or +_in_famous I might say with regard to some, if the necessity of +clambering down or up unclimbable precipices, or wading through +interminable swamps, could render them so. + +With all the fatigue and hardships I had undergone my reward was +great, and had more than repaid me for the perilous dangers I had +courted and conquered. I had gazed, and dreamed, and raved by turns. I +had been melted into tears of tenderness by the perfect harmony and +loveliness of some scenes, and had been frozen into awe by the +magnificent grandeur and terrible sublimity of others. And, after +those six years of travel in foreign lands, I had returned, my brain +one endless panorama of hills, valleys and cloud-capped mountains, +earth, skies, wood and water. Not one of those gorgeous scenes, +however, had moved me as I was moved when once again I beheld my +boyhood's home--the stately mansion of my fathers. Half hidden, it +rose majestically amid the noble elms that surrounded it; there lay +the velvet-green sloping lawn in front--down which, as a boy, I had +rolled in the summer and sledded in the winter--there the wild, +night-dark ravine in the rear--fit haunt for elves and gnomes--that +terminated amid jagged rocks and tangled trees, in a rushing, roaring +brook of no mean dimensions, almost as large as many of the so-called +rivers of the mother country. Just at this point, at the turn of the +old time-worn stage-road, where the venerable, picturesque old +homestead of my sires burst thus suddenly into view, an opening in the +trees, whether by accident or design, revealed one of the very +merriest, maddest of musical water-falls, that went foaming and +tumbling its snow-white, sparkling waters over a bed of huge rocks, +and then, by a sudden wilful bend, that same loud-uttering brook was +lost to view. + +As the rattling stage neared my home, my heart leaped within me, and +every fibre of it trembled with emotion. I could have hugged and +kissed each familiar sturdy old tree, looking so grand and natural. My +soul warmed and yearned toward the well remembered scene; and as I +thought upon my fond, doting mother and my loving, lovely sisters, and +my ever-indulgent father, I could have wept in the intensity of my +joy at finding myself so near them, and breathing the same free, pure, +health-giving air that had nurtured my childhood. But was there not +sitting directly opposite to me one of the most exquisitely beautiful +of God's lovely women; and did not her saucy, demure eyes seem to read +my very soul? I therefore restrained a display of my feelings, for it +would not have appeared in the least dignified or proper in a +fine-looking young man (such as I imagined myself to be) of +four-and-twenty, to be seen with eyes streaming like a young girl. + +More than once, during our short stage-coach ride had our eyes met; +and hers had revealed to me a living well of spiritual beauty; and +although they were withdrawn as soon as they encountered mine--not +coquettishly, but with true feminine modesty--still they were not +turned away until our mutual eyes had flashed one electrical spark of +mutual understanding and mutual sympathy, that whole volumes of dull +words could never express either as vividly or as truly. What a +heaven-born mystery is contained in the glance of an eye: it can kill +and can make alive; it can fill the heart with a sudden and delicious +ecstasy, and it can plunge it into the deepest, darkest despair. + +I gave her one last look as the stage stopped before my father's door, +and if it expressed one tithe of what I felt, it told her of my warm +admiration of her glorious beauty, and of my sorrow at leaving her, +perhaps forever, without knowing more of her. + +For the time the matchless image of my stage-coach companion was lost +in the loving embraces and tender greetings of my family. I felt it +truly refreshing, after six years of exile from my own kith and kin, +to be caressed and made much of; to be told by three deliciously +beautiful, exquisitely graceful sisters, hanging around one, and +kissing one every other word, to be told how much the few last years +had improved one, how handsome, &c. one was grown; was it not enough +to somewhat turn one's brain, and make one a little vain and +considerably happy. + +In the still hush of the night, after finding myself once more in my +own room--_my_ room, with its cabinets of shells and mosses, that I +had collected when a boy in my various trips to the seashore, all +religiously left arranged as I had left them, its guns, fishing-rods, +stuffed rabbits and birds, its preserved rattle-snakes and cases of +insects, all of which had stood for so long a time in their respective +places that they had become a part of the room--in the still hush of +the night the divine image of my most beautiful stage-coach companion +arose before me. The evening was warm and soft, and gleaming in the +gorgeous moonlight lay that wild, weird ravine, and the ever downward, +foaming water-fall. Its musical utterings, the delicious moonlight, +and my own newly awakened and hitherto invulnerable heart, all +conspired to make me poetical and inspired, or at least to imagine +myself to be so; and pardon me if I gave utterance in verse to some of +my feelings. But do not in the least imagine that you are going by any +means to be presented with a fatiguing copy of my passionate numbers; +in the first place I am very diffident, and in the next--but never +mind the next, I will tell you in plain prose that I felt convinced in +my heart, I felt a rapturous presentiment that the unutterably lovely +being I had that day beheld would ere long be my own dear little wife, +forever and forever. An indistinct dream of having somewhere, at some +time before, known her haunted me and tormented me, but I racked my +brains in vain to recollect the spot or time, and finally came to the +conclusion that it had been in another state of existence we had met. + +I had been home but a few days when business letters came, demanding +the presence of my father or myself in Philadelphia. My father +expressed a desire that I should go, and a certain internal prompting +urged me to comply with his request. The next morning bright and early +found me seated in the same stage-coach in which I had met her. The +due progress of steamboat and cars deposited me safely the day after +in the goodly city of Squareruledom. + +The first leisure moment at my command, I paid my respects to the +family of my father's brother. I found my good uncle and aunt at home; +but my little pet Emily--their only child--whom I had last seen a rosy +romping little imp of twelve--was unfortunately out. My uncle urged me +very hard to make his house my home during my stay in Philadelphia; +but I had taken up my abode in the family of an old college chum of +mine, who had lately commenced the practice of the art of healing, and +who I knew would be none the worse from a little of my help in a +pecuniary way. I therefore declined my kind uncle's request, with a +promise to come and see them often. + +Judge of my inexpressible joy when, turning a corner of a street, +after leaving my uncle's, who should I chance upon but the very being +of whom my brain and heart were full! Yes, there was the identical +she, and bless her dear little heart! she gave me a bright half smile +of recognition, which I returned with as profound a bow as ever +courtier bowed to queen, or devotee to Pope's sublime imperial toe. + +An omnibus came rolling by, which she, with a motion of her neat +little gloved hand, bid stop. She stepped lightly into it, while I, +with my usual impetuosity, without knowing exactly what I was doing, +sprang after her. I consoled myself for my apparent rudeness by +throwing the entire blame upon the elective affinities. + +On we went, and from time to time as I stole a glance at her sweet +face, I thought I detected a sly, mischievous little devil playing +around the corners of her small dimpled mouth, and about the pure lids +of her downcast long-fringed eyes. She never vouchsafed me a look, +however; and as we went on, and as I still watched her lovely face, a +dread vision arose up before me of a six-foot and well proportioned +youth, with fierce whiskers and a moustache of undisputable cut and +style, that I remembered to have seen with the young lady during our +stage-coach ride together--that I remembered, with a terrible +heart-sinking, was impressively attentive to her. I inwardly resolved +to let nature have her way, and let all the hair grow on my face that +would; what if it did grow a little reddish or so--why I should +resemble the rising sun, with my glory like a halo around me. +Seriously, I have long been of the opinion that a shaved face is as +much of a disgrace, and ought to be so considered, as a shaved head +fresh from prison. Why do we not finish the half completed work and +actually shave off the hair of our heads, our eye-brows and lashes, as +well as our beards, and thus go cool and comfortable through the +world? There would be this advantage in it, the disciples of Spurzheim +would have no trouble of making a map of our bumps at sight; and then +think what an immense saving it would be in combs and brushes, to say +nothing of pomatum, which some so freely use. I rejoice sincerely to +see the sudden rise in crops of hair, and most truly hope they will +not have as rapid a fall. Shaving is artificial and injurious, +exposing parts to cold that Nature never meant should be exposed. +Black, white or red--hair is a protection and ornament that no manly +face or head should be without. Rejoice ye, therefore, over every +repentant sinner who tarrieth in Jericho and letteth his beard to +grow. + +But to return to my little omnibus companion, who by this time was +gracefully moving over the smooth gravel-walks of Fairmount--for there +we had stopped--and exceedingly refreshing were its cool shades and +splashing fountains on that sultry June day. I kept as near her as I +could without appearing rude, especially as I had received one or two +half glances from her bright eyes, that nearly annihilated me, such an +unearthly fluttering and bumping in the region of my heart did they +create. Mercy upon me! what would a whole glance do? And for a whole +glance I courageously resolved to strive, let the consequences be what +they might. + +Now do you not expect an earthquake, or a roaring bull, or at least a +rabid dog? It was nothing more however than a refreshing shower of +rain--truly refreshing to my thirsty soul, for it gave me that coveted +_whole_ glance. Heavens! I actually staggered, and would undoubtedly +have fallen had it not been for a friendly sappling--you will sneer at +witless I--that grew near me. But just try the effect upon yourself--a +shock of electricity is nothing in comparison to a shock from a pair +of bright eyes--such eyes as hers. The truth of the case was here, of +a sudden, apparently from out the clear sky, came down, with not a +moment's warning, a perfect avalanche of rain-drops--all expressly got +up, or down, for my benefit, else why did I happen to have an umbrella +in my hand? "A Wise man--" you remember the rest. My beautiful +incognito was away up those long stairs, and walking leisurely around +the immense basin, when the rain came down. I was not very far from +her, and in less than an instant my umbrella was over her pretty +little blue bonnet, with-- + +"Be kind enough to accept my umbrella, Miss"--in the most insinuating +manner of which I was master. + +"Thank you! but I will not deprive you of its shelter," with that +whole glance of which I spoke. So on we went together, and somehow +after we found ourselves under shelter, it was the easiest and most +natural thing in the world to fall into a pleasant conversation. After +talking about the scenery, weather, &c., we had mutually enjoyed +during our short stage ride, I spoke of the beauty around us, and +asked her if she often visited this lovely spot. + +"Not very often," replied she. "It is very beautiful though, in spite +of all they have done to spoil it." + +"To spoil it!" + +"Yes, by making it as much like a chess-board as possible, all +straight lines and stiffness. That is Philadelphia however." + +"Then you are not a Philadelphian, or it is not a favorite city with +you?" + +"There you are mistaken. It is my native place, and a city I love +dearly--with all its formalities and inhospitalities toward strangers. +Philadelphia is a prim matron, with a warm heart but a most frigid, +repulsive exterior, until you become acquainted with her--one of her +particular children." + +"I have been told that there is a finer collection of works of art +here than in any other city in the Union." + +"I believe you have been told correctly. We have more time in our +quiet way to look after and admire the productions of the great +masters. Our taste has wonderfully improved within a few years." + +"I have not been in town long enough to visit any of your show places +yet." + +"How I _should_ like to see that lovely water-fall and the whole of +that beautiful scene on canvas. Do you know I almost envied you a home +in that beautiful house with all its picturesque surroundings." + +"I am truly thankful you had the kind grace to think of me at all." + +"How could I help it? I had a feeling the first moment I saw you that +you and I were destined to be friends. Is there not a certain +mysterious something--call it magnetism or instinct--that either draws +us toward or repels us from every person we meet in either a greater +or less degree? With me this instinct is very strong, and I obey it +implicitly, never in one instance having found it to fail. I know at +once who to trust and who to love. And would know, by the same +unerring law of my nature, who to hate if ever I felt the least +inclination to hate. The only feeling of hate I ever experienced is a +strong desire to avoid all persons or things that are disagreeable to +me. I love harmony the most perfect, and discord is a thing for me to +flee from. I felt toward you a most decided drawing, and I felt a +conviction then, as I do now, that we are to be very near and dear +friends." + +The little angel! I could have hugged and kissed her on the spot; but +I hugged her in my soul, and inwardly vowed to consecrate my life to +her, if the "drawing" she felt for me could be rendered sufficiently +strong to admit of such a thing. On a sudden I bethought me of the +whiskered incognito, her stage attendant. I mustered courage to ask +her in a half laughing way, if that fine-looking fellow she had called +Charles were her brother. + +Instantly her manner changed from that of sweet and almost tender +seriousness to an arch, quizzical one that puzzled me. + +"Oh no, not my brother," said she. + +"_Not_ her brother--a sharp pang of pain shot through me--I was +getting dreadfully jealous--I looked all manner of curiosity and all +manner of questions; she took pity on me and said--a smile still +lurking in the corner of her eye-- + +"He is no more nor less than the intended future husband of the one +you see before you." + +"The future devil! I sincerely beg your pardon, but--you take me by +surprise--I regret--but really I do not feel that it can be so." + +"And why not?" + +"Truly, why not!" + +"He is very handsome." + +"That is as one thinks." + +"And very accomplished." + +"In flattery, most like." + +"And a most profound scholar." + +"In the art of making love, it would seem." + +"But I do not love him." + +"Not love him!" + +"No, nor never can." + +"Then why, my dearest young lady, do you marry him?" + +"You may well ask; why indeed?" + +"You seemed very friendly with him the day I saw you together, and +happier than I could have wished you." + +"That was before I knew I was to be his wife. It has only been decided +upon a few days." + +"And now?" + +"It is a long story, that I may tell you if we should meet again. I +never can love him, though I greatly esteem him, and--" + +"_Esteem!_" + +"A sad substitute for love; but what is love without esteem?" + +"What is esteem without love?" + +"Very true. It was not my own doing, although I reluctantly gave my +consent. If I can with honor release myself from this unfortunate +engagement--I have thought more and more every day since, that love, +true heart-love, is the only tie that should sanction the union of two +beings--but why should I talk in this way to you, a stranger? I cannot +feel, however that you are a stranger; we have surely met before in +some other state of being. I am a firm believer in the beautiful faith +of the transmigration of souls--of pre-existence. What is it that +brings two congenial souls together, uniting them in one hour in more +perfect harmony than whole years could effect among ordinary +acquaintances?" + +"Something unexplainable," I answered, "as it is mysterious. We can +call it elective affinity, and can talk very learnedly upon the +singular attraction of the magnet, as applied to the poles as well as +souls, and we can make vast and wise experiments, and in the end be as +far from the real cause as we were before the Solomonic experiments +were made. The school-boy's reasoning was more to the point-- + + "I do not like you, Dr. Fell, + The reason why I cannot tell." + +I love you dearly, Dr. Fell, the reason why, &c., would be just as +conclusive. We are so accustomed to seeing drops of water drawing near +to meet each other, and mingling in a loving embrace of perfect unity, +that we cease to wonder at the occurrence, as we do also at the fact +that oil and water will not mingle." + +"Just as my soul will _not_ mingle with the souls of some. There is an +antagonism more or less decided between my inner self and many persons +I know; people, too, that I am compelled to be friendly with, and wish +to be friendly with, many of them my cousins and aunts. Then again +toward some am I as irresistibly attracted." + +Her beautiful eyes sought mine frequently during our conversation, and +her glorious soul looked through them--earnest, simple and pure. + +"Just so," resumed she, after a pause, during which her sweet, soft +eyes had been gazing on the dreamy waters. "Just so have I felt +attracted toward you. I could sit down beside you and tell my whole +soul to you as freely as though you were my own brother." + +The word _brother_ sent a disagreeable shiver through me that all her +sweet confidence could not banish. + +"But," exclaimed she, starting up, "what am I doing? The rain has +stopped, and the waning sun warns me that it is time to be at home. +And what _must_ you think of me? I hardly dare to ask the--" + +"That you are the most lovely, most glorious of all Heaven's glorious +creatures; that you--" + +"There, there! if you talk in that way, I shall truly repent having +said all I have to you." + +"Forgive me; though I spoke sincerely, I hope--" + +"I will forgive on condition of good behavior in future. But I must +not stay for another word. Promise me that you will not leave this +spot until ten minutes after the omnibus I shall be in is out of +sight." + +"I promise," said I, reluctantly. + +She gave me her little, soft, ungloved hand at parting; its gentle +pressure sent a thrill of ecstasy through me, and I looked all the +unutterable things that my full soul felt into her warm brown eyes. +And, by the way, I may as well say that my own eyes are--they are a +dark, deep blue, and strangely expressive, if I believe my sisters +and my friends, and--my own glass. + +For one week did I wander up and down the streets, and watch every +omnibus, and stare into the windows and doors of every house I passed. +I peered under every pretty bonnet I met, and was, on the eighth day, +giving full chase to a coquettish little blue one, in the earnest hope +of finding the sweet face of my beautiful incognita hidden under it, +when some one laid a strong grasp on my shoulder, and looking around, +I beheld the generous face of my good uncle. + +"Bless the boy! why, Led, what is your hurry? Your business must have +been _very_ urgent this last week. Why, in the name of all the saints, +have you kept away so studiously? There is poor little Emily actually +dying with anxiety to see you. Bless my soul! is this the way to treat +your friends? But now that I have fairly captured you, I do not intend +to let you go." + +And he did not, and would not; so I had to go with him. And what do +you think? The first object that met my bewildered gaze, as my uncle +led me into the drawing-room, was--herself! her very self! but so +altered, looking so cold and stately. My uncle introduced me to her as +"My daughter Emily, nephew Ledyard." "My daughter Emily" inclined her +beautiful head most graciously, and sweetly smiled, but not one +recognizing glance did she deign to bestow on poor "nephew Ledyard." +Lovely she was, and proud and majestic as a queen. What could it mean? +I made several well-planned alluions to omnibuses and stages, &c., not +one of which did she seem to comprehend. + +Her exceeding beauty still charmed me in spite of her coldness; and I +stayed to tea and then the evening. My cousin sung for me; her voice +was highly cultivated and exceedingly sweet, and full of feeling. Song +after song she poured forth into the listening air, and each song +entranced me more than the last. + +We conversed gayly on several topics, and she grew more and more +familiar with me, alluded playfully to our childish intimacy; still, +to the very close of the evening, did she refuse to remember by look +or word that we had met since children. She evidently wished to +forget, and wished me to forget the whole of that pleasant interview +that had afforded _me_, at least, such soul-felt delight; yet she +acted her part so well, was so careless and unconscious, and withal so +cold and full of queenly dignity, that I went home in a perfect +bewilderment of amazement. + +As I lay tossing on a sleepless bed, and in my heart bitterly railing +against the perversity and incomprehensibility of women, I found +myself incessantly repeating to myself, "Am I Giles, or am I not;" the +truth flashed upon me that I was the unhappy victim of an optical +illusion, that the Cousin Emily I had but a little before left was +simply my Cousin Emily, and not the beautiful being of whom my heart +and life were full--that incessant thinking of her, and seeking her, +had crazed my brain. I relighted my lamp and made my way into the +doctor's study. I read all I could find on the subject of optical +delusion and maniacal hallucination until I convinced myself that I +was laboring under a very alarming attack of one or both, and resolved +on seriously consulting my friend, the doctor, early the next morning. + +I went back to bed with the decided opinion that I was exceedingly to +be pitied--how would it appear in the papers? for I must undoubtedly +grow worse, and it must undoubtedly end in suicide. "Sad occurrence," +"nice young man," "brilliant prospects," "only son of--," and +"promising talents," "laboring under incipient insanity," "fatal cause +unknown," &c., &c. I sympathized with myself until near morning, then +fell into a sleep, which lasted until the bell rung for breakfast. I +dressed in a hurry, and got down before the muffins were quite cold. I +ate a hearty breakfast, read a newspaper or two, and determining on +seeing my cousin again before I made up my mind to ask advice, I soon +found myself at her door. The fresh morning air and the walk had so +invigorated me, that I laughed at my last night's fears, especially as +my lovely cousin came into the drawing-room to receive me, radiant +with health and beauty. I found her just the same as she was the night +before, gay, witty and charming, and as cold as marble. Still I could +not be mistaken; for, with all her feigned coldness--for some good +reason of her own undoubtedly--there was no doubting her identity with +that of my glorious Fairmount vision. + +The day was a lovely one, soft and mild as a June morning could make +it. After conversing on indifferent subjects for a time, I asked her, +remarking on the deliciousness of the morning, if she would not like +to go out with me to Fairmount. She assented with a quiet smile, as +innocently as though she had never in her life before heard of such a +place as Fairmount. + +"The little-deceiver!" thought I. "Which way shall we go?" said I, +aloud, and very significantly, "shall we take the omnibus?" + +"I will order the carriage," replied she, with a slight shrug; "I +never ride in those omnibusses, one meets with such odd people." + +"_Never?_" asked I, emphatically. + +"Certainly, never!" answered she, with much apparent surprise. + +My drive was a delightful one. How could it be otherwise, with a +glorious day surrounding me, and a gloriously beautiful cousin sitting +beside me, with whom I could not exactly make up my mind whether to +fall desperately _in_ love, or desperately _out_ of love. I, too, such +an enthusiastic lover of beauty. But she chose to be so different from +what she was at our first meeting--so reserved, that I could not +decide whether I most loved or was most indifferent to her. + +We rode all the morning, and I left her, promising to call again in +the evening. I walked the streets until dark, the whole affair vexed +me so much--I, such a hater of all mysteries, the most impatient of +all breathing mortals. I determined to come at once to an +understanding with my perverse little cousin, and to decide at once +the puzzling question whether to love or not to love. + +In the evening I found myself alone with my little tormentor. + +"Now, sweet Cousin Emily," said I, playfully, "you have been teazing +me long enough with your pretty affectation of ignorance and +innocence--not but that you are as ignorant as the rest of your sweet +sex, and as innocent too--but, I beseech you, lay by this +masquerading, you have played possum long enough. I humbly implore of +you to be the same to me that you were in our first visit to +Fairmount--the earnest, simple-hearted Cousin Emily you then were." + +"Mr. Lincoln speaks in enigmas; I must confess I do not understand his +meaning, nor his elegant allusion to 'playing possum.'" + +This she said with so much haughtiness, that I was taken all aback. +Rallying, however, in a moment I determined not to give up the point. + +"I beseech of you to pardon the inelegance of my expression, and also +my pertinacity in insisting upon some explanation of your manner +toward me. It will all do very well for the stage," continued I, +bitterly, "but in real life, among cousins, and two that have met so +frankly, and in such sincerity, I feel that our acquaintanceship must +at once end, pleasant as it has been, as it might be to me, unless you +lay aside this assumed coldness. It harasses me more than I can +express. Emily, after seeing you in the stage-coach, I thought I had +never met with one half so lovely, and I could think of nothing but +you. After remaining at home but one week, business called me to +Philadelphia. Judge of my delight when almost the first object that +met my view was your beautiful, unforgotten little self. You were just +stepping into one of those very omnibusses you have since seen fit to +decry. What followed you must remember as distinctly as I--no _not_ as +distinctly, for the whole of that delicious interview is engraven on +my heart--one of the sun-bright scenes of my life that I can never +forget. And now, after that beautiful interchange of thought and soul +that promised--every thing, do I find you cold, impassive. If you +repent the trust you so freely reposed in me, in all frankness, say +so; but for the sweet love of heaven, do not pretend to such--" + +"For the sweet love of heaven what is the man raving about? Are you +mad, dear cousin, insane? Poor Cousin Ledyard! Or is it--?" her whole +manner changed, her brilliant eyes lighted up with intense fire. How +beautiful she looked! I could have knelt and worshiped her, though, +strange to say, my restless, ardent love for her had entirely abated. +"Yes!" exclaimed she, "it must be so;" and with that she clasped her +small white hands, and throwing back her fine head, laughed with all +her heart, and strength, and soul. + +This was very pleasant for me; still I had to join her laugh, it was +so genuine and infectious. + +"Forgive me, dear cousin, forgive me for my rude laughter; forgive me +also for my folly in attempting to deceive you. You will hereafter +find me the same you found me in our first pleasant interview. Here is +my hand--I will not explain one other word to-night; I hear voices on +the stairs. Come here to-morrow evening at eight, and you shall know +all--all my reasons." + +"And why not to-morrow morning, cruel cousin?" + +"I am engaged all of the day to-morrow. I go with mamma and papa out +of town, ten miles or so, to dine; a stupid affair, but mamma wishes +it." + +"But before you go--just after breakfast." + +"No, no--come in the evening." + +By this time the voices heard on the stairs had entered the room in +the shape of a merry half-dozen of my cousin's young friends. Feeling +too agitated for society, I withdrew. + +And now another night and a whole day more of suspense--that pale +horror, that come in what shape it will, even in the shape of a +beautiful cousin, always torments the very life from my heart. + +All the clocks in town were striking eight as I rung my uncle's bell. +I found the drawing-room full of company, at which I felt vexed and +disappointed. + +My lovely cousin came up to me and placed her arm within mine, and led +me through the next room into the conservatory, and there, seated amid +the rare eastern flowers, herself the queen of them, was, gracious +heaven! I dared scarcely breathe, so great was my fear of dispelling +the beautiful illusion. It was she! none other; my stage-coach +companion--my Fairmount goddess. The musical, measured voice of my +statue-like Cousin Emily brought me to myself. + +"Allow me. Cousin Ledyard, to introduce you to _my_ Cousin Emily." + +There they both stood, one Cousin Emily, calm, stately, serene; the +other trembling and in blushes. + +I looked from one to the other in the most ludicrous bewilderment, yet +each glance showed me more and more what a wonderful fool I had been +making of myself for the last few days. Still they were strangely +alike; their own kindred could not at times distinguish one from the +other. My heart could feel the difference. _My_ Emily was a child of +nature, the other bred in a more conventional school. My Emily was a +shade less tall, less stately, less Grecian, and exquisitely more +lovely, and loving. + +But that double wedding _was_ a grand one. By what means my Emily +contrived to disentangle herself from that handsome-whiskered +"Charles," and to entangle him fast in the chains of the other Emily, +any one who wishes to know, and will take the trouble, can have all +due information on the subject, and can also learn how I wooed my +peerless Emily and won her, by coming to our lovely picturesque +dwelling, situate in one of the most romantic spots in the country. I +write you all to come, one by one, and spend a month with me, and you +shall know all the particulars. You will find my little Emily a +pattern housekeeper; you will also find a ready welcome. Bless her +sweet face! There she sits, at the moment that I am writing this to +you, with her willow arms twined around the exquisite form of her +little lily-bud boy, and bending low her graceful form over him, +hushing to sleep the very bravest, noblest, merriest little specimen +of babyhood--the exact image of his enraptured father. + + + + +THE DEFORMED ARTIST. + +BY MRS. E. N. HORSFORD. + + + The twilight o'er Italia's sky + Had wove a shadowy veil, + And one by one the solemn stars + Looked forth serene and pale; + As quickly the waning light + Through a high casement stole, + And fell on one with silver hair, + Who shrived a passing soul. + + No costly pomp and luxury + Relieved that chamber's gloom, + But glowing forms, by limner's art + Created, thronged the room: + And as the low winds echoed far + The bell for evening prayer, + The dying painter's earnest tones + Fell on the languid air. + + "The spectral form of Death is nigh, + The thread of Life is spun, + Ave Maria! I have looked + Upon my latest sun. + And yet 'tis not with pale disease + This frame is worn away, + Nor yet--nor yet with length of years-- + A child but yesterday" + + "I found within my father's hall + No fervent love to claim-- + The curse that marked me from my birth + Devoted me to shame. + I saw upon my brother's brow + Angelic beauty lay, + The mirror gave me back a form + That thrilled me with dismay." + + "And soon I learned to shrink from all, + The lowly and the high; + To see but scorn on every lip, + Contempt in every eye. + And for a time e'en Nature's smile + A bitter mockery wore, + For beauty stamped each living thing + The wide creation o'er;" + + "And I alone was cursed and loathed; + 'Twas in a garden bower + I knelt one eve, and scalding tears + Fell fast on many a flower; + And as I rose I marked with awe + And agonizing grief, + A frail mimosa at my feet + Fold close each fragile leaf." + + "Alas! how dark my lot if thus + A plant could shrink from me; + But when I looked again I marked + That from the honey-bee, + The falling leaf, the bird's gay wing, + It shrunk with pain and fear, + A kindred presence I had found, + Life waxed sublimely clear." + + "I climbed the lofty mountain height + And communed with the skies, + And felt within my grateful heart + Strange aspirations rise. + Oh! what was this humanity + When every beaming star + Was filled with lucid intellect, + Congenial, though afar." + + "I mused beneath the avalanche, + And traced the sparkling stream, + Till Nature's face became to me + A passion and a dream:" + Then thirsting for a higher lore + I left my childhood's home, + And stayed not till I gazed upon + The hills of fallen Rome. + + "I stood amid the forms of light, + Seraphic and divine, + The painter's wand had summoned from + The dim Ideal's shrine; + And felt within my fevered soul + Ambition's wasting fire, + And seized the pencil with a vague + And passionate desire" + + "To shadow forth, with lineaments + Of earth, the phantom throng + That swept before my sight in thought, + And lived in storied song. + Vain, vain the dream--as well might I + Aspire to build a star, + Or pile the gorgeous sunset clouds + That glitter from afar." + + "The threads of life have worn away, + Discordantly they thrill, + But soon the sounding chords will be + Forever mute and still. + And in the spirit-land that lies + Beyond, so calm and gray, + I shall aspire with truer aim-- + Ave Maria! pray!" + + + + +A FAREWELL TO A HAPPY DAY. + +BY FRANCES S. OSGOOD. + + + Good-bye--good-bye, thou gracious, golden day: + Through luminous tears, thou smilest, far away + In the blue heaven, thy sweet farewell to me, + And I, through _my_ tears, gaze and smile with thee. + + I see the last faint, glowing, amber gleam + Of thy rich pinion, like a lovely dream, + Whose floating glory melts within the sky, + And now thou'rt passed forever from mine eye! + + Were we not friends--_best_ friends--my cherished day? + Did I not treasure every eloquent ray + Of golden light and love thou gavest me? + And have I not been true--most true to thee? + + And _thou_--thou earnest like a joyous bird, + Whose sacred wings by heaven's own air were stirred. + And lowly sang me all the happy time + Dear, soothing stories of that blissful clime! + + And more, oh! more than this, there came with thee, + From Heaven, a stranger, rare and bright to me, + A new, sweet joy--a smiling angel-guest, + That softly asked a home within my breast. + + For talking sadly with my soul alone, + I heard far off and faint a music-tone, + It seemed a spirit's call--so soft it stole + On fairy wings into my waiting soul. + + I _knew_ it summoned me to something sweet, + And so I followed it with faltering feet; + And found--what I had prayed for with wild tears-- + A rest, that soothed the lingering grief of years! + + So for that deep, perpetual joy, my day! + And for all lovely things that came to play + In thy glad smile--the pure and pleading flowers + That crowned with their frail bloom thy flying hours-- + + The sunlit clouds--the pleasant air that played + Its low lute-music 'mid the leafy shade-- + And, dearer far, the tenderness that taught + My soul a new and richer thrill of thought-- + + For these--for all--bear thou to Heaven for me + The grateful thanks with which I mission thee! + Then should thy sisters, wasted, wronged, upbraid, + Speak _thou_ for me--for thou wert not betrayed! + + 'Twas little--true--I could to thee impart-- + I, with my simple, frail and wayward heart; + But that I strove the diamond sands to light, + In Life's rich hour-glass, with _Love's_ rainbow flight; + + And that one generous spirit owed to me + A moment of exulting ecstasy; + And that I won o'er wrong a queenly sway-- + For this, thou'lt smile for me in Heaven, my Day! + + + + +SAM NEEDY. + +A TALE OF THE PENITENTIARY. + +BY LOUIS FITZGERALD TASISTRO. + + +Several years ago, a man of the name of Samuel Needy, a poor artisan, +was living in London. He had with him a wife, and a child by this +wife. This artisan was skillful, quick, intelligent, very ill-treated +by education, very well-treated by nature--able to think, but not to +read. One winter his work failed him--there was neither fire nor food +in his garret; the man, the woman, and the child were cold and hungry; +he committed a theft; it is unnecessary to state what he stole, or +whence he stole it. Suffice it to know, that the consequences of this +theft were three days' food and fire to the wife and child, and five +years of imprisonment to the man. + +Sam Needy, lately an honest man, now and henceforth a thief, was +dignified and grave in appearance; his high forehead was already +wrinkled, though he was still young; some gray lines lurked among the +black and bushy tufts of his hair; his eye was soft, and buried deep +beneath his lofty and well-turned eye-brow; his nostrils were open, +his chin advancing, his lip scornful; it was a fine head--let us see +what society made of it. + +He was a man of few words--more frequent gestures--somewhat imperious +in his whole manner, and one to make himself obeyed; of a melancholy +air--rather serious than suffering; for all that he had suffered +enough. + +In the place where he was confined there was a director of the +work-rooms--a kind of functionary peculiar to prisons, who combined in +himself the offices of turnkey and tradesman, who would at the same +time issue an order to the workman and threaten the prisoner--put +tools in his hand and irons on his feet. This man was a variety of his +own species--a man peremptory, tyrannical, governed by his fancies, +holding tight the reins of his authority, and yet, on occasion, a boon +companion, jovial and condescending to a joke--rather hard than +firm--reasoning with no one--not even himself--a good father, and +doubtless a good husband--(a duty, by the way, and not a virtue;) in +short, evil but not bad. The principal, the diagonal line of this +man's character was obstinacy; he was proud of it, and therein +compared himself to Napoleon, when he had once fixed what he called +_his will_ upon an absurdity, he went to its furthest length, holding +his head high, and despising all obstacles. Such violence of purpose +without reason, is only folly tied to the tail of brute force, and +serving to lengthen it. For the most part, whenever a catastrophe, +whether public or private, happens amongst men, if we look beneath the +rubbish with which it strews the earth, to find in what manner the +fallen fabric had been propped, we shall, with rare exceptions, +discover it to have been blindly put together by a weak and obstinate +man, trusting and admiring himself implicitly. Many of the smaller of +these strange fatalities pass in the world for providences. Such was +he who was the director of the work-rooms in the House of Correction +where poor Sam Needy was sent to undergo his sentence. Such was the +stone with which society daily struck its prisoners to draw sparks +from them. The sparks which such stones draw from such flints often +kindle conflagrations. + +In a short time Sam found the prison air natural to him, and appeared +to have forgotten every thing; a certain severe serenity, which +belonged to his character, had resumed its mastery. + +In about the same time he had acquired a singular ascendency over all +his companions, as if by a sort of silent agreement, and without any +one knowing wherefore, not even himself. All these men consulted him, +listened to him, admired and imitated him, (the last point to which +admiration can mount.) It was no slight glory to be obeyed by all +these lawless natures; the empire had come to him without his own +seeking--it was a consequence of the respect with which they beheld +him. The eye of a man is a window, through which may be seen the +thoughts which enter into and issue from his heart. + +Place an individual who possesses ideas among those who do not, at the +end of a given time, and by a law of irresistible attraction, all +their misty minds shall draw together with humility and reverence +round his illuminated one. There are men who are iron, and there are +men who are loadstone. Sam Needy was loadstone. In less than three +months he had become the soul, the law, the order of the work-room; he +was the dial, concentrating all rays; he must even himself have +sometimes doubted whether he were king or prisoner--it was the +captivity of a pope among his cardinals. + +By as natural a reaction, accomplished step by step, as he was loved +by the prisoners, so was he detested by the jailers. It is always +thus, popularity cannot exist without disfavor--the love of the slaves +is always exceeded one degree by the hate of their masters. + +Sam Needy was, by his particular organization, a great eater; his +stomach was so formed, that food enough for two common men would +hardly have sufficed for his nourishment. Lord Slickborough had one of +these large appetites, and laughed at it; but that which is a cause of +gayety for a British peer, with a rent-roll of fifty-thousand pounds +a year, is a heavy charge to an artisan, and a misfortune to a +prisoner. + +Sam Needy, free in his own loft, worked all day, earned his four +pounds of bread, and ate it; Sam Needy, in prison, worked all day, +and, for his pains, received invariably one pound and a half of bread, +and four ounces of meat; the ration admits of no change. Sam was +therefore constantly hungry whilst in the House of Correction; he was +hungry, and no more--he did not speak of it because it was not his +nature so to do. + +One day Sam, after devouring his scanty pittance, had returned to his +work, thinking to cheat his hunger by it--the rest of the prisoners +were eating cheerily. A young man, pale, fair, and feeble-looking, +came and placed himself near him; he held in his hand his ration, as +yet untouched, and a knife; he remained in that situation, with the +air of one who would speak, and dares not. The sight of the man, and +his bread and meat annoyed Sam. + +"What do you want?" said he, rudely. + +"That you would do me a service," said the young man, timidly. + +"What?" replied Sam. + +"That you would help me to eat this--it is too much for me." + +A tear stood in the proud eye of Sam; he took the knife, divided the +young man's ration into two equal parts, took one of them, and began +eating. + +"Thank you," said the young man; "if you like, we will share together +every day." + +"What is your name?" said Sam. + +"Heartall." + +"Wherefore are you here?" + +"I have committed a theft." + +"And I too," said Sam. + +Henceforth they did thus share together every day. Sam Needy was +little more than thirty years old, but at times he appeared fifty, so +stern were his thoughts usually. Heartall was twenty--he might have +been taken for seventeen, so much innocence was there in his +appearance. A strict friendship was knit up between the two, rather of +father to son than brother to brother, Heartall being still almost a +child, Sam already nearly an old man. They wrought in the same +work-room--they slept under the same vault--they walked in the same +airing-ground--they ate of the same bread. Each of these two friends +was the universe to the other--it would seem that they were happy. + +Mention has already been made of the director of the work-rooms. This +man, who was abhorred by the prisoners, was often obliged, in order to +enforce obedience, to have recourse to Sam Needy, who was beloved by +them. On more than one occasion, when the question was, how to put +down a rebellion or a tumult, the authority without title of Sam Needy +had given powerful aid to the official authority of the director; in +short, to restrain the prisoners, ten words from him were as good as +ten turnkeys. Sam had many times rendered this service to the +director, wherefore the latter detested him cordially. He was jealous +of him; there was at the bottom of his heart a secret, envious, +implacable hatred against Sam--the hate of a titular for a real +sovereign--of a temporal against a spiritual power; these are the +worst of all hatreds. + +Sam loved Heartall greatly, and did not trouble himself about the +director. One morning when the turnkeys were leading the prisoners, +two by two, from their dormitory to the work-room, one of them called +Heartall, who was by the side of Sam, and informed him that the +director wished to see him. + +"What does he want with you?" said Sam. + +"I do not know," replied the other. + +The turnkey took Heartall away. + +The morning past; Heartall did not return to the work-room. When the +dinner hour arrived, Sam expected that he should rejoin Heartall in +the airing-ground--but no Heartall was there. He returned into the +work-room, still Heartall did not make his appearance. So passed the +day. At night, when the prisoners were removed to their dormitory, Sam +looked out for Heartall, but could not see him. It would seem that he +must have suffered much at that moment, for he addressed the +turnkey--a thing which he had never done before. + +"Is Heartall sick?" was his question. + +"No," replied the turnkey. + +"Why is it, then, that he has not again made his appearance to-day?" + +"Ah," replied the turnkey, carelessly, "they have put him in another +ward." + +The witnesses who deposed to these facts at a later period, remarked, +that at this answer, Sam's hand, in which was a lighted candle, +trembled a little. He again asked, calmly, + +"Whose order was this?" + +The turnkey said "Mr. Flint's." + +The name of the director of the work-rooms was Flint. + +The next day went by like the last, but no news of Heartall. + +That evening, when the day's work ended, Mr. Flint came to make his +usual round of inspection. As soon as Sam Needy saw him, he took off +his cap of coarse wool, buttoned his gray vest, sad livery of the +work-house, (it is a principle in prisons, that a vest, respectfully +buttoned, bespeaks the favor of the superior officers,) and placed +himself at the end of his bench, waiting till the director came by. He +passed. + +"Sir," said Sam. + +The director stopped and turned half round. + +"Sir," said Sam, "is it true that Heartall's ward has been changed?" + +"Yes," returned the director. + +"Sir," continued Sam, "I cannot live without Heartall; you know that +with the ration of the house I have not enough to eat, and that +Heartall shared his bread with me." + +"That was his business," replied the director. + +"Sir, is there no means of getting Heartall replaced in the same ward +as myself?" + +"Impossible! it is so decided." + +"By whom?" + +"By myself." + +"Mr. Flint," persisted Sam, "the question is my life or death, and it +depends upon you." + +"I never revoke my decisions." + +"Sir, is it because I have given you offence?" + +"None." + +"In that case," said Sam, "why do you separate me from Heartall?" + +"_It is my will_" said the director. + +With this explanation he went away. + +Sam Needy stooped his head and made no answer. Poor caged lion, from +whom they had taken his dog! + +The grief of this separation in no way changed the prisoner's almost +disease of voracity. Nor was he, in other respects, obviously altered. +He did not speak of Heartall to any of his comrades. He walked alone +in the airing-ground, in the hours of recreation, and suffered +hunger--nothing more. + +Nevertheless, those who knew him well, remarked something of a +sinister and sombre expression which daily overspread his countenance +more and more. In other respects he was gentler than ever. Many wished +to share their ration with him, but he refused with a smile. + +Every evening, after the explanation which the director had given him, +he committed a sort of folly, which, in so grave a man, was +astonishing. At the moment when the director, in the progress of his +habitual duty, passed by Sam Needy's working-frame, he would raise his +eyes, gaze steadily upon him, and then address to him, in a tone full +of distress and anger, combining at once menace and supplication, +these two words only--"_remember Heartall_!" the director would either +appear not to hear, or pass on, shrugging his shoulders. + +He was wrong. It became evident to all the lookers on of these strange +scenes, that Sam Needy was inwardly determined on some step. All the +prison awaited with anxiety the result of this strife between +obstinacy and resolution. + +It has been proved, that once Sam said to the director, "Listen, sir, +give me back my comrade; you will do well to do it, I assure you. Take +notice that I tell you this." + +Another time, one Sunday, when he had remained in the airing-ground +for many hours in the same attitude, seated on a stone, his elbows on +his knees, and his forehead buried in his hands, one of his +fellow-convicts approached him, and cried out, laughing, + +"What are you about here, Sam?" + +Sam raised his stern head slowly, and said, "_I am sitting in +judgment!_" + +At last, on the evening of the 1st of November, 1833, at the moment +when the director was making his round, Sam Needy crushed under his +foot a watch-glass, which he had that morning found in the corridor. +The director inquired whence that noise proceeded. + +"It is nothing," said Sam. "It is I, Mr. Flint--give me back my +comrade." + +"Impossible!" said his master. + +"It must be done though," said Sam, in a low and steady voice, and +looking the director full in the face, added, "reflect, this is the +first of November, I give you till the 10th." + +A turnkey made the remark to Mr. Flint that Sam Needy threatened him, +and that it was a case for solitary confinement. + +"No, nothing of the kind," said the director, with a disdainful smile, +"we must be gentle with these sort of people." + +On the morrow, another convict approached Sam Needy, who walked by +himself, melancholy, leaving the other prisoners to bask in a patch of +sunshine at the further corner of the court. + +"What now, Sam--what are you thinking of? You seem sad." + +"_I am afraid_," said Sam, "_that some misfortune will happen soon to +this gentle Mr. Flint_." + +There are nine full days from the 1st to the 10th of November. Sam +Needy did not let one pass without gravely warning the director of the +state, more and more miserable, in which the disappearance of Heartall +placed him. The director, worn out, sentenced him to four-and-twenty +hours of solitary confinement, because his prayer was too like a +demand. This was all that Sam Needy obtained. + +The 10th of November arrived. On this day Sam arose with such a serene +countenance as he had not worn since the day when _the decision_ of +Mr. Flint had separated him from his friend. When risen, he searched +in a white wooden box, which stood at the foot of his bed, and +contained his few possessions. He drew thence a pair of sempstress's +scissors. These, with an odd volume of Cowper's poems, were all that +remained to him of the woman he had loved--of the mother of his +child--of his happy little home of other days. Two articles, totally +useless to Sam; the scissors could only be of service to a woman--the +book to a lettered person. Sam could neither sew nor read. + +At the time when he was traversing the old hall, which serves as the +winter walk for the prisoners, he approached a convict of the name of +Dawson, who was looking with attention at the enormous bars of a +window. Sam was holding the little pair of scissors in his hands; he +showed them to Dawson, saying, "To-night I will divide those bars with +these scissors." + +Dawson began to laugh incredulously. Sam joined him. + +That morning he worked with more zeal than usual--faster and better +than ever before. A little past noon he went down on some pretext or +other to the joiner's workshop, on the ground-floor, under the story +in which was his own. Sam was beloved there as every where else; but +he entered it seldom. Thus it was--"Stop, here's Sam!" They got round +him; it was a perfect holyday. He cast a quick glance around the room. +Not one of the overlookers was there. + +"Who has a hatchet to lend me?" said he. + +"What to do?" was the inquiry. + +"Kill the director of the work-rooms." + +They offered him many to choose from. He took the smallest of those +which were very sharp, hid it in his trowsers, and went out. There +were twenty-seven prisoners in that room. He had not desired them to +keep his secret; they all kept it. They did not even talk of it among +themselves. Every one separately awaited the result. The thing was +straight-forward--terribly simple. Sam could neither be counseled nor +denounced. + +An hour afterward he approached a convict sixteen years old, who was +lounging in the place of exercise, and advised him to learn to read. +The rest of the day was as usual. At 7 o'clock at night the prisoners +were shut up, each division in the work-room to which they belonged, +and the overseers went out, as it appears was the custom, not to +return till after the director's visit. Sam was locked in with his +companions like the rest. + +Then there passed in this work-room an extraordinary scene, one not +without majesty and awe, the only one of the kind which is to be told +in this story. There were there (according to the judiciary deposition +afterward made) four-and-twenty prisoners, including Sam Needy. As +soon as the overseers had left them alone, Sam stood up upon a bench, +and announced to all the room that he had something to say. There was +silence. + +Then Sam raised his voice, and said, "You all know that Heartall was +my brother. Here they do not give me enough to eat; even with the +bread which I can buy with the little I earn, it is not sufficient. +Heartall shared his ration with me. I loved him at first because he +fed me, then because he loved me. The director, Mr. Flint, separated +us; our being together could be nothing to him--but he is a +bad-hearted man, who enjoys tormenting others. I have asked him for +Heartall back again. You have heard me. He will not do it. I gave him +till the 10th, which is to-day, to restore Heartall to me. He ordered +me into solitary confinement for telling him so. I, during this time, +have sat in judgment upon him, and condemned him to death. In two +hours he will come to make his round. I warn you that I am about to +kill him. Have you any thing to say on the matter?" All continued +silent. + +He went on; he spoke (so it appears) with a peculiar eloquence, which +was natural to him. He declared that he knew he was about to do a +violent deed, but could not think it wrong. He appealed to the +conscience of his four-and-twenty listeners. He was placed in a cruel +extremity; the necessity of doing justice to himself was a strait into +which every man found himself driven at one time or other; he could +not, in truth, take the director's life without giving his own for it; +but it was right to give his life for a just end. He had thought +deeply on the matter, and that alone, for two months; he believed he +was not carried away by passion, but if it were so, he trusted they +would warn him. He honestly submitted his reasons to the just men whom +he addressed. He was about to kill Mr. Flint; but if any one had any +objection to make, he was ready to hear it. + +One voice alone was raised to say, that before killing the director, +Sam ought to make one last attempt to soften him. + +"It is fair," said Sam. "I will do so." + +The great clock struck the hour--it was eight. The director would make +his appearance at nine. + +No sooner had this extraordinary court of appeal ratified the sentence +he had submitted to it, than Sam resumed his former serenity. He +placed upon the table all the linen and garments he possessed--the +scanty property of a prisoner--and calling to him, one after the +other, those of his companions whom he loved best after Heartall, he +divided all amongst them. He only kept the little pair of scissors. +Then he embraced them all. Some of them wept--upon these he smiled. + +There were moments in this last hour, when he chatted with so much +tranquillity, and even gayety, that many of his comrades inwardly +hoped, as they afterward declared, that he might perhaps abandon his +resolution. + +He perceived a young convict who was pale, who was gazing upon him +with fixed eyes, and trembling doubtless from expectation of what he +was about to witness. "Come, courage, young man," said Sam to him, +softly, "it will be only the work of a moment." + +When he had distributed all his goods, made all his adieux, pressed +all their hands, he interrupted the restless whisperings which were +heard here and there in the dim corners of the work-room, and +commanded that they should return to their labor. All obeyed him in +silence. + +The apartment in which this passed was an oblong hall, a +parallelogram, lighted with windows on its two longer sides, and with +two doors opposite each other at the two ends of the room. The +working-frames were ranged on each side near the windows, the benches +touching the wall at right angles, and the space left free between the +two rows of frames formed a sort of avenue, which went straight from +one door to the other, crossing the hall entirely. It was this which +the director traversed in making his inspection; he was to enter at +the south door, and go out by the north, after having looked at the +workmen on the right and left. Commonly he passed through quickly and +without stopping. + +Sam Needy had reseated himself on his bench, and had betaken himself +to his work. All were in expectation--the moment approached; on a +sudden they heard the clock strike. Sam said, "It is the last +quarter." Then he rose, crossed gravely a part of the hall, and placed +himself, leaning on his elbow, on the first frame on the left hand +side, close to the door of entrance; his countenance was perfectly +calm and benign. + +Nine o'clock struck--the door opened--the director came in. + +At that moment the silence of the work-room was as of a chamber full +of statues. + +The director was alone as usual; he entered with his jovial, +self-satisfied, and stubborn air, without noticing Sam, who was +standing at the left side of the door, his right hand hidden in his +trowsers, and passed rapidly by the first frames, tossing his head, +mumbling his words, and casting his glance, which was law, here and +there, not perceiving that the eyes of all who surrounded him were +fixed upon him as upon a fearful phantom. On a sudden he turned +sharply round, surprised to hear a step behind him. + +It was Sam Needy, who for some instants followed him in silence. + +"What are you about there?" said the director. "Why are you not in +your place?" + +Sam Needy answered respectfully, "Because I have something to say to +you, Mr. Flint." + +"What about?" + +"Concerning Heartall." + +"Still Heartall!" exclaimed the director. + +"Always," replied Sam. + +"Be quiet," said the director, walking on again. "You are not content, +then, with your four-and-twenty hours of solitary confinement?" + +Sam followed him--"Mr. Flint, give me back my comrade." + +"Impossible!" + +"Sir," said Sam, in a tone which might have softened the heart of a +fiend, "I entreat you, restore Heartall to me. You shall see how well +I will work. To you who are free, it is no matter--you do not know +what the worth of a friend is; but I have only the four walls of my +prison. You can come and go, I have nothing but Heartall--give him +back to me. Heartall fed me--you know it well. It will only cost you +the trouble of saying yes. What can it be to you that there should be +in the same room one man called Sam Needy, another called +Heartall?--for the thing is simply that, Mr. Flint; good Mr. Flint, I +beseech you earnestly, for Heaven's sake!" + +Sam had probably never before said so much at one time to a jailer; +exhausted with the effort, he paused. The director replied, with an +impatient gesture, + +"Impossible--I have said it; speak to me no more about it, you wear me +out." + +Then, as if in a hurry, he stepped on more quickly, Sam following. +Thus speaking, they had reached the door of exit; the prisoners looked +after them, and listened breathlessly. + +Sam gently touched the director's arm. "At least let me know why I am +condemned to death--tell me why you have separated him from me?" + +"I have told you," answered the director; "_it is my will_." + +He turned his back upon Sam, and was about to take hold of the latch +of the door. + +On this answer Sam had retreated a step; the assembled statues who +were there saw him bring out his right hand, and the hatchet with it; +it was raised, and ere the victim could utter one cry, three blows, +one upon the other, had cleft his skull. At the moment, when he fell +back, a fourth blow laid his face open; then, as if his frenzy, once +let loose, _could not stop_, Sam struck a fifth blow; it was +useless--he was dead. + +"Now for the other!" cried the murderer, and threw away the hatchet. +That other was himself. They saw him draw from his bosom the small +pair of scissors, and before any one could attempt to hinder him, bury +them in his breast. The blade was too short to penetrate. He struck +them in again and again, so many as twenty times. "Accursed heart! +cannot I then reach you?" and finally fell in a dead swoon, bathed in +his blood. + +Which of these men was the victim of the other? + +When Sam returned to consciousness, he was in bed, well attended, his +wounds carefully bandaged; a humane nurse was about his pillow, and +more than one magistrate, who asked him, with the appearance of great +interest, "Are you better?" + +He had lost a great quantity of blood, but the scissors with which he +had wounded himself, had done their duty ill--none of the wounds were +dangerous. + +The examinations commenced. They asked him if it were he who had +killed the director of the work-rooms. He replied, "It was." They +asked him why he had done it. He answered--_it was his will._ + +After this the wounds festered. He was seized with a severe fever, of +which he only did not die. November, December, January, and February, +went over in recovering him and preparing for his trial; physicians +and judges alike made him the object of their care--the former healed +his wounds, the latter made ready his scaffold. To be brief, on the +5th of April, 1834, he appeared, being perfectly cured, before the +Court of Sessions. + +Sam made a good appearance before the court; he had been carefully +shaved, his head was bare; he was dressed in the sad prison livery of +two shades of gray. + +When the trial was entered upon, a singular difficulty presented +itself. Not any of the witnesses of the events of the 10th of +November, would make a deposition against Sam. The presiding judge +threatened them with his discretionary power in vain. Sam then +commanded them to give evidence. All their tongues were loosed. They +related what they had seen. + +Sam Needy listened with profound attention. When one of them, out of +forgetfulness, or affection for him, omitted some of the circumstances +chargeable upon the accused, Sam supplied them. By this means the +chain of facts which has been related was unfolded before the court. + +There was one moment when some of the females present wept. The clerk +of the court summoned the convict, Heartall. It was his turn to come +forward. He entered, staggering with emotion--he wept. The police +could not prevent his falling into the arms of Sam. Sam raised him, +and said with a smile to the attorney-general, "Here is a villain who +shares his bread with those who are hungry." Then he kissed Heartall's +hand. + +The list of witnesses having been gone through, the attorney-general +rose and spoke in these words: "Gentlemen of the jury, society would +be shaken to its foundation if public vengeance did not overtake such +great criminals as this man, who, etc., etc." + +After this memorable discourse, Sam's advocate spoke. The pleader +against, and the pleader for, made each in due order, the evolutions +which they are accustomed to make in the arena which is called a +criminal court. + +Sam did not think that all was said that might be said. He arose in +his turn. He spoke in a manner which must have amazed all the +intelligent persons present on the occasion. It appeared as if there +were more of the orator than the murderer in this poor artisan. He +spoke in an upright attitude, with a penetrating and well-managed +voice; with an open, sincere, and steadfast gaze, with a gesture +almost always the same, but full of command. There were moments in +which his genuine, lofty eloquence stirred the crowd to a murmur, +during which Sam took breath, casting a bold gaze upon the bystanders. +Then again, this man, who could not read, was as gentle, polished, +select in his language, as a well-informed person--at other moments +modest, measured, attentive, going step by step over the irritating +parts of the argument, courteous to his judges. Once only he gave way +to a burst of passion. The attorney-general had proved in his speech +that Sam Needy had assassinated the director without any violence on +his part, and consequently _without provocation_. + +"What!" exclaimed Sam Needy, "I have not been provoked! Ay--it is very +true--I understand you. A drunken man strikes me with his dagger--I +kill him, I have been provoked; you show mercy to me, you send me to +Botany Bay. But a man who is not drunk, who has the perfect use of his +reason, wrings my heart for four years, humbles me for four years, +pierces me with a weapon every day, every hour, every minute, in some +unexpected point for four years. I had a wife, for whose sake I became +a thief--he tortures me through that wife; a child for whom I +stole--he tortures me through that child. I have not bread enough to +eat--a friend gives it me; he takes away my friend and my food. I ask +for my friend back--he condemns me to solitary confinement. I speak to +him--him, the spy--respectfully; he answers me in dog's language. I +tell him I am suffering--he tells me I wear him out. What would you, +then, that I should do? I kill him. It is well--I am a monster; I have +murdered this man; I have not been provoked. You take my life for +it--be it so." + +The debates being closed, the presiding judge made his impartial and +luminous summing up. The results were these: a wicked life--a wretch +in purpose. Sam Needy had begun by stealing--he then murdered. All +this was true. + +When the jury were about being conducted to their apartment, the judge +asked the accused if he had any thing to say upon the questions before +them. + +"Little," replied Sam, "only this; I am a thief and an assassin. I +have stolen, and have slain a man. But why have I stolen? Why have I +murdered? Add these two questions to the rest, gentleman of the jury." + +After a quarter of an hour's deliberation on the part of the twelve +individuals whom he had addressed as _gentlemen of the jury_, Sam +Needy was condemned to death. + +Their decision was read to Sam, who contented himself with saying, "It +is well--but why has this man stolen? Why has this man murdered? These +are questions to which they make no answer." + +He was carried back to prison--he supped almost gayly. + +He had no wish to make an appeal against his sentence. The old woman +who had nursed him entreated him with tears to do so. He complied out +of kindness to her. It would appear as if he had resisted till the +very last moment, for when he signed his petition in the register, the +legal delay of three days had expired some minutes before. The +benevolent old nurse gave him a crown. He accepted the money and +thanked her. + +While his appeal was pending, offers of escape were made him. There +was thrown, one after the other, in his dungeon, through its air-hole, +a nail, a bit of iron file, and the handle of a bucket. Any of these +three tools would have been sufficient to so skillful a man as Sam +Needy to cut through his irons. He gave up the nail, the file, and the +handle to the turnkey. + +On the 10th of June, 1834, seven months after the deed, its expiation +arrived. That day, at seven o'clock in the morning, the recorder of +the tribunal entered Sam Needy's dungeon, and announced to him that he +had not more than an hour to live. His petition was rejected. + +"Come," said Sam, coldly, "I have this night slept well, without +troubling myself that I should sleep still better the next." + +It would appear as if the words of strong men always receive a certain +dignity from approaching death. + +The chaplain arrived--then the executioner. He was humble to the one, +gentle to the other. + +He maintained a perfect ease of spirit. He listened to the chaplain +with extreme attention, accusing himself of many things, and +regretting that he had not been instructed in religion. + +At his request they had given him back the scissors with which he had +wounded himself. One blade, which had been broken in his breast, was +wanting. He entreated the jailor to have these scissors taken to +Heartall as from himself. + +He besought those who bound his hands to place in his right hand the +crown-piece which the good nurse had given him--the only thing which +was now remaining to him. + +At a quarter to eight he was led out of his prison, with the customary +mournful procession which attends the condemned. He was pale; his eyes +were fixed on the chaplain--but he walked with a firm step. + +He ascended the scaffold gravely. He shook hands with the chaplain +first, then the executioner, thanking the one, forgiving the other. +The executioner _pushed him back gently_, says one account. At the +moment when the assistant put the hideous rope round his neck, he made +a sign to the chaplain to take the crown-piece which he had in his +right hand, and said to him, "_For the poor_." At that moment the +clock was striking eight, the sound from the steeple drowned his +voice, and the chaplain answered that he could not hear him. Sam +waited for an interval between two of the strokes, and repeated with +gentleness, "_For the poor_." + +The eighth stroke had scarcely sounded when this noble and intelligent +criminal was launched into eternity. + + + + +THE ANGEL OF THE SOUL. + +BY J. BAYARD TAYLOR. + + + Una stella, una notte, ed una croce. _Antonio Bisazza._ + + + Silence hath conquered thee, imperial Night! + Thou sit'st alone within her void, cold halls, + Thy solemn brow uplifted, and thy soul + Paining the space with dumb and mighty thought. + The dreary wind ebbs, voiceless, round thy form, + Following the stealthy hours, that wake no stir + In the hushed velvet of thy mantle's fold. + Thy thoughts take being: down the dusky aisles + Go shapes of good, and beckoning ghosts of crime, + And dreams of maddening beauty--hopes, that shine + To darken, and in cloudy height sublime, + The spectral march of some approaching Doom! + Nor these alone, oh! Mother of the world, + People thy chambers, echoless and vast; + Their dewy freshness like ambrosial cools + Life's fever-thirst, and to the fainting soul + Their porphyry walls are touched with light, and gleams + Of shining wonder dazzle through the void, + Like those bright marvels which the travele'rs torch + Wakes from the darkness of three thousand years, + In rock-hewn sepulchres of Theban kings. + Prophets, whose brows of pale, unearthly glow + Reflect the twilight of celestial dawns, + And bards, transfigured in immortal song, + Like eager children, kneeling at thy feet, + Unclasp the awful volume of thy lore. + + My soul goes down thy far, untrodden paths, + To the dim verge of being. There its step + Touches the threshold of sublimer life, + And through the boundless empyrean leaps + Its prayer, borne like a faint, expiring cry, + To angel-warders, listening as they pace + The crystal walls of Heaven. Down the blue fields + Of the untraveled Infinite, they come: + Beneath their wings one sweet, dilating wave + Thrills the pure deep, and bears my soul aloft, + To walk amid their shining groups, and call + Its guardian spirit, as an orphan calls + His vanished brother, taken in childhood home: + + "White through my cradled dreams thy pinions waved, + Lost Angel of the Soul! thy presence led + The babe's faint gropings through the glimmering dark + And into Being's conscious dawn. Thy hand + Held mine in childhood, and thy beaming cheek + Lay close, like some fond playmate's, to mine own. + Up to that boundary, whence the heart leaps forth + To life, like some wild torrent, when the rains + Pour dark and full upon the cloudy hills, + Thy gentle footsteps wandered near to mine. + Be with me now! Oh, in the starry hush + Of the deep night, that holds the earthly down + In all my nature, bring to me again + The early purity, which kept thy hand + From the entrancing harp it held in Heaven! + Through the warm starting of my hoarded tears, + Let me behold thine eyes divine, as stars + Gleam through the twilight vapors of the sea! + + "Not yet hast thou forsaken me. The prayer + Whose crowning fervor lifts my nature up + Midway to God, may still evoke thy form. + Thou hast been with me, when the midnight dew + Clung damp upon my brow, and the broad fields + Stretched far and dim beneath the ghostly moon; + When the dark, awful woods were silent near, + And with imploring hands toward the stars + Clasped in mute yearning, I have questioned Heaven + For the lost language of the book of Life. + Oh, then thy face was glorious, and thy hair + On the white moonbeam floating, veiled thy brow, + But in the holy sadness of thine eye + Which held my spirit, tremblingly I saw, + Through rushing tears, the sign of angel-grief + O'er the false promise of diviner years. + From the far glide of some descending strain + Of tenderest music I have heard thy voice; + And thou hast called amid the stormy rush + Of grand orchestral triumph, with a sound + Resistless in its power. I feel the light, + Which is thine atmosphere, around my soul, + When a great sorrow gulfs it from the world. + + "Come back! come back! my heart grows faint, to know + How thy withdrawing radiance leaves more dim + The twilight borders of the night of Earth. + Now when the bitter truth is learned; when all + That seemed so high and good but mocks its seeming-- + When the warm dreams of youth come shivering back, + In the cold chambers of the heart to die-- + When, with the wrestling years, familiar grows + The merciless hand of pain, desert me not! + Come with the true heart of the faithful Night, + When I have cast away the masquing garb + Of hollow Day, and lain my soul to rest + On her consoling bosom! From the founts + Of thine exhaustless light, make clear the road + Through toil and darkness, into God's repose!" + + + + +SCOUTING NEAR VERA CRUZ. + +A SKETCH OF THE LATE CAMPAIGN. + +BY ECOLIER. + + +Hours before day, Lieutenant Rolfe and his party were threading the +mazes of the chapparal. The moon glistened upon their bayonets and +bright barrels. Their path lay in a southwesterly direction, near the +old road to Orizava. Here it passed through a glade or opening, where +the moonbeams fell upon a profusion of flowers, there it reëntered +dark alleys among the clustering trees, where the "trail arms" was +given in a half whisper. The boughs met and locked overhead, and the +thick foliage hid the moon from sight. Now a bright beam escaping +through some chance opening in the leaves, quivered along the path, +and scared the wolf in his midnight wanderings. Out again upon the +open track through the soft grass, and winding around the wild maguey, +or under the claw-shaped thorns of the musquit. A deer sprung from his +lair among the soft flowers--looked back for a moment at the strange +intruders, and frightened at the gleaming steel, dashed off into the +thicket. The woods are not silent by night, as in the colder regions +of the north. The southern forest has its voices, moonlit or dark. All +through the livelong night sings the mock-bird--screams the "loreto." +From dark till dawn, you hear the hoarse baying of the "coyote," and +the dismal howl of the gaunt gray wolf. The cicada fills the air with +its monotonous and melancholy notes. In all these sounds there is a +breathing, a wild voluptuousness that tells you you are wandering in +the clime of the sun--amidst scenes like those rendered classical by +the pen of St. Pierre. They who have read the sweet French romance, +will recognize his faithful painting of tropical pictures. The sunny +glades--and shady arbors--the broad green and yellow leaves--the tall +palm-trees, with their long, lazy feathers and clustering fruits +waving to the slightest breeze, and looking the same as in that sea +island where they flung their changing shadows over the loves of Paul +and Virginia. Scouting at night, and to strangers (as were Rolfe and +his men) in the land, was not without its perils. Objects of alarm +were near and around. The nopal rose before you like the picket of an +enemy. Its dark column gleaming under the false light of the moon is +certainly some sentinel on the outpost. A halt is the consequence, and +silent and cat-like one of the party, on his hands and knees, steals +nearer and nearer, through the thorny brambles, until the true nature +of the apparition betrays itself, in the shape of a huge column of +prickly pear. He then returns to his comrades, and the obstacle is +passed, some one as he passes, with a muttered curse, slashing his +sabre through the soft trunk of the harmless vegetable. + +The wild maguey grasps you by the leg, as though some hideous monster +had sprung from the bushes. You start and rush forward, only to be +dragged back among the elastic leaves. It is useless to struggle. You +must either return and unwind yourself by gentle means, or leave the +better part of your cloth inexpressibles in the ruthless fangs of the +plant. The ranchero fences his limbs with leather, or with leggings of +tiger-skin. It is not fancy or choice to wear leather breeches in +Mexico. Necessity has something to say in fixing the fashion of your +small clothes. + +When day broke, Rolfe and his party were ten miles from camp--ten +miles from the nearest American picket, and with only thirty men! They +were concealed in a thicket of aloes and musquit. This thicket crowned +the only eminence for miles in any direction. It commanded a view of +the whole country southward to the Alvarado. + +As the sun rose the forest echoed with sounds and song. The leaves +moved with life, as a thousand bright-plumed birds flashed from tree +to tree. The green parrot screamed after his mate, uttering his wild +notes of endearment. They are seen in pairs flying high up in the +heavens. The troupiale flashed through the dark foliage like a ray of +yellow light. Birds seemed to vie with each other in their songs of +love. Amidst these sounds of the forest, the ear of Rolfe caught the +frequent crowing of cocks, the barking of dogs, and the other +well-known sounds of the settlement. These were heard upon all sides. +It was plain that the country was thickly settled, though not a house +was visible above the tree-tops. The thin column of blue smoke as it +rose above the green foliage proved the existence of dwellings. + +At some distance, westward, an open plain lay like an emerald lake. +The woods that bordered it were of a darker hue than the meadow-grass +upon its bosom. In this plain were horses feeding, and Rolfe saw at a +glance that they were picketed. Some of them had dragged their +laryettes and were straying from the group. There appeared to be in +all about an hundred horses. It was plain that their owners were not +far off. A thin blue smoke that hung over the trees on one side of the +meadow gave evidence of a camp. The baying of dogs came from this +direction, mingled with the sounds of human voices. It was evidently a +camp of the "Jarochos," (guerilleros.) + +Suddenly a bugle sounded, wild and clear above the voices of the +singing-birds, a few notes somewhat resembling the dragoon +stable-call. The horses flung up their heads and neighed fiercely, +looking toward the encampment. Presently a crowd of men were seen +running from the woods, each carrying a saddle. The few strays that +had drawn their pickets during the night, came running in at the +well-known voices of their masters. The saddles were flung on and +tightly girthed--the bits adjusted and the laryettes coiled and hung +to the saddle-horns, in less time than an ordinary horseman would have +put on a bridle. Another flourish of the bugle, and the troop were in +their saddles and galloping away over the greensward of the meadow in +a southerly direction. The whole transaction did not occupy five +minutes, and it seemed to Rolfe and his party, who witnessed it, more +like a dream than a reality. The Jarochos were just out of musket +range. A long shot might have reached them, but even had Rolfe +ventured this, it would have been with doubtful propriety. Rumor had +fixed the existence of a large force of the enemy in this +neighborhood. It was supposed that at least a thousand men were on the +Alvarado road, with the intention of penetrating our lines, with +beeves for the besieged Veracruzanos. + +"They got off in good time, sergeant," muttered Rolfe, "had they but +waited half an hour longer--Oh! for a score of Harney's horses!" + +"Lieutenant, may I offer an opinion?" asked the sergeant, who had +raised himself and stood peering through the leafy branches of a +cacuchou-tree. + +"Certainly, Heiss, any suggestion--" + +"Wal, then--thar's a town," the sergeant lifted one of the leafy +boughs and pointed toward the south-east--a spire and cross--a white +wall and the roofs of some cottages were seen over the trees. "Raoul +here, who's French, and knows the place, says it's Madalin--he's been +to it--and there's no good road for horses direct from here--but the +road from Vera Cruz crosses that meadow far up--now, lieutenant, it's +my opinion them thieving Mexicans is bound for that 'ere place--Raoul +says it's a good sweep round--if we could git acrosst this yere strip +we'd head 'em sure." + +The backwoodsman swept his broad hand toward the south, to indicate +the strip of woods that he desired to cross. The plan seemed feasible +enough. The town, although seemingly near, was over five miles +distant. The road by which the guerrilleros had to reach it was much +farther. Could Rolfe and his party meet them on this road, by an +ambuscade, they would gain an easy victory, although with inferior +numbers, and Rolfe wished to carry back to camp a Mexican prisoner. +This was the object of the scout, to gain information of the force +supposed to be in the rear of our lines. The men, too, were eager for +the wild excitement of a fight. For what came they there? + +"Raoul," said Rolfe, "is there any path through these woods?" + +"Zar is, von road I have believe--oui--Monsieur Lieutenant." + +Raoul was a dapper little Frenchman, who had joined the army at Vera +Cruz, where we found him. He had been a sort of market-gardener for +the plaza, and knew the back country perfectly. He had fallen into bad +odor with the rancheros of the _Tierra Caliente_, and owed them no +good-will. The coming of the American army had been a perfect godsend +to Raoul, who was now an American volunteer, and, as circumstances +afterward proved, worthy of the title. + +"Close teecket, monsieur," continued the Frenchman, "but there be von +road, I make ver sure, by that tree, vot you call him, big tree." + +Raoul pointed to some live-oaks that formed a dark belt across the +woods. + +"Take the lead, Raoul." + +The little Frenchman sprung out in front and commenced descending into +the dark woods beneath. The party was soon winding through the shadowy +aisles of a live-oak forest. The woods were at first open and easy. +After a short march they came to a small stream, bright and silvery. +But what was the surprise of Rolfe to find that the path here gave +out, and on the opposite bank of the rivulet the trees grew closer +together, and the woods were almost woven into a solid mass, by the +lianas and other creeping plants. These were covered with blossoms. In +some places a wall of snow-white flowers rose up before you. Pyramidal +forms of foliage, green and yellow, over which hung myriads of +vine-blossoms, like a scarlet mantle. Still there was no path--at +least to be trodden by human foot. Birds flew around, scared in their +solitary haunts. The armadilla and the wolf stood at a distance with +glaring eyes. The fearful-looking guana scampered off upon the +decaying limbs of the live-oak, or the still more fearful cobra di +capella glided almost noiselessly over the dry leaves and brambles. + +Raoul confessed that he had been deceived. He had never traveled this +belt of timber. The path was lost. + +This was strange. A path had conducted them thus far, but on reaching +the stream had suddenly stopped. Soldiers went up and down the +water-course, and peeped through the trellis of vines, but to no +purpose. In all directions they were met by an impenetrable chapparal. + +Chafing with disappointment, the young officer was about to retrace +his way, when an exclamation from Heiss recalled him. The backwoodsman +had found a clew to the labyrinth. An opening led into the thicket. +This had been concealed by a perfect curtain of closely woven vines, +covered with thick foliage and flowers. It appeared at first to be a +natural door to the avenue which led from this spot, but a slight +examination showed that these vines had been trained by human hands, +and that the path itself had been kept open by the same agency. +Branches were here and there lopped off and cast aside, and the ground +had the marks of human footsteps. The track was clear and beaten, and +Rolfe ordering his men to follow noiselessly, in Indian file, took the +lead. For at least two miles they traced the windings of this forest +road, through dark woods, occasionally opening out into green flowery +glades. The bright sky began to gleam through the trees. Farther on +and the breaks became larger and more frequent. An extensive clearing +was near at hand. They reached it, but to their astonishment, instead +of a cultivated farm, which they had been expecting to see, the +clearing had more the appearance of a vast flower-garden. The roofs +and turrets of a house were visible near its centre. The house itself +appeared of a strange oriental style, and was buried amidst groves of +the brightest foliage. Several huge old trees spread their branches +over the roof, and their leaves hung around the fantastic turrets. + +What should have been fields were like a succession of huge +flower-beds--and large shrubs, covered with sheets of pink and white +blossoms that resembled wild roses. This shrubbery was high enough to +conceal the approach of Rolfe and his party as they followed the +path--apparently the only one which led to the house. + +On nearing this, the officer halted his men in a little glade, and +taking with him Heiss and the boy Gerry, (who might return for the men +in case of a surprise,) proceeded to reconnoitre the strange-looking +habitation. + +A wall of ivy, or some perennial vine, lay between him and the house. +A curtain of green leaves covered the entrance through this wall. This +appeared to have grown up by neglect. As Rolfe lifted this festoon, to +pass through, the sound of female voices greeted him. These voices +reached his ear in tones of the lightest mirth. At intervals came a +clear ringing laugh from some throat of silver, and then a plunging, +splashing sound of water. Rolfe conjectured that some females were in +the act of bathing, and not wishing to intrude upon them sat down for +a moment outside the wall. The sounds of merriment were still heard, +and among the soft tones the officer imagined that he could +distinguish the coarser voice of a man. Curiosity now prompted him to +enter. Moreover, he reflected that if there were men there already +there could not be much impropriety in his taking a share in the +amusement. + +Drawing aside the curtain of leaves he looked in. The interior was a +garden, but evidently in a neglected state. It appeared the ruin of a +once noble garden and shrubbery. Broken fountains and statues +crumbling among weeds, and untrained rose-trees, met the eye. The +voices were more distinct, but those who uttered them were hidden by +a hedge of jessamines. Rolfe stepped silently up to this hedge and +peeped through an opening. The picture presented was indeed an +enchanting one. + +A large fountain lay between him and the house filled with crystal +water. In this fountain two young girls were plunging and diving about +in the wildest abandon of mirth. The water was not more than waist +deep, and the arms and bosoms of the young girls appeared above its +surface. They were strikingly alike, in all except color. In this +there was a marked contrast. The neck, arms and bosom of one seemed +carved from snow-white marble, while the other's complexion was almost +as dark as mahogany. There was the same cast of features, the same +expression in both countenances, and their forms, just emerging from +the slender figure of girlhood, were exactly alike. Their long hair +trailed after them, black and luxuriant, on the surface of the water, +as they plunged and swam from one side of the basin to the other. A +huge negress sat upon the edge of the fountain, seemingly enjoying the +bath as much as those who partook of it. It was the voice of this +negress that Rolfe had mistaken for that of a man. + +The young officer did not hesitate a moment, but stole gently back and +regained his comrades. + +Then striking through the flowery fields that stretched away toward +the wood in the rear, he commenced searching for the path that led +from the woods in a direction opposite to that whence he had come, +without disturbing the inmates of this peaceful mansion. Finding this +path on the other side, the party entered and hastily kept on, in +order to intercept the guerilleros, whom they still hoped to fall in +with. In these hopes they were not disappointed, for emerging from the +woods near Medellin they came upon the guerilleros, with whom they had +a sharp skirmish. Rolfe and his party were successful, killing two of +the guerrilla and taking the same number prisoners. + +The young girls continued their pleasant pastime, little dreaming how +near to them had been these strange and warlike visiters. + + + + +I WANT TO GO HOME + +BY RICHARD COE, JR. + + + "I want to go home!" saith a weary child, + That hath lost its way in straying; + Ye may try in vain to calm its fears, + Or wipe from its eyes the blinding tears, + It looks in your face, still saying-- + "I want to go home!" + + "I want to go home!" saith a fair young bride, + In anguish of spirit praying; + Her chosen hath broken the silver cord-- + Hath spoken a harsh and cruel word, + And she now, alas! is saying-- + "I want to go home!" + + "I want to go home!" saith the weary soul, + Ever earnest thus 'tis praying; + It weepeth a tear--heaveth a sigh-- + And upward glanceth with streaming eye + To its promised rest, still saying-- + "I want to go home!" + + + + +THE HUMBLING OF A FAIRY. + +BY G. G. FOSTER. + + +The Princess Dewbell was confessed to be the queen of the ball, +notwithstanding that the beauty and grace and wit of the whole realm +were there, for it was the birth-night festival of the fairy princess, +and her royal father, with all a parent's fond pride, had exhausted +invention, and impoverished extravagance, to give _éclat_ to the +occasion. The walls of his ancestral palace were sparkled all over +with dew-drops, which a troop of early bees had spent all the summer +mornings in collecting and preserving in the royal patent +dew-preserver, invented by one of the native geniuses of the realm. +These brilliant mirrors, flashing in the light of ten thousand +fire-flies of the royal household, whose whole lives had been expended +in learning how to carry their dainty lamps about so as to produce the +finest effects, reflected the forms of the ladies and the dazzling +military trappings of the handsome cavaliers, (there was war at that +time between the glorious empire of Fairydom and the weak and +infatuated republic of Elfland on its southern borders, and the +epaulette and spurs were the only pass to the hearts of the fair,) +imbuing them with an infinitude of prismatic hues, all softened into a +kind of timed starlight, exquisite as the dying voice of music. In +this gorgeous saloon, at the head of which sat, well pleased, the +benevolent old King Paterflor and his modest and still lovely queen +Sweetbine, all were noble and accomplished and beautiful and gay; but +the charms of the Princess Dewbell, just bursting into the richness of +full-grown fairyhood, were so surpassing that none had ever been found +to question, even in their own hearts, her supremacy. This, perhaps, +may appear strange to many of my pretty readers, but they must +remember that mine is a faithful chronicle of fairies--not of women. +The princess was standing lightly touching--it could not be said that +she leaned against--the slender stalk of a garden lily, that rose like +an emerald column of classic mould above her lovely form, and expanded +into a graceful dome of transparent and crimson-veined cornelian above +her head. Her eyes were cast pensively (at the Musical Fund Hall it +would have been called coquettishly) upon the ground, and ever and +anon she tossed her proud head with an imperious gesture, until the +streaming curls waved and parted around her cheek and neck, like +vine-leaves about a marble column as the south wind creeps among them +soliciting for kisses. The lady Dewbell, amid all this scene of +enchantment, which spread out before and around her, as if her own +loveliness had breathed it into existence, still was discontented; +sad, perhaps, at the total absence of care in her bosom, and sighing +for a sorrow. Unhappy lady Dewbell! She had so many hundred times been +told, what she herself believed full well, that she was absolutely +the most beautiful creature in existence, that the tale had lost its +interest. The champagne of flattery, its creaming foam long ago melted +into the brain, stood untasted before her, dull and flat as the +subsided fountain poured by the last rain-shower into the tulip's cup. +And so the fairy princess stood listless and apart from the joyous +revel, her little form swaying lightly to and fro, with the +undulations of the lily-stem against which she more perceptibly +rested. It is well for Root and Collins and Plumbe that the royal +daguerreotyper was laid up in a cowslip, with a broken skylight which +he had received in a rough-and-tumble with a gnat, about the ownership +of a particular ray of light, at last sunsetting. + +But if the lady Dewbell were queen of the ball, the noble knight Sir +Timothy Lawn was as undisputedly worthy of the post of honor among her +gallant train of admirers. Indeed, it was universally known, of course +as a profound secret among the gossips of the palace, that Sir Timothy +was the declared lover of the proud Dewbell, and it was even whispered +that she had actually been seen hanging around his neck one bright +June morning, in a sweet clover-nook by the brook-side, while he bent +tenderly over her, his eyes filled with tears of rapture. But as this +story could only be traced to a rough beetleherd, who said he saw the +lovers thus as he was driving his herd of black cattle to water, it +was not generally believed. At any rate, all the ladies were decidedly +of opinion that Sir Timothy was in every way a match for the haughty +beauty, and that if she did not accept him while he was in the humor +she would be very likely to go farther and fare worse. In fact, +several old maids and bluestockings, over their dishes of scandal and +marsh-fog, (both of which they made uncommonly strong,) openly avowed +it as their opinion, that he was a great deal too good for her, and +that, if the truth must be told, the princess was an impertinent, +saucy and irreverent creature, who hadn't the slightest respect for +her superiors. "As to her beauty," said one of these crones, whose +little face was very much of the size and complexion of a dried +camomile-flower, and who was shrewdly suspected of qualifying her +marsh-fog with pale pink-brandy--"As for her beauty, that is all in my +eye. I have seen plenty of your plump, smooth-skinned pieces of paint +and affectation fade in my time, little as I have yet seen of life. +Mark my words--before we have reached our prime, my great lady +princess will be as ugly as--" + +"As ugly as yourself, granny! Ha, ha, ha! ho, ho, ho! haw, haw, haw!" +shouted a mirthful voice, while an indescribably comic face, half cat +and half baby, appeared for a single glimpse above the burdock leaf +behind which the spinsters were holding their _conversazione_. + +"There's that imp Puck again, as sure as I am a woman!" exclaimed the +gentle Mrs. Mullenstalk, rising hastily and spilling a dish of fog all +over the front of her new green and yellow striped grass dress, as she +ran toward the spot whence the voice had proceeded. "I'll to the +palace this very night, and lay my complaint against that wretch. +We'll see whether virtuous ladies are to be insulted in this manner, +and their helplessness trampled under foot!" + +The intruder had already disappeared; but as the amiable Mrs. +Mullenstock got her spectacles adjusted, she just caught sight of him +throwing a somerset into a pumpkin-flower; while his laugh still +sounded faintly upon the air, mingled with snatches of a wild refrain, +of which she could only distinguish these lines: + + "Oh ho, Granny Mullenstock, how envious you be; + I'll plague you to death, or the hornets catch me!" + +The spinster shook her fist and grinned horribly at the broad-mouthed, +innocent yellow flower, down whose throat the varlet had leaped--but +chancing at that moment to catch a glimpse of her own face in a little +bit of mica, which served her for a toilet-mirror, she uttered the +least bit of a little shriek in the world and fainted--her companions, +who had by this time gathered round her, exchanging sly winks and +malicious looks of gratification as she went off. + +But we must return to the ball-room, where the fire-flies have got +sleepy, and many of them had already put out their lamps and retired, +and the brilliant company of dancers and promenaders has dwindled down +to a few sets, composed of those ladies who had not been asked to +dance in the height of the evening, and some sour-looking gentlemen in +very tight coats and pants, who had "got the mitten" from their +sweethearts at the door, and were desperately trying to do the amiable +out of sheer revenge. At length even these disappeared; the saloons +were entirely deserted, save by the beautiful mother moonbeam, who +slept upon the fragrant turf, her babe, the silver starlight, folded +lovingly within her bosom. + +Yet no, the scene is not quite solitary. Carefully bending aside the +tall, slender spears of diamond-tipped grass that perpetually guarded +the sacred domain of the imperial palace, a cavalier in full armor +appears, making way for a lady, whose long veil of the finest spider's +web completely conceals her head and form, making her seem like an +exhalation, taking, as its highest gift of grace, the shape of woman. +The two advance slowly and cautiously to the centre of the saloon, and +then the cavalier, throwing himself on his knees, (that's the way +fairies invariably make love,) beseeches his companion to have pity +upon him. The lady throws back her veil with a motion of indescribable +grace, and looking down into the upturned face of her lover, seriously +a moment, then lightly, utters a low laugh, and replies, + +"Very well, Sir Timothy Lawn, upon my word! Quite prettily done, +indeed! You must have been taking lessons of Signor Sweetbriar, the +royal parson. Now do run and bring me a glass of geranium-dew--I +protest I have drank scarcely a drop all the evening." + +"Not one word, then, for your poor lover and true knight," sighed Sir +Timothy, in a tone of the deepest despondence. + +"I did not come here to listen to school-boy nonsense," said the lady +Dewbell, with a haughty and impatient motion of the head. "I came to +get a glass of geranium-water. But, as you decline obliging me to that +extent, I suppose I must e'en get it for myself. Good-night to you, +Sir Timothy! Pleasant dreams!" and she disappeared. + +The knight was for a moment confounded; then rising slowly, he pointed +to a bright star that shone directly above him, winking and winking +with all its might, as much as to say, "what a green-horn you are!" +and swore an oath that no fairy should ever henceforth have power over +his heart, till she who had so wantonly scorned and insulted him +should beg to be forgiven. As he was turning sadly away, to seek his +solitary chamber in the upper branch of a bachelor's button, on the +other side of the brook, the elf-clown Puck stood before him, looking +as demure as puss herself. + +"Well, fool," said the knight, somewhat impatiently, "how long hast +thou been listening here?" + +"As long as my ears, your worship," replied the urchin, undauntedly, +"and they were long enough to hear that your worship's valiancy is a +very much over-praised commodity--since a maiden's dainty veil of +knitted night-air has proved too strong for him. + + The knight he sued, and the knight he sighed, + But he went away without supper or bride." + +"Silence, imp! or I 'll make thine ears, of which thou hast had such +pestilent service, shorter by a span." + +"No, I thank your valiancy! my ears do very well as they are. And I +came to do you a good turn by offering you the use of them. But as +your worship is so high and dry in Dundrum Bay, as we say at sea, I'll +e'en get back to my nap in the hazle copse again." + +"Nay, good Puck, I meant thee no harm, as thou knowest well enough. +Since thou knowest my innermost grief, let me hear thy fool's advice +in the matter." + +"If I gave thee advice, I were in truth a fool. But I'll very +willingly forgive thee this time, and tell thee what I overheard +to-night at the palace." + +"Ah, that's a good Puck!" + +"That depends on circumstances, your valiancy. I am somewhat like a +dish of toasted gallinippers--whether it is palatable or not depending +very much in the way it is served. But this is what I heard his +majesty say to her majesty. 'Sweetbine, my dear,' said he, 'don't you +think Dewbell has a fancy for our brave and noble knight, Sir Timothy +Lawn?' 'Why, my love,' replied her majesty, 'I have long been almost +certain that she loved him. But she is such a confirmed flirt I am +afraid she can never be brought to say so. I haven't the least idea +that she would not reject Sir Timothy, were he to propose.' 'We must +cure her of this fatal pride and folly,' replied his majesty, 'and I +think that, with a little of your assistance, I can manage it +capitally.' And then the dear old people passed into the royal +bed-chamber, in the japonica wing, and I heard no more." + +"I'll to the king." + +"And I'll to a better friend than he; if you permit me, your worship, +I take my _bough_ and _leave_." + +"Avaunt, vile punning Puck! Thou hast been to Philadelphia, where all +the streets rhyme, and every corner is a pun upon the next. May the +fiend unquip thee! Away!' + +"If thou I kest not jokes, thou hadst best stick to thy +bachelor's-buttonhood. I tell thee, marriage is a capital joke." + +"What knowest thou of marriage?" + +"I am one of its fruits." + +"A bitter jest, indeed, and plucked ere half ripened. St. Bulwer! but +thou wilt be a mother's blessing when thou art fully grown!" + +"Better save thy wits, sir knight! Thou wilt have a plentiful lack of +them ere the honeymoon be out of the comb. A pleasant roost in thy +bachelor's hall, and many of them!" and the vagabond sprung upon the +back of a green lizard creeping silently through the grass, and +sticking his heels into his astonished charger, dragoon-fashion, +disappeared down the bank of the brook. + +The old king and his good wife, Sweetbine, were very much grieved at +the foolish trifling of their daughter, Dewbell--for they were well +assured that Dewbell loved the noble knight, Sir Timothy, and that it +was only a spirit of mere wantonness that led her to vex and torment +him. Long into the night did the royal couple converse, striving to +devise some means of bringing their wayward daughter to her senses. +They at last hit upon a plan, which they fondly hoped might be the +means of securing the happiness of their child, and settling her +comfortably in life. + +The next morning his majesty sent for the dwarf, Puck, to his private +cabinet, and received him with an unusually grave and troubled aspect. + +"Venerable sire," said Puck, making a mock reverence, and scarcely +able to suppress a chuckle at the solemn looks of his master, "what +facetious dream hath been playing its mad pranks about thy sacred +pillow? Never saw I kingly face so mirthfully beprankt." + +"Come hither, good Puck," said the king, patiently, "and when thou +hast made thy breakfast of fun upon thy poor master, listen to him +seriously." + +"Dear prince", said the dwarf, suddenly running up to the king and +casting himself weeping at his feet, "art thou, then, really troubled? +Forgive thy poor slave!" and he began blubbering in the most pitiable +manner, while he looked up into the face of the king with such a look +of wo-begone and ludicrous despair, that Paterflor himself could +scarce refrain from bursting into laughter. + +"Thou hast done nothing wrong, good Puck--handsome Puck," said the +king, chucking his favorite under the chin. "I have need of thee. +Here is my signet-ring. Bring me straight hither a young and handsome +peasant, one who has never been seen by the court, nor any inhabitant +of the palace. He must be intelligent, conscientious, and trustworthy. +Dost thou know of such a one?" + +"Yes, your majesty, I think I do. My friend, young Paudeen O'Rafferty, +the son of the old forest-keeper, has just returned from Ireland, +where he was carried by the fairies at his christening, and has been +kept ever since until now, trying to get through the rent made by Mr. +O'Connell in the pockets of his relatives. He's as tight an Irish lad +as your majesty ever saw; and as for his honesty, I'll endorse it with +both hands. The O'Raffertys are constitutionally honest." + +"Well, bring him hither at once. I shall be ready to receive him." + +Puck, with his funny face entirely restored to good humor, left the +palace by a private gate, and running across a beautiful meadow, +disappeared in the dark green forest. Idle lingerer as he was, he felt +a strong inclination, at every hazel-copse he passed, to stop and have +a chat with the rabbits he knew were hid beneath it; and more than +once he was on the point of running up to a friendly deer and kissing +his cold, black nose, just for auld lang syne. But, for a wonder, he +was constant to his errand, and ran straight on--not stopping even to +throw stones at a squirrel by the way--till he came to the forester's +hut. + +He found the old forester and his wife alone. They received him +kindly, for, notwithstanding his mad pranks, Puck was a favorite every +where, and especially among the poor and humble, who were always safe +from his mischievous propensities. The young Paudeen was out a little +bit in the forest, but would return directly. + +"And what brings good Master Puck from among the great lords and +beautiful ladies of the coort to our poor little shieling, not bigger +nor betther than the mud cabins of ould Ireland itself?" inquired the +old woman, who had grown, with age and toil, wrinkled deaf and sour. + +"I'll explain all that as soon as Paudeen comes home," replied the +grave and mysterious Puck; "but, in the meantime, how do you get on +Mr. O'Rafferty, and what is the news in the forest?" + +"We get on but poorly," said the old forester, "and the news is, that +the people at the other side of the forest, where the potatoes have +all rotted, and the land is wore down to its bare bones, for want of +rest like, are very bad. Some of the women and childhers have already +starved, and the men have for the most part took to dhrinken and +fighten, till things is in a mighty bad way." + +"Yes," chimed in the old woman, who seemed to have caught by instinct +the subject of conversation, "and the poor stharven people say, too, +that there is plenty of money squandhered upon extravagance by the +king and his coort to give them all bread; and that the forests that +is kept for the deers and craythurs to be killed for the spoort of the +big folks, would give every man a bit of fresh land, and that the +potatoes would grow well enough then." + +"Auch, Peggy, will ye have us hung for parjery, out and out!" +exclaimed the terrified husband, casting a deprecating look at Puck. +"Poor craythur, she doesn't know what she is saying." + +At this juncture the young Paudeen made his appearance, and put a stop +to a conversation that was becoming decidedly stupid. He made his +respects cordially to Puck; and when he heard his errand, seemed +amazed and delighted. After a good deal of difficulty, the old lady +was made to understand what was the desire of the king. + +"Hooh!" exclaimed the old crone, leaping from her seat and dancing +about the room, "the dhrame's come true at last! Och, hullybaloo! +didn't I know that the pretty Paudeen wasn't born for the pig-stye! +Bedad, but he'll ruffle the gentles! Wont you, darlint?" and the old +woman fell upon her son's neck, smothering him with kisses, while the +poor youth could hardly keep his legs under the vigor of her maternal +caresses. + + +PART II. + +In a few days after the interview of Puck and Paudeen in the hut of +the forester, there was great excitement at the court of Fairyland. +The fashionable milliners and dress-makers never had seen such a +time--orders from the aristocracy poured in upon them by scores, and +their doors were beset by fashionable carriages, and little fairy +footmen caparisoned in long coats with many capes, and broad, red +bands fastened with shining buckles round their hats. The great +_artistes_ who were at the head of these establishments saw themselves +amassing fortunes from the sudden influx of fashionable custom. But +the poor little fairy seamstresses, who sat up all night, sometimes +without time to eat or sleep, from sunset to sunset, so that all these +splendid dresses might be finished in time--they did not fare so well. +They grew pale and sick, and sat swaying and swinging about as they +worked, until one might have thought them the ghosts of fairy workers, +come back for a ghostly midnight frolic in their old haunts. It was +melancholy enough, truly; but then nobody knew any thing about it. The +rich ladies, when their splendid robes came home, did not stop to +think that good, earnest, faithful fairy hearts had embroidered the +roses that adorned the skirts from their own cheeks, and spangled them +with the broken fragments of their youth's faded dreams. If they had-- + +Well, and if they had? + +That is not at all to the purport of my story; and so I will proceed +to let the reader into the secret of all this flutter and fluster. A +great prince had made his appearance at the court of Paterflor, and +had created almost as great an excitement in Fairyland as a new prima +donna with bright eyes and a _sfogato_ voice among mere mortals. +Nobody knew exactly who he was, but he came from a great way off, and +had a name as long as a province, and, beside being incalculably +wealthy, it was universally voted (ladies vote in Fairyland) that he +was the very handsomest love of a fairy knight that ever jingled +spurs, or sighed at the feet of beauty. He had come to court evidently +with the "highest recommendations" to the king, such as would have +procured him immediate access into the first "circles," even in +Philadelphia, where society lives behind barred doors, and goes about +armed cap-a-pie against encroachment or intrusion. He had been at once +received at the royal table, and a splendid suite of apartments had +been assigned him in the palace itself. Such extraordinary attentions +from the imperial family, of course, made the stranger a favorite and +a welcome guest wherever he appeared; and there was not a lady at +court who would not have given her eyes--if it would not have spoiled +her beauty--for a smile from his magnificent mouth. + +It was discovered, however, at a very early stage of the proceedings, +that the chief object of the prince's admiration was the lady Dewbell, +who, proud as she was, could not help feeling flattered by the evident +and special devotion of one for whom the whole of her sex were dying. +Sir Timothy Lawn, who, from pique or melancholy, or from some unknown +cause, had left the court the very day after the arrival of the new +prince, was not entirely forgotten, but was laid away carefully on a +back shelf of her heart; and the lady Dewbell never had been so +beautiful, so fascinating, so joyous and irresistible. Courts are as +fickle as coquettes; and before the month had passed, in a series of +brilliant _fêtes_ and entertainments, at all of which the prince and +princess were the reigning toast, it was regarded as a settled thing +that there would, ere the maple leaves grew red in the dying gaze of +the year, be a royal marriage in Fairyland. + +But while to all around the beautiful Dewbell was ever the same +careless, saucy and happy creature as ever, in her heart she nursed a +bitter sorrow. After many and severe struggles, she was forced at last +to make to herself the humiliating acknowledgment that she deeply and +truly loved Sir Timothy Lawn, that noble and chivalric spirit, whom +her unworthy trifling had driven--so her frightened heart interpreted +it--in disgust from her. Compelled in common courtesy to receive the +devoted attentions of the stranger prince, and to hear every day and +every hour repeated the earnest solicitations of her father that she +should school herself to regard the stranger as her future husband, +her little fairy heart was quite broken with its ceaseless struggles. +Her pride and self-will were entirely vanquished, and she felt herself +truly the most miserable of fairy maidens. Suicide is of course a +thing strictly prohibited among immortals; but had it been otherwise, +I sadly fear that one of the lady Dewbell's spider-web silk hose would +some morning have been found without a garter, and she herself hanging +like a beauteous exhalation among the elm-leaves in the morning +sunshine. Oh, had Sir Timothy been there then, he would have found, +instead of his imperious and tantalizing coquette, the tenderest and +truest of disconsolate maidens, ready to melt into his arms between +the delicious pause of a sigh and a kiss. "Naughty, cruel Sir Timothy! +Horrid creature! to take all my nonsense for real earnest, and to go +away and leave me to be persecuted to death!" exclaimed the lady +Dewbell, with an uncontrollable burst of tears, as she threw herself, +her toilet half finished, and her hair all strewn over her face and +shoulders, upon her little praying cushion. "What will become of poor +Bell!" + +"What ails my daughter?" said the sweet, soft voice of the queen +mother, as she knelt tenderly over her child, and pressed her head to +her bosom. "Tell your sorrows to your mother." + +"Oh, mother, _I_ am the most wretched fairy that ever existed. I don't +want to marry that odious, red-haired stranger; and my father has made +me promise that the wedding shall take place on Halloween--and I--I +have consented. But I love Sir Timothy; and I wont marry any body but +him," sobbed the poor creature, convulsively, as she cast herself upon +the floor, and looked up to her mother, terrified and half frantic. + +"But, dearest, you know you laughed at poor Sir Timothy's vows--and he +is so sensitive." + +"Oh, yes, I know I did, but I'll never do so any more. _If_ Sir +Timothy will only come back and forgive me, and marry me, just this +once, I will never, never offend him again as long as I live--never, +never, never! Do, mamma, do make him come back!" + +"Poor child! I will certainly do all I can. But you have promised to +be married on Halloween." + +"Oh, yes, but that is a good fortnight off, and you can bring Sir +Timothy back before then, you know, and he can kill this horrid +stranger, and then every body will be _so_ happy!" and the face of the +volatile creature began already to re-clothe itself in smiles. + +"I fear you are mistaken, love," said her mother, solemnly, and +shaking her head in an impressive manner, she added, "do not deceive +yourself with such fallacies, my daughter; your princely word is +passed, your father's royal honor is pledged, and you must be married +on Halloween." + +The lady Dewbell, sobbing hysterically, again looked up. She was +alone; at the same moment the cat-and-baby face of Puck glanced by the +window, and a wild, mischievous laugh melted away into a song, of +which the lady only caught the two last lines: + + "He rideth fast, and he rideth well, + But his heart still clings to the pretty Bell." + +"Oh, bless thee, dear Puck!" sighed the haply wondering lady, rising +and leaning from the window. "May thy sweet prophecy come true!" + + +PART III. + +'T is Halloween midnight. Through the tall windows of the venerable +church streamed in the broad moonlight, in bright silver floods, that +lost themselves in the profound recesses of the distant aisles, or +fell like many-colored snow-flakes upon the marble floor. Entering +without sound, came up the middle aisle the royal wedding-procession. +First walked the father, the royal Paterflor, looking stern and +determined, yet, it must be confessed, a little roguish about the +crowsfeet. Upon his arm leaned his pale and stricken daughter, the +once proud, joyous and imperious Princess Dewbell. She was pale as a +lily's cup, and drooping as its stem. She never raised her head from +her bosom, and her eyes, once sparkling like fountains of light, were +hidden beneath their willowy lids. Next comes the "red-haired prince," +as the lady Dewbell had scornfully denominated him, (his head _was_ a +little inclined to flame, dear reader, between you and me,) +respectfully conducting the ever sweet and placid Queen Woodbine; and +after them a troop of merry and gayly-dressed fairies, both ladies and +gentlemen, but very demure and solemn; while Puck, in the united +capacity of Hymen and Grand Usher, was dodging about with his flaming +torch, now in front, now in rear, now here, now there, and every where +imparting an air of grotesqueness to the whole affair. + +At the altar the party stopped, and ranging themselves in the approved +order for such occasions, the priest--a grave and reverend bullfrog, +whose surplice was scrupulously neat and tidy--proceeded with the +ceremony. When he came to the question, "dost thou, my daughter, +freely and voluntarily bestow thy hand and thy affections upon this +man, Paudeen O'Rafferty, commonly called Pat?" + +The pale and shrinking lady raised her head and opened her great +ox-like eyes; the bridegroom looked sheepish and hung his head; King +Paterflor seemed suddenly troubled with a severe fit of coughing, and +the priest could scarcely forbear a chuckle. + +"Father, dear father, what is the meaning of this cruel joke?" +exclaimed the poor lady Dewbell, running to her father and catching +hold of his arm. But the old king's cough was still very troublesome. +She then appealed to the priest, but he seemed deaf, and only made a +grum kind of noise in his throat, that sounded a good deal like "Pat +O'Rafferty." + +"Who, then, are you, sir?" demanded she, at last, of the groom, +turning suddenly and imperiously upon him her piercing gaze. + +"So plaze yer ladyship, I am Paudeen O'Rafferty, the son of the +forester--at yer ladyship's sarvice." + +The fairy princess was about to faint, in the most approved manner, +and had already selected a convenient cushion upon which to fall, when +a tall and noble form crossed the moon-ray, and Sir Timothy Lawn stood +before her. + +"Beloved princess," said he, kneeling, and respectfully taking her +hand, "I hope my presence is not disagreeable to the queen of my +heart, for whose love I have so long pined. Speak to me frankly, sweet +lady Dewbell, tell me, can you love me? Will you permit me to call you +mine forever?" + +The lady Dewbell changed her intention respecting the cushion upon +which she had intended to faint, and, somehow, found herself before +she was half conscious of it, in her lover's arms. An explanation +ensued; the prince Paudeen gave up his post of honor to Sir Timothy; +the ceremony was concluded on the spot; and as the gay and joyous +party left the church, Puck was seen sitting at the organ accompanying +himself in a sort of wild yet sweet chant, of which the lady Dewbell +easily distinguished-- + + "Oh, a merry tale will the gossips tell, + Of the happy mishap of the proud lady Bell." + + + + +A NIGHT THOUGHT. + +BY THOMAS BUCHANAN READ. + + + Long have I gazed upon all lovely things, + Until my soul was melted into song, + Melted with love till from its thousand springs + The stream of adoration, swift and strong, + Swept in its ardor, drowning brain and tongue, + Till what I most would say was borne away unsung. + + The brook is silent when it mirrors most + Whate'er is grand or beautiful above; + The billow which would woo the flowery coast + Dies in the first expression of its love; + And could the bard consign to living breath + Feelings too deep for thought, the utterance were death! + + The starless heavens at noon are a delight; + The clouds a wonder in their varying play, + And beautiful when from their mountainous height + The lightning's hand illumes the wall of day:-- + The noisy storm bursts down--and passing brings + The rainbow poised in air on unsubstantial wings. + + But most I love the melancholy night-- + When with fixed gaze I single out a star + A feeling floods me with a tender light-- + A sense of an existence from afar, + A life in other spheres of love and bliss, + Communion of true souls--a loneliness in this! + + There is a sadness in the midnight sky-- + An answering fullness in the heart and brain, + Which tells the spirit's vain attempt to fly + And occupy those distant worlds again. + At such an hour Death's were a loving trust, + If life could then depart in its contempt of dust. + + It may be that this deep and longing sense + Is but the prophecy of life to come; + It may be that the soul in going hence + May find in some bright star its promised home; + And that the Eden lost forever here + Smiles welcome to me now from yon suspended sphere. + + There is a wisdom in the light of stars, + A wordless lore which summons me away-- + This ignorance belongs to earth which bars + The spirit in these darkened walls of clay, + And stifles all the soul's aspiring breath;-- + True knowledge only dawns within the gales of Death. + + Imprisoned thus, why fear we then to meet + The angel who shall ope the dungeon-door, + And break these galling fetters from our feet, + To lead us up from Time's benighted shore? + Is it for love of this dark cell of dust, + Which, tenantless, awakes but horror and disgust? + + Long have I mused upon all lovely things; + But thou, oh Death! art lovelier than all; + Thou sheddest from thy recompensing wings + A glory which is hidden by the pall-- + The excess of radiance falling from thy plume + Throws from the gates of Time a shadow on the tomb. + + + + +THE BARD. + +BY S. ANNA LEWIS. + + + Why should my anxious heart repine + That Wealth and Power can ne'er be mine, + And Love has flown-- + That Friendship changes as the breeze? + Mine is a joy unknown to these; + In Song's bright zone, + To sit by Helicon serene, + And hear the waves of Hippocrene + Lave Phoebus' throne. + + Here deathless lyres the strains prolong, + That gush from living founts of song, + Without a cross; + Here spirits never feel the weight + Of Wrong, or Envy, or of Hate, + Or earthly loss; + The pomp of Pelf--the pride of Birth-- + The gilded trappings of this earth + Return to dross. + + Oh, ye! who would forget the ills + Of earth, and all the bosom fills + With agony! + Come dwell with me in Fancy's dream, + Beside this lovely fabled stream + Of minstrelsy; + And let its draughts celestial roll + Into the deep wells of thy soul + Eternally. + + God always sets along the way + Of weary souls some beacon ray + Of light divine; + And only when my spirit's wings + Are weary in the quest of springs + Of Song, I pine; + If I could always heavenward fly, + And never earthward turn mine eye, + Bliss would be mine. + + + + +THE WILL. + +BY MISS E. A. DUPUY + + +PART I. + + There is peace in the Night of the Early Dead-- + It will yield to a glorious morrow! _Clarke_. + +Amid all the brightness and bloom which the imagination conjures up, +when we think of the sunny islands lying within the tropics, many +mournful associations arise and cast a sadness over the picture. Very +few have not had within the circle of their relatives, or friends, +some cherished one, who has vainly sought the balmy breezes of those +favored spots, with the feverish hope that amid their loveliness Death +would forget to launch his arrows for them. + +Alas! to die among strangers is usually the fate of those who are thus +lured from their homes by a deceitful hope. There, where Nature wears +a perpetual verdure--where the fervid sun brings forth a luxuriance of +vegetation unknown in more northern regions, the wearied spirit sinks +to repose, soothed, or saddened, by the glow of existence around. + +A spacious apartment on the southern side of a highly ornamented +villa, opened into a magnificent garden, filled with orange-trees, +oleanders, and many other gorgeous flowers peculiar to the climate of +Cuba; while in the distance the sunlight gleamed upon a row of +towering palms, whose stately columns, crowned by their verdant +coronal, resembled the pillars of some mighty temple, which found a +fitting canopy in the blue arch of heaven, glowing with the gorgeous +hues of a tropical sunset. + +The floor of this room was inlaid with marble of different colors, and +the couch and windows were draped with snowy lace, lightly embroidered +at the edges, and looped with cords of blue and silver--tables with +marble tops, supporting porcelain vases filled with flowers, were +placed between the windows, for these ephemeral children of sunshine +were dear to the heart of the dying one. Beside one of these stood a +large cushioned chair, in which reclined a young man of delicate +features and wasted form. He appeared in the last stages of his fell +disease, and the friends who had received him beneath their roof to +die, wondered that he should have been deluded with the hope that +health could ever again reanimate his bowed and shrunken form. There +was an expression of care upon his sharpened features--a feverish +restlessness in his manner, which betrayed the spirit's unrest. + +At his feet sat a young girl, whose brilliant complexion and +pale-brown hair betrayed her Saxon origin; the finely rounded figure, +the delicately formed feet and hands, and the gracefully turned head +and bust, were all evidences of the grade of life to which she +belonged. She held the burning hand of the invalid between her own +soft, cool palms, and sung in a sweet low voice an old ballad which +told of the ancient greatness of the Saxon race. At a short distance +from them sat an elderly lady, clad in deep mourning, and her saddened +countenance corresponded well with her weeds. + +The young man made an impatient movement, and said--"Sing not to me +England's former prowess, dear Edith. What to the dying can such +themes be but a bitter mockery? Take your guitar, my sister, and throw +your soul into its vibrating strings, while you sing me such a lay as +I can fancy the angels of Heaven to be pouring forth around the throne +of God." + +"Shall I sing the chants of our church, dearest Edgar?" said Edith in +a subdued voice. + +"Yes--yes--they breathe peace and resignation into my restless soul. +When I am dying, my sister, stifle your own feelings as you love me, +and pour into my failing senses those magnificent strains. If God sees +fit to tear me from you before I can legally provide for you and my +beloved mother, I shall be enabled to forget the bitter truth in +listening to your sweet voice. You promise me this, Edith?" + +"I do--Heaven will sustain me even then, my darling brother, and give +me power to forget my own anguish in soothing your last moments." + +Edith Euston pressed his hand to her lips, and raising from the floor +a guitar which lay beside her, she poured forth a strain of melody +which seemed to soothe the senses of the invalid to rest. His eyes +closed, and an expression of repose rested on his worn features. + +Twilight deepened over the earth--a single ray of light, from the +reddened sky, fell through the open window upon the figure of the +young girl, and the mother, who sat silent and abstracted, thought as +she glanced upon her that even in a higher world her beloved Edith +could wear no lovelier outward semblance than was now hers. There was +an expression of elevated feeling, of pure tenderness in her upturned +face which revealed the high and noble soul within. One fitted to +suffer and conquer in the dark struggle which she felt awaited her. + +Hers were not the only eyes which contemplated that lovely picture of +sisterly devotion upon that twilight eve. Another stood without, +beneath the shadow of a high hedge, and gazed upon the unconscious +musician with even deeper admiration; and his dark, expressive +features lighted up with an emotion almost of reverence. The stars +came forth in the translucent depths of ether; the young moon cast her +tremulous light over the garden, yet still the intruder lingered in +his place of concealment. Twice he put the boughs aside, as if to +approach the room and announce his presence, but again receded, as if +irresolute and uncertain as to the effect his presence might produce. + +At length all became silent. The tones of the instrument died slowly +away, and the voice of the singer ceased to pour forth its song. The +windows were still unclosed, for the invalid had reached that +distressing stage in his malady, when his oppressed breathing required +a constant circulation of free air. A lamp burning beneath an +alabaster shade was swung from the centre of the ceiling, and its +mellow lustre diffused a faint moonlight radiance throughout the +apartment. + +With suppressed breathing the two ladies watched the sleep of the sick +youth, and he who had so earnestly observed every movement of Edith, +ventured to approach so near the open window that the heavy and +interrupted respiration of young Euston was distinctly audible to him; +while his eagle eye sought to penetrate the shadow in which his +features reposed, that he might read upon them the ravages made by +approaching dissolution. + +As he stood thus, the moonlight revealed a tall, well proportioned +figure, clad in a suit of black, well fitted to his form. His +prominent features and flashing black eyes were half concealed by a +large straw hat, which was carelessly placed upon his head. As he +gazed upon the sleeping form, his lips curled, and a strange +expression of exultation came to his face; his eye wandered +triumphantly to the fair brow of Edith. + +"Twice rejected," he muttered half audibly--"twice rejected, and with +scorn, by yon dainty girl; now methinks my vengeance is almost within +my grasp. I hold her future destiny in my power; for this boy _cannot_ +drag out his existence another week. Yes, Edith--to labor you have not +been bred--to beg you will be ashamed, and he who vainly hopes that +time will be granted him to deprive me of my inheritance, will perish +from my path, just as he believes himself on the verge of consummating +his hatred to me." + +Edith softly arose, and making a sign to her mother, glided +noiselessly from the room by a distant window, which opened to the +floor. The intruder hesitated a moment, and then followed her with +light and rapid steps. The flutter of her white dress guided him to +the retreat she had chosen, and she had scarcely thrown herself upon a +rustic seat beneath the shelter of some orange-boughs, and given vent +to her painfully repressed emotion, by a burst of tears, when the dark +stranger stood before her. She started up and would have fled, but he +spoke, and the sound of his voice seemed to bind her to the spot as by +a spell. + +"Why would you fly from me, Edith?" he asked. "I come in the spirit of +good-will to you and yours." + +A struggle seemed to be passing in the mind of the young girl. She +wiped her tears away, and after a pause answered in a tone which +faltered at first, but grew firm, and even haughty as she proceeded, + +"What has brought you hither, Mr. Barclay? Yet why do I ask? To exult +in the fate of your unfortunate victim; to watch each painful breath +which brings him nearer to his grave, with the certainty that the +very eagerness with which he desires a few more days of existence, +that he may fulfill a sacred duty, is fast wearing away the faint +thread that yet binds him to life. Oh false, unfeeling man! depart, I +pray you, if one human instinct yet remains within your callous heart, +and leave my unhappy brother to die in peace." + +She turned to depart, but Barclay stepped forward and placed his hand +on her arm, as if to detain her. She shrunk from his touch with an +expression of loathing, which called the crimson to his cheek, but he +suppressed his emotion, and said calmly-- + +"I knew that you would soon need a protector, Miss Euston, and I came +hither with the faint hope that I might be able to overcome your cruel +prejudices against me--that I might become to you a friend at least, +if no dearer title were allowed me." + +"You a friend to _me_!" exclaimed Edith impetuously. "You, who lured +my brother from his home, to wreck his existence in the life of +dissipation to which you tempted him. Ever feeble from his boyhood, +you knew that little was needed to destroy his frail constitution--yet, +because he stood between you and the possession of wealth, his life +was offered as the sacrifice to your criminal cupidity. And now you +come hither to watch the last fluttering throes of existence, fearful +that Death may delay his arrows until he shall have passed that hour +which entitles him to dispose of his property--and disappoint your +hopes, by bequeathing his wealth to those who are dearest to him." + +"You are excited, Edith. You judge me too severely. Edgar's own +headlong passions destroyed him. I merely urged him to do as others of +his years and station, without foreseeing such fatal results. My love +for you would have prompted me to save your brother." + +"Speak not to me of love--dare not approach the sister of your victim +with proffers of affection. The death of Edgar may leave me +penniless--nearly friendless--I have been tenderly nurtured, but I +would sooner embrace a life of sternest self-denial, of utter poverty, +than link myself with infamy in your person. Leave me--and dare not +approach the room of my brother, to imbitter his last hours by your +presence." + +"And your mother, my fair heroine?" said Barclay, in a tone of sarcasm +bordering on contempt. "What will become of her if you persist in the +rejection of the only person in the wide world on whom you have any +claim? She is old, feeble, broken in health and spirit. Ah! will not +your proud heart faint when you behold her sharing this life of +poverty and self-denial, which seems to you so much more attractive +than the home and protection I offer you?" + +Edith stifled the tears that sprung anew to her eyes, and after a +brief struggle said with composure-- + +"My mother is too honorable--she has too bitter a disdain of meanness +ever to wish her child to sacrifice the truth and integrity of her +soul, by accepting the hand of one for whom she has no respect." + +"By Heaven!" said Barclay passionately, "you force me to throw away +the scabbard and declare war to the knife. Be it so, then. Yonder weak +boy cannot survive five of the ten days yet required to complete his +majority. Then comes to me--yes to _me_--all his wealth; and only as +_my_ wife shall one ray of my prosperity shine upon you. The gray +hairs of your only parent may be brought to the grave by want and +sorrow, and unless you relent toward me my heart shall be steeled to +her sufferings." + +At this picture, which was only too likely to be realized, the courage +of the unhappy Edith forsook her, and she exclaimed in faltering +tones-- + +"My dear, dear mother! for her sake any other sacrifice might be +borne--but not this--not this. My brother yet lives, and Heaven may in +pity prolong his existence beyond the hour he so anxiously prays to +see. Then we escape your power." + +Barclay laughed mockingly. + +"This is the fifteenth, and he is not of age until the twenty-fifth, +exactly at the second hour of the morning. One moment only before that +time should Death claim his victim the estate is mine, and you +dependent on my bounty. Think you that the frail and wasted ghost of a +man who struggles for breath in yonder room can live through another +week? Hope--yes, hope for the best, for despair will come soon enough. +I feel as secure of my inheritance as though it were already mine." + +Edith proudly motioned him from her path, and fled toward the house, +with his mocking words still ringing in her ears. Her brother yet +slept, and as she gazed upon his sunken features it seemed to her as +if death were already stamped upon them, and she bent her head above +his still face, to convince herself that he yet breathed. + +Barclay and Euston were distantly related, and had both been educated +by an eccentric kinsman, with the belief among their connections that +he designed dividing his ample fortune between them. To the surprise +and chagrin of Barclay, he found on the death of Colonel Euston that +the whole of his estate was bequeathed to his young cousin, encumbered +with an annuity to himself, which appeared to one of his expensive +tastes, and lavish prodigality, as absolute poverty. + +Edgar Euston was then but seventeen years of age, and of a delicate +bodily organization, which did not promise length of days. A clause in +Colonel Euston's will offered a temptation to Barclay, which he had +not sufficient principle to resist. If Euston died before attaining +his majority the estate was to pass into the hands of his kinsman, and +no mention was made of the mother or sister of the young heir. Barclay +reflected that if he could remove Euston from his path, before he +attained his twenty-first year, the coveted wealth would yet be his. + +From that hour he made every effort to win the confidence and +affection of young Euston. He was his senior by nearly ten years, and +possessed a knowledge of the world, and a fascination of manner which +was extremely attractive to a youth who had passed the greater portion +of his life, at a country residence, in the society of his mother and +sister. Euston entered one of our Northern colleges, and under the +auspices of his kinsman he soon achieved a reputation which was far +more applauded by the wild students than agreeable to the professors. +He blindly followed wherever Barclay led, and before he entered his +twenty-first year he returned to his early home, with a constitution +completely broken by the reckless life he had led, and the symptoms of +early decay in his flushed cheek and hollow cough. Vain had been the +entreaties and remonstrances of his mother and sister; under the +influence of his tempter, they were utterly disregarded--until the +hand of disease was laid upon him, and he felt that the only atonement +he could offer for all the suffering he had inflicted upon them would +probably be denied to him. + +He earnestly desired to live, that he might reach that age which would +entitle him to make a legal transfer of his property to those who were +deservedly dear to him, for in the event of his death without a will, +his mother and sister would be left entirely dependent on the tender +mercies of his successor. An unfortunate lawsuit had deprived his +mother of the property which had become hers on the death of his +father, and his own reckless extravagance had dissipated more than the +annual revenue of his own property since it came into his possession. + +Too late he discovered the baseness of Barclay's motives, and +renounced all intercourse with him--but he would not thus be cast off. +He had seen and loved the noble-hearted Edith, and he forced his +hypocritical offers of service upon the afflicted family, until Edith +distinctly assured him that he need never hope for a return to his +passion. + +Euston had long since abandoned all hope of recovery, but he sought +the mild climate of Cuba, trusting that the fatal day might be +deferred until he had secured independence to his family, but his +physician feared that the very eagerness of his wishes would +eventually defeat them. It was mournful, and deeply touching, to +witness that clinging to existence in one so young, not from love of +life itself, but from a desire to perform an act of justice. That +completed, his mission on earth was ended, and Death might claim him +without a murmur. + +The hours dragged heavily on toward the desired day, and each one as +it passed appeared to hurry the poor invalid with rapid strides toward +the grave, that seemed eager to claim its prey. Barclay had not again +ventured to intrude on Edith, but he nightly hovered around the room +of the dying youth, and gloated on the wasted and death-like form +which held his earthly fortunes in his hands. + +A skillful physician had accompanied Euston from his native land, and +his unremitting attention, aided by the tender nursing of his +affectionate sister, seemed as if they would eventually reap their +reward in the preservation of life beyond the hour of his majority. + +In pain and weariness time slowly waned, but it still left him life +and an unclouded mind; and the bold, bad heart, that nightly watched +him, feared that the wealth he so ardently coveted, might yet elude +his grasp. + +The evening of the twenty-fifth at last arrived. Euston reclined in +his chair as we first beheld him, wrapped in a brocade dressing-gown, +whose brilliant colors made his extreme pallor the more remarkable; a +table was drawn close beside him, and on it, at his own desire, was +placed his repeater, from which his eyes scarcely wandered. His breath +came slowly and gaspingly, and at brief intervals his physician +moistened his parched lips with a restorative cordial, and murmured +words of encouragement in his ear. + +As before, Edith sat at his feet, with her guitar, ready to stifle her +deep emotion, and fulfill her promise to sing to him while his parting +soul was struggling for release from its earthly tenement. His mother +leaned over his chair, and bathed his cold brow with her burning +tears; in the back-ground sat a clergyman, gazing on the scene with +absorbing interest. + +Each one in that hushed room felt the approach of the stern tyrant, +and all prayed fervently that his dart might be stayed yet a few +hours. + +"My sister, sing to me. Soothe me into quietness by the loved tones of +your voice. It is my _only_ hope for life beyond the desired hour," +murmured the dying youth. + +With tremulous fingers Edith touched the chords, and poured forth the +solemn strains to which he loved to listen, and he sunk back and +closed his eyes. At first her voice faltered, but she gradually +regained her self-command, and never had those clear, rich tones +uttered a sweeter strain, than that which floated around the +fluttering spirit, which struggled to release itself from the +attenuated form of the early doomed. + +Barclay stood without, watching the scene with breathless interest, +and a terrible struggle was passing in his dark and stormy soul. +Euston might live beyond the hour of two, and he would then be a +beggar. His eye wandered toward Edith, so nobly devoted, so purely +beautiful; and the tempter whispered, + +"She might save you--ennoble you; the love, the sweet influence of +such a woman are all powerful. Once yours, you could surround her with +such an atmosphere of care and tenderness, that her heart must be won +to love you--to forget the past. Without her, you are doomed--doomed. +What matters a few more moments of existence to one like him, when the +eternal welfare of a human being hangs trembling in the balance? +Deprived of the means of living, Edith will have no choice--she must +marry you, or debase her pride of soul before the iron sway of +poverty. Her mother is old--infirm; and for her sake, the daughter +will listen to your proffers of love. Take your destiny into your own +hands. Cowardly soul! why falter now? It is but completing your own +work. He is _your_ victim--you know it, and feel it in every pulse of +your throbbing heart. Years of usefulness might have been his, but for +you; then complete the sacrifice without hesitation. What avails it +to have accomplished so much, if the reward escapes you at the last +moment?" + +Such were the wild thoughts that oppressed his soul during those +terrible hours. He saw that the parchment which disinherited him was +placed beside Euston, and the pen stood in the inkstand, ready to do +its service, so soon as the hand of the watch pointed to the hour of +two; and he ground his teeth in impotent rage, as the moments flitted +by, and Euston yet continued to breathe. + +Terrible is the watch of love beside the flitting soul which parts in +peace; but how much more awful was that vigil, in which the anguish of +bereavement was doubly embittered by the fear of future want to those +who had been reared amid all the refinements of luxury. The mother +looked upon her remaining child, and felt that she was not formed to +struggle with poverty and neglect, and the daughter bent her earful +eyes on that venerable form, and in the depths of her soul, prayed +that her old age might be spared the grinding cares of want. + +The watch struck the half hour--then the quarter--and a feeble motion +of Euston stopped the hand of Edith as she swept it over the strings +of her instrument. She arose and stood beside him; a breathless +silence reigned throughout the apartment, only broken by the +monotonous ticking of the watch, which struck upon the excited nerves +of those around with a sound as distinct as the reverberations of +thunder. + +Not a word was uttered until the hand pointed to the hour, then, as if +endued with sudden energy, the dying man stretched forth his hand, and +grasping the pen, said in a firm, distinct voice, + +"Now let me sign my name, and yield up my spirit to the angel that has +been beckoning me away for hours. My mother--my sister, God has +vouchsafed to me a mercy I did not deserve. Thank Heaven! your +interests are safe. You are free from _his_ power." + +At that instant a strange cry was heard; a bird flew into the room, +and, dazzled by the light, flapped his wings against the shade of the +lamp, overturned it, and left the apartment in utter darkness. In the +confusion of the moment, a figure glided through the open window, and +stood beside the chair of Euston. He noiselessly placed his firm grasp +upon his laboring breast, and held it there a single instant. A faint +rattling sound was heard, and Edith wildly called for lights. + +Noiselessly as he had entered glided that dark form from the side of +his victim, and buried itself in the shadows of the trees without. +Many lights flashed into the room--they glared coldly on the face of +the dead, and the mother sunk senseless in the arms of her daughter. + + +PART II. + +Several months have passed away, and Mrs. Euston and her daughter have +returned to their native land. A single room in an obscure +boarding-house in the heart of a southern city was occupied by both. +The expenses of their voyage to New Orleans, and a few months sojourn +in their present abode, humble as it was, had nearly exhausted their +slender resources. Edith had made many efforts to procure a few +scholars to instruct in music and drawing, but the departure of the +greater portion of the wealthy, during the unhealthy season, had +deprived her of those she had been able to obtain. She thought of +going out as a daily governess, but the feeble health and deep +dejection of her mother, offered an insuperable objection to such an +arrangement. When she left her alone even for an hour, she usually +found her in such a state of nervous excitement on her return, as was +painful to behold. + +Edith is seated near the only window of their sordid apartment in the +afternoon of a sultry summer day; the sun is shining without with +overpowering splendor; a heated vapor rises from the paved streets and +seems to shimmer in the breathless atmosphere. Edith had lost all the +freshness and roundness of youth; her cheek was deadly white, and her +emaciated form seemed to indicate the approach of the terrible disease +of which her brother had died. She was sewing industriously, and her +air of weariness and lassitude betrayed the strong mastery of the +spirit over the body, in the continuance of her employment. + +Mrs. Euston was lying on the bed; and twenty years seemed to have +passed over her since the night of her son's death. The oppressive +heat had induced her to remove her cap, and her long hair, white as +the snows of winter, lay around her wasted and furrowed features. From +infancy the respect and observance due to one of high station had been +bestowed upon her, and the reverse in their fortunes was more than she +could bear. At first, her high-toned feelings had shrunk from +obligations to the new heir, and she approved of Edith's rejection; +but as time passed, amid privations to which she had never been +accustomed, her very soul revolted against their miserable mode of +living. + +To a woman of refined feelings and vivid imagination, the coarse and +sordid realities around her were sufficiently heart-sickening, without +having the terrible fear forced upon her that her only child was +hurrying to the grave through her exertions to keep them literally +from starvation. Her daughter now thought she slept, but her mind was +far too busily occupied to permit the sweet influences of slumber to +soothe her into a momentary forgetfulness of her bitter grief. +Suddenly she unclosed her eyes, and spoke. + +"Edith, my child, lay aside that work--such constant employment is +destroying you. Is it not time that we heard from Robert Barclay? +Surely he will not be relentless, when he hears that your health is +failing. After all, Edith, you need not be so averse to receiving +assistance from him; the property he holds is rightfully ours." + +"Mother," replied Edith, a faint flush mounting to her cheek, "for +your sake I have submitted to humiliate myself before our ruthless +kinsman, but I fear it will be in vain. Only as his wife will my +claims on his humanity and justice be acknowledged. Would you not +shrink, dearest mother, from condemning your child to such a doom? +Could you not better bear to stand above my grave, and know me at +peace within it, than to behold me wedded to this unprincipled man, to +whose pernicious example my brother owed his early doom?" + +"Speak not of dying, my daughter," said the poor mother, hysterically, +"I cannot bear it; I am haunted by the fear that I shall at last be +left on earth alone. I daily behold you fading before my eyes without +the power to avert the fate I see written upon your pale cheek and +wasted form. As Robert's wife you would have a luxurious home, the +means of gratifying refined tastes, and of contributing to the +happiness of others. He may atone to me, by the preservation of one +child, for the destruction of the other." + +"Mother, your fears for me blind you to the truth. Are not mental +griefs far more difficult to bear than the privations of poverty, +galling as they are? As Mr. Barclay's wife, I should loathe myself for +the hypocrisy I should be compelled to practice toward him; and the +wealth for which I had sold myself, would allow me leisure to brood +over my own unworthiness, until madness might be the result. No, no, +mother--come what may, I never can be so untrue to myself as to become +the wife of Robert Barclay." + +"God help us, then!" said Mrs. Euston, despondingly. + +A carriage drove to the door, and a gentleman alighted from it. Edith +heard the bustle, but she did not look out to see what occasioned it, +and she was startled from her painful reverie by a knock on the door. +She opened it, and started back with a faint cry as she recognized +Barclay. + +"The landlady told me to come up," he said, as he glanced around the +wretched apartment, and a slight twinge of remorse touched his heart +as he remarked the changed appearance of Edith. She motioned him to +enter, while Mrs. Euston arose from the bed, and offered him a seat. + +"I concluded it would be best to reply to your communication in +person," said he to Mrs. Euston, as he took the offered chair. "I come +with the most liberal intentions, provided Miss Euston will listen to +reason. I am grieved to see you in a place so unsuited to your former +station as this wretched apartment." + +"And yet," said Edith, "I have passed some pleasant hours in this +room, comfortless as it looks. So long as I had the hope of being able +to provide for our wants by my own exertions, I found contentment in +its humble shelter." + +"Your happiness must then be truly independent of outward +circumstances," replied Barclay, with a touch of his old sarcasm. "I +supposed, from the tenor of your mother's petition, that you had begun +to repent of your high-toned language to me in our last interview, and +would now accede to terms you once spurned, as the price of my +assistance to you and yours." + +Edith curbed her high spirit, and calmly replied, "You misunderstood +my mother's words. As the mother of the late heir, she justly +considers herself entitled to a pittance from your estate, and she +claimed from your humanity, what she was hopeless of obtaining from +your sense of justice. For myself, I hoped for nothing from either, +but I acquiesced in her application. I am sorry that you have founded +on it expectations which must prove fallacious." + +"Then, madam, I need remain no longer," said Barclay, addressing Mrs. +Euston. "Your daughter remembers our interview previous to, and after, +the death of her brother; the only terms on which I would assist you +were then explicitly expressed." + +Mrs. Euston caught his hand, and bowed her venerable head upon it. + +"Have mercy, Robert, upon my gray hairs--my daughter; look at her--she +is dying by inches--she is stifling in this wretched spot. The money +that was my son's should surely buy a shelter for us. Leave us not +helpless, hopeless. My God! my God! give me eloquence to plead for my +child!" and she threw herself upon the floor, and raised her clasped +hands to heaven. + +"Madam," said Barclay, "it only rests with your daughter to have mercy +upon you and herself. Where, I ask you, is her filial piety, when she +beholds you suffer thus, and relents not toward one who offers her a +love that has survived coldness, contempt, contumely." + +Edith approached her mother, and assisted her to rise. + +"My dearest mother, calm yourself. Humble not yourself thus before our +oppressor. God is just--is merciful. He will not forget the widow and +the orphan in their extremity. Leave us, Mr. Barclay; had my wishes +alone been consulted, you never would have been called on thus to +witness our misfortunes." + +Barclay bowed, and haughtily strode from the room. + +"Another month of privation," he muttered, "and she will surely be +mine or Death's. It does not much matter to which she belongs. Ah, if +she only knew all!" and he sprung into his cabriolet, and dashed off +toward the more aristocratic portion of the city. + +In the hope that Edith would be forced to relent, Barclay had remained +in New Orleans thus late in the season, and he resolved to linger yet +a little longer, until want and suffering should leave her no choice. +His passion for her was one of those insanities to which men of his +violent character are often liable. He desired her as the one great +gift, which was to purify, to exalt him in the scale of humanity. The +delicate beauty of her person, the sensibility of her soul, the grace +of her manner, rendered her irresistibly attractive to him; but so +selfish was his love, that he would sooner have seen her perish at his +feet, than have rendered her assistance, except at the price proposed. + +Another month passed by, and still there was no news of Edith or her +mother. He grasped the daily paper, almost with a sensation of fear, +and glanced at the column of deaths, which at that season usually +contains a goodly array. Their names were not yet among them, or +perchance in their poverty and obscurity they would not find +admittance even among the daily list of mortality. + +The yellow fever had commenced its annual ravages, and Barclay +retreated to a country-house in the vicinity, owned by a friend, and +dispatched a confidential servant to inquire concerning Mrs. Euston +and her daughter. They were still in the same place, but the mother +had been ill, and was still confined to her bed. + +One morning, about two weeks afterward, Barclay was seated in a +delightful little saloon, over a late breakfast. The room was +furnished with every appliance of modern luxury, and the morning air +stirred the branches of noble trees without, whose verdant shade +completely shut out the glare of the sun. A servant entered, and +presented to him a letter which had just been left. The irregular hand +with which it was directed, prevented him from recognizing the writing +of Edith, and when he opened the missive, which had evidently been +blotted with her bitter tears, a flush of triumph mounted to his +cheek, and he exclaimed with an oath, + +"Mine at last!--I knew it must end thus!" + +The letter contained the following words: + + "After a night of such suffering as casts all I have + previously endured into the shade, I address you. My + mother now lies before me in that heavy and death-like + sleep which follows utter exhaustion. Her state of + health for the last month has demanded my constant + care, and the precarious remuneration I have been able + to obtain for sewing, I have thus been compelled to + give up. We have parted with every souvenir of our + better days--even our clothing has been sacrificed, + until we have but a change of garments left; and now + our landlady insists on being paid the small sum we owe + her, or we must leave her house to-day. She came into + our room last evening, and the scene which ensued threw + my mother into such a state of nervous excitement, that + she has not yet recovered from it. + + "I cannot disguise from myself that she is very ill. If + she awakes to a renewal of the same anguish, I dare not + contemplate the consequences. You know that I do not + love you, Mr. Barclay. I make no pretension to a change + in my feelings; repugnant as it must be to a heart of + sensibility, I must view this transaction as a matter + of bargain and sale. I will accept your late offer, to + save my mother from further suffering, and to gain a + home for her declining years. + + "For myself, I will endeavor to be to you--but why + should I promise any thing for myself. God alone can + give me strength to live after the sacrifice is + completed. + + "EDITH." + +There was much in this letter that was wounding to his vanity, and +bitter to his feelings; but he had triumphed! The stately pride of +this girl was humbled before him--her spirit bowed in the dust before +the gaunt spectre she had thought herself capable of braving. She +would be his--the fair, the pure in heart, would link herself to vice, +infamy and crime, for money. Money! the world's god! See the countless +millions groveling upon the earth before the great idol--the golden +calf, which so often brings with it as bitter a curse as was denounced +against the people of old, when they forsook the living and true God +for its worship. + +Can it not buy every thing--even woman's love, or the semblance of it, +which would serve him just as well? He, the murderer of the brother, +would purchase the compliance of the sister with this magical agent; +but--and his heart quailed at the thought--could it buy self-respect? +Could it enable him to look into the clear eye of that woman he would +call his wife, and say, "My soul is worthy to be linked with thine in +the realms of eternity." + +No--he felt that the sacrilegious union must be unblessed on earth, +and severed in heaven, yet he shrunk not from his purpose. + +He lost no time in seeking Edith; Mrs. Euston was yet buried in the +leaden slumber produced by a powerful narcotic. The unhappy girl +received him alone, and he remarked that his words of impassioned love +brought no color to her marble cheek--no emotion to her soul; she +seemed to have steeled herself for the interview, and it was not until +he pressed the kiss of betrothal upon her pallid lips, that she +betrayed any sensibility--then a thrill, a shudder pervaded her whole +frame, and he supported her nearly insensible form several moments +before she regained power to sustain herself. Could he have looked +into that breaking heart, and have read there all the bitter loathing, +the agonized struggles for self-control, would he have persisted in +his suit? Yes--for this was a part of his vengeance for the slights +she had put upon him; and in the future, if she did not play the part +he thus forced upon her, with all the devotion he should exact, had he +not bitter words at his command to taunt her with the scene of that +morning? + +A physician was called in, who advised the removal of Mrs. Euston +while she slept; and arrangements were soon made to accomplish it. The +family to whom Barclay's present retreat belonged, were spending the +summer at the north, and their house had been left at his disposal. He +determined to remove Mrs. Euston and her daughter thither, while he +took up his own abode, until the day of his marriage, with a bachelor +friend in the neighborhood. + +Edith demanded an interval of a week before their union took place, +which he reluctantly granted. Naturally prodigal, he employed the time +in ordering the most elegant _trousseau_ for his bride. She who so +lately was struggling with bitter want, was now surrounded by servants +eager to anticipate every wish, while Barclay played the devoted +lover. Edith prayed earnestly for power to regard him with such +feelings as alone could hallow the union they were about to form. Vain +were her lonely struggles--her tearful supplications; a spectral form +seemed to rise ever between them, and reproach her that she had been +so untrue to herself, even for the preservation of a mother. + +The only thing that consoled her for her great sacrifice, was that her +beloved mother seemed to revive to some sense of enjoyment, when she +again found herself surrounded by that comfort to which she had been +accustomed. Weakened in mind as in body, Mrs. Euston fondly flattered +herself that her daughter might yet be happy amid the splendors of +wealth; and the poor mother welcomed the arbiter of their future fate +with smiles and courteous words, to which he listened with politeness, +and scorned as the hollow offspring of necessity. + +The dreaded day at length arrived, and with the calmness of exhausted +emotion, Edith prepared herself for the ceremony which was to consign +her to the protection of Barclay. She believed her earthly fate +sealed, and resignation was all she could command. + +Amid all her suffering, there was one thought which arose perpetually +before her; there was one human being on earth who would have risked +his life to serve or save her, and she knew that a heart worthy of her +love would hear the history of her enforced marriage with bitter +disappointment and anguish. + +Near the home of her infancy dwelt a family of sons and daughters with +whom she had been reared in habits of intimacy. Between herself and +the eldest son a strong attachment had grown up; it had never been +expressed in words, yet each felt as well assured of the affection of +the other, as if a thousand protestations had been uttered. About the +time that Mrs. Euston and her daughter left their own home to travel +with their beloved invalid, Walter Atwood bade adieu to his paternal +home, on a tour to Europe, where he was to complete his professional +education as a medical man. + +Mrs. Euston's place passed into the hands of strangers, and after a +few months all intercourse by letter ceased between their former +friends and themselves. After the death of her son, the bereaved +mother would not consent to return to their former neighborhood, and +thus all trace of them was lost to the Atwoods; but Edith knew in her +deep heart that Walter would return--would seek her; and it was this +conviction which gave her firmness to resist so long the overtures of +Barclay. + +Now all was at an end; another hour and the right even to think of him +would no longer be hers. Her mother entered her room, folded her to +her breast, and whispered, + +"The hour has arrived, my child. Robert is here with the clergyman. Do +not keep them waiting." + +"I am quite ready, mother," said Edith, calmly, and she advanced +without hesitation toward the door, for she heard an impatient step +without, which she well knew. Barclay awaited her in the hall--he +impetuously seized her hand and drew it beneath his arm. + +At that moment the door-bell was violently pulled, and both turned +impulsively to see who made so imperious a demand for admittance. + +At the open door stood two figures, one of a young man, who appeared +deeply agitated, for his features, beneath the light of the lamps, +seemed white and rigid, as if cut from marble. Over his shoulder +appeared a swarthy face, with a pair of bright, keen eyes, gleaming +from beneath overhanging brows. + +Edith and Barclay both uttered an exclamation--but they were very +different in their character. In the impulse of the moment, the former +drew her hand forcibly from him who sought to retain it, and with one +bound, was in the arms of the foremost stranger, as she exclaimed, + +"Walter--my saviour--my preserver! you have come at last!" + +The face of Atwood lost its unnatural rigidity as he pressed her to +his heart, and said, + +"Thank Heaven! I am not then too late!" + +Barclay advanced threateningly, + +"What does this mean, sir? Are you aware that such conduct in my house +is not to be tolerated--that you shall answer for it to me with your +life?" + +"It means, Mr. Barclay, that I come with authority to prevent the +unholy alliance you were about to force upon this helpless and +unprotected girl, to place the seal upon your crimes, by clasping in +wedlock the hand of the sister with that which is red with the +brother's blood." + +"'T is false--the boy killed himself, as Edith herself knows full +well. Am I to be held accountable for the dissipation of a young fool, +who, when once the curb was removed, went headlong to destruction +without the necessity of any prompting from me." + +"We will waive that part of the question, if you please, Mr. Barclay. +I have brought with me one who can prove much more than that. Come +forward, Antoine." + +The Frenchman advanced, and Barclay grew pale as he recognized him. + +"Let us retire to a private room," continued Atwood, in a lower +tone--"I would not have Mrs. Euston and her daughter hear too +suddenly the developments I am prepared to make." + +Then turning to Edith he said-- + +"You are saved, my dear Edith. Retire with your mother, while I settle +with Mr. Barclay." + +Mechanically Barclay led the way into an adjoining room. When there, +he turned haughtily and said-- + +"Now, sir, explain yourself--tell me why my privacy is thus invaded, +and--" + +Atwood interrupted him. + +"It is useless to attempt bravado with me, sir. Your whole career is +too intimately known to me to render it of any avail. You know that +from my boyhood I have loved Miss Euston, for you may remember a +conversation which took place between us several years since, when you +were received as a visiter at her mother's house. Jealousy enabled you +to penetrate what had been carefully veiled from others, and you taxed +me with what I would not deny. Do you remember the words you used to +the boy you then spoke to? That you would move heaven and earth to win +Edith Euston." + +"To what does all this tend?" asked Barclay, in an irritated tone. + +"Patience, and you will see. I returned from Europe and found that +Mrs. Euston's family had left for Havanna. Her lawsuit had gone +against her, and she had lost her home. Nothing more was known of her. +I lost no time in following her. I reached Cuba, and after many +inquiries, traced her to the house of the family which had received +her beneath their roof. There I heard the history of her son's unhappy +death, at the moment he was about to confer independence upon his +mother and sister. _You_ were mentioned as a visiter after his death; +your _generous_ offer to share with Miss Euston as your wife the +wealth which should have been hers was dwelt on. All this aroused a +vague suspicion in my mind. I made minute inquiries, and traced you +through all the orgies of your dissipation. One night I was following +up the inquiry, and I entered a tavern much frequented by foreigners. +A man sat apart in gloomy silence. One of his comrades said-- + +"'Antoine grieves over the loss of his bird. All the money the +American paid him does not make him forget that he sold his best +friend!' + +"By an electric chain of thought, the incident which attended poor +Euston's last moments, occurred to me. I approached the man, and +addressed him in French, for I saw that he was a native of that +country. I spoke of his bird. He shook his head and said-- + +"'It is not the loss of the bird, monsieur, but the use that was made +of him, that troubles my conscience.' + +"In short, to condense a long story, I learned from Antoine, that he +remained in your lodgings several days, until the mackaw he sold to +you became sufficiently accustomed to you to be caressed without +biting. During that time you had a room darkened, and required him to +train the bird to fly at a light and overturn it. When he was +dismissed, his curiosity was excited, and he watched your movements. +He nightly dogged your steps, and traced you to the garden of the +villa. He stood within a few feet of you on the night of Euston's +death, and beheld the use to which you put his bird. His eyes, +accustomed to the gloom without, beheld your dark form glide to the +side of your victim. He saw your murderous hand pressed upon the +breast of the dying youth." + +"'T is false--false. I defy him to prove it." + +"It is true, sir--the evidence is such as would condemn you in any +court; and now listen to me. I offer you lenient terms, in +consideration of the ties of relationship which bind you to those you +have so cruelly oppressed. One third of the fortune for which you have +paid so fearful a price shall be yours, if you will sign a paper I +have with me, which will restore the remainder to Mrs. Euston. If you +refuse, I have in my pocket a writ of arrest, and the officers are in +the shrubbery awaiting my orders to execute it. Comply with my terms +and I suffer you to escape." + +Thus confronted by imminent danger, Barclay seemed to lose his courage +and presence of mind. He measured the floor with rapid steps a few +moments, and then turning to Atwood motioned for the paper, to which +he affixed his signature without uttering a word. + +"There is yet another condition," said Atwood. + +"Leave this country within forty-eight hours. If, after that time, I +am made aware of your presence within the jurisdiction of the United +States, I will have you arrested as a murderer. The peace of mind of +those I have rescued from your power shall not be periled by your +presence within the same land they inhabit." Barclay ground his teeth +with rage. + +"I _shall_ leave it, be assured, but not to escape from this absurd +charge." + +"Go then. I care not from what motive." + +Another instant, and Barclay had passed from the room. Edith and her +mother traveled to their former home in the beautiful land of Florida, +under the protection of Atwood, and there, amid rejoicing friends, +surrounded by all the happy associations of her bright youth, she gave +her hand to her faithful lover. + +Barclay perished in a street brawl, in a foreign land, and the whole +of her brother's estate finally devolved upon her. + + + + +A VOICE FOR POLAND. + +BY WM. H. C. HOSMER. + + + Up, for encounter stern + While unsheathed weapons gleam; + The beacon-fires of Freedom burn, + Her banners wildly stream; + Awake! and drink at purple springs-- + Lo! the "White Eagle" flaps his wings + With a rejoicing scream, + That sends an old, heroic thrill + Through hearts that are unconquered still. + + Leap to your saddles, leap! + Tried wielders of the lance, + And charge as when ye broke the sleep + Of Europe, at the call of France: + The knightly deeds of other years + Eclipse, ye matchless cavaliers! + While plume and penon dance-- + That prince, upon his phantom steed, + In Ellster lost your ranks shall lead. + + Flock round the altar, flock! + And swear ye will be free; + Then rush to brave the battle shock + Like surges of a maddened sea; + Death, with a red and shattered brand + Yet clinging to the rigid hand, + A blissful fate would be, + Contrasted with that darker doom + A branded brow--a living tomb. + + Speed to the combat, speed! + And beat oppression down, + Or win, by martrydom, the meed + Of high and shadowless renown; + Ye weary exiles, from afar + Came back! and make the savage Czar + In terror clutch his crown; + While wronged and vengeful millions pour + Defiance at his palace-door. + + Throng forth with souls to dare, + From huts and ruined halls! + On the deep midnight of despair + A beam of ancient glory falls: + The knout, the chain and dungeon cave + To frenzy have aroused the brave; + Dismembered Poland calls, + And through a land opprest, betrayed, + Stalks Kosciusko's frowning shade. + + + + +TO HER WHO CAN UNDERSTAND IT. + +BY MAYNE REID. + + + They tell me, lady, that thy heart is changed-- + That on thy lip there is another name; + I'll not believe it--though for life estranged-- + I know thy love's lone worship is the same. + The bee that wanders on the summer breath, + May wanton safely among leaves and flowers, + But by the honied jar it clings till death-- + There is no change for hearts that loved like ours. + + You may not mock me--'tis an idle game-- + The lip may lie, the eye with bright beguiling + May, from the world, conceal a suffering flame, + But 'tis the eye and not the heart is smiling; + And I, too, have that power of deceiving, + By the strong pride of an unfeeling will, + The cold and cunning world in its believing-- + What boots it all? The heart will suffer still. + + Comes there not o'er thy spirit, when 'tis dreaming + In the lone hours of the voiceless night, + When the sweet past like a new present seeming, + Brings back those rosy hours of love and light? + Comes there not o'er thy dreaming spirit then + Delicious joy--although 'tis but a vision-- + That we have met, caressed and kissed again, + And revel still among those sweets Elysian? + + Comes there not o'er thy spirit when it wakes, + And finds, with sleep, the vision too hath parted + A lone depression, till thy proud heart aches, + And from thy burning orb the tear hath started? + And with sad memories through thy bosom thronging, + Within thy heart's most secret deep recesses + Feel'st thou not then an agony of longing + To dream again of those divine caresses? + + To dream them o'er and o'er, or deem them real, + While penitence is speaking in thy sighs-- + For this, unlike thy dream, is not ideal-- + It brings the pallid cheek, the moistened eyes: + Then, lady, mock not love so deeply hearted, + With that light seeming which deceit can give-- + The love I promised thee, when last we parted, + Shall never be another's while _you_ live. + + +[Illustration: Engraved by W. E. Tu +A PIC NIC ON OLDEN TIME. +Engraved Expressly for Graham's magazine] + + + + +A PIC-NIC IN OLDEN TIME. + +BY QUEVEDO. + +[SEE ENGRAVING.] + + +Joy is as old as the universe, yet as young as a June rose: and a +pic-nic has of all places been its delight, since the little quiet +family _fêtes champêtres_ of Adam and Eve in the garden of Eden. So it +is of no especial consequence in what reign of what kingdom our clever +artist has laid his scene--and sooth to say, from the diversified and +pleasantly incongruous costume and accessories of the picture, it +might puzzle an uninitiated to tell. But we, who are in the secrets of +Maga, and to whom the very brain-workings of her poets and painters +are as palpable as the crystal curdling of the lake beneath the filmy +breath of the Frost King, of course know all about it, and will +whisper in your ear the key to the pretty harmonies of wood and sky +and happy faces which he has spread out in a sort of visible cavatina, +or dear little love-song, beneath your eye. + +It was a gay time at Sweetbriar Lodge--for the fair Alice Hawthorn had +just been married to the Squire of Deerdale, and the happy pair +(new-married people were even in those times happy, although they were +not so set down in the newspapers,) had determined to spend the +honeymoon quietly at home, like sensible people, instead of posting +off to Bath or Brighton; or mewing themselves up in some outlandish +corner of the country, where they could see and hear nothing but +themselves, until they were ready to commence the married life by +being cloyed with each other's society. The season was mid-summer, and +the weather so balmy and beautiful that after wandering about in the +woods and fields all day, and watching the moon creep stealthily up +the sky to view herself in the fountain, one felt a longing to make +his bed on the fresh turf under the katydid's bower, and sleep there. +Of course I don't mean the young and happy bridegroom. He never +dreamed of being absent from his Alice; and he even felt quite jealous +of her little sister Emma, who used sometimes to come and put her +laughing, roguish face and curly head between the lovers, as they were +sitting on the sofa or reclining on the green turf by the little +fountain. + +But Alice had another sister, older than herself, and who had already +refused several excellent offers of marriage--declaring that she +intended to live and die single, unless she should fall in love with +some wandering minstrel or prince in disguise, like Lalla Rookh. Her +name was Hortensia; but on account of her proud indifference to the +attentions and compliments which were every where offered to her +wonderful beauty, she was usually called Haughty Hawthorn--a name +which seemed to please her better than all the flatteries of which she +was the object. She was already twenty-two, and ripening into the full +magnificence of glorious womanhood--her heart yet untouched by the +electric dart of love, and her fancy free as the birds of air. + +Now it was quite natural that the gentle Alice, whom love had made so +happy, should willingly enter into a conspiracy with her husband and a +parcel of the young people of the neighborhood against the peace and +comfort of her haughty sister--deeming of course--as I myself am also +of opinion--that a young lady out of love ought to be supremely +miserable, whatever she herself may think about it. + +Keeping in view the peculiar requisites required by Haughty in a +lover, the plan was to get up an old-fashioned pic-nic, at which a +young friend of Squire Deerdale, who was studying for an artist, and +had just returned from Italy, where he had picked up a little music as +well as painting, should be introduced after a mysterious fashion, +which would be sure to inflame the imagination of the loveless lady. +The artist, according to the squire, was handsome as a prince and +eloquent as a minstrel, and his extensive practice in Rome had made +him perfect master of the fine arts, the art of making love included. +So the pic-nic was proposed that very evening, to take place the next +day. Hortensia, who was fond of frolick and fun as the best of them, +albeit not yet in love, fell at once into the snare; and the squire +carelessly led the conversation to turn upon the sudden and unexpected +arrival of the young Duke of St. James upon his magnificent estate +adjoining Sweetbriar Lodge, which he said had taken place that very +day. + +"The duke," said the squire, "is, as you all have heard, one of the +most romantic and sentimental youths in the world, and quite out of +the way of our ordinary extravagant, matter-of-fact young nobility. I +had the pleasure of meeting him when I was in Rome, and could not help +being charmed with him. He read and wrote poetry divinely, played the +mandolin like St. Cecilia, and sung like an improvisatore. I met him +to-day, as he was approaching home in his carriage, and found him, as +well as I could judge from a five minutes' conversation, the same as +ever. I say nothing--but should a fresh-looking, golden-haired, +dreamy-eyed youth be seen at our pic-nic to-morrow, I hope he will be +greeted with the courtesy and welcome due not only to a neighbor but a +man of genius." + +This adroitly concocted speech was drank in like wine by the +unsuspicious Hortensia. A duke! a poet! a romantic man of genius! What +was it made her heart beat so rapidly?--_her_ heart, that had never +beat out of time save over the page of the poet or the novelist--or +may be in the trance of some beautiful midnight dream, such as love to +hover around the pillows of fair maidens, and who can blame them? + +The next morning, as Willis says of one of his fine days, was astray +from Paradise; and bright and early our pic-nickers, comprising a +goodly company of young people, married and single, with several +beautiful children, including of course the roguish Emma, were on the +field selected for the day's campaign. It was a lovely spot. Under a +noble oak whose limbs, rounded into a leafy dome, shed a palpitating +shadow around a sweet little fountain, guarded by a marble naiad, +gathered the merry company upon the green velvet ottoman, +daisy-spangled, that ran around this splendid natural saloon, bower +and drawing-room combined. The day had fulfilled the golden promise of +the early morning; the air, impregnated with a sparkling, effervescing +sunshine, was as bewitching as the breath of champagne foam, and our +adventurers were in the liveliest and gayest spirits. + +Noon was culminating, and the less excitable and more worldly portion +of the company began to be thinking seriously of the bountiful +refection which had been provided for the grand occasion. Hortensia, +it was observed by Squire Deerdale and his wife, and the others who +were in the secret, had seemed absent and thoughtful, all the morning, +and little Emma had teased her sufficiently for not playing with her +as usual. At this moment a young man was seen coming down the broad +sloping glade at the foot of which the party were seated. The squire +immediately rose and welcomed the stranger, introducing him to his +bride and sister-in-law, and expressing his pleasure that he had come. +"We almost began to fear," he added, "that you had forgotten our +humble festival." + +"A _fête_ thus embellished," replied the stranger, bowing with +peculiar grace to the ladies, and glancing admiringly at Hortensia, +"is not an affair to be so easily forgotten by a wanderer who comes, +after years of exile, to revive beneath the blue skies and bluer eyes +of his native land." + +"But your mandolin, Signor Foreigner; I hope you have not forgotten +that?" + +"Oh no indeed," returned the stranger with a musical laugh, "I never +forget my little friend, whose harmonies have often been my only +company. Here it comes," pointing to a lad who just then came up, +bearing a handsome though outlandish-looking guitar gingerly across +his arm. + +Another of the party had also brought his guitar, and the two were +soon tinkling away at different parts of the grounds--the latter +surrounded by half a dozen young men and women, and several beautiful +children; while the stranger, throwing himself on the grass at the +feet of Hortensia, upon whose lap nestled the little Emma, began a +simple ballad of the olden time--while the squire and his bride stood +against the old oak behind Hortensia. At length the strain of the +young musician changed, subsiding into low and plaintive undulations. + +"It is time for us to go," whispered Alice to her husband; "we are +evidently _de trop_ here"--and the wedded pair glided noiselessly off, +casting mischievous glances at the haughty Hortensia, who sat +absorbed in the music, and tears of sympathy and rapture ready to fall +from her eyes. It was a clear case of love at first sight. + +From this pleasant reverie both musician and listener were suddenly +roused by little Emma, who, raising her head and shaking back the long +ringlets from her face, exclaimed, + +"Oh, sister, hear that! There goes the champagne, and I am so hungry. +Come, let us go to dinner." + +"Excuse me, madam," exclaimed the stranger, ceasing to play and +springing to his feet, "your beautiful little monitor is right. I was +already forgetting myself and venturing to dream as of old;" and he +offered his arm to Hortensia, with that polite freedom not only +permitted, but enjoined, by the etiquette of the pic-nic. + +"And do you call it forgetfulness to dream?" inquired Hortensia. + +"With so fair a reality before me, yes; but at other times to dream is +to live." + +"Oh, yes, it _is_ nice to dream!" broke in the little Emma. "Almost as +nice as a wedding. Now last night I dreamt that you were married, +Haughty, like sister Alice." + +A lambent rosy flame seemed to envelop for an instant the beautiful +Hortensia, disappearing instantly, yet leaving its scarlet traces on +cheek and brow. + +"What say you, my pretty one," said the stranger, patting the lovely +child upon the head, "what say you to a sandwich and a glass of wine +with me, here on the greensward? (They had now approached the +_table_--if a snow-white damask spread upon the velvet grass, and +loaded with tempting viands could be called so.) Is not that better +than dreams?" + +"I love wine, sir, but mamma and sister say I shouldn't drink it, +because it makes my eyes red. Now _your_ eyes are as bright as stars. +Do you drink wine?" + +It was the stranger's turn to blush. And this little childish prattle +seemed to have removed the barrier of strangership from between the +two young people, who exchanged glances of a sort of merry vexation, +and seemed to understand each other as if they were old friends. + +That was a merry meal, "all under the greenwood tree," and on the +margin of that sweet little fountain, whose waters came up to the very +lip of the turf, which it refreshed with a sparkling coolness that +ever renewed the brightness of the flowers upon its bosom. After the +dinner was over, a dance was proposed, and the services of the +handsome stranger, as musician, were cheerfully offered and promptly +accepted. It was observed, however, that Hortensia, usually crazy for +dancing, strolled pensively about with little Emma at her side, and at +length seated herself on a little grassy bank, remote from the +dancers, yet where she could overlook the scene. + +There was a little pause in the dance, and Squire Deerdale approached +the stranger and whispered, + +"Do you like her?" + +"She's as beautiful as Juno, but I dare not hope that she would ever +love a poor vagabond like me. She deserves a prince of the blood, at +the very least." + +"Never mind!--_Vedremo_, as we say in Italy;" and with a laugh the +young man bounded again into the dance, while the stranger redoubled +his attention to his guitar. + +The day began to wane, and the shadows of a neighboring mountain to +creep slowly across the lea; and yet, so absorbed was that gay company +in the merry pleasures of the day, that hours glided by unnoticed; and +it was not until the round, yellow moon rose over the eastern hills, +as if peeping out to see the sun set, that they thought of breaking up +a scene of little less than enchantment. + +The stranger scarcely left the side of Hortensia, who seemed +completely subdued and fascinated by the serious eloquence, the +inexhaustible brilliancy of his conversation, as well as enthralled by +the classic beauty of his face, and the respectful yet tender glances +which he from time to time cast upon her face. It may also be supposed +that the hints casually dropped by the squire the night before, +respecting his distinguished acquaintance, the young Duke of St. +James, had not been without their effect. Sooth to say, however, that +the hitherto cold and impassive Hortensia was really in love, and that +she had too much self-respect to make any conditions in the bestowal +of her admiration. She was haughty, proud and ambitious--yet at the +same time high-minded and generous where her feelings were really +interested. + +Much may be accomplished in an afternoon between two congenial hearts +that meet for the first time; and it is not at all surprising that on +their way home the stranger and Hortensia should have lingered a +little behind the rest of the party, engaged in deep and earnest talk. + +"Beautiful being," whispered the stranger, "I have at length found my +heart's idol, whom in dreams I have ever worshiped. What need of long +acquaintanceship between hearts made for each other? Lady, I love +you!" + +"Sir, sir, I beg you to pause. You know not what you are saying--you +cannot mean that--" + +"But I tell you he does mean it, though," exclaimed a merry voice +close at the lady's elbow; and turning round, she saw her mischievous +brother-in-law, who had been demurely following their tardy footsteps. + +"Brother! you here! I--really--am quite astonished!" + +"And," interrupted the stranger, while a dark flush came over his +face, "allow me to say, Squire Deerdale, that I also am astonished at +this violation of the rights of a friendship even so old and sincere +as ours." + +"Well, well, I beg your pardon, fair lady; and as for you, sir, after +you have heard my explanation, I shall be prepared to give you any +satisfaction you may require. You must know, then, my dear old friend, +that from a few careless words I dropped last evening, by way of joke, +this young lady has imbibed the idea that you are the young Duke of +St. James in disguise; and for the purpose of preventing any +misunderstandings for the future, it is requisite that my sister and +my friend Walter Willie, the artist, should comprehend one another's +position fully." + +"Good heavens! madam, you cannot believe that I was accessory to this +mad prank of your brother's? Do not believe it for the world." + +"No, no, I acquit you and every body but myself. I am sure I intended +no harm by my thoughtless joke. Come, come, make up the matter at +once, so that I may hasten back to Alice, who will begin to grow +jealous, directly." + +"Madam, dear madam, (Hortensia turned away her head with an imperious +gesture,) I have only to beg your pardon for having too long intruded +upon your attention, and to take my leave. The poor artist must still +worship his ideal at a distance. For him there is but the world of +imagination. No such bright reality as being beloved rests in his +gloomy future. Farewell!" and the young man, bowing for a moment over +the hand of Hortensia, withdrew. + +"Brother, brother, what have you done!" passionately exclaimed the +beauty, in a voice choked by sobs. "For a foolish joke you have driven +away the only being who has ever interested my lonely heart. And now I +can never, never be happy again." + +"But, dear Hortensia, would you stoop to love a mere artist?" + +"Stoop, sir,--stoop! I know not what you mean. Think you so meanly of +me as to believe I would sell myself for wealth and a title? Proud I +may be--but not, I thank God, mercenary nor mean. And what a lofty, +noble spirit is that of your friend! What lord or duke could match the +height of his intellect or the gorgeousness of his imagination. Oh, +too soon my beautiful dream is broken!" and the young lady, all power +of her usual self-restraint being lost, wept like a child upon the +shoulder of her brother. + +"Nay, nay, sister dear, weep not," at length said the squire, tenderly +raising her head and leading her homeward. "All is not lost that is in +danger. And so that you really _have_ lost your hard little heart to +my noble, glorious friend, I'll take care that it is soon +recovered--or at any rate another one quite as good. Come, come, cheer +up! All will go well." + +The squire, although not usually rated as a prophet, predicted rightly +for once; for the very next day saw young Walter Willie at Sweetbriar +Lodge, with a face as handsome and happy as the morning. Hortensia was +ill, and must not be disturbed; and at this information his features +suddenly became overcast, as you may have seen a spring sky by a thick +cloud, springing up from nobody knows where. However, the squire +entered directly after, and whispered a few words to his guest, which +seemed to restore in a measure the brightness of his look. + +"And you really think, then, that I may hope?" + +"Nay, my friend, you may do as you like about that. All men may hope, +you know Shakspeare says. But I tell you that Hortensia has fallen in +love with your foolish face--it's just like her!--and that's all about +it. Come in and take some breakfast. Oh, I forgot--you've no appetite. +Of course not. Well, you'll find some nice fresh dew in those +morning-glories yonder, and I will rejoin you in a minute. We 'll make +a day of it." + +That evening the moon shone a million times brighter, the sky was a +million times bluer, and the nightingale sung a million times sweeter +than ever before. At least so thought the beautiful Hortensia and her +artist-lover, as they strolled, arm-in-arm, through the woody lawn +that skirted the garden of Sweetbriar Lodge, and held sweet converse +of immortal things by gazing into each other's eyes. And so ends our +veracious history of the Pic-Nic in Olden Time. + + + + +TO THE VIOLET. + +BY H. T. TUCKERMAN. + + + Sweet trophy of life's morning, fresh and calm, + Dropped from the gleanings of relentless time, + How from thy dainty chalice steals the balm + That hung like incense o'er its dewy prime! + + The lily's stateliness thou dost not own, + Nor glow voluptuous of the damask rose, + Thou canst not emulate the laurel's crown, + Nor, like the Cereus, watch while all repose. + + And these gay rivals of parterre and field + May freely drink the sunshine and the dew, + But only unto thee does heaven yield + The pure reflection of her cloudless blue. + + Thy tint will sometimes darken till it wear + A purple such as decked the eastern kings, + And yet, like innocence, all unaware + Its tribute to the wind thy blossom flings. + + Symbol of what is cherished and untold, + Thy fragrance oft reveals thee to the sight, + Peering in beauty from the common mould, + As casual blessings the forlorn requite. + + Thy image upon Laura's robe was wrought, + O'er which her poet with devotion mused, + And gentle souls, I ween, have ever caught + From thee a solace that the world refused. + + The Tuscan flower-girls delight to cheer + Each pensive exile with thy scented leaves, + Fit largess of a clime to fancy dear, + Which a new blandishment from thee receives. + + Grief's frenzy, when it melts, of thee will rave, + As of a thing too winsome to decay, + And thus Laertes at his sister's grave + Bids violets spring from her unsullied clay. + + Lowly incentive to celestial thought! + We ne'er with listless step can pass thee by, + For thou with tender embassies art fraught, + Like the fond beaming of a northern eye. + + Hence thou art sacred to our human needs; + Laid on the maiden's white and throbbing breast + Thy delicate odor for the absent pleads, + And mourners strew thee where their idols rest. + + In those wild hours when feeling chafed its bound, + And deepened more that utterance was denied, + In thee persuasive messengers I found + That reached the haven of love's wayward tide. + + And I have borne thee to the couch of death + When naught remained to do but wait and pray, + And marked the sudden flush and quickened breath + That proved thee dear though all had passed away! + + + + +THEY MAY TELL OF A CLIME. + +TO ---- ----. + +BY CHARLES E. TRAIL. + + + They may tell of a clime more delightful than this, + The land of the orange, the myrtle and vine; + Where the roses blush red beneath Zephyr's warm kiss, + And the bright beams of summer unceasingly shine. + But I know a sweet valley, a beautiful spot, + Where the turf is so green, and the breezes are bland; + And methinks, if you'll share there my ivy-crowned cot, + There'll be no place on earth like my own native land. + + A palace 'neath Italy's star-covered sky, + Unblest by thy presence would desolate be; + But cheered by the light of thy soft beaming eye, + Ah! sweet were a tent in the desert with thee. + For 'tis love--O! 'tis love which thus hallows the ground, + And brightens the gloom of the anchorite's cell; + And the Eden of earth--wheresoe'er it be found-- + Is the spot where the heart's cherished idol doth dwell. + + Then come to my cottage--though cool be the shade, + And verdant the sod 'neath the wide-spreading bough-- + Where the wood-dove its nest 'mid the foliage hath made, + Yet lone is that cottage, and desolate now. + For as the green forest, bereft of the dove, + No more with sweet echoes would musical be-- + Even so is the rose-mantled bower of love, + Unblest and uncheered, if not gladdened by thee. + + + + +A DREAM WITHIN A DREAM + +BY C. A. WASHBURN. + + +I dreamed that for a long time I courted Charlotte--what need of +dreaming? It was true. Nevertheless I dreamed that for a long time I +courted Charlotte, and at last, which was not true, married her. And I +thought that Charlotte and I lived very happily together. + +She loved me better than she ever thought she could before we were +married, for I loved her exceedingly, and was very kind to her. + +I remember how long it was that I wooed her. Always hoping, though +sometimes fearing that she would never love me so as to marry me; how, +when at last we were married, and I carried her home to my pretty +cottage, I could hardly contain myself for joy; and when I saw her +seated in our own parlor on the wedding eve, I could not keep a tear +from trickling down my cheek; and how she kissed away the tear, and +when she knew the cause, how she burst into a flood of tears, and said +she would love me the better for my having loved her so; and how that +we were from that time wholly united in heart and sympathy. + +Then, in the course of time, we had two darling children, which we +both loved--and I thought my cup of happiness completed. I had been an +ambitious man in my youth, and had experienced much of the +disappointment incident to a life for fame. But when God had given us +two such lovely children, I thought it was abusing his mercy to +neglect them for the applause of the world--and so devoted myself +entirely to their welfare. If I worked hard and was inclined to feel +peevish and cross, I thought how that I was laboring to make happy, +and good, and great, the dear boys, and I forgot every thing else. If +I became tired of the turmoil of life, I was the more happy when I got +home, for the children were always waiting and glad to see me, and +their presence immediately banished all anxiety and care. They seemed +so happy when I came--for Charlotte used to teach them to prize my +presence by dating their pleasures by my arrival; that I thought it +joy enough for one mortal to have looked upon the impersonation of +innocence and joy in his own children. + +Then, when the boys were asleep, how we used to talk about them; how +anxious we were when either of them was restless or unquiet! How we +used to reckon on the joy they would give us in age, and how in the +happiness of our lot we shed tears of happines and joy! With what +fervor did we unite in prayer for their health and preservation, and +wish all the world as happy as we were. We became selfish in our joy, +and felt to care little for any thing but home, and in our enjoyment +of the gift we had like to have forgotten the Giver. + +But at length Charlie, the younger boy, was sick, and we feared he +would die. We then remembered in whose hands his life was, and, I +believe, ever after regarded our treasures as trusts committed to our +keeping. Charlie suffered great pain, but he complained not. His very +submission smote our hearts, and though we could not think he was to +die, yet we thought he was too good to live. Benny could no longer +smile upon us, but watched by his brother's bed without speaking or +moving, unless to do him some service. We felt anxious about Charles, +yet forbore to speak of our anxiety, though when he was asleep we +could no longer conceal our sorrow and fears. And when one day the +physician imprudently said in his hearing that he feared Charles would +die, he looked at him in surprise, as if he had not thought of that; +and kissing the fevered brow of his sick brother, he came and stood by +his mother's side, and looking in her face as much as to say you wont +let brother die, he saw a tear in the clear blue eye of his mother, +and he sobbed aloud; and Charlotte could contain herself no longer, +but dropped hot tears on his face faster than she could kiss them +away. Then I feared if Charlie should die lest Benny should die too; +and then I knew that Charlotte could not bear all this, and I prayed +in my heart to God for Charles. And the next day, when the good +physician said the danger was past, we felt to thank God that he had +so chastened our affections, and ever loved him the more. + +So we lived in love and happiness for many years, and all that time +not a shade of discord passed between us; and I often thought what a +dreary world this had been to me if Charlotte had never been mine. I +used to pity my bachelor neighbor, and, as I thought, I could see the +tear of disappointment in his eye when he witnessed my happy lot. I +saw it was a vision, and only the figure of Margaret, my once loved +and pretty sister, who existed then but in the land of spirits, was +before me. + +And I told Margaret of the vision, and could not repress a sigh that +it was not reality; and musing long on what I was, and what I might +have been had nature dealt with me more kindly, until the vision +returned. Again I lived the life of youth's fancy. + +But the boys now began to mingle a little with the world, and we +feared we were not equal to the task of educating them. We trembled +when we thought of the dangers before them, though we could not +believe it possible that they should ever do wrong. Alas! what trouble +was before us! + +I had carried home a box of strawberries, and set them in the pantry, +and setting myself down in the library, waited for Charlotte to come +home from shopping. I saw Charlie come from the pantry, but thought +nothing at the time, and when Benny came in, bade him bring them to me +that I might divide them between them--they were gone; Charles must +have taken them, for no one else had been in the pantry. I called him +to me, and asked if he had taken them. I asked without concern, for I +knew if he had, he did it supposing it to be right. He said, "No, +sir." "Ah," said I, "you did." He then inquired what ones I meant, and +I told him, and told him he must confess it, or I must punish him. But +when I talked so seriously of punishment, he seemed confounded. He +turned pale, and only said, "I did not do it." That was a trying +moment; and when Charlotte came in, we considered long and anxiously +what we ought to do. Should we let the theft go unpunished, and the +falsehood to be repeated. Again we urged him to confess. The answer +was still the same. There was no alternative but a resort to what I +had prayed Heaven might spare me. I punished him severely, but he +confessed not. I wished I had not begun, but now I must go on. I still +increased the castigation, and it was only when I told him that I +would stop when he owned the theft, and not before, that he confessed +he had taken the berries. + +After this cruel punishment he went out and found Benny, who had been +crying piteously all the time, and then my two boys went and hid +themselves. I would have suffered the rack to have recalled that hour. +It was too late. On going into the kitchen shortly after, I found a +poor woman of the neighborhood with the box, which she said her +thievish son had confessed he stole from the pantry. Perhaps some +parents imagine the feelings of Charlotte and myself when we made this +discovery. But they are few. The boys both shunned us, and we dreaded +to see them. But at last we sent for them to come in, and they dared +not refuse to obey. I took Charles in my arms. I asked him to forgive +me; I told him who took the berries; I shed tears without measure; I +begged him to forgive me--to kiss me as he was wont. He could not do +it. It was cold and mechanical. His little heart seemed broke. Had he +died I thought I could have borne it, but I could not endure this. +When he slept he was fitful and troubled; ah! his troubles could not +be greater than mine. I slept not that night; no, nor for many nights +after that; but I watched him in his sleep, and many a hot tear did I +drop on his cheek, which he wiped off as poison; and for many weeks I +would rise several times every night, and go and gaze on his yet +pretty face, on which was stamped the curse for my own cruel haste. + +In the midst of these sore trials, the lovely face of Margaret again +appeared before me, and again the vision vanished into nothing. And I +told her this part of the dream, and even then could not suppress a +tear that it was a dream, and that the children of W---- could never +have an existence or a name. + +Then the kind Margaret spoke words of comfort to me, and made me +repress the half-formed feeling of discontent. + +"Have you not," said she, "said you would be satisfied for only one +hour of the love of Charlotte?" + +"True," I replied, "and that dream was worth more than all my life +before." + +"Have you not known in that the joys of a parent, and have you not +seen what sorrows and trials might have been yours, from which you +have now escaped? And do you now complain of your lot, W----? You know +not the designs of Providence. Will not Charlotte be yours in the +world to come?" + +"God grant it!" said I; "but where will be Benny and Charles? They can +never be, and I shall die, and the flame of parental love will burn in +me, and never can it have an object." + +"Hush you!" said Margaret, "cannot God give you in the other world +those spirits of fancy? Did you not enjoy them in the dream, and +cannot the same power make you enjoy them in Elysium? Is it nothing +that God has done for you in showing you what might have been, and +what can be _there_? Are you still ungrateful, and do you still +distrust his goodness? Is it nothing that he has kept you from +temptation, and that you have so clear a conscience? Will you not be +worthy of Charlotte in heaven; and have you no gratitude for all this? +Have you not dear friends still; and will not Margaret be a +guardian-angel to you so long as you sojourn in this valley of tears?" + +"Ah!" said I, "I am blest beyond my deserts, and I will no more +complain, but thank my heavenly Father for the dream-children he hath +given me." + +I felt reproved by the words of Margaret, for I felt I had often +indulged in useless repinings; and I determined I would do so no more, +but patiently await my time to enjoy the loved ones, both real and +ideal, in heaven. I again turned to speak to Margaret--but Margaret +had vanished to the land of spirits, and I was alone, the solitary man +I had long been. It was but a dream within a dream. + + + + +PASSED AWAY. + +BY W. WALLACE SHAW. + + + With wearied step, and heavy heart, + O'erburdened with life's woes-- + My soul bowed down with grief and care + The orphan only knows-- + I strayed along old ocean's shore, + Where I had wandered oft before, + My grief to hide from men; + + I listened--something seemed to say-- + The joys that once did fill thy breast + Where, oh! where are they? + A voice that mingled with the roar + Of dashing waves against the shore, + In hollow tone, replied-- + "They _bloomed_; and _died_!" + + + + +AN EVENING SONG, + +BY PROFESSOR WM. CAMPBELL. + +[AN EXTRACT.] + + + Lyre of my soul, awake--thy chords are few, + Feeble their tones and low, + Wet with the morning and the evening dew + Of ceaseless wo. + The time hath been to me and thee, my lyre, + When soul of fire + Was ours, and notes and aspirations bold + Of higher hopes and prouder promise told-- + Those days have flown-- + Now we are old, + Old and alone! + + Old in our youth--for sorrow maketh old, + And disappointment withereth the frame, + And harsh neglect will smother up the flame, + That else had proudly burned--and the cold + Offcasting of affection will repel + The warm life-current back upon the heart, + And choke it nigh to bursting--yet 't is well, + And wise-intended, that the venomed dart + Shall bear its sure and speedy remedy. + Why should the wretched wish to live? to be + One in this cold wide world--ever to feel + That others feel not--wounds that will not heal-- + A bruised, though yet unbroken spirit's strife-- + A waning and a wasting out of life-- + A longing after loving--and the curse + To know + One's self unknown-- + In secrecy a hopeless hope to nurse-- + Down to the grave to go + Unloved--alone! + + Yet not alone! Pardon, thou gentle breeze, + That comest o'er the waters with the tread + Of beauty stealing to the sufferer's bed, + To cool the burning brow, and whisper peace. + Pardon, ye sweet wild flow'rets, that each morn + Woo us to brush the dew-drop from the lid + Of tearful innocence, and meekly warn + Of worth in garb of lowliest texture hid. + Beings of gentlest life, ye murmuring streams, + Lull of our waking, music of our dreams, + Ye things of artless merriment, that throw + Around you gladness, wheresoe'er ye flow-- + And ye dark mountains, down whose changeful sides + The mystic guardian, giant shadow strides, + Whose kindly frown, howe'er the storms prevail, + Peace and repose ensureth to the vale-- + Ye tall proud forests, that forever sway + In kingly fury, or in graceful play-- + Ye bright blue waters whose untiring drip + Against this island shore doth lightly break, + Gentle and noiseless as the parting lip + Of dreaming infant on its mother's cheek, + Pardon my rash averment--pardon, ye + Flow'rets and streamlets, mountains, woods and waves, + That pour into the soul a melody, + Like to the far down music of the caves + Of ocean, heard not, felt not, save within, + Seeking to joy the darker depths to win-- + Oh! while your sweet and sacred voices steal + Into my spirit, as the joyous fall + Of the warm sunbeam on the frozen rill, + To wake the voice that slumbereth, and call + To bear you company + In your glad hymnings, let the wretched own + He cannot be + Alone! + + Never alone!--awake, my soul--on high + The glorious sun his thousand rays has flung + Athwart the vaulted sky-- + Lo! there the heavens their mighty harp have strung, + The gold, the silver and the crimson chord, + To hymn their evening hymn unto the Lord. + Hark! heard ye not that glorious burst of song, + Which, touched by hands unseen, those chords sent forth, + Bidding the attuned spheres the notes prolong + Deeper and louder, till the trembling earth + Catcheth the thrilling strain-- + Echoeth back again-- + From the bosom of ocean a voice + Pealeth forth, and the mountains rejoice + And the plains and the woods and the valleys rebound, + And the Universe all is a creature of sound, + That runneth his race + Through the infinite regions of infinite space, + Till arrived at the throne + Of HIM who alone + Is worthy of honor and glory and praise. + + And it is ever thus--morn, noon and eve, + And in the still midnight, undying + Choirs of creation's minstrels weave + Sweet symphony of incense, vying + In wrapt intricacy of endless songs. + Ever, oh ever thus they sing, + But to our soul's dull ear belongs + Seldom the trancing sense + To list the universal worshiping, + Thrill with the glorious theme, and drink its eloquence. + + Mocking all our soul's desiring, + Distant now the notes are stealing, + And the minstrels high reining, + Drapery blue their forms concealing. + + + + +THE OCEAN-BURIED. + +COMPOSED, AND DEDICATED TO MISSES HARRIET AND MARY HALSEY, + +Of Blooming Grove, O. C., N. Y., + +BY MISS AGNES H. JONES. + + +=Andantino Soave=. + + +[Illustration: music] + + "Bury me not in the deep, deep sea." The words came faint and mournfully, + From the pallid lips of a youth who lay On the cabin couch where, + +[Illustration: music] + + day by day, He had wasted and pined, till o'er his brow The death shade + had slowly pass'd, and now, When the land and his fond loved home were + nigh, They had gath'rd around to see him die. + + + Let my death-slumber be where a mother's prayer + And sister's tears can be blended there. + Oh, it will be sweet ere the heart's throb is o'er, + To know, when its fountain shall gush no more, + That those it so fondly has yearn'd for will come, + To plant the first wild-flower of spring on my tomb. + Let me lie where lov'd ones can weep over me-- + Bury me not in the deep, deep sea! + + And there is another, her tears would be shed + For him who lays far in an ocean bed; + In hours that it pains me to think of now, + She has twin'd these locks and kiss'd this brow-- + In this hair she has wreathed shall the sea-snake hiss? + The brow she has press'd shall the cold wave kiss? + For the sake of that bright one that wails for me, + Bury me not in the deep, deep sea! + + "She hath been in my dreams"--his voice failed short, + They gave no heed to his dying prayer.-- + They have lowered him o'er the vessel's side-- + Above him hath closed the solemn tide. + Where to dip her wing the wild fowl rests-- + Where the blue waves dance with their foamy crests-- + Where the billows bound and the winds sport free, + They have buried him there, in the deep, deep sea. + + + + +REVIEW OF NEW BOOKS. + + + _Calaynos: A Tragedy. By George H. Boker, E. H. Butler + & Co. Philadelphia, pp. 218._ + +The spirit of English poetry has been for years eminently lyric; the +few attempts at the epic or dramatic having been laid aside, if not +permanently, at least for a time. The age has been too busy in working +out, with machinery and steam, its own great epic thought, to find +leisure to listen to any thing longer than a single bugle-blast +encouraging its advancement. We cannot but believe, however, if we may +be allowed an analogical inference, that the age is fast approaching +the climax of its utilitarian inventions, and that man, instead of +chasing through unknown regions every will-o-wisp of his brain, in the +hope of bringing it a captive to the Patent-office, will sit modestly +down to apply to their various uses the discoveries already made. Then +will the healthy feast of literature once more begin, and the public +cease to be surfeited by the watery hash which has been daily set +steaming before them. In the volume under consideration we think we +can discern the promise of the return of the good old spirit of +English poetry--of solid honest thought expressed in straight forward +Saxon. The story, which is one of the chivalrous days of Spain, while +it is devoid of trick is full of thrilling interest, and its style, +while it is eminently poetical, neither swells into bombast nor +descends to the foppery so common among the verse-makers of our day. +There is a stately, old-fashioned tread in the diction, as of a man in +armor, who, should he attempt to gather flowers of mere prettiness, +would crush them at the first touch of his iron gauntlet, and who, if +he seems to move ungracefully at times, owes his motion to his weight +of mail. Calaynos, the hero, is in every respect a nobleman, not only +in blood, but what is better, in mind. He is a scholar, one who, in +the words of Dona Alda his wife, + + --uses time as usurers do their gold, + Making each moment pay him double interest. + +He is a philosopher-- + + Things nigh impossible are plain to him; + His trenchant will, like a fine-tempered blade, + With unturned edge, cleaves through the baser iron. + +He is generous and has + + --a predetermined trust in man; + +and holds that + + He who hates man must scorn the Source of man, + And challenge as unwise his awful Maker. + +The character of Dona Alda is noble and womanly--her chief trait being +her great pride and jealous care of her honor. She conceives that no +one will brave the + + --peril, such as he must brook, + Who dares to love the wife of great Calaynos. + +Her maid, Martina, tells her that + + --Queens of Spain + Have had their paramours-- + +and she replies, + + --So might it be, + _Yet never hap to bride of a Calaynos_! + +Don Luis, the villain of the plot, thus paints his own picture: + + --I was not formed for good: + To what Fate orders I must needs submit: + The sin not mine, but His who made me thus-- + Not in my will but in my nature lodged. + + * * * * * + + I will grasp the stable goods of life, + Nor care how foul the hand that does the deed. + +Martina is admirably drawn; her wit is excellent, and as exhaustless +as it is keen. She says of Calaynos-- + + He looks on pleasure as a kind of sin, + Calls pastime waste-time---- + + * * * * * + + I heard a man, who spent a mortal life + In hoarding up all kinds of stones and ores, + Call one, who spitted flies upon a pin, + A fool to pass his precious lifetime thus. + +She says of Oliver, Calayno's secretary, + + Yes, there he goes-- + Backward and forward, like a weaver's shuttle, + Spinning some web of wisdom most divine. + +She addresses him thus-- + + Our clay, the preachers say, was warmed to life; + But yours, your dull, cold mud, was froze to being. + _I would not be the oyster that you are + For all the pearls of wisdom in your shell!_ + +All the persons of the play are vivid and life-like. With the +beginning of the third act the interest becomes intense, and nothing +could be more vigorous and touching than the action and depth of +pathos toward the close of the piece. Every page teems with fine +thoughts and images, which lead us to believe that the mine from which +this book is a specimen, contains a golden vein of poetry which will +go far to enrich our native literature. + + + _Literary Sketches and Letters: Being the Final + Memorials of Charles Lamb, Never before Published. By + Thomas Noon Talfourd. New York: D. Appleton & Co. 1 + vol. 12mo._ + +The present work is important in more respects than one. It was needed +to clear up the obscurity which rested on several points of Lamb's +life, and it was needed to account for some of the peculiarities of +his character. The volume proves that this most genial and kindly of +humorists was tried by as severe a calamity as ever broke down the +energies of a great spirit, and the frailties commonly associated with +his name seem almost as nothing compared with the stern duties he +performed from his early manhood to his death. The present volume is +calculated to increase that personal sympathy and love for him, which +has ever distinguished the readers of Lamb from the readers of other +authors, and also to add a sentiment of profound respect for his +virtues and his fortitude. The truth is that Lamb's intellect was one +of the largest and strongest, as well as one of the finest, among the +great contemporary authors of his time, and it was altogether owing to +circumstances, and those of a peculiarly calamitous character, that +this ample mind left but inadequate testimonials of its power and +fertility. He is, and probably will be, chiefly known as an original +and somewhat whimsical essayist, but his essays, inimitable of their +kind, were but the playthings of his intellect. + +Talfourd has performed his editorial duties with his usual taste and +judgment, and with all that sweetness and grace of expression which +ever distinguishes the author of Ion. His sketches of Lamb's +companions are additions to the literary history of the present +century. Lamb's own letters, which constitute the peculiar charm of +the book, are admirable--the serious ones being vivid transcripts of +his moods of mind, and some of them almost painful in their direct +expression of agony, and the semi-serious rioting in mirth, mischief +and whim, full of wit and meaning, and full also of character and +kindliness. One of his early letters he closes, as being from his +correspondent's "afflicted, headachey, sore-throatey, humble servant." +In another he calls Hoole's translation of Tasso "more vapid than +smallest small beer, 'sun-vinegared.'" In speaking of Hazlitt's +intention to print a political pamphlet at his own expense, he comes +out with a general maxim, which has found many disciples: "The first +duty of an author, I take it, is never to pay any thing." When Hannah +More's Coelebs in Search of a Wife appeared, it was lent to him by a +precise lady to read. He thought it among the poorest of common +novels, and returned it with this stanza written in the beginning: + + If ever I marry a wife + I'd marry a landlord's daughter, + For then I may sit in the bar, + And drink cold brandy-and-water. + +In speaking of his troubles toward the close of his life, he has a +strange, humorous imagination, in every way worthy of his peculiar +genius: "My bedfellows are cough and cramp; _we sleep three in a +bed_." + +The present volume is elegantly printed, and will doubtless have a +run. It is full of matter, and that of the most interesting kind. No +reader of Lamb, especially, will be without it. + + + + _Modern French Literature. By L. Raymond de Vericour. + Edited by W. S. Chase, A. M. Boston: Gould, Kendall & + Lincoln. 1 vol. 12mo._ + +This work is the English production of a native Frenchman, and was +written for one of Chambers's series of books for the people. It is +edited, with notes alluding particularly to writers prominent in the +late French Revolution, by a young American scholar, who has recently +resided in France. The book, though deficient and sometimes incorrect +in details, deserves much praise for its general correctness and +accuracy. The author, though by no means a critic of the first class, +is altogether above the herd of Grub street hacks who commonly +undertake the popularizing of literary history. He is no Winstansley +and no Cibber. The range of his reading appears to be extensive. His +judgments are somewhat those of a school-master, but one of the +highest grade. There are several amusing errors relating to the +position of English authors, to some of which we cannot help alluding, +as they seem to have escaped the vigilant eye of the editor. Speaking +of Guizot and Sismondi as the leaders of the school of French +philosophical historians, he remarks that "the English language +possesses some good specimens of this class of history; the most +remarkable are Gibbon's Decline and Fall and the works of Mr. Millar." +This is as if the author had said that England possessed some good +specimens of the Romantic Drama, the most remarkable being +Shakspeare's Macbeth and the works of Mr. Colman. + +Again, in speaking of the novels of Paul de Kock, and protesting +against those English critics who call him the first writer of his +time and country, he says that it is as ridiculous as it would be in +Frenchmen to exalt the novels of Charles Dickens above Ivanhoe, +_Philip Augustus_ and Eugene Aram, The idea of a Frenchman thinking it +a paradox to rank Dickens above James, or even Bulwer, shows how +difficult it is for a foreigner, especially a Frenchman, to pass +beyond the external form of English literature. + +The author deserves the praise of being a sensible man, in the English +meaning of the phrase. There is one sentence in his introductory +which proves that his mind has escaped one besetting sin of the French +intellect, which has prevented its successful cultivation of politics +as a practical science. In speaking of the histories of Thiers and +Mignet, he says that they "have hatched a swarm of _Jeunes Prances_, +vociferating in their wild aberrations, emphatic eulogies on Marat, +Coulhon and Robespierre, and breathing a love of blood and +destruction, which they call the progressive march of events." + + + _Rise and Fall of Louis Philippe, Ex-King of the + French, Giving a History of the French Revolution from, + its Commencement in 1789. By Benj. Perley Poore, + Boston: Wm. D. Ticknor & Co. 1 vol. 12mo._ + +Of all the publications we have seen relating to Louis Philippe this +is the most complete and the most agreeable. The author, from his long +residence in Paris, and from his position as Historical Agent of the +State of Massachusetts, was enabled to collect a large mass of matter +relating to French history, and also to learn a great deal respecting +the Orleans dynasty, which would not naturally find its way into +print. The present volume, though it has little in relation to the +first French Revolution not generally known by students, embodies a +large number of important facts respecting Louis Philippe, which we +believe are now published for the first time. The biography itself has +the interest of a romance, for few heroes of novels ever were, in +imagination, subjected to the changes of fortune which Louis +encountered in reality. Mr. Poore's view of his character is not more +flattering than that which commonly obtains--on both sides of the +Atlantic. To sustain this disparaging opinion of his subject, however, +he is compelled to suppose policy and hypocrisy as the springs of many +actions which a reasonable charity would pronounce virtuous and +humane. It must be conceded that the conduct of the king during the +last few days of his reign was feeble, if not cowardly, but his +uniform character in other periods of his life was that of a man +possessing singular readiness and coolness in times of peril, and +encountering obstacles with a courage as serene as it was adventurous. + + + _The Tenant of Wildfield Hall. By Acton Bell, Author of + Wurthuring Heights.. New York: Harper & Brothers. 1 + vol. 12mo._ + +The appearance of this novel, so soon after the publication of +Wurthuring Heights, is an indication of Mr. Bell's intention to be a +frequent visiter, or visitation, of the public. We are afraid that the +personages he introduces to his readers will consist chiefly of one +class of mankind, and this class not the most pleasing. He is a +monomaniac on the subject of man's rascality and brutality, and crowds +his page with forcible delineations of offensive characters and +disgusting events. The power he displays is of a high but limited +order, and is exercised chiefly to make his readers uncomfortable. To +be sure the present novel is not so bad as Wurthuring Heights in the +matter of animal ferocity and impish diabolism; but still most of the +characters, to use a quaint illustration of an eccentric divine, "are +engaged in laying up for themselves considerable grants of land in the +bottomless pit," and brutality, blasphemy and cruelty constitute their +stock in trade. The author is not so much a delineator of human life +as of inhuman life. There are doubtless many scenes in The Tenant of +Wildfield Hall drawn with great force and pictorial truth, and which +freeze the blood and "shiver along the arteries;" but we think that +the author's process in conceiving character is rather logical than +imaginative, and consequently that he deals too much in unmixed +malignity and selfishness. The present novel, with all its peculiar +merits, lacks all those elements of interest which come from the +generous and gentle affections. His champagne enlivens, but there is +arsenic in it. + + + _Brothers and Sisters. By Frederika Bremer. Translated + by Mary Howitt. New York: Harper & Brothers._ + +This is by no means one of Miss Bremer's best productions, but it is +not on that account a commonplace production. The pathos, the +cheerfulness, the elevation, the sweet humane home-feeling of the +Swedish novelist, are here in much of their old power, with the +addition of universal philanthropy and the rights of labor. But we +fear that the original vein of our authoress is exhausted, and that +she is now repealing herself. It is a great mistake to suppose that a +new story, new names of characters, additional sentiments nicely +packed in new sentences, make a new novel, when the whole tone and +spirit of the production continually reminds the reader of the +authors previous efforts. It is no depreciation of Miss Bremer's +really fine powers to assert, that she lacks the creative energy of +Scott, or the ever active fancy and various observation of Dickens. + + + _Grantley Manor. By Lady Georgiana Fullerton. New York: + D. Appleton & Co. 1 vol. 12mo._ + +This is altogether one of the finest novels which have appeared for +many years. It is written with much beauty of style; evinces a +creative as well as cultivated mind, and contains a variety of +characters which are not only interesting in themselves, but have a +necessary connection with the plot and purpose. The mind of the author +has that combination of shrewdness and romantic fervor, of sense and +passion, so necessary to every novelist who desires to idealize +without contradicting the experience of common life. + + +EDITOR'S TABLE. + +To the readers of "Graham."--A series of misfortunes having bereft me +of any proprietory interest in this Magazine, the present publishers +have made a liberal arrangement with me, and for the future, the +editorial and pictorial departments of Graham's Magazine will be under +the charge of Joseph R. Chandler, Esq., J. Bayard Taylor, Esq., and +myself. + +It is due to the subscribers to "Graham" from me, to state, that from +the first hour I took charge of it, the warmest support and +encouragement were given me, and from two not very profitable +magazines "Graham" sprung at once into boundless popularity and +circulation. Money, as every subscriber knows, was freely expended +upon it, and an energy untiring and sleepless was devoted to its +business management, and had I not, in an evil hour, forgotten my own +true interests, and devoted that capital and industry to another +business which should have been confined exclusively to the magazine, +I should to-day have been under no necessity--not even of writing this +notice. + +I come back to my first love with an ardor undiminished, and an energy +not enervated, with high hopes and very bold purposes. What can be +done in the next three years, time, that great solver of doubts, must +tell. What a daring enterprize in business can do, I have already +shown in Graham's Magazine and the North American--and, alas! I have +also shown what folly can do, when business is forgotten--but I can +yet show the world that he who started life a poor boy, with but eight +dollars in his pocket, and has run such a career as mine, is hard to +be put down by the calumnies or ingratitude of any. Feeling, +therefore, that having lost one battle, "there is time enough to win +another," I enter upon the work of the "redemption of Graham," with +the very confident purposes of a man who never doubted his ability to +succeed, and who asks no odds in a fair encounter. + + GEO. R. GRAHAM. + + +An Acquisition.--Our readers will share in the pleasure with which it +is announced, that JOSEPH R. CHANDLER, Esq., the accomplished writer, +and former editor of "_The United States Gazette_," will hereafter be +"_one of us_" in the editorial management of Graham's Magazine. There +are few writers in the language who equal, and none excel Mr. Chandler +in graceful and pathetic composition. His sketches live in the hearts +of readers, while they are heart-histories recognized by thousands in +every part of the laud. An article from Mr. Chandler's pen may be +looked for in every number, and this will cause each number to be +looked for anxiously. + + +Editors Looking Up.--It is expected that an early number of "Graham" +will be graced with a portrait of our distinguished rival of the +"Lady's Book," that gentleman having "in the handsomest manner," as +they say in theatricals, sat for a picture of his goodly countenance +and proportions. At our command this has been transferred to steel, to +be handed over to the readers of "Graham," by Armstrong, an artist +whose ability is a fair warrant for a fine picture. Now if any of our +fair readers fall in love with Godey, we shall take it as a formal +slight, and shall insist upon having our face _run_ through an edition +of a magazine, to be gazed at and loved by thousands of as fine +looking people as can be crowded upon a subscription book. + + +W. E. TUCKER, ESQ.--We are very much gratified to be able to state, +that an arrangement has been made by the proprietors of "Graham" with +Mr. W. E. Tucker, whose exquisite title-pages and other gems in the +way of engraving are familiar to our readers, and that _for the year +1849, he engraves exclusively for Graham's Magazine_. + +This is but the beginning of arrangements proposed to revive the +original splendor of the pictorial department of this magazine, while +the literary arrangements are in the same style of liberality which +has ever distinguished "Graham." "There is a good time a-coming boys" +in 1849. + + +Sketches From Europe.--In the present absorbing state of affairs +abroad, it will please our readers to know, that we have engaged an +accomplished writer to furnish sketches of European manners, events +and society, such as escape the daily journals, for the pages of the +magazine. These sketches will occasionally be illustrated with +engravings of scenery and persons taken on the spot, and cannot fail +to add to the value of "Graham." + + +Gems From Late Readings.--We shall introduce into the next number of +Graham a department which we think cannot fail to be of interest, by +selections from authors which it is not possible for all the readers +of Graham to have seen. Culling such passages as may strike us in our +reading as worthy of wide circulation and preservation. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Graham's Magazine Vol XXXIII No. 4 +October 1848, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GRAHAM'S MAGAZINE, OCTOBER 1848 *** + +***** This file should be named 30116-8.txt or 30116-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/0/1/1/30116/ + +Produced by David T. Jones, Juliet Sutherland and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Canada Team at +http://www.pgdpcanada.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Graham. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + + + p {margin-top: .75em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: .75em; } + + p.main {font-style: normal; font-size: 100%; text-indent: 0em;} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 {text-align: center; clear: both;} + hr {width: 33%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em; margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; clear: both;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + font-family: serif} + + .cen {text-align: center; text-indent: 0em;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps; font-size: 95%;} + .right {text-align: right; padding-right: 2em;} + + .rfloat {position: absolute;right:18%; text-align: right; width: auto;} + + .blockquot {margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%; font-size: 90%;} + + + .pagenum {position: absolute; left: 2em; font-size: 70%; text-align: right; color: #A9A9A9} + + .totoc {position: absolute; left: 2em; font-size: 70%; text-align: right;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + .figleft {float: left; width: auto; clear: left; margin-left: + 0; margin-bottom: 0em; margin-top: + -0.5em; margin-right: 0.2em; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .figright {float: right; width: auto; clear: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 0; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + .tdr {text-align: right; vertical-align: bottom;} + + .tdl {text-align: left; padding-left: .25em;} + + .tdc {text-align: center; vertical-align: bottom;} + + + .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i1 {display: block; margin-left: 1em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 2em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i3 {display: block; margin-left: 3em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i4 {display: block; margin-left: 4em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i6 {display: block; margin-left: 6em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i10 {display: block; margin-left: 10em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i8 {display: block; margin-left: 8em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + + .linenum {position: absolute; left: 5%; right: 91%; } + + .footnotes {border: dashed 1px; margin-top: 1em; clear: both;} + .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + .footnote .label {float:left; width: auto; text-align: left;} + .fnanchor {font-size: .8em; text-decoration: none;} + + + </style> + </head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 30116 ***</div> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 633px;"> +<img src="images/illus180.png" width="633" height="800" +alt="THE UNMARRIED BELLE" title="" /></div> +<h4>THE UNMARRIED BELLE</h4> +<h5>Sir W. C. Rofs, R.A. A.B. Ross<br /> +Engraved Expressly for Graham's Magazine</h5> +<br /> + +<h1>GRAHAM'S MAGAZINE.</h1> +<br /> +<h4><span class="smcap">Vol. XXXIII.</span> + PHILADELPHIA, OCTOBER, 1848. + <span class="smcap">No.</span> 4.</h4> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h3>TABLE OF CONTENTS</h3><br /> +<table summary="TOC" width="80%"> +<tr><td><a href="#THE_UNMARRIED_BELLE"><b>THE UNMARRIED BELLE.</b></a></td> +<td class="tdr">181</td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#ZENOBIA"><b>ZENOBIA.</b></a></td> +<td class="tdr">185</td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#TEMPER_LIFES_EXTREMES"><b>TEMPER LIFE'S EXTREMES.</b></a></td> +<td class="tdr">187</td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#THE_CRUISE_OF_THE_RAKER"><b>THE CRUISE OF THE RAKER.</b></a></td> +<td class="tdr">188</td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#DREAMS"><b>DREAMS.</b></a></td> +<td class="tdr">196</td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#A_LEAF_IN_THE_LIFE_OF_LEDYARD_LINCOLN"> +<b>A LEAF IN THE LIFE OF LEDYARD LINCOLN.</b></a></td> +<td class="tdr">197</td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#THE_DEFORMED_ARTIST"><b>THE DEFORMED ARTIST.</b></a></td> +<td class="tdr">202</td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#A_FAREWELL_TO_A_HAPPY_DAY"><b>A FAREWELL TO A HAPPY DAY.</b></a></td> +<td class="tdr">203</td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#SAM_NEEDY"><b>SAM NEEDY.</b></a></td> +<td class="tdr">204</td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#THE_ANGEL_OF_THE_SOUL"><b>THE ANGEL OF THE SOUL.</b></a></td> +<td class="tdr">210</td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#SCOUTING_NEAR_VERA_CRUZ"><b>SCOUTING NEAR VERA CRUZ.</b></a></td> +<td class="tdr">211</td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#I_WANT_TO_GO_HOME"><b>I WANT TO GO HOME.</b></a></td> +<td class="tdr">213</td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#THE_HUMBLING_OF_A_FAIRY"><b>THE HUMBLING OF A FAIRY.</b></a></td> +<td class="tdr">214</td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#A_NIGHT_THOUGHT"><b>A NIGHT THOUGHT.</b></a></td> +<td class="tdr">219</td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#THE_BARD"><b>THE BARD.</b></a></td> +<td class="tdr">219</td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#THE_WILL"><b>THE WILL.</b></a></td> +<td class="tdr">220</td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#A_VOICE_FOR_POLAND"><b>A VOICE FOR POLAND.</b></a></td> +<td class="tdr">228</td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#TO_HER_WHO_CAN_UNDERSTAND_IT"><b>TO HER WHO CAN UNDERSTAND IT.</b></a></td> +<td class="tdr">228</td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#A_PIC-NIC_IN_OLDEN_TIME"><b>A PIC-NIC IN OLDEN TIME.</b></a></td> +<td class="tdr">229</td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#TO_THE_VIOLET"><b>TO THE VIOLET.</b></a></td> +<td class="tdr">232</td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#THEY_MAY_TELL_OF_A_CLIME"><b>THEY MAY TELL OF A CLIME.</b></a></td> +<td class="tdr">232</td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#A_DREAM_WITHIN_A_DREAM"><b>A DREAM WITHIN A DREAM.</b></a></td> +<td class="tdr">233</td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#PASSED_AWAY"><b>PASSED AWAY.</b></a></td> +<td class="tdr">234</td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#AN_EVENING_SONG"><b>AN EVENING SONG.</b></a></td> +<td class="tdr">235</td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#THE_OCEAN-BURIED"><b>THE OCEAN-BURIED.</b></a></td> +<td class="tdr">236</td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#REVIEW_OF_NEW_BOOKS"><b>REVIEW OF NEW BOOKS.</b></a></td> +<td class="tdr">239</td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#EDITORS_TABLE"><b>EDITOR'S TABLE.</b></a></td> +<td class="tdr">240</td></tr> +</table> +<br /><br /> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_UNMARRIED_BELLE" id="THE_UNMARRIED_BELLE"></a>THE UNMARRIED BELLE.</h2> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span> +<hr class="short" /> +<h4>BY ENNA DUVAL.</h4> +<hr class="short" /> + +<h5>[SEE ENGRAVING.]</h5> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Talk not of wasted affection, affection never was wasted;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If it enrich not the heart of another, its waters returning<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Back to their springs, like the rain, shall fill them full of refreshment;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That which the fountain sends forth returns again to the fountain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Patience; accomplish thy labor; accomplish thy work of affection!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sorrow and silence are strong, and patient endurance is godlike;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Therefore accomplish thy labor of love, till the heart is made godlike,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Purified, strengthened, perfected, and rendered more worthy of heaven!<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Longfellow's Evangeline.</span></p> + + +<p>I was loitering beside my mother's chair, in her +drawing-room, one day on my return from school, +listening to the conversation between her and some +morning visiters; they were discussing most earnestly +the merits of a reigning belle.</p> + +<p>"She is, indeed, perfectly beautiful," exclaimed +my mother. "I looked at her the other evening, +when I saw her at the last concert, and thought a +more lovely creature could not exist. The music +excited her, and her cheek was delicately flushed, +which heightened the brilliancy of her eyes; her +lovely lips were just half apart and trembling with +feeling. Then she understands so well the art and +mystery of dressing. While other young ladies +around her were in the full pride of brilliant <i>costume</i>, +the eye felt freshened and relieved when looking at +her—there was such a repose in her <i>demi-toilette</i>. +The simple white dress was so pure and chaste in +its effect, displaying only her lovely throat, and her +beautiful chestnut-brown hair was gathered up carelessly +but neatly, while over one tiny ear fell a rich +cluster of ringlets; then, with all her beauty and exquisite +taste, she is so unconscious, so unstudied. +That the world should call Mary Lee a beauty, I do +not wonder; but that society should pronounce her a +belle, is, indeed, a surprise to me—she is so unassuming, +so free from art and <i>affectation</i>."</p> + +<p>"So unlike her mother," exclaimed a lady, eagerly. +"I think Mary's success in society is as gratifying +as unexpected to Mrs. Lee. She delayed her <i>entrée</i> +into society as long as she could, and used to lament +most piteously to me the trouble she expected to +have with her, from her total want of animation and +spirit. But now she seems to have entirely forgotten +her former misgivings, for she takes many airs on +herself about Mary's popularity, talking all the while +as though scarcely any one was good enough for +the husband of the daughter she pronounced one +year ago a stupid, inanimate creature."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" said a gentleman, laughing, "the tie now +is between young Morton and Langley, I believe. +As Langley is the more <i>distingué</i> of the two, I suppose +the mother will favor him; but if one can +judge from appearances, the daughter prefers Harry +Morton."</p> + +<p>"I can assure you," interrupted Mr. Foster, an intimate +friend of our family, "the daughter has quite +as much admiration for the rich Mr. Langley as the +mother. There is a little incident connected with +that same concert Mrs. Duval speaks of, that convinces +me of the daughter's powers of management."</p> + +<p>"Shame on you, Philip Foster!" said my mother, +"you should not talk thus of any lady, much less of +Mary Lee."</p> + +<p>"What was the incident, Mr. Foster?" eagerly +inquired the other ladies.</p> + +<p>"Yes, do tell us, Phil," urged his gentleman +friend.</p> + +<p>My mother looked reproachfully at Mr. Foster, +but he shook his head laughingly at her, as he said,</p> + +<p>"Hear me first, dear Mrs. Duval, before you +judge. I was at Mrs. Lee's two or three mornings +since. Several visitors were in the drawing-rooms, +among them Harry Morton, as usual. I was looking +at a new and costly collection of engravings on the +<i>commode</i> table, when I overheard Harry Morton +ask Miss Lee if he should join their party at the concert +the next evening. She replied that she regretted<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span> +they were not going, for she had already promised +her mother to dine and spend the evening quietly +with an old friend. The next evening at the concert +the whole Lee party were there, and our belle, Miss +Mary, was brought in by young Langley, just newly +arrived from Europe. The unconscious <i>demi-toilette</i> +Mrs. Duval speaks so admiringly of, had the +desired effect. Langley's taste has been chastened +by a voyage over the Atlantic; the noisy over-dressing +of his countrywomen would, of course, +annoy his delicate sense—therefore was the simple +home costume adopted in preference, and the "<i>available</i>" +Mr. Langley secured as an admirer."</p> + +<p>"I do not believe any such thing, Philip!" exclaimed +my mother, indignantly. "I will answer +for it, there was some mistake. Mary Lee would +scorn a falsehood, and is entirely above all artifice +or design. Mrs. Lee is said to be maneuvering and +worldly; if she is, her daughter is entirely free from +such influences."</p> + +<p>"How did Morton take it, Phil?" asked the other +friend, laughingly.</p> + +<p>"He was with me," replied Mr. Foster, evidently +enjoying with some little malice my kind mother's +annoyance, "we had dropped into the concert by +chance together. He looked thunderstruck, but said +nothing, and did not approach her during the whole +evening. She knew he was there, however, for I +saw her return his cold bow in a painfully embarrassed +manner."</p> + +<p>The entrance of some other visiters, connected with +the Lees, put an end to the conversation. That +night, when my nurse was undressing me for bed, +I said,</p> + +<p>"What's a belle, Katy?"</p> + +<p>"A very rich and beautiful young lady," replied +my nurse, "who has plenty of lovers, and gets +married very soon."</p> + +<p>"Will I ever be a belle?" I innocently inquired, +as she gathered up my rebellious hair under my cap.</p> + +<p>"No," she replied, in impatient tones, "your +hair is too straight, and your skin too yellow; but +you must do as you're told to, or else nobody will even +love you; so go to sleep right away."</p> + +<p>I was silenced, and thus obedience was obtained +by appealing to my love of approbation. Many +years passed, bringing me to womanhood, when I +discovered the truth of Nurse Katy's reason why I +should not be a belle. Other people decided that +my "hair was too straight, and my skin too yellow," +to use Katy's homely, rough words; but her <i>brusque</i> +admonition, that made me go to sleep so quickly +when a child, acted upon me as a woman. My approbativeness +once roused, I managed, despite my +want of personal attractions, to secure a host of +friends; and the lesson I then learned, to please +others rather than myself for the sake of gaining +their love, has caused my life thus far to be very +sunny and happy, even more so than if I had been +the belle my childish fancy desired.</p> + +<p>One of Nurse Katy's principal attributes of a belle, +however, Mary Lee was deficient in. She did not +get married at all—and Mary Lee she remained all +her life. But she was one of the loveliest old maids +in the world, and quite as popular in our circle as +she had been in her own. She had been confined +many years with an invalid mother and paralytic +father, but after their death some time, she re-entered +society; and her house was the favorite resort of the +new set of young people, as it had been in her young +days. She gave the most delightful parties, planned +the most pleasant enjoyments for us, and although +acknowledging herself to be an old maid, she still +retained her youthful feelings unimpaired.</p> + +<p>Her mind remained in a fresh, healthy state, and +her disposition was still sweet and joyous. How we +all loved her; she was our confidante, adviser and +friend. She was still pretty, and might have proved +a very formidable rival had she chosen to enter +society as a young lady; but she preferred being regarded +by us as an elder friend. The young ladies +grouped around her as younger sisters; and one half +the young gentlemen would have married her <i>instanter</i>, +notwithstanding she was ten or fifteen years +their senior. Old maid as she was, strange to tell, +she was a promoter of marriages. The ill-natured +called Mary Lee a match-maker. She certainly did +interest herself very much with lovers, fathoming all +the little mysteries of their love-quarrels, and setting +every thing quite straight, even when they seemed +in inextricable confusion.</p> + +<p>Miss Lee had been very fond of my mother, and +extended to me the same regard, therefore I was, +notwithstanding the difference in our ages, on a more +intimate footing with her than her other young +friends. One day, as we were discussing the merits +of an approaching wedding, the conversation assumed +a confidential tone.</p> + +<p>"Indeed, Enna," she exclaimed, laughingly, +"there is nothing more interesting to me than a +couple of lovers full of romance, poetry, and perfectly +blind and uncaring as to the future. I love to +watch them in courtship, lend them a helping hand +in the quicksands of that dangerous but delicious +season; and then it makes me so happy to congratulate +them after their troubles are all over, and +they are happily married."</p> + +<p>"Ah! if they only could be sure of happiness," I +replied.</p> + +<p>"Shame on you for that old maid's croak!" she +said, with a bright look; "those who are not happy +in married life, would never be happy in any situation. +There should be no old maids or old bachelors, +Enna; we would all be happier married; we fail in +fulfilling our missions when we remain single. Hunt +up a lover, Enna; let me watch your courtship, and +rejoice over your wedding. As a clever friend of +mine once said, we think poetry as lovers, but in +married life we act true poetry."</p> + +<p>I opened my eyes with astonishment, and innocently +asked, "Why is it, then, you have never +married?"</p> + +<p>A shadow crossed over her face, and I felt a desire +to recall the question, for I feared I had called up disagreeable +reminiscences, but the next instant her +countenance was as beaming and calm as before.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I will tell you, Enna," she said, as she caressingly +rested her head on my shoulder, "why I have never +married; but to do that I must relate the history of +my rather uneventful life. My story has but little +interest, but it will gratify the curiosity of one who +loves me. My childhood was spent with an old +aunt. She took me when I was a delicate wee +thing, and I remained with her until her death, +which took place when I was nearly grown. She +was a dear, good old lady, and with her my life +passed most happily; my short visits home gave me +little pleasure, for my mother was a very worldly, +ambitious woman, and displayed but little tenderness +for me, which, when contrasted with my aunt's +fondness and indulgence, made me feel quite as a +stranger in my family; and when Aunt Mary died, +I wept as bitterly, and felt as lonely and bereft of +friends, as though I did not possess a mother, father, +and sisters. The two years after my aunt's death +were spent in close attention to those accomplishments +which had been neglected in my education as +unnecessary, and which my mother deemed so +essential; and not a day passed without my poor +mother's exclamations of despair over me.</p> + +<p>"'One comfort there is, however,' she would say, +'your aunt's little fortune of a few thousands will +be exaggerated in society, and people will forget +your <i>mauvaise honte</i> in giving you credit for being an +heiress.'</p> + +<p>"But the report of my being an heiress was not +needed, for when I entered society, to my mother's +amazement, I created quite a sensation. I had been +looked upon as a pretty girl always; but my mother +had so often declared that I was so inanimate and +innocent, she never would be able to do any thing +with me, and my pretty face would be of no service +to me, that I looked upon myself as quite an ordinary +person, and was as much surprised at my belle-hood +as my family. I wonder my little head was not +turned with the attentions I received, so unused as I +had been to admiration; it might have been, however, +had not a disappointment—a bitter, heart-aching +disappointment, wearied me of all this adulation +and attention.</p> + +<p>"Soon after my entrance into society, I became +acquainted with a Mr. Morton—agreeable, good-looking, +and attentive he was, of course—quite an +acquisition to me in my circle of admirers. His +worldly qualifications were not of so brilliant a nature +as to attract my prudent mother's fancy, for he +was only a young lawyer of slender means and +moderate practice. I do not think she ever dreamed +of the interest he excited in me, but looked upon him +as one of the crowd of attendants necessarily surrounding +a belle. But how differently I regarded +him. The piles of costly bouquets I received daily, +gained but little attention from me, unless I discerned +among them the tiny bunch of sweet-violets, +tea-roses, and mignonette, which he once in a great +while sent me. In my ball-tablets my eyes sought +the dances marked down for him; and when he was +my partner, the dance, generally so wearisome, was +only too short, too delightful; the reminiscence of +that happy time makes a silly girl of me again. My +mother never imagined he aspired to my hand—she +would have looked aghast at the bare mention of +such a probability; but she regarded him as a friend, +and he was a great favorite with her. She used to +say young men like Harry Morton, that knew their +places, were invaluable acquaintances for a belle; +thus were we thrown a great deal together. She +was so blind to his real position with me, quick-sighted +as she generally was in other things, I was +permitted to have him for my partner in dancing, +even for several quadrilles during an evening; he +was my constant attendant in my daily rides on horseback, +and my mother never hesitated to call upon +him if we were at any time in need of an escort to a +ball or opera. He was upon the footing of a brother +or cousin in the family; but, ah! how dear was he +to me. Without any actual explanation, I felt sure +of Harry Morton's love. I never had any doubts or +jealousies—we seemed to perfectly understand each +other. I never looked forward to our future—I was +too quietly happy in the present. I only dated from +one meeting to another—from the dinner to the party, +when he would be ready to hand us from our carriage, +to take me off my father's arm in compliance with +my mother's constant inquiry and request of, +'Where's Harry Morton? Here, Harry, do take +charge of Mary,' a request which he always seemed +delighted to obey. Then, after the happy good-night, +I would lie my head on the pillow to dream of him +and the morning ride we would take together. Why +he never spoke to me of his love I cannot tell. It +might have been that feelings of delicacy restrained +him; my father was rich, while he was but a poor +young lawyer; then report had made me an heiress +in my own right, as well as a belle, to my worldly +mother's great content. That he loved me I am sure, +though he never told me with his lips.</p> + +<p>"One morning my mother said to me, 'Do not +make any engagement for to-morrow, Mary; we must +dine <i>en famille</i> with dear old Mrs. Langley; we +have not been there for a month.'</p> + +<p>"Now this Mrs. Langley was a person of great +consideration in my mother's eyes. She was very +wealthy, and, moreover, had been at the head of the +fashionable world for many years. Since my entrance +into society, she had been quite an invalid, +and rarely appeared in public, but it gratified her exceedingly +to have her friends around her, for she +dreaded yielding up her command in the world. My +mother was an especial favorite of hers; and after I +had taken such a prominent situation in society, she +expressed great regard for me. Once in a month or +so we spent a day with her. She lived in great style—a +stately dinner, and a stupid, grand, heavy evening +was the amount of the visit. How I used to +dread the coming of the day; it was the only time I +was separated from Harry, for Mrs. Langley being +very exclusive, and making no new acquaintances, +he had no <i>entrée</i> there. I used to sing for her, arrange +her worsteds, tell her of the parties and different +entertainments, and read to her her son's last letter. +She had only one son, and he had been in Europe for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span> +two or three years. He was her idol, and she never +tired talking of him. Dear old lady, my conscience +smote me many times for the feelings of impatient +weariness and <i>ennui</i> I would give way to during +one of her tedious dinner parties.</p> + +<p>"The following morning after my mother had +announced the visit of penance, Harry Morton made +his appearance in our drawing-rooms, as usual, with +the other morning visiters. Every one was talking +of a new singer who was to make her <i>debût</i> on that +evening.</p> + +<p>"'May I join your party at the concert this +evening?' Harry asked me, in a low voice.</p> + +<p>"'I regret exceedingly,' I replied, 'that we are +not going to the concert. I have already promised +mamma to spend a quiet day and evening with an +old friend of hers. You must listen attentively to +this new <i>donna</i>, and tell me all about her voice if +you go.'</p> + +<p>"'I do not think I shall go,' he replied, in low, +earnest tones, 'for I could not enjoy the concert if +not with you.' A turn in the general conversation +drew us more into notice, and some ladies and +gentlemen entering, put an end to all further intercourse +between us; how long I remembered and +cherished those last words of his. When I made +my appearance in my mother's room at 5 o'clock, +shawl and hood in hand, she regarded me from head +to foot smilingly.</p> + +<p>"'What new caprice to-day?' she said, 'and yet +I must confess it is very becoming to you.'</p> + +<p>"I had felt too languid to dress much, and as the +weather was warm, spring being quite far advanced, +I had chosen a simple white mull robe for the visit +to our old friend, knowing that we should meet with +but few visiters there. This I explained apologetically +to my mother, who tapped me with her fan good-naturedly, +saying that beauties were cunning creatures, +they liked to show once in a while they could +defy the aid of ornament. The first few months of +my entrance into society my mother superintended, +with great attention, all my <i>toilettes</i>; but near the +close of the season she fell into the general opinion, +that what ever I did was exactly right; and poor +little me, that one short half-year before had no right +to express an opinion upon so grave a subject as +dress, was now constantly appealed to; and whatever +style I adopted was perfect in her eyes. Society had +placed its stamp upon me, I could pass current as a +coin of high value to her.</p> + +<p>"When I reached Mrs. Langley's, I found the old +lady attended by but one gentleman, who, beside +ourselves, was her only visiter. What was my surprise +to hear her introduce him as her son, Templeton +Langley. The dinner passed more pleasantly than +usual, for Mr. Langley made himself very agreeable. +After dinner he proposed we should go to the concert, +as he felt an interest in the new <i>primadonna</i>, having +heard her at her <i>debût</i> in Europe. I made an objection, +which was overruled by Mrs. Langley's expressing +a desire—strange for her—to go likewise; +and we went. I had not been ten minutes in the +room when, on lifting my eyes, the first person I saw +was Harry Morton looking sternly at me. Foolishly, +I grew embarrassed, my face burned, and my whole +frame trembled with nervous agitation. He did not +approach me, but gave me only a cold bow. 'He +thinks me guilty of falsehood,' I said to myself. +How wretchedly passed the evening, and yet I have +no doubt I was an object of envy to many of my +young lady friends. The rich <i>distingué</i>, Templeton +Langley showed himself my devoted admirer, while +his mother, the acknowledged leader of <i>ton</i>, sat beside +us smiling approvingly. My indifferent, cold +manner, my simple costume, and my beautiful face, +completed that evening the conquest of the fastidious, +fashionable young man. You cannot imagine the +delight of my mother, when day after day found +Templeton Langley constantly beside me, she could +scarcely restrain her exultation; while I, poor child, +listened with aching, throbbing senses for the approach +of one who never came near me. Two or +three weeks passed in a whirl of gayety. It was the +close of the season, and one or two brides in our +circle made the parties very constant. Mrs. Langley +proposed that our family should join her son and +herself in their summer visit to the Lakes; accordingly +we did so, and we spent more than three +months traveling. Ere the close of those three +months, Templeton Langley offered himself to me. +I could not describe to you the scene that ensued +between my mother and myself when I rejected +him. She was a worldly woman, and my conduct +seemed perfectly wild to her. She remonstrated, +persuaded, then reproached me in impatient, angry +tones. My father was a quiet, amiable man, and +rarely interfered with my mother in her management, +but he fortunately shook off enough of his lethargy to +come to my rescue at this time.</p> + +<p>"'If Mary does not love Mr. Langley,' he said, +'why urge her to marry him? Do not scold the poor +child,' and he drew me toward him tenderly.</p> + +<p>"Templeton Langley was rather an indifferent +person in every way. His wealth, combined with +his situation in the fashionable world, placed him in +a fictitious light; but he had little intelligence, no +originality, and only a passable personal appearance. +I was constantly drawing the comparison between +him and Harry Morton. Harry was so handsome, so +brilliant in conversation—and this thought rendered +poor Mr. Langley, with all his fastidious, elegant +manners, quite unbearable to me. To think of being +tied to such a man for life was perfect martyrdom +for me; and although hitherto so yielding, I showed +myself on this occasion obstinate. Floods of tears I +shed, and my mother fancied at first she could overcome +my 'ridiculous sentimentality,' as she called +it, but in vain; and finding a friend in my father, I +remained firm. I felt more sorry for old Mrs. +Langley, who was, indeed, terribly distressed, but +she treated me very kindly, and exonerated me from +all blame. She was, however, really very fond of +me, and had set her heart upon having me for a +daughter. Mr. Langley returned to Europe, and for +many months our circle of friends were quite at a +loss to know whether he had offered, been accepted,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span> +or refused, or whether he had only flirted with me. +My mother felt too disappointed to boast of the rejection; +and, moreover, she was so occupied in +bringing out my sister, Emma, as to have little time +to think of me or my affairs. My sister was but +seventeen, three years younger than I, but much +nearer my age in appearance. I found myself now +of but secondary consideration in my mother's eyes. +I fear she really disliked me then. She was an ambitious +woman, and had set her heart upon my making +a brilliant match; this favorite hope of hers I had +blighted, and feeling little interest in society, I +became of less consequence, for my sad, absent +manner made me, of course, uninteresting; therefore, +as my reign as a belle was over, my poor +mother now sought to dismiss me from her mind and +occupy herself with other objects.</p> + +<p>"Harry Morton had gone to the Southwest ere we +returned from our summer's journey, and we never +met again. A year or so afterward I heard of his +marriage with a dashing southern belle, and he is +now a distinguished man at the South. After these +perplexing, unfortunate misunderstandings, my health +failed, and for a long while I was an invalid, rarely +appearing in society. My two sisters, Emma and +Alice, were more lucky than I, for they married +happily, and with my mother's gratified approbation—for +they each made the 'best match of their season.' +Neither one was so pretty as I had been, and as my +mother used to ejaculate,</p> + +<p>"'Thank Heaven! neither Emma nor Alice are +belles; they at least will not trouble me with their +exaggerated notions about love and all that nonsense.'</p> + +<p>"I passed a miserable, wretched existence for a +year or more after Harry and I were separated. +How earnestly I prayed for death, so completely +prostrated was my spirit by my disappointment. I +felt as lonely as I had at the time of dear Aunt +Mary's death. In time, however, I aroused myself +from my morbid feelings, and in reading and study +found at first occupation, then strength and content.</p> + +<p>"The week after my youngest sister was married +my father was stricken down with paralysis. I was +the only one at home with my parents, for my bride +sister had sailed for Europe the day after her wedding, +and Emma was far distant in her Southern home, +having married a wealthy South Carolinian two +years before. Faithfully I devoted myself to my +father, and when my mother, a year afterward, was +seized with a painful, lingering disease, I made myself +so necessary to her comfort, that she at last +acknowledged, that what had appeared to be her +greatest trouble had proved her greatest blessing. +She altered very much before her death, and lost +entirely all those worldly feelings which had actuated +her during her early life. She suffered for many +years at times agonizing pain, and during this time I +was sole companion and nurse to my parents. Often +I thanked Providence for having denied to me my +early love, granting to me in lieu an opportunity +of fulfilling the most holy of duties. See, Enna, to +what an unromantic and yet enviable state of mind +I at last attained. Believe me, dearest, we never +should grieve over unavoidable troubles, for many +times they are but the rough husk of that sweet +kernel—a hidden blessing."</p> +<br /><br /> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="ZENOBIA" id="ZENOBIA"></a>ZENOBIA.</h2> + +<hr class="short" /> +<h4>BY MYRON L. MASON.</h4> +<hr class="short" /> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Twas holyday in Rome. Her sevenfold hills<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were trembling with the tread of multitudes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who thronged her streets. Hushed was the busy hum<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of labor. Silent in the shops reposed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The implements of toil. A common love<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of country, and a zeal for her renown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had warmed all hearts, and mingled for a day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Plebian ardor with patrician pride.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sire, the son, the matron and the maid,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Joined in bestowing on their emperor<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The joyous benedictions of the state.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alas! about that day's magnificence<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was spread a web of <i>shame</i>! The victor's sword<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was stained with cowardice—his dazzling fame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tarnished by insult to a fallen woman.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Returning from his conquests in the East,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Aurelian led in his triumphant train<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Palmyra's beauteous queen, Zenobia,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose only crime had been the love she bore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To her own country and her household gods.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">Long had the Orient owned the sovereign sway<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Rome imperial, and in forced submission<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had bowed the neck to the oppressor's yoke.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The corn of Syria, her fruits and wares,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The pearls of India, Araby's perfumes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The golden treasures of the mountains, all<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Profusely poured in her luxurious lap,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Crowned to the full her proud magnificence.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rome regal, throned on her eternal hills,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With power supreme and wide-extended hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Plundered the prostrate nations without stint<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of all she coveted, and, chiefly thou,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O Liberty, the birthright boon of Heaven.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But Rome had passed her noon; her despotism<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was overgrown; an earthquake was at work<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At her foundations; and new dynasties,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Striking their roots in ripening revolutions,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were soon to sway the destinies of realms.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">The East was in revolt. The myriad seeds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of dark rebellion, sown by tyranny,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And watered by the blood of patriots slain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were springing into life on every hand.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Success was alternating in this strife<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twixt power and <i>right</i>, and anxious Victory,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With balance poised, the doubtful issue feared.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Amid the fierce contention, 'mid the din<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of war's sublime encounter, and the crash<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of falling systems old, Palmyra's queen<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Followed her valiant lord, Palmyra's king.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ever beside him in the hour of peril,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She warded from his breast the battle's rage;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in the councils of the cabinet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her prudent wisdom was her husband's guide.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">Domestic treason, with insidious stab,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Snatched from Zenobia's side her gallant lord,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And threw into her hand the exigencies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of an unstable and capricious throne.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet was her genius not inadequate.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The precepts of experience, intertwined<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With intellectual power of lofty grade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Combined to raise Palmyra's beauteous queen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">High in the golden scale of moral greatness.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Under the teachings of the good Longinus<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The streams of science flowed into her mind;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, like the fountain-fostered mountain lake,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her soul was pure as its ethereal food.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The patronage bestowed on learned men<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Declared her love for letters. The rewards,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rich and unnumbered, she conferred on merit<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her own refined, exalted taste betrayed.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her graceful and majestic figure, crowned<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With beauty such as few but angels wear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like the rich casing that surrounds the gem,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heightened the splendor of her brilliant genius.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Equally daring on the battle-field<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in the chase, her prudence and her courage,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Displayed in many a hot emergency,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had twined victorious laurel round her brow.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Under her rule Palmyra's fortunes rose<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To an unequalled altitude, and wealth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flowed in upon her like a golden sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her wide dominion, stretching from the Nile<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the far Euxine and Euphrates' flood—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her active commerce, whose expanded range<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Monopolized the trade of all the East—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her stately capital, whose towers and domes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vied with proud Rome in architectural grace—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her own aspiring aims and high renown—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All breathed around the Asiatic queen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An atmosphere of greatness, and betrayed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her bold ambition, and her rivalry<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the imperial mistress of the world.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">But 't is the gaudiest flower is soonest plucked;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sturdiest oak first feels the builder's axe.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Palmyra's rising greatness had awaked<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The jealousy of Rome, and Fortune looked<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On her prosperity with envious eye.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Under the golden eagles of the empire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Aurelian's soldiers swept the thirsty sands,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And poured into Palmyra's palmy plains,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A mighty host hot for the battle-field.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Borne on her gallant steed, the warrior queen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The conflict sought, and led her eager troops<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into the stern encounter. Like the storm<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of their own desert plain, innumerable,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They rushed upon the foe, and courted danger.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Amid the serried ranks, whose steel array<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Glowed in the noonday sun, and threw a flood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of wavy sheen into the fragrant air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Zenobia rode; and, like an angry spirit,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Commissioned from above to chastise men,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where'er she moved was death. There was a flash<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of scorn that lighted up her fiery eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A glance of wrath upon her countenance—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There was a terror in her frenzied arm<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That struck dismay into the boldest heart.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alas for her, Fortune was unpropitious!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her fearless valor found an overmatch<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the experienced prudence of Aurelian;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And scarcely could the desert's hardy sons<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cope with the practiced legions of the empire.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The battle gained, Palmyra taken, sacked—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its queen a captive, hurled from off a throne,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stripped of her wide possessions, forced to sue<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In humblest attitude for even life—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The haughty victor led his weary legions<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Back to Italia's shores, and in his train<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His fallen rival, loaded with chains of gold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forged from the bullion of her treasury.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">'Twas holyday in Rome. The morning sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Emerging from the palace-crested hills<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the Campagna, poured a flood of light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon the slumbering city, summoning<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its teeming thousands to the festival.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A playful breeze, rich-laden with perfume<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From groves of orange, gently stirred the leaves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And curled the ripples on the Tiber's breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bearing to seaward o'er the flowery plain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The rising peans' joyful melodies.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flung to the wind, high from the swelling dome<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That crowned the Capitol, the imperial banner,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Broidered with gold and glittering with gems,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unfurled its azure field; and, as it caught<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sunbeams and flashed down upon the throng<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That filled the forum, there arose a shout<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deep as the murmur of the cataract.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In that spontaneous outburst of applause<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Rome spoke</i>; and as the echo smote the hills<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It woke the slumbering memory of a time<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When Rome was <i>free</i>.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">A trumpet from the walls<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Proclaimed the day's festivities begun.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Preceded by musicians and sweet singers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A long procession passed the city-gate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, traversing the winding maze of streets,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Climbed to the Capitol. Choice victims, dressed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With pictured ornaments and wreaths of flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An offering to the tutelary gods,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Led the advance. Then followed spoils immense,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Baskets of jewels, vases of wrought gold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Paintings and statuary, cloths and wares,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of costliest manufacture, close succeeded<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By the rich symbols of Palmyra's glory,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Torn from her temples and her palaces,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To grace a triumph in the streets of Rome.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With toilsome step next walked the captive queen;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then the victor, in his car of state,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With milk-white horses of Thessalian breed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in his retinue a splendid train<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Rome's nobility. In one long line<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The army last appeared in bright array,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With banners high displayed, filling the air<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With songs of victory. The pageant proud<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Quickened remembrance of departed days,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And warmed the bosoms of the multitude<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With deep devotion to the commonwealth.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">High in his gilded chariot, decked in robes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of broidered purple, and with laurel crowned,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rode the triumphant conqueror, in his hand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The emblems of his power. The capital<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of his wide empire was inflamed with zeal<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To do him honor and exalt his praise.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The world was at his feet; his sovereign will<br /></span> +<span class="i0">None dared to question, and his haughty word<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was law to nations. Yet his heart was troubled.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the dim distance he discerned the flight<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Of Freedom, on swift pinions heralding<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Enfranchisement to the oppressed of earth.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He knew the feeble tenure of dominion<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Based on allegiance with reluctance paid;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And read the future overthrow of Rome<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the unyielding spirit of his victim.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Uncovered in the sun, weary and faint,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bowed to the earth with chains of ravished gold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With feet unsandaled, walked Zenobia,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Slave to the craven tyrant's cruelty.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Neither her peerless beauty, nor her sex,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor yet her grievous sufferings could melt<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The despot's stony heart. She, who surpassed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her conqueror in all the qualities<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of head or heart which crown humanity<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With nobleness and high preëminence—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She, whose <i>misfortunes</i> in a glorious cause,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And not her <i>errors</i>, had achieved her ruin—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Burdened with ignominy and disgrace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For her resplendent <i>virtues</i>, not her <i>crimes</i>—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She who had graced a palace, and dispensed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pardon to penitence, reward to worth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And tempered justice with benevolence—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wickedly torn from her exalted station,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now walked a captive in the streets of Rome,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">E'en at the feet of the oppressors steeds.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet was her spirit all untamed. Disdain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still sat upon her countenance, and breathed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unmeasured scorn upon her persecutors.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The blush of innocence upon her cheek,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The burning pride that flashed within her eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The majesty enthroned upon her brow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Told, in a language which the tyrant <i>felt</i>,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That her unconquered spirit soared sublime<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In a pure orbit whither <i>his</i> sordid soul<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Could ne'er attain. Had he a captive led<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some odious wretch, whose sanguinary crimes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Long perpetrated under sanction of a strength<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No arm could reach, had spread a pall of mourning<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Over a people's desolated homes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He then had <i>right</i> to triumph o'er his victim.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But 't was not thus. Insatiable ambition<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had led him to unsheath his victor sword<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Against a monarch whose distinctive sway<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ravished from Rome no tittle of her <i>right</i>;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, to augment the aggregate of wrong,<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>That monarch was a woman</i>, whose renown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Compared with his, was gold compared with brass.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As o'er the stony street the captive paced<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her weary way before the victor's steeds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And marked the multitudes insatiate gaze,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The look of calm defiance on her face<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Told that she bowed not to her degradation.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her thoughts were not at Rome. Unheeded all,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The billows of the mad excitement dashed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">About her, and broke harmless at her feet.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dim reminiscences of former days<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Burst like a deluge on her errant mind;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leading her backward to the buried past,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When in the artless buoyancy of youth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She sat beneath Palmyra's fragrant shades<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gleaned the pages of historic story,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Red with Rome's bloody catalogue of wrong.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Little she dreamed Palmyra's palaces<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Should e'er be scenes of Roman violence;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Little she dreamed that <i>hers</i> should be the lot<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(A captive princess led in chains) to crown<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The splendor of a Roman holyday.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alas! the blow she thought not of had fallen.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A bloody struggle, like a dreadful dream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had briefly raged, and all to her was lost,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Save the poor grace of a degraded life.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her sun of glory was gone down in blood—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The glittering fabric of her power despoiled<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To swell the triumph of her conqueror.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But in the wreck of her magnificence,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With eye prophetic, she foresaw the ruin<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the proud capital of all the world.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She saw the quickening symptoms of rebellion<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Among the nations, and she caught their cry<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For <i>freedom</i> and for <i>vengeance</i>!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">Hark! the Goth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is thundering at the gate, His reckless sword<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leaps from the scabbard, eager to vindicate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The cause of the oppressed. A thousand years<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sun has witnessed in his daily course<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tyranny of Rome, now crushed <i>forever</i>.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mighty mass of her usurped dominion,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By its own magnitude at last dissevered,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is crumbling into fragments; and the shades<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of long-forgotten generations shriek<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With fiendish glee over the yawning gulf<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of her perdition.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<br /><br /> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="TEMPER_LIFES_EXTREMES" id="TEMPER_LIFES_EXTREMES"></a>TEMPER LIFE'S EXTREMES.</h2> + +<hr class="short" /> +<h4>BY GEORGE S. BURLEIGH.</h4> +<hr class="short" /> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Tis wise, in summer-warmth, to look before,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To the keen-nipping winter; it is good,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In lifeful hours, to lay aside some store<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of thought, to leaven the spirit's duller mood;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To mould the sodded dyke, in sunny hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Against the coming of the wasteful flood;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still tempering Life's extremes, that Wo no more<br /></span> +<span class="i1">May start abrupt in Joy's sweet neighborhood.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If Day burst sudden from the bars of Night,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Or with one plunge leaped down the sheer abyss,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Painful alike were darkness and the light,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Bearing fixed war through shifting victories;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But sweet their bond, where peaceful twilight lingers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Weaving the rosy with the sable fingers.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<br /><br /> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_CRUISE_OF_THE_RAKER" id="THE_CRUISE_OF_THE_RAKER"></a>THE CRUISE OF THE RAKER.</h2> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span> + +<h3>A TALE OF THE WAR OF 1812-15.</h3> + +<hr class="short" /> +<h4>BY HENRY A. CLARK.</h4> +<hr class="short" /> + +<h5>(<i>Continued from page 136.</i>)</h5> + +<h4>CHAPTER V.</h4> + +<h5><i>The Revenge.</i></h5> + + +<p>The report of the pistol fired by Julia had also been +heard upon the pirate brig. To Florette it gave assurance +of the safety of the fair fugitive. The pirate +sprang to his feet, forgetful of his wound, but fell +back helpless upon the companion-way, and soon relapsed +into his former thoughtful state, supposing the +sound had come from the deck of the Raker, though +it had seemed much too near and distinct to appear +possible that such was the case.</p> + +<p>The escape of Julia was not discovered until the +following morning. The wrath of the pirate was +fearfully vindictive. Even Florette became alarmed +when he fiercely accused her of some share in the +disappearance of the captive girl. This she tremblingly +denied, suggesting the opinion that Julia must +have jumped overboard, in her despair, induced by +the threats of the pirate. The loss of the boat was +also noticed, but not connected with the escape of +Julia, it being supposed that it had been carelessly +fastened. As a very natural consequence of his anger, +the pirate sought some person on whom he could +vent its fury.</p> + +<p>"Call aft the other woman," shouted he, "unless +she, too, has jumped overboard."</p> + +<p>A grim smile was interchanged between the men +who heard this order. John's true sex had not been +long kept concealed after he had reached the pirate +brig, and he had nearly fallen a victim to the rage the +unpleasant discovery excited in the men, but his +ludicrous and abject expressions of terror, though +they awoke no emotions of pity, yet excited the merriment +of his captors, and turned their anger into +laughter. A man's garments were thrown to him, +in which he speedily equipped himself, being indeed +in no slight degree relieved by the change. Since +that time he had kept himself as much aloof as possible +from the crew, anxiously and fearfully expectant +of some sudden catastrophe, either that his brains +would be blown out without affording him an opportunity +to expostulate, or that he would be called +upon to walk the plank.</p> + +<p>He was roused by a heavy hand laid upon his +shoulder.</p> + +<p>"O dear, don't," cried John.</p> + +<p>"The captain has sent word for'ard arter you, and +faith ye had betther be in a hurry, for he's a savage +when he's mad."</p> + +<p>"O! now I've got to do it."</p> + +<p>"Do what?"</p> + +<p>"Why walk the plank to be sure."</p> + +<p>"Arrah, jewel! don't be onaisy now."</p> + +<p>"Wont I's, don't you think?"</p> + +<p>"Not a bit of it, darling. I think he will be afther +running you up to the yard-arm."</p> + +<p>"But I can't run up it."</p> + +<p>"Ha! ha! but come along, honey."</p> + +<p>Half dragging John after him, the sailor led him to +the quarter-deck.</p> + +<p>"Here's the lady, captain, an' faith she's a swate +one."</p> + +<p>The truth of the case had already been explained +to the pirate.</p> + +<p>"You cowardly fool," said he, "did you expect to +escape by such a subterfuge? Pat, run him up to +the yard-arm."</p> + +<p>"Yes, captain, and that will be a relaif to him, for +he was mighty afraid he'd have to walk the plank."</p> + +<p>"He was? well then he shall."</p> + +<p>The vindictiveness of the pirate commander, who +had only changed the mode of John's death because +he thought that by so doing he should render it more +fearful and bitter to the victim, was the means of +saving the poor cockney's life. So do revenge and +malice often overreach themselves.</p> + +<p>A long plank was laid out over the side of the brig +and John commanded to walk out on it. He showed +a strong disinclination to obeying, but a huge pistol +placed against his forehead quickly influenced his decision, +and with a cry of anguish he stepped out upon +it. As the board tipped he turned to spring back to +the brig, but slipping up, fell upon the board, which +he pulled after him into the water.</p> + +<p>"Fool," cried the captain to one of his men, +"what did you let the board loose for, he will float +now till the chase picks him up—fire into him."</p> + +<p>A dozen balls were fired at John, and it seems he +was hit, for he let go the board and sunk.</p> + +<p>"There, captain, he's done for."</p> + +<p>The brig by this time had reached a considerable +distance from the place where John had been committed +to the deep, and when he rose to the surface, +as he soon did, he was out of danger from their shot.</p> + +<p>"O dear!" cried he, "I shan't ever get ashore; +I never could swim much."</p> + +<p>The waves threw him against the plank.</p> + +<p>"O! a shark! a shark!" shouted John, "now +don't;" and he grasped hold of the plank in a frenzy<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span> +of fear. He soon discovered the friendly aid it would +afford him, and held on to it with the tenacity of +despair.</p> + +<p>In less than half an hour the Raker came up. John +was noticed from its deck, and a brawny tar seizing +a rope and taking two or three turns of it round his +left arm sprang overboard to rescue the half unconscious +cockney.</p> + +<p>As the sailor seized him, John, supposing it to be +a shark, uttered a loud cry and lost all sensation. In +this condition he was hauled up to the deck of the +privateer, where, upon recovering his senses, he +found to his great surprise and joy, that instead of +being in the belly of some voracious fish, like Jonah +of old, he was in safety, and surrounded by the crew +of his former vessel, the Betty Allen, including his +master.</p> + +<p>The poor fellow was severely wounded by a pistol +shot, in the arm, but regardless of this he was wild +in his demonstrations of joy, especially when told +that his young mistress had also escaped.</p> + +<p>Captain Greene found that he had gained little, if +any, upon the pirate during the night, and became +convinced that he must again commence firing upon +her, trusting to some lucky ball to carry away a spar, +or failing, to allow the villains to escape the punishment +they so richly deserved, not only for their inhuman +treatment of the crew of the Betsy Allen, but +doubtless for numerous other crimes committed upon +the seas, as savage in their conception, and more +successful in their execution.</p> + +<p>The long gun was again uncovered, and a shot +dispatched from its huge portals after the pirate brig. +The first ball fired fell short of the brig, striking the +water directly in its wake, and ricochetting again +threw up the water beyond it.</p> + +<p>A succeeding ball, however, did some execution, +crashing through her top-gallant forecastle, but without +in any degree lessening her speed. As every fire +from the Raker lessened her speed, Capt. Greene became +exceedingly anxious that no balls should be +thrown away, and commanded Lieut. Morris to +point the gun, having more confidence in his skill +than in that of the gunner. The young officer aimed +the gun carefully, and as it was fired three cheers +arose from his crew, as they perceived the pirate's +mizzen-mast fall away.</p> + +<p>"She is ours," cried the lieutenant.</p> + +<p>"Stand by, men, to take in sail," shouted the captain. +"We will draw near enough," continued he +to Morris, "to fire into her at our leisure, a pirate is +not entitled to a more honorable warfare, and he +seems also to greatly outnumber us in men."</p> + +<p>As the privateer approached the pirate they could +not but admire the singular beauty of her build. She +rose and fell upon the waters as gracefully as a free +and wild ocean bird. The long red lines of her port-holes +swept with a gentle curve from stem to stern, +and her stem was so sharp that the bowsprit seemed +rather to terminate than to join it. Twelve carronades +occupied a double row of port-holes, and the +deck seemed crowded with men, all armed with +cutlases and pistols.</p> + +<p>"A formidable looking set," said Captain Greene, +as he laid aside his glass, "keep the gun lively."</p> + +<p>An ineffectual fire opened upon the privateer from +the pirate, but though they had a swivel of pretty +heavy calibre, turning on its axis amidship in such a +manner as to menace at will each point of the horizon, +it was evident that its force was far less than the long +gun of the privateer.</p> + +<p>A well aimed shot brought down the pirate's fore +topsail-yard, which hung in the slings, and succeeding +shots did much injury to her masts and rigging, +and at length the main-topmast fell over the side.</p> + +<p>The scene on board the pirate, during this unequal +warfare, was one approaching perplexity and disorder. +Their commander stood by the helm, gazing at +the privateer, his brow clouded with angry thought, +and giving little heed to the movements of his crew. +He was aroused from his abstraction by the voice of +one of his officers.</p> + +<p>"Captain, this is bad business, what is to be done?"</p> + +<p>The captain gazed at him in silence.</p> + +<p>"The crew are alarmed, and demand of you some +relief from this harassing state. Our guns will not +reach the chase, and we cannot leave her in this +crippled state."</p> + +<p>At this moment a heavy ball from the privateer +whizzed by them and buried itself in the main-mast +of the brig.</p> + +<p>The captain seemed fully aroused. His eyes flashed +with their wonted fire. He turned toward his crew, +and saw at a glance the state of depression which +had fallen upon them all. He even overheard some +muttered words of complaint.</p> + +<p>"Pat," says one, "this seems to be playing a +rough game, where nothing is to be won on our +side."</p> + +<p>"Faith, an' ye may say that, but we stand a chance +to gain one thing."</p> + +<p>"What may that be, Pat?"</p> + +<p>"O, a two-inch rope, and a run up to the fore +yard-arm."</p> + +<p>"The devil! That's not a pleasant thought, Pat."</p> + +<p>"No, but they say it's an aisy death."</p> + +<p>"Silence, men," was heard in the deep tones of +the captain's voice.</p> + +<p>In a moment all was still, and every eye turned toward +the companion-way, on which the captain stood, +resting one hand upon the main-boom, as he was exceedingly +weak from the wound inflicted by the ball +of Captain Horton.</p> + +<p>"My brave fellows," said their leader, "do not +be alarmed, we shall not be hanged this time. Is our +situation any worse than it has been in times heretofore? +Trust in me. Have I ever deceived you—have +I ever failed yet? You know I have not. +Where we cannot conquer by fair battle, we must +use stratagem. Be watchful and ready, and we will +yet not only escape yonder vessel, but stand upon +her deck as masters."</p> + +<p>The confidence with which he spoke inspired his +followers with like feeling, and with countenances +relighted by hope, they returned to their several stations. +Their reliance upon their commander was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span> +unbounded. He had so often triumphed when even +greater difficulties opposed, that they already felt +sure of ultimate delivery, now that he had been restored +to his former energy—they had mistaken the +lethargy into which pain and weakness had thrown +him for the torpor of despair. Again the joke and +laugh went round, and already they began to compute +their respective shares of booty in the vessel +so soon to be theirs, they knew not how.</p> + +<p>"Haul down the ensign, in token that we surrender," +cried the captain.</p> + +<p>A murmur of indignation and surprise arose from +the crew.</p> + +<p>"What, men, do you doubt me? 'Tis but a feint. +Haul down the flag and take in sail."</p> + +<p>The men obeyed with alacrity, for they already +clearly comprehended the plan of their leader. It was +his intention to entice the privateer alongside, and, +well aware of his own superiority in numbers, to +make a sudden onset upon her deck, and thus, contrary +to all laws of honorable warfare, seize by foul +means what could not be obtained in any other way.</p> + +<p>These pacific indications were viewed with some +surprise on board the privateer.</p> + +<p>"By Heaven!" cried Lieut. Morris, "she's tired +of this game soon."</p> + +<p>"Well, she had no other way to do; as it was we +should have sunk her without receiving a shot."</p> + +<p>"It was a losing game for her, true enough."</p> + +<p>"Lay the brig alongside of her," shouted Captain +Greene to his men.</p> + +<p>As his men with a cheer began to unfurl all sail, +Captain Horton approached the commander of the +privateer. He had up to this period ventured no interference, +both from matter of delicacy, and because +he saw nothing to disapprove of in the course pursued +by Captain Greene.</p> + +<p>"My dear sir," said he, as he laid his hand upon +the arm of the captain of the privateer, "allow me +to say a word."</p> + +<p>"Certainly, sir," replied the courteous commander. +"I ought sooner than this to have asked your advice."</p> + +<p>"I would not place too great confidence in the +pirate's signal of surrender."</p> + +<p>"Do you apprehend foul play?"</p> + +<p>"Recollect the savage brutality which the fiend +has already evinced, and judge for yourself whether +he is worthy of being trusted at all."</p> + +<p>"You are right, sir. Lieut. Morris," continued he, +turning to his young officer.</p> + +<p>"Ay, ay, sir."</p> + +<p>"Load the long gun with grape and canister, and +wheel it abaft—load the larboard guns the same way. +Now, my men, don't run too near her. She must +send a boat aboard."</p> + +<p>The privateer approached within half a cable's +length of the pirate.</p> + +<p>"Ship ahoy!" cried Captain Greene.</p> + +<p>No answer came from the pirate, but her head was +rounded to, so as to bear directly down on the Raker.</p> + +<p>"Answer me, or I'll fire into you."</p> + +<p>"Fire and be d—d," came from the deck of the +pirate, and at the same time a broadside was poured +into the Raker, which killed two or three men at the +guns, and severely wounded Captain Greene.</p> + +<p>"Lieut. Morris," cried he, "take the command of +the vessel," and falling on the deck he was immediately +carried below.</p> + +<p>The young officer was fully equal to the emergency +of the occasion. At a glance he perceived that the +pirate in the confusion which ensued from his unexpected +broadside, had fallen foul of the privateer's +rigging, and the crowd of his crew in his bow and +fore-rigging, all with cutlases drawn, and ready to +spring aboard the privateer, plainly announced the +intention to board.</p> + +<p>"All hands to repel boarders," shouted Morris, and +drawing his cutlas he sprang forward, followed by +his men.</p> + +<p>A well contested struggle ensued, the American +seamen, indignant at the foul deceit which had been +practiced upon them, fought like tigers, and for a +time kept the pirates at bay—they had indeed, notwithstanding +their superior numbers, nearly driven +them from the deck, when the form of their commander +appeared among them. In consequence of +his wound he had, contrary to his custom, entrusted +the command of the boarders to his first lieutenant, +and had remained upon his own vessel watching the +fight. He sprung among his crew, with a sword +drawn, and a tight sash bound around his waist, +from which the dark blood was slowly oozing, his +wound having burst away from its ligaments.</p> + +<p>"Cowards!" he shouted, "do ye yield—ye are two +to their one."</p> + +<p>Leaping to their front, he struck down a sailor and +plunged into the thickest of the fight. Reanimated +by the presence of their leader, who had so often led +them to victory, a new spirit seemed to light up the +fainting courage of the pirates, and with a fierce yell +they rushed forward. The American crew were +compelled to fall back before the fierce assault. At +the head of his men Lieut. Morris several times +crossed swords with the pirate captain, but the swaying +of the fight separated them. Perceiving that his +men were slowly yielding, though in good order, +Lieutenant Morris, cool and collected, cheered their +courage, and at this moment thought of the long gun +which had been drawn up, loaded to the muzzle with +grape and canister, against the companion-way, and +a man with a lighted match stationed by it.</p> + +<p>"Fall back to the quarter-deck," cried the young +officer.</p> + +<p>They retreated in close array, and uncovered the +mouth of the huge gun. At the sight of this a cry +of dismay broke from the foremost of the pirates, who +broke the front rank, and many of them escaped for +the time by leaping into the sea.</p> + +<p>"Fire," cried Lieut. Morris. In a moment he was +obeyed. Wild cries of agony arose amid the gathering +smoke, which, as it rolled away, revealed a horrible +sight. Not a living pirate stood upon the deck +of the privateer. A dense mass of bodies, writhing in +pain, lay upon the fore-deck, and many of the pirates +who had jumped into the sea were seen scrambling<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span> +up the sides of their own vessel; the pirate chief lay +dead at the head of his followers, foremost in death, +as he had been in life. It was a terrible and revolting +scene—the scuppers literally ran with blood, the +bulwarks were bespattered with brains and pieces +of scalps; several limbs were strewn about, and the +entire deck covered with the dead or dying.</p> + +<p>While the crew of the Raker stood for a time awe-struck +at the desolation they had themselves made, +the pirates, ferocious to the last, had regained their +own ship and cut her adrift, and as they paid off fired +a broadside into the Raker, which injured several of +her men. Roused by this, the privateersmen rushed +to their guns. The larboard guns, in obedience to +the order of Captain Greene, were already loaded +with grape; while with the starboard Morris commanded +his men to keep up a steady fire at the masts +and rigging.</p> + +<p>A fortunate shot from the Raker struck the helms-man +on board the pirate, shattering at the same time +the tiller. In a moment the brig was up in the wind, +and taken aback, throwing the pirates into confusion.</p> + +<p>"Ready about," cried Morris, leaping from the +carronade-slide on which he had raised himself, and +taking in at a glance the exposed position of the enemy—"head +her round, and stand ready to give the +rascals a taste from our larboard quarter."</p> + +<p>The Raker ranged across the bows of the pirate, +and before he could regain his headway, raked him +with a tremendous broadside of the same deadly missiles +which had already destroyed so many of their +comrades. The wild cries of anguish which arose +from the clouds of smoke told with what destructive +effect the death-bolts had been hurled.</p> + +<p>The pirate now paid off and returned an ineffectual +broadside, but rendered ungovernable by the loss of +her head-sails and tiller, he immediately broached-to +again, and the privateer poured in another terrible +discharge of grape and canister, raking him fore and +aft, then heaving-to and taking up a position on his +bow, she fired broadside after broadside into him in +rapid and deadly succession. The main-mast now +fell over the side, and the pirate at the same time fell +off before the wind, and drew out of the deep mantle +of smoke which had for some time covered both +vessels. As the smoke slowly curled up from the +deep it was seen that not a living man was visible +upon the deck of the pirate. Several of her guns +were dismounted, and her masts so cut away that +she lay upon the waters a helpless and disabled +wreck. Yet the red ensign of death, though rent +into ribbons, still fluttered from the peak, and the +young lieutenant hesitated to board, having learned +caution from the treachery of the pirate.</p> + +<p>While the crew of the Raker were thus occupied +in watching their enemy, a light female form was +seen to issue from the hatchway and gaze around the +deck of the pirate. She passed from body to body, +but seemed not to find what she sought. At length +she turned her eyes, streaming with tears, toward the +Raker, and pointing to the flag above her, as if to +indicate that there was no one to lower it, she knelt +upon the deck, bowing her head upon her hands. +Her long hair fell over her forehead and trailed upon +the blood-stained deck, as she knelt in mute despair +among the dying and the dead. It was a mournful +and singular picture of wo, and there were eyes long +unused to tears that filled to overflowing as they +gazed upon her.</p> + +<p>A boat was immediately lowered, and Lieutenant +Morris with a dozen of his crew were soon in possession +of the pirate's deck. Upon examining the +brig it was found that she was fast filling with water, +and after conveying to the Raker all that they could +lay hands on of value, including a large amount of +precious metal, she was left to her fate. Not one of +her crew was found living, so destructive had been +the continual discharge of grape from the Raker. +Florette accompanied them on board, and wept bitterly +as she saw the dead body of the pirate commander +lying in front of his slaughtered followers, +but suffered herself to be led below by Julia, who received +her with kindness and gratitude.</p> + +<p>All sail was now set upon the privateer, and she +bore away from the sinking craft of the pirate upon +her former course. The latter vessel, traversed in +every direction by the Raker's terrible fire, was +rapidly settling into the ocean. Suddenly, with a +sound like the gushing of an immense water-spout, +a huge chasm opened in the waves—the doomed brig +seemed struggling as if with conscious life, and then +lashing the waters with her shattered spars and broken +masts, went down forever beneath the deep waters, +over whose bosom she had so long rode as a +scourge and a terror, with blood and desolation following +in her wake.</p> + +<p>Among the effects of the pirate captain which had +been conveyed on board the Raker, a manuscript +was found, which seemed to be an autobiography of +his life. For what purpose he had written it can +never be known—most probably from an impulsive +desire to give vent on paper to thoughts and feelings +which he could not breathe to any living person, and +which he doubtless supposed would never be perused +by human eye—they show that, savage, and lawless, +and blood-thirsty as he had become, strong and terrible +motives had driven him into his unnatural pursuit, +and perchance a tear of pity may fall for him, +as the gentle reader peruses the private records of +the scourge of the ocean.</p> +<br /> + +<h4>CHAPTER VI.</h4> + +<h5><i>The Pirate's Story.</i></h5> + +<p>I am the youngest son of a gentleman of the northern +part of England. My father's family is as good +as any in the county, for without laying claim to any +title of nobility, our blood is as pure and our lineage +as ancient as the most boasted in England. I had +but one brother, who succeeded at our father's death +to the broad lands and rich heritage of our name. +The accursed law of primogeniture, to which I owe +all the evil that has befallen me, of course debarred +me from all share in the family estate. I had refused +to enter the army, the church or the navy, though my +inclinations were in favor of the latter profession;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span> +yet a stronger claim than ambition or a roving life +kept me on the paternal estate. It was not that I +envied my brother the possession of the wide bounds +over which he ruled, or that I found less happiness +in witnessing his, for I loved my brother, as God is +my witness, here, in my lonely cabin, with this +great sea around me, and this broad sky above me; +here, though no eye may ever see these lines, I +write, do I repeat it, I loved my brother dearly and +proudly. It was love that kept me idle at home +while other young men of England, belonging to the +same position in society as myself, and in the same +unfortunate category of younger sons, were carving +out for themselves fame and wealth in the service +of their country.</p> + +<p>Helen Burnett was the loveliest girl I have ever +seen, and I loved her with all the passionate devotedness +of a young and ardent heart; she was to +me the light of life, for all was dark when I was not +with her. She was the only daughter of our village +curate, and resided near our family mansion. We +had sported together beneath the venerable trees of +the park from the earliest days of childhood. Until +I left home for college she had seemed to me as a +sister, and I had loved her as such until, on returning +home from a long absence at college, I found a +blushing and beautiful young woman where I had +expected, forgetting the rapid work of time, to meet +with the same playful and lovely child I had kissed +at parting. She was, indeed, beautiful; tall, graceful, +and even commanding in figure, while the mildness +of an angel reposed in the glance of her deep-blue +eyes, and the sweet smile that so often visited her +lips, while her pleasantly modulated voice was +music itself.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">"A lyre of widest range,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Touched by all passion—did fall down and glance<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From tone to tone, and glided through all change of liveliest utterance."</span> +</div></div> +<br /> + +<p>Her hair was of the darkest shade of brown, resting +in soft wave-like smoothness above her high, pale +forehead. Alas! that she was <i>so</i> lovely! had she +been less so, either I might not have loved her, or I +might have been permitted by fortune to have been +happy with her.</p> + +<p>After leaving college, my time was all devoted to +Helen. She loved me no less than I loved her; and +I looked forward to a quiet and happy life, picturing +the future with colorings of the brightest hope and +joyfulness.</p> + +<p>It was at this time that my brother returned from +a long tour of the Continent. He was one of the +handsomest men of the day, and had been distinguished +by the appellation which had accompanied +him from court to court, of "the handsome Englishman." +He was of a medium stature, and faultlessly +proportioned; his expansive and intellectual forehead +seemed the seat of lofty thought, and his dark flashing +eye, intensely expressive, seemed to penetrate to +the heart of all who met its glance. I see him now—not +in his glorious beauty, but pale—pale, touched +by the cold fingers of death.</p> + +<p>I had too much of the pride of my race to live as a +dependent on my brother's bounty, yet I could not +bear the thought of leaving Helen. I was in no +situation to marry, and in an undecided state of +mind I suffered the days to glide away.</p> + +<p>My brother had just come back from a day's angling +in the trout-stream that flowed through his lands. +He met me at the park-gate.</p> + +<p>"Well, John," said I, "what luck to-day?"</p> + +<p>"O, William," said he, without heeding my +question, "I have seen the most charming girl—the +loveliest one that breathes. She outvies all I have +seen in my travels; do you know her. She is the +curate's daughter."</p> + +<p>I felt a sickness at heart, like the bitterness of +death—was it a presentiment, a warning of evil to +come.</p> + +<p>"Say, William?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—yes, she is lovely."</p> + +<p>"She is an angel."</p> + +<p>Sir John passed into the park, and I proceeded, +with a strange melancholy I could not dispel, to meet +Helen. She was at her father's door, and greeted +me with her accustomed kindness of voice and +manner.</p> + +<p>"Why are you so sad this lovely evening William?"</p> + +<p>"Sad!—am I sad?"</p> + +<p>"You look so."</p> + +<p>"Well, I will be so no longer, then;" and I endeavored +to shake off my depression, but not succeeding, +I bade her farewell at an earlier hour than +was my custom.</p> + +<p>From that day my brother's angling excursions +became more frequent—but he seldom returned with +a full basket. He often spoke to me of Helen, but +I always replied carelessly, and changed the topic of +conversation to something else, yet when alone, I +was in continual torment from my thoughts. I endeavored +to console myself with the reflection that +Helen's love was plighted to me, and that she would +not change, yet my thoughts were continually recurring +to my brother's great advantages over me in +every respect, not only in fortune but in personal +appearance; and I had already, in my suspicions, +placed him in the light of a rival for the hand of +Helen. I knew his high-minded and honorable disposition +too well to fancy for a moment that he would +attempt her ruin; and I also knew that there was +nothing in the inferior station of Helen's family that +would prevent him from seeking her hand in marriage, +if she had compelled his love.</p> + +<p>All that followed might perhaps have been prevented +had I at first told my brother frankly of my +love for Helen; but a foolish desire to prove her love +for me, and a certain feeling of self-respect kept me +silent.</p> + +<p>It was not a long time before I either saw, or +fancied I saw, a change in the manner of Helen +toward me—the thought was torture. I was for days +undecided how to act, but at length determined to +learn the true state of things. I knew my brother was +often at the parsonage, and I trembled for the +result.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Helen," I asked her, "is not my brother a +frequent visitor here?"</p> + +<p>It was twilight, but I thought I observed a heightened +color in her cheek.</p> + +<p>"Yes, he has been here several times since his +return."</p> + +<p>"Dear Helen, answer me frankly, has he ever +spoken to you of love?"</p> + +<p>She hesitated, but at length replied,</p> + +<p>"He has."</p> + +<p>"And did you not tell him your vows were plighted +to another?"</p> + +<p>"My father entered the room before I made any +reply at all."</p> + +<p>"Helen, do you love me now the same as ever +you have done?"</p> + +<p>"You have my plighted word, William." Yet +there was something bordering on coldness even in +the sweet accents with which she spoke; the nice +instinct of love detects each gradation of feeling +with an unerring certainty. I was not satisfied, and +when I left her, I was more unhappy than ever. I +longed to speak to my brother on the subject, yet +some indescribable feeling prevented me; and I +allowed the days to glide away, growing more and +more troubled in mind as they passed by.</p> + +<p>I was now convinced that Helen's affection for me +was not what it had been; and after a short interview +with her, in which she had again repeated her love +for me, but in such chilling tones that I felt it was +not from the heart she spoke, I sought the chamber +of my brother in a state almost bordering on madness. +All of our race have been of ungovernable passions, +but none more so than myself. I paused at his door +to regain in some degree my self-command, then +lifting the latch, I entered.</p> + +<p>"Ah, brother!" said Sir John, in a cheerful tone.</p> + +<p>"Yes, your younger brother," replied I, bitterly.</p> + +<p>Sir John started with wonder.</p> + +<p>"Why, William, what mean you?"</p> + +<p>I paid no heed to the interruption, but continued +growing, if possible, still more enraged as I proceeded.</p> + +<p>"Are not all the broad lands of our family estate +yours—its parks, its meadows, its streams; this +venerable mansion, where the <i>elder son</i> has rioted +for so many generations, leaving the younger to +make his way in the world as best he may."</p> + +<p>"Brother, are you mad? My purse is yours—I +have nothing that is not yours."</p> + +<p>"You have every thing, and not content with that, +you have sought to win away the love of my +affianced bride."</p> + +<p>"Who mean you, William?"</p> + +<p>"Helen Burnett."</p> + +<p>My brother turned pale, and gazing upon me for a +moment with astonishment, he heaved a deep sigh, +and covered his face with his hands.</p> + +<p>I folded my arms, and stood looking upon him +scornfully, for my passion had made me consider +him in the light of one who had knowingly stolen +away my bride.</p> + +<p>Sir John at length uncovered his face and spoke.</p> + +<p>"I would to God, William, you had told me this +sooner."</p> + +<p>"Is it then too late?" I inquired, bitterly.</p> + +<p>"Too late—too late for my happiness, but not +too late for justice and honor. She is yours, William, +I resign all pretensions to her hand, and will cease +to visit the parsonage."</p> + +<p>I was touched by the generous spirit of my brother, +and by the mournful shadow which clouded his +noble brow. I have ever acted from impulse, and +seizing him by the hand, I said,</p> + +<p>"Not so, John—not so! She is, as I have told +you, my affianced bride; her solemn and oft-repeated +vows are mine, and I have thought that her love +was forever mine; but this very night I plainly perceived +that a change has been wrought in her feelings. +She treated me with coldness instead of +warmth, and maddened by my interview with her, I +rushed into your presence, and have blamed you +unjustly."</p> + +<p>"My dear brother—"</p> + +<p>"No, no, John, I was wrong to accuse you. I +should have better known your nobleness. Henceforth +let us stand on equal ground; I do not want an +unwilling bride, and if you can win her love from +me, take her, though it drive me mad."</p> + +<p>A gleam of pleasure passed over Sir John's countenance +as he replied,</p> + +<p>"Be it so, my brother, it is but honorable; yet +will I at once resign all hope, and leave the country +if you but will it so."</p> + +<p>"Sir John, have you reason to think that Helen +loves you?"</p> + +<p>"She has never said so, but I did not think she +looked coldly upon me."</p> + +<p>"She is 'false, false as hell!'"</p> + +<p>"My dear William, however this suite terminate, +any thing in my power shall be done for you. If +the estates were not entailed, I would at once give +you a deed for half of them, and then I should have +no advantage over you in wealth or position. Here +is an order for a hundred thousand pounds."</p> + +<p>"Sir John I will accept nothing; if I lose Helen, I +shall have no more to live for, and I warn you, if I +become mad from disappointment, do not cross my +path, or I know not the consequence."</p> + +<p>"You do not threaten me."</p> + +<p>I felt the turbulent passions of my nature rising +within me, and fearing that I should lose all self-command, +I rushed from the room, and entering the +silent park, I wandered from grove to grove till the +cool air of the night had calmed my raging spirit, +when I sought my own chamber.</p> + +<p>I had never told the worthy curate of my love for +his daughter, and Helen had never been accustomed +to depend on him for advice or consolation. It was +to her mother that she had always turned for both, +and that mother had died but a year before the return +of my brother. Mr. Burnett was a quiet student, +passionately fond of his books, as innocent of the +world as a child, only fretful and peevish when any +thing occurred to disturb the quiet monotony of his +existence, and apparently unconscious that his little<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span> +Helen had grown from a child to a woman. His +mind was wholly wrapped up in his studies, even at +his meals it was abstracted, and he retired hastily to +his closet. Helen had no inclination to disturb the +serenity of his life, until it became absolutely necessary +that he should be made acquainted with her +engagement to me; and I had been too thoughtless of +all but my own happiness to intrude upon his +privacy, confident that his sanction to our marriage +would not be refused whenever demanded.</p> + +<p>I had yet to learn the lesson, bitter and agonizing, +that no woman is proof against the captivating temptations +of ambition, and the glare of wealth. I know +but little of the sex; they are called angels, and I +had thought Helen was an angel—alas! I found my +mistake. I read my doom in the averted coldness +of her glance; I felt it in the unwilling pressure of +her hand whenever we met, and I knew it when +I gazed upon the countenance of my brother, on +which was a quiet glow of happiness his expressive +features could not conceal, even when he knew my +searching glance was upon him. O! the agony of +feeling which oppressed me in those bitter days; I +felt all the savage passions of my nature rising within +me; there were moments when I felt as if I could +gladly see my brother and Helen stretched dead at +my feet. Day by day these vindictive thoughts increased +within me. It wanted but the finishing +stroke to make me completely mad—it came. +Though I had long dreaded to make the trial, on +which all my happiness for this world rested, I at +length determined to put it off no longer.</p> + +<p>The shadows of twilight were settling over the +earth as I slowly and sadly approached the parsonage. +My head was bowed upon my breast as I +walked with a noiseless step upon the little path +that led to the unpretending dwelling. I was not +aware how near I had come, till a ray of light from +the window fell across the path, and recalled me to +myself. As I stopped, I heard the tones of my +brother's voice in low and earnest conversation. I +drew nearer, and beheld a sight which rooted me to +the spot, even though I was not wholly unprepared +for such a scene.</p> + +<p>My brother and Helen were seated in the little +arbor before the parsonage, as she and myself had +often before sat when I fancied our love was lasting +as life. In the dim light I could see that my brother's +arm was round her waist, and that her head rested +upon his shoulder. I could hear their conversation.</p> + +<p>"And you do love me, then, Helen?"</p> + +<p>I heard no answer, but the long curls moved +slightly upon my brother's shoulder, and as he bent +his head and kissed her, I felt that he was answered—I +was answered—that he <i>was</i> loved.</p> + +<p>My brain burned as if on fire—and I sunk to the +earth with a low groan. How long I remained unconscious +I do not know; when I recovered, Helen +and Sir John stood beside me. I sprung to my feet, +and gazed upon them with the glare of a maniac. It +was so—my brain was crazed.</p> + +<p>"William," said Helen.</p> + +<p>Her soft voice fell upon my ears with a singular +cadence. With a fierce laugh I struck my brother +to the earth, and rushed forth into the forest. All +that night I must have wandered through its depths. +I found myself at the break of day miles from our +mansion, lying beneath an aged oak. I did not seem +to know myself. I cannot now describe the feelings +and thoughts which raged within me. The wild storm +which is now lashing the ocean without my cabin is +not more wild and fierce—the black sky above me is +not more dark and gloomy. They seemed at length +to settle into one stern, unchanging emotion, and +that was hatred toward my brother, and a stern determination +to revenge upon him the cruel wrong +which had driven me mad.</p> + +<p>My path led along the course of a mountain torrent, +whose sudden descent as it hurried toward the river, +formed successive water-falls not unmusical in their +cadence. A few purple beech and drooping willows +with here and there a mountain ash, skirted the +ravine that formed its bed; their leaves had fallen +before the blasts of autumn, they seemed emblematic +of myself; like me their glory had departed—they +were shorn of their loveliness by the rough storm, +left bare and verdureless in the chilling breath of +autumn; the seasons in their round would restore to +them their beauty and their bloom, clothing their +branches again in all the freshness of youth; but +what should give back to me the freshness and +youth of the heart? what restore the desolation of +of the soul?</p> + +<p>Weak and exhausted, I flung myself down in a +rude grotto, which commanded a view of the foaming +stream as it washed the rocks below; it was a scene +fitted to my mood, for I turned in disgust from the +beautiful landscape an opening in the forest revealed—the +beauty of earth had forever passed away from +me. That same opening, however, unfolded to the +sight the gray towers of my family mansion, and at +once I started to my feet and bent my course toward +them.</p> + +<p>At length I reached my home—how hateful every +thing about the venerable building seemed. I stole +to my chamber, and falling upon my couch, slept +from pure exhaustion.</p> + +<p>It was night when I awoke. I arose, but did not +leave my room; seated by the window with the +cold wind of November blowing upon my burning +brow, I nursed my thoughts of vengeance. I forgot +that he against whom I harbored such thoughts was +my only brother; I forgot my self-offered trial of our +powers with Helen; I forgot every thing—every +thing but the fiery feeling of revenge. Yes, I +was mad.</p> + +<p>Day after day I wandered around the old castle, +shunning every one. My brother strove to converse +with me, but glaring upon him like a maniac as I +was, I rushed past him. I felt the poison of hatred +working within me, and I knew the time was coming +when my revengeful spirit would find its vent.</p> + +<p>I often wandered toward the parsonage, but never +sought an interview with Helen. At times I caught +a glimpse of her light form as it passed by a window +or before the open door that led into the hall. One<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span> +evening I saw my brother enter, and drawing near +the window, I saw through the slightly-parted curtain, +such evidence of their mutual affection, that, if +possible, I became more than ever crazy in my +anguish and despair. I waited for him to come out +long hours, hours to me of bitterest sorrow, to him +of most intense delight. It was an exceedingly cold +night. A slight snow had fallen during the day, and +the landscape around me glistening in the moonlight, +seemed wrapped in a robe of the purest white. Yet +as I gazed all seemed to turn into the deep hue of +blood—wherever I gazed, every thing presented the +same fearful coloring. It was but the shadowy reflection +of a coming deed that should forever stain +my soul with a deeper red, that the years of eternity +could never efface.</p> + +<p>At length my brother opened the door of the parsonage +and came forth. Leaning against the trunk +of an old tree but a little distance from them, I saw +and heard the parting acts of endearment. At that +terrible moment the determination of my soul was +made, and I heard the dark devil within me whisper +one of you must die. I shuddered at the thought, +but when scarcely out of sight of the parsonage, +almost as soon as the door had closed upon the form +of Helen, I confronted my brother. Sir John started +back, surprised.</p> + +<p>"What, William, is it you?"</p> + +<p>I laughed scornfully.</p> + +<p>"My poor brother!"</p> + +<p>"Do you dare to pity me—ha! ha! ha! Sir John! +one of us must die this night—here, upon this spot; +here are two pistols, take one of them, and it will be +soon seen which is the fated one."</p> + +<p>Sir John mechanically took the pistol; cocking my +own, I retired a few paces, and turning, exclaimed,</p> + +<p>"Are you ready?"</p> + +<p>My words recalled him to himself; flinging his +pistol far into the wood, he exclaimed,</p> + +<p>"I will not fire at my brother."</p> + +<p>"Coward!"</p> + +<p>"The name belongs not to our race; fire at me if +you will, I will not at you."</p> + +<p>Enraged beyond expression, yet even in my madness +ashamed to fire at an unarmed man, I hesitated.</p> + +<p>My brother spoke.</p> + +<p>"Come, William, let us go home."</p> + +<p>"Home!—ha! ha! ha! my home is the wood and +the cave! Here, take my good-night."</p> + +<p>Thus speaking I flung my pistol full at his face +with all my strength; it struck him lengthwise, and +being cocked, went off in consequence of the concussion.</p> + +<p>Sir John fell upon the cold snow. I rushed up to +him, and beheld the blood flowing in torrents from a +ghastly wound; the ball had taken a downward direction, +and penetrated the abdomen.</p> + +<p>"William," he said, faintly, "you have murdered +me. God forgive you!"</p> + +<p>It seemed as if my reason came back to me at that +terrible moment as suddenly as it had left me. At +the report of my pistol, I had heard a loud scream +in the parsonage, and almost at the same time +with myself Helen rushed up to the side of my +brother.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" she cried, in accents of agony, "who has +done this?"</p> + +<p>"Who!" said I, bitterly, "do you ask? You +have done it; but no, Helen, I do not mean it—let +us carry him into the parsonage."</p> + +<p>With difficulty we lifted the body of my brother, +and bearing him into the house, laid him upon a +bed. Helen, who had up to this time been sustained +by the necessity of exertion, fainted beside the body. +I stood gazing upon them in stupid despair. The +worthy pastor opened the door of the room; he had +heard an unusual noise, and left his books to learn +the cause.</p> + +<p>I stopped not to converse with him, I could not +trust myself to speak, but stooping to the lifeless +form of Helen, I imprinted a last kiss upon her pale +lips, and burst from the chamber. I do not know +the result of that fatal night. It may be that my +brother and Helen were both restored to life and +happiness. God grant that it was so. It may be +that the spirits of both had already passed to another +world when I broke from the room, leaving the pale +and astonished pastor gazing upon the lifeless bodies +of his only daughter and the young lord of the manor. +Years have passed since then, and not a happy hour +have their long ages borne to me; yet methinks if I +could but know that my brother and Helen are +living in happiness in the mansion of my fathers, +much that is dark and despairing in the remnant of +life would be taken from the future.</p> + +<p>That night I bade farewell to the haunts of boyhood, +and the next day I was out upon the broad ocean. +I had jumped aboard of a little vessel which was +just weighing anchor, without asking its destination +or caring where it bore me. I made brief reply to +all interrogatories, merely showing a purse of gold, +which was sufficient answer, inasmuch as it showed +I was not to be an unprofitable part of the cargo.</p> + +<p>Seated upon the companion-way, that evening I +watched the receding shores of my native isle, and +as the sunlight went out on its white cliffs, leaving +them in sombre shade, I felt that so had the light of +my life gone out, leaving the darkness of despair +forever. Reckless as I was of the future, and dark +as was the past, I was not yet dead to all emotion, +and I could not witness my native land fading from +my view without experiencing those melancholy +feelings which the endearing recollections of former +years excite, embittered as they were with me by +the thought that even if I ever should return to the +home of my fathers, I should find no kindred to +welcome me back. No wonder, then, that I felt a +chilling sickness of the heart as I caught a last +glimpse of the Wicklow Mountains gleaming in the +warm colorings of the evening sun, as they mingled +their hoary summits with the "dewy skies" of my +native isle.</p> + +<p>The vessel on which I had chanced to take passage +was bound for the West Indies. It was a +small merchantman, and fell an easy prey to the +first pirate that gave chase. We were boarded and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span> +all consigned to death. When the command was +given to the pirates to shoot us all through the head, +I stepped forward with a smile, and a heart partaking +more of gladness than it had felt for long months, a +pistol was at my temple, when the stern voice of +the pirate captain commanded his man to stay his +hand. He stepped forward and gazed into my face.</p> + +<p>"My fine fellow, are you not afraid to die?"</p> + +<p>"I have nothing to live for—blow away, and I +will thank you."</p> + +<p>"By heaven, you are just the man for us! Now +take your choice, I have no objection to shoot you, +indeed it would be rather pleasant than otherwise, +but one of my lieutenants was killed yesterday, and +you can fill his place if you will. I give you five +minutes to decide while we are dispatching these +dogs." I gazed upon the cruel work—it did not shock +me; I even smiled at their agony, and had determined +to share their fate, when a momentary thought +of the unknown, mysterious hereafter restrained my +advancing step. Am I ready, thought I, to plunge +into its mysteries. I shuddered at the thought. It +was not the beautiful blue sky unrolled above me, +nor the broad, playful sea around that wooed me to +life. No, it was that fear of the "something after +death."</p> + +<p>"Are you ready to answer?"</p> + +<p>"I am thine."</p> + +<p>"It is well, throw these carcasses into the sea, and +set all sail for the Bermudas. Well, lieutenant," +continued he, as the ship fell off before the wind, +"give us your name, or it will be awkward work +hailing you."</p> + +<p>"William—" I stopped, the pride of my race arose +within me.</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"I will not give my name—call me William, I'll +answer to that."</p> + +<p>"Very well—lieutenant William, my lads, your +second lieutenant."</p> + +<p>The men seemed to like me from the first, and as +I gazed upon them with a proud, fearless eye, a +hearty cheer arose that endorsed my command.</p> + +<p>Since then my home has been the pirate's deck; +my heart has grown harder and harder with the +lapse of time. I love the sight of blood better than +I love the flowing wine—the agonizing shriek of +death better than the sweetest music—like an emissary +of evil I gloat over the tortures of man. I have +learned to hate the land of my birth, and all who first +drew breath upon her detested soil. I have been +foremost in every conflict, yet have I not met death—the +only foe whom I cannot conquer by my fierce +will and dark heart.</p> + +<p>I could not long remain a subordinate in command. +I had become the idol of our lawless crew, and a +single blow from my sword laid our captain low in +death upon his own deck; and I filled his place, +smiling with a fiendish pleasure, as I saw his body +thrown into the waves, and the hungry sharks +severing the limbs yet throbbing with life. I have +no feeling for my kind—yet I was not meant for this. +Under happier auspices, I might have been a leader +in the ranks of God as I am now in those of Satan; +my sword might have been drawn for my native +land with the purest and loftiest feelings of patriotism, +instead of being turned against her and her children. +Even now, in the midst of my crimes and desolation, +my heart throbs when I think of the great and good +of earth, and I feel that, like them, I might have left a +name of boast and pride to mankind; now, I shall +perish, unknown and unwept; the annals of my house +shall never record that one of its scions led a pirate +crew to deeds of bloody cruelty and death. Long +since I have buried my name in oblivion—I am dead +to my kindred, dead to the world; the caves of ocean +are yawning for the body of the pirate-chief, and +there will he sleep with the howling ocean and the +shrieking storm to sing his requiem and his dirge.</p> + +<p class="right">[<i>To be continued.</i></p> +<br /><br /> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="DREAMS" id="DREAMS"></a>DREAMS.</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yes, there were pleasant voices yesternight,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Humming within mine ear a tale of truth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Reminding me of days ere the sad blight<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of care had dimmed the brightness of my youth:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Yes, they were pleasant voices; but, forsooth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They threw a kind of melancholy charm<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Around my heart; as if in vengeful ruth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our very dreams have knowledge of the harm<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ourselves do to ourselves, without the least alarm!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I love such dreams, for at my couch there stood<br /></span> +<span class="i1">One who, in other lands, with magic spell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had taught my untaught heart to love the good,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The pure, the holy, which in her did dwell.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">It was a lovely image, and too well<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I do remember me the fatal hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">When that bright image—but I may not tell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How deep the thraldom, absolute the power—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My very dreams decide it was her only dower.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><i>Sandwich Islands.</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What are our dreams? A sort of fancy sketches,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Limned on the mind's retina, with a grace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More subtle than the wakeful artist catches,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And tinted with a more ethereal trace.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Our dreams annihilate both time and space,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And waft us, with magnetic swiftness, back<br /></span> +<span class="i1">O'er an oblivious decade to the place<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where youth's fond visions clustered o'er our track;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of youth's fond hopes decayed, alas! there is no lack!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I love such dreams, for they are more than real;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">They have a passion in them in whose birth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The heart receives again its beau ideal—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Its Platonized embodiment of worth.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Call ye them dreams! then what a mortal dearth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Throws its gaunt shadow o'er our little life!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Our very joy is mockery of mirth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And our quiescence agony of strife:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If dreams are naught but dreams, what is our real life?<br /></span> +<span class="i10">E. O. H.</span> +</div></div> +<br /><br /> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="A_LEAF_IN_THE_LIFE_OF_LEDYARD_LINCOLN" id="A_LEAF_IN_THE_LIFE_OF_LEDYARD_LINCOLN"></a>A LEAF IN THE LIFE OF LEDYARD LINCOLN.</h2> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span> +<h3>A SKETCH.</h3> + +<hr class="short" /> +<h4>BY MARY SPENCER PEASE.</h4> +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>It was in the joyous leaf-giving, life-giving month +of June, of 18—, after an absence of six years, that +I found myself once more among my own dearly +loved native hills.</p> + +<p>An intense worshiper of Nature, I had gratified to +the utmost my passion and curiosity by exploring all +the accessible regions of the old world. I had studied +every scene that was in any way famous, or <i>in</i>famous +I might say with regard to some, if the necessity +of clambering down or up unclimbable precipices, +or wading through interminable swamps, could +render them so.</p> + +<p>With all the fatigue and hardships I had undergone +my reward was great, and had more than repaid me +for the perilous dangers I had courted and conquered. +I had gazed, and dreamed, and raved by turns. I +had been melted into tears of tenderness by the perfect +harmony and loveliness of some scenes, and +had been frozen into awe by the magnificent grandeur +and terrible sublimity of others. And, after +those six years of travel in foreign lands, I had returned, +my brain one endless panorama of hills, valleys +and cloud-capped mountains, earth, skies, wood +and water. Not one of those gorgeous scenes, however, +had moved me as I was moved when once +again I beheld my boyhood's home—the stately mansion +of my fathers. Half hidden, it rose majestically +amid the noble elms that surrounded it; there lay +the velvet-green sloping lawn in front—down which, +as a boy, I had rolled in the summer and sledded in +the winter—there the wild, night-dark ravine in the +rear—fit haunt for elves and gnomes—that terminated +amid jagged rocks and tangled trees, in a rushing, +roaring brook of no mean dimensions, almost as +large as many of the so-called rivers of the mother +country. Just at this point, at the turn of the old +time-worn stage-road, where the venerable, picturesque +old homestead of my sires burst thus suddenly +into view, an opening in the trees, whether by +accident or design, revealed one of the very merriest, +maddest of musical water-falls, that went foaming +and tumbling its snow-white, sparkling waters +over a bed of huge rocks, and then, by a sudden +wilful bend, that same loud-uttering brook was lost +to view.</p> + +<p>As the rattling stage neared my home, my heart +leaped within me, and every fibre of it trembled with +emotion. I could have hugged and kissed each +familiar sturdy old tree, looking so grand and natural. +My soul warmed and yearned toward the well +remembered scene; and as I thought upon my fond, +doting mother and my loving, lovely sisters, and my +ever-indulgent father, I could have wept in the intensity +of my joy at finding myself so near them, +and breathing the same free, pure, health-giving air +that had nurtured my childhood. But was there not +sitting directly opposite to me one of the most exquisitely +beautiful of God's lovely women; and did not +her saucy, demure eyes seem to read my very soul? +I therefore restrained a display of my feelings, for it +would not have appeared in the least dignified or +proper in a fine-looking young man (such as I imagined +myself to be) of four-and-twenty, to be seen +with eyes streaming like a young girl.</p> + +<p>More than once, during our short stage-coach ride +had our eyes met; and hers had revealed to me a living +well of spiritual beauty; and although they were +withdrawn as soon as they encountered mine—not +coquettishly, but with true feminine modesty—still +they were not turned away until our mutual eyes +had flashed one electrical spark of mutual understanding +and mutual sympathy, that whole volumes +of dull words could never express either as vividly +or as truly. What a heaven-born mystery is contained +in the glance of an eye: it can kill and can +make alive; it can fill the heart with a sudden and +delicious ecstasy, and it can plunge it into the deepest, +darkest despair.</p> + +<p>I gave her one last look as the stage stopped before +my father's door, and if it expressed one tithe +of what I felt, it told her of my warm admiration of +her glorious beauty, and of my sorrow at leaving her, +perhaps forever, without knowing more of her.</p> + +<p>For the time the matchless image of my stage-coach +companion was lost in the loving embraces +and tender greetings of my family. I felt it truly +refreshing, after six years of exile from my own +kith and kin, to be caressed and made much of; to +be told by three deliciously beautiful, exquisitely +graceful sisters, hanging around one, and kissing one +every other word, to be told how much the few last +years had improved one, how handsome, &c. one +was grown; was it not enough to somewhat turn +one's brain, and make one a little vain and considerably +happy.</p> + +<p>In the still hush of the night, after finding myself +once more in my own room—<i>my</i> room, with its +cabinets of shells and mosses, that I had collected +when a boy in my various trips to the seashore, all +religiously left arranged as I had left them, its guns, +fishing-rods, stuffed rabbits and birds, its preserved +rattle-snakes and cases of insects, all of which had +stood for so long a time in their respective places +that they had become a part of the room—in the still<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span> +hush of the night the divine image of my most beautiful +stage-coach companion arose before me. The +evening was warm and soft, and gleaming in the +gorgeous moonlight lay that wild, weird ravine, and +the ever downward, foaming water-fall. Its musical +utterings, the delicious moonlight, and my own +newly awakened and hitherto invulnerable heart, +all conspired to make me poetical and inspired, or at +least to imagine myself to be so; and pardon me if I +gave utterance in verse to some of my feelings. +But do not in the least imagine that you are going +by any means to be presented with a fatiguing copy +of my passionate numbers; in the first place I am +very diffident, and in the next—but never mind the +next, I will tell you in plain prose that I felt convinced +in my heart, I felt a rapturous presentiment +that the unutterably lovely being I had that day beheld +would ere long be my own dear little wife, forever +and forever. An indistinct dream of having +somewhere, at some time before, known her haunted +me and tormented me, but I racked my brains in vain +to recollect the spot or time, and finally came to the +conclusion that it had been in another state of existence +we had met.</p> + +<p>I had been home but a few days when business +letters came, demanding the presence of my father +or myself in Philadelphia. My father expressed a +desire that I should go, and a certain internal prompting +urged me to comply with his request. The next +morning bright and early found me seated in the +same stage-coach in which I had met her. The due +progress of steamboat and cars deposited me safely +the day after in the goodly city of Squareruledom.</p> + +<p>The first leisure moment at my command, I paid +my respects to the family of my father's brother. I +found my good uncle and aunt at home; but my +little pet Emily—their only child—whom I had last +seen a rosy romping little imp of twelve—was unfortunately +out. My uncle urged me very hard to +make his house my home during my stay in Philadelphia; +but I had taken up my abode in the family +of an old college chum of mine, who had lately commenced +the practice of the art of healing, and who I +knew would be none the worse from a little of my +help in a pecuniary way. I therefore declined my +kind uncle's request, with a promise to come and +see them often.</p> + +<p>Judge of my inexpressible joy when, turning a +corner of a street, after leaving my uncle's, who +should I chance upon but the very being of whom +my brain and heart were full! Yes, there was the +identical she, and bless her dear little heart! she gave +me a bright half smile of recognition, which I returned +with as profound a bow as ever courtier +bowed to queen, or devotee to Pope's sublime imperial +toe.</p> + +<p>An omnibus came rolling by, which she, with a +motion of her neat little gloved hand, bid stop. She +stepped lightly into it, while I, with my usual impetuosity, +without knowing exactly what I was doing, +sprang after her. I consoled myself for my apparent +rudeness by throwing the entire blame upon the +elective affinities.</p> + +<p>On we went, and from time to time as I stole a +glance at her sweet face, I thought I detected a sly, +mischievous little devil playing around the corners +of her small dimpled mouth, and about the pure lids +of her downcast long-fringed eyes. She never +vouchsafed me a look, however; and as we went +on, and as I still watched her lovely face, a dread +vision arose up before me of a six-foot and well proportioned +youth, with fierce whiskers and a moustache +of undisputable cut and style, that I remembered +to have seen with the young lady during our +stage-coach ride together—that I remembered, with a +terrible heart-sinking, was impressively attentive to +her. I inwardly resolved to let nature have her +way, and let all the hair grow on my face that would; +what if it did grow a little reddish or so—why I +should resemble the rising sun, with my glory like a +halo around me. Seriously, I have long been of the +opinion that a shaved face is as much of a disgrace, +and ought to be so considered, as a shaved head fresh +from prison. Why do we not finish the half completed +work and actually shave off the hair of our +heads, our eye-brows and lashes, as well as our +beards, and thus go cool and comfortable through the +world? There would be this advantage in it, the +disciples of Spurzheim would have no trouble of +making a map of our bumps at sight; and then think +what an immense saving it would be in combs and +brushes, to say nothing of pomatum, which some so +freely use. I rejoice sincerely to see the sudden rise +in crops of hair, and most truly hope they will not +have as rapid a fall. Shaving is artificial and injurious, +exposing parts to cold that Nature never +meant should be exposed. Black, white or red—hair +is a protection and ornament that no manly face +or head should be without. Rejoice ye, therefore, +over every repentant sinner who tarrieth in Jericho +and letteth his beard to grow.</p> + +<p>But to return to my little omnibus companion, +who by this time was gracefully moving over the +smooth gravel-walks of Fairmount—for there we +had stopped—and exceedingly refreshing were its +cool shades and splashing fountains on that sultry +June day. I kept as near her as I could without +appearing rude, especially as I had received one or +two half glances from her bright eyes, that nearly +annihilated me, such an unearthly fluttering and +bumping in the region of my heart did they create. +Mercy upon me! what would a whole glance do? +And for a whole glance I courageously resolved to +strive, let the consequences be what they might.</p> + +<p>Now do you not expect an earthquake, or a roaring +bull, or at least a rabid dog? It was nothing +more however than a refreshing shower of rain—truly +refreshing to my thirsty soul, for it gave me +that coveted <i>whole</i> glance. Heavens! I actually +staggered, and would undoubtedly have fallen had it +not been for a friendly sappling—you will sneer at +witless I—that grew near me. But just try the effect +upon yourself—a shock of electricity is nothing in +comparison to a shock from a pair of bright eyes—such +eyes as hers. The truth of the case was here, +of a sudden, apparently from out the clear sky, came<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span> +down, with not a moment's warning, a perfect avalanche +of rain-drops—all expressly got up, or down, +for my benefit, else why did I happen to have an +umbrella in my hand? "A Wise man—" you remember +the rest. My beautiful incognito was away +up those long stairs, and walking leisurely around +the immense basin, when the rain came down. I +was not very far from her, and in less than an instant +my umbrella was over her pretty little blue bonnet, +with—</p> + +<p>"Be kind enough to accept my umbrella, Miss"—in +the most insinuating manner of which I was +master.</p> + +<p>"Thank you! but I will not deprive you of its +shelter," with that whole glance of which I spoke. +So on we went together, and somehow after we +found ourselves under shelter, it was the easiest and +most natural thing in the world to fall into a pleasant +conversation. After talking about the scenery, weather, +&c., we had mutually enjoyed during our short +stage ride, I spoke of the beauty around us, and +asked her if she often visited this lovely spot.</p> + +<p>"Not very often," replied she. "It is very beautiful +though, in spite of all they have done to spoil it."</p> + +<p>"To spoil it!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, by making it as much like a chess-board as +possible, all straight lines and stiffness. That is Philadelphia +however."</p> + +<p>"Then you are not a Philadelphian, or it is not a +favorite city with you?"</p> + +<p>"There you are mistaken. It is my native place, +and a city I love dearly—with all its formalities and +inhospitalities toward strangers. Philadelphia is a +prim matron, with a warm heart but a most frigid, +repulsive exterior, until you become acquainted with +her—one of her particular children."</p> + +<p>"I have been told that there is a finer collection of +works of art here than in any other city in the +Union."</p> + +<p>"I believe you have been told correctly. We have +more time in our quiet way to look after and admire +the productions of the great masters. Our taste has +wonderfully improved within a few years."</p> + +<p>"I have not been in town long enough to visit any +of your show places yet."</p> + +<p>"How I <i>should</i> like to see that lovely water-fall +and the whole of that beautiful scene on canvas. Do +you know I almost envied you a home in that beautiful +house with all its picturesque surroundings."</p> + +<p>"I am truly thankful you had the kind grace to +think of me at all."</p> + +<p>"How could I help it? I had a feeling the first +moment I saw you that you and I were destined to +be friends. Is there not a certain mysterious something—call +it magnetism or instinct—that either +draws us toward or repels us from every person we +meet in either a greater or less degree? With me +this instinct is very strong, and I obey it implicitly, +never in one instance having found it to fail. I know +at once who to trust and who to love. And would +know, by the same unerring law of my nature, who +to hate if ever I felt the least inclination to hate. +The only feeling of hate I ever experienced is a +strong desire to avoid all persons or things that are +disagreeable to me. I love harmony the most perfect, +and discord is a thing for me to flee from. I felt +toward you a most decided drawing, and I felt a conviction +then, as I do now, that we are to be very +near and dear friends."</p> + +<p>The little angel! I could have hugged and kissed +her on the spot; but I hugged her in my soul, and +inwardly vowed to consecrate my life to her, if the +"drawing" she felt for me could be rendered sufficiently +strong to admit of such a thing. On a sudden +I bethought me of the whiskered incognito, her stage +attendant. I mustered courage to ask her in a half +laughing way, if that fine-looking fellow she had +called Charles were her brother.</p> + +<p>Instantly her manner changed from that of sweet +and almost tender seriousness to an arch, quizzical +one that puzzled me.</p> + +<p>"Oh no, not my brother," said she.</p> + +<p>"<i>Not</i> her brother—a sharp pang of pain shot +through me—I was getting dreadfully jealous—I +looked all manner of curiosity and all manner of questions; +she took pity on me and said—a smile still +lurking in the corner of her eye—</p> + +<p>"He is no more nor less than the intended future +husband of the one you see before you."</p> + +<p>"The future devil! I sincerely beg your pardon, +but—you take me by surprise—I regret—but really I +do not feel that it can be so."</p> + +<p>"And why not?"</p> + +<p>"Truly, why not!"</p> + +<p>"He is very handsome."</p> + +<p>"That is as one thinks."</p> + +<p>"And very accomplished."</p> + +<p>"In flattery, most like."</p> + +<p>"And a most profound scholar."</p> + +<p>"In the art of making love, it would seem."</p> + +<p>"But I do not love him."</p> + +<p>"Not love him!"</p> + +<p>"No, nor never can."</p> + +<p>"Then why, my dearest young lady, do you marry +him?"</p> + +<p>"You may well ask; why indeed?"</p> + +<p>"You seemed very friendly with him the day I +saw you together, and happier than I could have +wished you."</p> + +<p>"That was before I knew I was to be his wife. +It has only been decided upon a few days."</p> + +<p>"And now?"</p> + +<p>"It is a long story, that I may tell you if we should +meet again. I never can love him, though I greatly +esteem him, and—"</p> + +<p>"<i>Esteem!</i>"</p> + +<p>"A sad substitute for love; but what is love without +esteem?"</p> + +<p>"What is esteem without love?"</p> + +<p>"Very true. It was not my own doing, although +I reluctantly gave my consent. If I can with honor +release myself from this unfortunate engagement—I +have thought more and more every day since, that +love, true heart-love, is the only tie that should sanction +the union of two beings—but why should I talk +in this way to you, a stranger? I cannot feel, how<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span>ever +that you are a stranger; we have surely met +before in some other state of being. I am a firm believer +in the beautiful faith of the transmigration of +souls—of pre-existence. What is it that brings two +congenial souls together, uniting them in one hour in +more perfect harmony than whole years could effect +among ordinary acquaintances?"</p> + +<p>"Something unexplainable," I answered, "as it +is mysterious. We can call it elective affinity, and +can talk very learnedly upon the singular attraction +of the magnet, as applied to the poles as well as +souls, and we can make vast and wise experiments, +and in the end be as far from the real cause as we +were before the Solomonic experiments were made. +The school-boy's reasoning was more to the point—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I do not like you, Dr. Fell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The reason why I cannot tell."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>I love you dearly, Dr. Fell, the reason why, &c., +would be just as conclusive. We are so accustomed +to seeing drops of water drawing near to meet each +other, and mingling in a loving embrace of perfect +unity, that we cease to wonder at the occurrence, as +we do also at the fact that oil and water will not +mingle."</p> + +<p>"Just as my soul will <i>not</i> mingle with the souls +of some. There is an antagonism more or less decided +between my inner self and many persons I +know; people, too, that I am compelled to be friendly +with, and wish to be friendly with, many of them +my cousins and aunts. Then again toward some +am I as irresistibly attracted."</p> + +<p>Her beautiful eyes sought mine frequently during +our conversation, and her glorious soul looked +through them—earnest, simple and pure.</p> + +<p>"Just so," resumed she, after a pause, during +which her sweet, soft eyes had been gazing on the +dreamy waters. "Just so have I felt attracted toward +you. I could sit down beside you and tell my whole +soul to you as freely as though you were my own +brother."</p> + +<p>The word <i>brother</i> sent a disagreeable shiver through +me that all her sweet confidence could not banish.</p> + +<p>"But," exclaimed she, starting up, "what am I +doing? The rain has stopped, and the waning sun +warns me that it is time to be at home. And what +<i>must</i> you think of me? I hardly dare to ask the—"</p> + +<p>"That you are the most lovely, most glorious of +all Heaven's glorious creatures; that you—"</p> + +<p>"There, there! if you talk in that way, I shall +truly repent having said all I have to you."</p> + +<p>"Forgive me; though I spoke sincerely, I +hope—"</p> + +<p>"I will forgive on condition of good behavior in +future. But I must not stay for another word. Promise +me that you will not leave this spot until ten +minutes after the omnibus I shall be in is out of sight."</p> + +<p>"I promise," said I, reluctantly.</p> + +<p>She gave me her little, soft, ungloved hand at +parting; its gentle pressure sent a thrill of ecstasy +through me, and I looked all the unutterable things +that my full soul felt into her warm brown eyes. +And, by the way, I may as well say that my own +eyes are—they are a dark, deep blue, and strangely +expressive, if I believe my sisters and my friends, +and—my own glass.</p> + +<p>For one week did I wander up and down the +streets, and watch every omnibus, and stare into +the windows and doors of every house I passed. I +peered under every pretty bonnet I met, and was, on +the eighth day, giving full chase to a coquettish little +blue one, in the earnest hope of finding the sweet +face of my beautiful incognita hidden under it, when +some one laid a strong grasp on my shoulder, and +looking around, I beheld the generous face of my +good uncle.</p> + +<p>"Bless the boy! why, Led, what is your hurry? +Your business must have been <i>very</i> urgent this last +week. Why, in the name of all the saints, have you +kept away so studiously? There is poor little Emily +actually dying with anxiety to see you. Bless my +soul! is this the way to treat your friends? But now +that I have fairly captured you, I do not intend to +let you go."</p> + +<p>And he did not, and would not; so I had to go with +him. And what do you think? The first object that +met my bewildered gaze, as my uncle led me into +the drawing-room, was—herself! her very self! but +so altered, looking so cold and stately. My uncle +introduced me to her as "My daughter Emily, +nephew Ledyard." "My daughter Emily" inclined +her beautiful head most graciously, and sweetly +smiled, but not one recognizing glance did she deign +to bestow on poor "nephew Ledyard." Lovely she +was, and proud and majestic as a queen. What +could it mean? I made several well-planned alluions +to omnibuses and stages, &c., not one of which +did she seem to comprehend.</p> + +<p>Her exceeding beauty still charmed me in spite +of her coldness; and I stayed to tea and then the +evening. My cousin sung for me; her voice was +highly cultivated and exceedingly sweet, and full of +feeling. Song after song she poured forth into the +listening air, and each song entranced me more than +the last.</p> + +<p>We conversed gayly on several topics, and she +grew more and more familiar with me, alluded +playfully to our childish intimacy; still, to the very +close of the evening, did she refuse to remember by +look or word that we had met since children. She +evidently wished to forget, and wished me to forget +the whole of that pleasant interview that had afforded +<i>me</i>, at least, such soul-felt delight; yet she acted her +part so well, was so careless and unconscious, and +withal so cold and full of queenly dignity, that I went +home in a perfect bewilderment of amazement.</p> + +<p>As I lay tossing on a sleepless bed, and in my +heart bitterly railing against the perversity and incomprehensibility +of women, I found myself incessantly +repeating to myself, "Am I Giles, or am I +not;" the truth flashed upon me that I was the unhappy +victim of an optical illusion, that the Cousin +Emily I had but a little before left was simply my +Cousin Emily, and not the beautiful being of whom +my heart and life were full—that incessant thinking +of her, and seeking her, had crazed my brain. I relighted +my lamp and made my way into the doctor's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span> +study. I read all I could find on the subject of +optical delusion and maniacal hallucination until I +convinced myself that I was laboring under a very +alarming attack of one or both, and resolved on +seriously consulting my friend, the doctor, early the +next morning.</p> + +<p>I went back to bed with the decided opinion that +I was exceedingly to be pitied—how would it appear +in the papers? for I must undoubtedly grow worse, +and it must undoubtedly end in suicide. "Sad occurrence," +"nice young man," "brilliant prospects," +"only son of—," and "promising talents," "laboring +under incipient insanity," "fatal cause unknown," +&c., &c. I sympathized with myself until +near morning, then fell into a sleep, which lasted +until the bell rung for breakfast. I dressed in a +hurry, and got down before the muffins were quite +cold. I ate a hearty breakfast, read a newspaper or +two, and determining on seeing my cousin again before +I made up my mind to ask advice, I soon found +myself at her door. The fresh morning air and the +walk had so invigorated me, that I laughed at my +last night's fears, especially as my lovely cousin +came into the drawing-room to receive me, radiant +with health and beauty. I found her just the same +as she was the night before, gay, witty and charming, +and as cold as marble. Still I could not be mistaken; +for, with all her feigned coldness—for some good +reason of her own undoubtedly—there was no +doubting her identity with that of my glorious Fairmount +vision.</p> + +<p>The day was a lovely one, soft and mild as a June +morning could make it. After conversing on indifferent +subjects for a time, I asked her, remarking on +the deliciousness of the morning, if she would not +like to go out with me to Fairmount. She assented +with a quiet smile, as innocently as though she had +never in her life before heard of such a place as +Fairmount.</p> + +<p>"The little-deceiver!" thought I. "Which way +shall we go?" said I, aloud, and very significantly, +"shall we take the omnibus?"</p> + +<p>"I will order the carriage," replied she, with a +slight shrug; "I never ride in those omnibusses, one +meets with such odd people."</p> + +<p>"<i>Never?</i>" asked I, emphatically.</p> + +<p>"Certainly, never!" answered she, with much +apparent surprise.</p> + +<p>My drive was a delightful one. How could it be +otherwise, with a glorious day surrounding me, and +a gloriously beautiful cousin sitting beside me, with +whom I could not exactly make up my mind whether +to fall desperately <i>in</i> love, or desperately <i>out</i> of +love. I, too, such an enthusiastic lover of beauty. +But she chose to be so different from what she was +at our first meeting—so reserved, that I could not +decide whether I most loved or was most indifferent +to her.</p> + +<p>We rode all the morning, and I left her, promising +to call again in the evening. I walked the streets +until dark, the whole affair vexed me so much—I, +such a hater of all mysteries, the most impatient of +all breathing mortals. I determined to come at once +to an understanding with my perverse little cousin, +and to decide at once the puzzling question whether +to love or not to love.</p> + +<p>In the evening I found myself alone with my little +tormentor.</p> + +<p>"Now, sweet Cousin Emily," said I, playfully, +"you have been teazing me long enough with your +pretty affectation of ignorance and innocence—not +but that you are as ignorant as the rest of your sweet +sex, and as innocent too—but, I beseech you, lay by +this masquerading, you have played possum long +enough. I humbly implore of you to be the same to +me that you were in our first visit to Fairmount—the +earnest, simple-hearted Cousin Emily you then +were."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Lincoln speaks in enigmas; I must confess +I do not understand his meaning, nor his elegant +allusion to 'playing possum.'"</p> + +<p>This she said with so much haughtiness, that I +was taken all aback. Rallying, however, in a moment +I determined not to give up the point.</p> + +<p>"I beseech of you to pardon the inelegance of my +expression, and also my pertinacity in insisting upon +some explanation of your manner toward me. It +will all do very well for the stage," continued I, +bitterly, "but in real life, among cousins, and two +that have met so frankly, and in such sincerity, I +feel that our acquaintanceship must at once end, +pleasant as it has been, as it might be to me, unless +you lay aside this assumed coldness. It harasses me +more than I can express. Emily, after seeing you in +the stage-coach, I thought I had never met with one +half so lovely, and I could think of nothing but you. +After remaining at home but one week, business +called me to Philadelphia. Judge of my delight +when almost the first object that met my view was +your beautiful, unforgotten little self. You were +just stepping into one of those very omnibusses you +have since seen fit to decry. What followed you +must remember as distinctly as I—no <i>not</i> as distinctly, +for the whole of that delicious interview is +engraven on my heart—one of the sun-bright scenes +of my life that I can never forget. And now, after +that beautiful interchange of thought and soul that +promised—every thing, do I find you cold, impassive. +If you repent the trust you so freely reposed +in me, in all frankness, say so; but for the sweet love +of heaven, do not pretend to such—"</p> + +<p>"For the sweet love of heaven what is the man +raving about? Are you mad, dear cousin, insane? +Poor Cousin Ledyard! Or is it—?" her whole +manner changed, her brilliant eyes lighted up with +intense fire. How beautiful she looked! I could +have knelt and worshiped her, though, strange to +say, my restless, ardent love for her had entirely +abated. "Yes!" exclaimed she, "it must be so;" +and with that she clasped her small white hands, and +throwing back her fine head, laughed with all her +heart, and strength, and soul.</p> + +<p>This was very pleasant for me; still I had to join +her laugh, it was so genuine and infectious.</p> + +<p>"Forgive me, dear cousin, forgive me for my rude +laughter; forgive me also for my folly in attempting<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span> +to deceive you. You will hereafter find me the +same you found me in our first pleasant interview. +Here is my hand—I will not explain one other word +to-night; I hear voices on the stairs. Come here to-morrow +evening at eight, and you shall know all—all +my reasons."</p> + +<p>"And why not to-morrow morning, cruel cousin?"</p> + +<p>"I am engaged all of the day to-morrow. I go +with mamma and papa out of town, ten miles or so, +to dine; a stupid affair, but mamma wishes it."</p> + +<p>"But before you go—just after breakfast."</p> + +<p>"No, no—come in the evening."</p> + +<p>By this time the voices heard on the stairs had +entered the room in the shape of a merry half-dozen +of my cousin's young friends. Feeling too agitated +for society, I withdrew.</p> + +<p>And now another night and a whole day more +of suspense—that pale horror, that come in what +shape it will, even in the shape of a beautiful cousin, +always torments the very life from my heart.</p> + +<p>All the clocks in town were striking eight as I +rung my uncle's bell. I found the drawing-room full +of company, at which I felt vexed and disappointed.</p> + +<p>My lovely cousin came up to me and placed her +arm within mine, and led me through the next room +into the conservatory, and there, seated amid the rare +eastern flowers, herself the queen of them, was, +gracious heaven! I dared scarcely breathe, so great +was my fear of dispelling the beautiful illusion. It +was she! none other; my stage-coach companion—my +Fairmount goddess. The musical, measured +voice of my statue-like Cousin Emily brought me to +myself.</p> + +<p>"Allow me. Cousin Ledyard, to introduce you to +<i>my</i> Cousin Emily."</p> + +<p>There they both stood, one Cousin Emily, calm, +stately, serene; the other trembling and in blushes.</p> + +<p>I looked from one to the other in the most ludicrous +bewilderment, yet each glance showed me more and +more what a wonderful fool I had been making of +myself for the last few days. Still they were strangely +alike; their own kindred could not at times distinguish +one from the other. My heart could feel the +difference. <i>My</i> Emily was a child of nature, the +other bred in a more conventional school. My Emily +was a shade less tall, less stately, less Grecian, and +exquisitely more lovely, and loving.</p> + +<p>But that double wedding <i>was</i> a grand one. By +what means my Emily contrived to disentangle herself +from that handsome-whiskered "Charles," and +to entangle him fast in the chains of the other Emily, +any one who wishes to know, and will take the +trouble, can have all due information on the subject, +and can also learn how I wooed my peerless Emily +and won her, by coming to our lovely picturesque +dwelling, situate in one of the most romantic spots +in the country. I write you all to come, one by +one, and spend a month with me, and you shall know +all the particulars. You will find my little Emily a +pattern housekeeper; you will also find a ready +welcome. Bless her sweet face! There she sits, +at the moment that I am writing this to you, with +her willow arms twined around the exquisite form of +her little lily-bud boy, and bending low her graceful +form over him, hushing to sleep the very bravest, +noblest, merriest little specimen of babyhood—the +exact image of his enraptured father.</p> +<br /><br /> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_DEFORMED_ARTIST" id="THE_DEFORMED_ARTIST"></a>THE DEFORMED ARTIST.</h2> + +<hr class="short" /> +<h4>BY MRS. E. N. HORSFORD.</h4> +<hr class="short" /> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The twilight o'er Italia's sky<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Had wove a shadowy veil,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And one by one the solemn stars<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Looked forth serene and pale;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As quickly the waning light<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Through a high casement stole,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fell on one with silver hair,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Who shrived a passing soul.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No costly pomp and luxury<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Relieved that chamber's gloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But glowing forms, by limner's art<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Created, thronged the room:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And as the low winds echoed far<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The bell for evening prayer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dying painter's earnest tones<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Fell on the languid air.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The spectral form of Death is nigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The thread of Life is spun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ave Maria! I have looked<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Upon my latest sun.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yet 'tis not with pale disease<br /></span> +<span class="i1">This frame is worn away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor yet—nor yet with length of years—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A child but yesterday"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I found within my father's hall<br /></span> +<span class="i1">No fervent love to claim—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The curse that marked me from my birth<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Devoted me to shame.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I saw upon my brother's brow<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Angelic beauty lay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mirror gave me back a form<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That thrilled me with dismay."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And soon I learned to shrink from all,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The lowly and the high;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To see but scorn on every lip,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Contempt in every eye.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And for a time e'en Nature's smile<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A bitter mockery wore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For beauty stamped each living thing<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The wide creation o'er;"<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And I alone was cursed and loathed;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">'Twas in a garden bower<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I knelt one eve, and scalding tears<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Fell fast on many a flower;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And as I rose I marked with awe<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And agonizing grief,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A frail mimosa at my feet<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Fold close each fragile leaf."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Alas! how dark my lot if thus<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A plant could shrink from me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But when I looked again I marked<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That from the honey-bee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The falling leaf, the bird's gay wing,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">It shrunk with pain and fear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A kindred presence I had found,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Life waxed sublimely clear."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I climbed the lofty mountain height<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And communed with the skies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And felt within my grateful heart<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Strange aspirations rise.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! what was this humanity<br /></span> +<span class="i1">When every beaming star<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was filled with lucid intellect,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Congenial, though afar."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I mused beneath the avalanche,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And traced the sparkling stream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till Nature's face became to me<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A passion and a dream:"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then thirsting for a higher lore<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I left my childhood's home,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And stayed not till I gazed upon<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The hills of fallen Rome.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I stood amid the forms of light,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Seraphic and divine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The painter's wand had summoned from<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The dim Ideal's shrine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And felt within my fevered soul<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Ambition's wasting fire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And seized the pencil with a vague<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And passionate desire"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"To shadow forth, with lineaments<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of earth, the phantom throng<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That swept before my sight in thought,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And lived in storied song.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vain, vain the dream—as well might I<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Aspire to build a star,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or pile the gorgeous sunset clouds<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That glitter from afar."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The threads of life have worn away,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Discordantly they thrill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But soon the sounding chords will be<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Forever mute and still.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in the spirit-land that lies<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Beyond, so calm and gray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I shall aspire with truer aim—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Ave Maria! pray!"<br /></span> +</div></div> +<br /><br /> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="A_FAREWELL_TO_A_HAPPY_DAY" id="A_FAREWELL_TO_A_HAPPY_DAY"></a>A FAREWELL TO A HAPPY DAY.</h2> + +<hr class="short" /> +<h4>BY FRANCES S. OSGOOD.</h4> +<hr class="short" /> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Good-bye—good-bye, thou gracious, golden day:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through luminous tears, thou smilest, far away<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the blue heaven, thy sweet farewell to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I, through <i>my</i> tears, gaze and smile with thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I see the last faint, glowing, amber gleam<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of thy rich pinion, like a lovely dream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose floating glory melts within the sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now thou'rt passed forever from mine eye!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Were we not friends—<i>best</i> friends—my cherished day?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did I not treasure every eloquent ray<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of golden light and love thou gavest me?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And have I not been true—most true to thee?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And <i>thou</i>—thou earnest like a joyous bird,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose sacred wings by heaven's own air were stirred.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lowly sang me all the happy time<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dear, soothing stories of that blissful clime!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And more, oh! more than this, there came with thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From Heaven, a stranger, rare and bright to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A new, sweet joy—a smiling angel-guest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That softly asked a home within my breast.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For talking sadly with my soul alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I heard far off and faint a music-tone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It seemed a spirit's call—so soft it stole<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On fairy wings into my waiting soul.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I <i>knew</i> it summoned me to something sweet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And so I followed it with faltering feet;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And found—what I had prayed for with wild tears—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A rest, that soothed the lingering grief of years!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So for that deep, perpetual joy, my day!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And for all lovely things that came to play<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In thy glad smile—the pure and pleading flowers<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That crowned with their frail bloom thy flying hours—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The sunlit clouds—the pleasant air that played<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its low lute-music 'mid the leafy shade—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, dearer far, the tenderness that taught<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My soul a new and richer thrill of thought—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For these—for all—bear thou to Heaven for me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The grateful thanks with which I mission thee!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then should thy sisters, wasted, wronged, upbraid,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Speak <i>thou</i> for me—for thou wert not betrayed!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Twas little—true—I could to thee impart—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I, with my simple, frail and wayward heart;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But that I strove the diamond sands to light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In Life's rich hour-glass, with <i>Love's</i> rainbow flight;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And that one generous spirit owed to me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A moment of exulting ecstasy;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And that I won o'er wrong a queenly sway—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For this, thou'lt smile for me in Heaven, my Day!<br /></span> +</div></div> +<br /><br /> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="SAM_NEEDY" id="SAM_NEEDY"></a>SAM NEEDY.</h2> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span> + +<h3>A TALE OF THE PENITENTIARY.</h3> + +<hr class="short" /> +<h4>BY LOUIS FITZGERALD TASISTRO.</h4> +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>Several years ago, a man of the name of Samuel +Needy, a poor artisan, was living in London. He +had with him a wife, and a child by this wife. This +artisan was skillful, quick, intelligent, very ill-treated +by education, very well-treated by nature—able to +think, but not to read. One winter his work failed +him—there was neither fire nor food in his garret; +the man, the woman, and the child were cold and +hungry; he committed a theft; it is unnecessary to +state what he stole, or whence he stole it. Suffice it +to know, that the consequences of this theft were +three days' food and fire to the wife and child, and +five years of imprisonment to the man.</p> + +<p>Sam Needy, lately an honest man, now and henceforth +a thief, was dignified and grave in appearance; +his high forehead was already wrinkled, though he +was still young; some gray lines lurked among the +black and bushy tufts of his hair; his eye was soft, +and buried deep beneath his lofty and well-turned +eye-brow; his nostrils were open, his chin advancing, +his lip scornful; it was a fine head—let us see what +society made of it.</p> + +<p>He was a man of few words—more frequent gestures—somewhat +imperious in his whole manner, +and one to make himself obeyed; of a melancholy +air—rather serious than suffering; for all that he had +suffered enough.</p> + +<p>In the place where he was confined there was a +director of the work-rooms—a kind of functionary +peculiar to prisons, who combined in himself the +offices of turnkey and tradesman, who would at the +same time issue an order to the workman and +threaten the prisoner—put tools in his hand and irons +on his feet. This man was a variety of his own +species—a man peremptory, tyrannical, governed by +his fancies, holding tight the reins of his authority, +and yet, on occasion, a boon companion, jovial and +condescending to a joke—rather hard than firm—reasoning +with no one—not even himself—a good +father, and doubtless a good husband—(a duty, by the +way, and not a virtue;) in short, evil but not bad. +The principal, the diagonal line of this man's character +was obstinacy; he was proud of it, and therein +compared himself to Napoleon, when he had once +fixed what he called <i>his will</i> upon an absurdity, he +went to its furthest length, holding his head high, and +despising all obstacles. Such violence of purpose +without reason, is only folly tied to the tail of brute +force, and serving to lengthen it. For the most part, +whenever a catastrophe, whether public or private, +happens amongst men, if we look beneath the rubbish +with which it strews the earth, to find in what +manner the fallen fabric had been propped, we shall, +with rare exceptions, discover it to have been blindly +put together by a weak and obstinate man, trusting and +admiring himself implicitly. Many of the smaller +of these strange fatalities pass in the world for +providences. Such was he who was the director of +the work-rooms in the House of Correction where +poor Sam Needy was sent to undergo his sentence. +Such was the stone with which society daily struck +its prisoners to draw sparks from them. The sparks +which such stones draw from such flints often kindle +conflagrations.</p> + +<p>In a short time Sam found the prison air natural to +him, and appeared to have forgotten every thing; +a certain severe serenity, which belonged to his +character, had resumed its mastery.</p> + +<p>In about the same time he had acquired a singular +ascendency over all his companions, as if by a sort +of silent agreement, and without any one knowing +wherefore, not even himself. All these men consulted +him, listened to him, admired and imitated +him, (the last point to which admiration can mount.) +It was no slight glory to be obeyed by all these lawless +natures; the empire had come to him without +his own seeking—it was a consequence of the respect +with which they beheld him. The eye of a man is +a window, through which may be seen the thoughts +which enter into and issue from his heart.</p> + +<p>Place an individual who possesses ideas among +those who do not, at the end of a given time, and by +a law of irresistible attraction, all their misty minds +shall draw together with humility and reverence +round his illuminated one. There are men who are +iron, and there are men who are loadstone. Sam +Needy was loadstone. In less than three months he +had become the soul, the law, the order of the work-room; +he was the dial, concentrating all rays; he +must even himself have sometimes doubted whether +he were king or prisoner—it was the captivity of a +pope among his cardinals.</p> + +<p>By as natural a reaction, accomplished step by +step, as he was loved by the prisoners, so was he +detested by the jailers. It is always thus, popularity +cannot exist without disfavor—the love of the slaves +is always exceeded one degree by the hate of their +masters.</p> + +<p>Sam Needy was, by his particular organization, a +great eater; his stomach was so formed, that food +enough for two common men would hardly have +sufficed for his nourishment. Lord Slickborough had +one of these large appetites, and laughed at it; but +that which is a cause of gayety for a British peer,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span> +with a rent-roll of fifty-thousand pounds a year, is a +heavy charge to an artisan, and a misfortune to a +prisoner.</p> + +<p>Sam Needy, free in his own loft, worked all day, +earned his four pounds of bread, and ate it; Sam +Needy, in prison, worked all day, and, for his pains, +received invariably one pound and a half of bread, +and four ounces of meat; the ration admits of no +change. Sam was therefore constantly hungry +whilst in the House of Correction; he was hungry, +and no more—he did not speak of it because it was +not his nature so to do.</p> + +<p>One day Sam, after devouring his scanty pittance, +had returned to his work, thinking to cheat his +hunger by it—the rest of the prisoners were eating +cheerily. A young man, pale, fair, and feeble-looking, +came and placed himself near him; he held +in his hand his ration, as yet untouched, and a knife; +he remained in that situation, with the air of one +who would speak, and dares not. The sight of the +man, and his bread and meat annoyed Sam.</p> + +<p>"What do you want?" said he, rudely.</p> + +<p>"That you would do me a service," said the young +man, timidly.</p> + +<p>"What?" replied Sam.</p> + +<p>"That you would help me to eat this—it is too +much for me."</p> + +<p>A tear stood in the proud eye of Sam; he took the +knife, divided the young man's ration into two +equal parts, took one of them, and began eating.</p> + +<p>"Thank you," said the young man; "if you like, +we will share together every day."</p> + +<p>"What is your name?" said Sam.</p> + +<p>"Heartall."</p> + +<p>"Wherefore are you here?"</p> + +<p>"I have committed a theft."</p> + +<p>"And I too," said Sam.</p> + +<p>Henceforth they did thus share together every +day. Sam Needy was little more than thirty years +old, but at times he appeared fifty, so stern were his +thoughts usually. Heartall was twenty—he might +have been taken for seventeen, so much innocence +was there in his appearance. A strict friendship was +knit up between the two, rather of father to son than +brother to brother, Heartall being still almost a child, +Sam already nearly an old man. They wrought in +the same work-room—they slept under the same +vault—they walked in the same airing-ground—they +ate of the same bread. Each of these two friends +was the universe to the other—it would seem that +they were happy.</p> + +<p>Mention has already been made of the director of +the work-rooms. This man, who was abhorred by +the prisoners, was often obliged, in order to enforce +obedience, to have recourse to Sam Needy, who +was beloved by them. On more than one occasion, +when the question was, how to put down a rebellion +or a tumult, the authority without title of Sam Needy +had given powerful aid to the official authority of +the director; in short, to restrain the prisoners, ten +words from him were as good as ten turnkeys. Sam +had many times rendered this service to the director, +wherefore the latter detested him cordially. He was +jealous of him; there was at the bottom of his heart +a secret, envious, implacable hatred against Sam—the +hate of a titular for a real sovereign—of a temporal +against a spiritual power; these are the worst of all +hatreds.</p> + +<p>Sam loved Heartall greatly, and did not trouble +himself about the director. One morning when the +turnkeys were leading the prisoners, two by two, +from their dormitory to the work-room, one of them +called Heartall, who was by the side of Sam, and +informed him that the director wished to see him.</p> + +<p>"What does he want with you?" said Sam.</p> + +<p>"I do not know," replied the other.</p> + +<p>The turnkey took Heartall away.</p> + +<p>The morning past; Heartall did not return to the +work-room. When the dinner hour arrived, Sam +expected that he should rejoin Heartall in the airing-ground—but +no Heartall was there. He returned into +the work-room, still Heartall did not make his appearance. +So passed the day. At night, when the +prisoners were removed to their dormitory, Sam +looked out for Heartall, but could not see him. It +would seem that he must have suffered much at that +moment, for he addressed the turnkey—a thing which +he had never done before.</p> + +<p>"Is Heartall sick?" was his question.</p> + +<p>"No," replied the turnkey.</p> + +<p>"Why is it, then, that he has not again made his +appearance to-day?"</p> + +<p>"Ah," replied the turnkey, carelessly, "they have +put him in another ward."</p> + +<p>The witnesses who deposed to these facts at a +later period, remarked, that at this answer, Sam's +hand, in which was a lighted candle, trembled a +little. He again asked, calmly,</p> + +<p>"Whose order was this?"</p> + +<p>The turnkey said "Mr. Flint's."</p> + +<p>The name of the director of the work-rooms was +Flint.</p> + +<p>The next day went by like the last, but no news +of Heartall.</p> + +<p>That evening, when the day's work ended, Mr. +Flint came to make his usual round of inspection. +As soon as Sam Needy saw him, he took off his cap +of coarse wool, buttoned his gray vest, sad livery of +the work-house, (it is a principle in prisons, that a +vest, respectfully buttoned, bespeaks the favor of +the superior officers,) and placed himself at the end +of his bench, waiting till the director came by. He +passed.</p> + +<p>"Sir," said Sam.</p> + +<p>The director stopped and turned half round.</p> + +<p>"Sir," said Sam, "is it true that Heartall's ward +has been changed?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," returned the director.</p> + +<p>"Sir," continued Sam, "I cannot live without +Heartall; you know that with the ration of the house +I have not enough to eat, and that Heartall shared +his bread with me."</p> + +<p>"That was his business," replied the director.</p> + +<p>"Sir, is there no means of getting Heartall replaced +in the same ward as myself?"</p> + +<p>"Impossible! it is so decided."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span></p> + +<p>"By whom?"</p> + +<p>"By myself."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Flint," persisted Sam, "the question is my +life or death, and it depends upon you."</p> + +<p>"I never revoke my decisions."</p> + +<p>"Sir, is it because I have given you offence?"</p> + +<p>"None."</p> + +<p>"In that case," said Sam, "why do you separate +me from Heartall?"</p> + +<p>"<i>It is my will</i>" said the director.</p> + +<p>With this explanation he went away.</p> + +<p>Sam Needy stooped his head and made no answer. +Poor caged lion, from whom they had taken his dog!</p> + +<p>The grief of this separation in no way changed the +prisoner's almost disease of voracity. Nor was he, +in other respects, obviously altered. He did not +speak of Heartall to any of his comrades. He walked +alone in the airing-ground, in the hours of recreation, +and suffered hunger—nothing more.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, those who knew him well, remarked +something of a sinister and sombre expression which +daily overspread his countenance more and more. +In other respects he was gentler than ever. Many +wished to share their ration with him, but he refused +with a smile.</p> + +<p>Every evening, after the explanation which the +director had given him, he committed a sort of folly, +which, in so grave a man, was astonishing. At the +moment when the director, in the progress of his +habitual duty, passed by Sam Needy's working-frame, +he would raise his eyes, gaze steadily upon +him, and then address to him, in a tone full of distress +and anger, combining at once menace and supplication, +these two words only—"<i>remember Heartall</i>!" +the director would either appear not to hear, or pass +on, shrugging his shoulders.</p> + +<p>He was wrong. It became evident to all the +lookers on of these strange scenes, that Sam Needy +was inwardly determined on some step. All the +prison awaited with anxiety the result of this strife +between obstinacy and resolution.</p> + +<p>It has been proved, that once Sam said to the +director, "Listen, sir, give me back my comrade; +you will do well to do it, I assure you. Take notice +that I tell you this."</p> + +<p>Another time, one Sunday, when he had remained +in the airing-ground for many hours in the same attitude, +seated on a stone, his elbows on his knees, and +his forehead buried in his hands, one of his fellow-convicts +approached him, and cried out, laughing,</p> + +<p>"What are you about here, Sam?"</p> + +<p>Sam raised his stern head slowly, and said, "<i>I +am sitting in judgment!</i>"</p> + +<p>At last, on the evening of the 1st of November, +1833, at the moment when the director was making +his round, Sam Needy crushed under his foot a +watch-glass, which he had that morning found in +the corridor. The director inquired whence that +noise proceeded.</p> + +<p>"It is nothing," said Sam. "It is I, Mr. Flint—give +me back my comrade."</p> + +<p>"Impossible!" said his master.</p> + +<p>"It must be done though," said Sam, in a low and +steady voice, and looking the director full in the +face, added, "reflect, this is the first of November, I +give you till the 10th."</p> + +<p>A turnkey made the remark to Mr. Flint that Sam +Needy threatened him, and that it was a case for +solitary confinement.</p> + +<p>"No, nothing of the kind," said the director, with +a disdainful smile, "we must be gentle with these +sort of people."</p> + +<p>On the morrow, another convict approached Sam +Needy, who walked by himself, melancholy, leaving +the other prisoners to bask in a patch of sunshine at +the further corner of the court.</p> + +<p>"What now, Sam—what are you thinking of? +You seem sad."</p> + +<p>"<i>I am afraid</i>," said Sam, "<i>that some misfortune +will happen soon to this gentle Mr. Flint</i>."</p> + +<p>There are nine full days from the 1st to the 10th +of November. Sam Needy did not let one pass +without gravely warning the director of the state, +more and more miserable, in which the disappearance +of Heartall placed him. The director, worn out, +sentenced him to four-and-twenty hours of solitary +confinement, because his prayer was too like a demand. +This was all that Sam Needy obtained.</p> + +<p>The 10th of November arrived. On this day Sam +arose with such a serene countenance as he had not +worn since the day when <i>the decision</i> of Mr. Flint +had separated him from his friend. When risen, he +searched in a white wooden box, which stood at the +foot of his bed, and contained his few possessions. +He drew thence a pair of sempstress's scissors. +These, with an odd volume of Cowper's poems, +were all that remained to him of the woman he had +loved—of the mother of his child—of his happy little +home of other days. Two articles, totally useless to +Sam; the scissors could only be of service to a +woman—the book to a lettered person. Sam could +neither sew nor read.</p> + +<p>At the time when he was traversing the old hall, +which serves as the winter walk for the prisoners, +he approached a convict of the name of Dawson, +who was looking with attention at the enormous +bars of a window. Sam was holding the little pair +of scissors in his hands; he showed them to Dawson, +saying, "To-night I will divide those bars with these +scissors."</p> + +<p>Dawson began to laugh incredulously. Sam joined +him.</p> + +<p>That morning he worked with more zeal than +usual—faster and better than ever before. A little +past noon he went down on some pretext or other to +the joiner's workshop, on the ground-floor, under +the story in which was his own. Sam was beloved +there as every where else; but he entered it seldom. +Thus it was—"Stop, here's Sam!" They got round +him; it was a perfect holyday. He cast a quick glance +around the room. Not one of the overlookers was there.</p> + +<p>"Who has a hatchet to lend me?" said he.</p> + +<p>"What to do?" was the inquiry.</p> + +<p>"Kill the director of the work-rooms."</p> + +<p>They offered him many to choose from. He took +the smallest of those which were very sharp, hid it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span> +in his trowsers, and went out. There were twenty-seven +prisoners in that room. He had not desired +them to keep his secret; they all kept it. They did +not even talk of it among themselves. Every one +separately awaited the result. The thing was straight-forward—terribly +simple. Sam could neither be +counseled nor denounced.</p> + +<p>An hour afterward he approached a convict sixteen +years old, who was lounging in the place of exercise, +and advised him to learn to read. The rest of the +day was as usual. At 7 o'clock at night the prisoners +were shut up, each division in the work-room to +which they belonged, and the overseers went out, as +it appears was the custom, not to return till after the +director's visit. Sam was locked in with his companions +like the rest.</p> + +<p>Then there passed in this work-room an extraordinary +scene, one not without majesty and awe, +the only one of the kind which is to be told in this +story. There were there (according to the judiciary +deposition afterward made) four-and-twenty +prisoners, including Sam Needy. As soon as the +overseers had left them alone, Sam stood up upon a +bench, and announced to all the room that he had +something to say. There was silence.</p> + +<p>Then Sam raised his voice, and said, "You all +know that Heartall was my brother. Here they do not +give me enough to eat; even with the bread which I +can buy with the little I earn, it is not sufficient. +Heartall shared his ration with me. I loved him at +first because he fed me, then because he loved me. +The director, Mr. Flint, separated us; our being together +could be nothing to him—but he is a bad-hearted +man, who enjoys tormenting others. I have +asked him for Heartall back again. You have heard +me. He will not do it. I gave him till the 10th, +which is to-day, to restore Heartall to me. He +ordered me into solitary confinement for telling him +so. I, during this time, have sat in judgment upon +him, and condemned him to death. In two hours he +will come to make his round. I warn you that I +am about to kill him. Have you any thing to say on +the matter?" All continued silent.</p> + +<p>He went on; he spoke (so it appears) with a peculiar +eloquence, which was natural to him. He declared +that he knew he was about to do a violent +deed, but could not think it wrong. He appealed to the +conscience of his four-and-twenty listeners. He was +placed in a cruel extremity; the necessity of doing +justice to himself was a strait into which every man +found himself driven at one time or other; he could +not, in truth, take the director's life without giving his +own for it; but it was right to give his life for a just +end. He had thought deeply on the matter, and that +alone, for two months; he believed he was not carried +away by passion, but if it were so, he trusted they +would warn him. He honestly submitted his reasons +to the just men whom he addressed. He was about +to kill Mr. Flint; but if any one had any objection to +make, he was ready to hear it.</p> + +<p>One voice alone was raised to say, that before killing +the director, Sam ought to make one last attempt to +soften him.</p> + +<p>"It is fair," said Sam. "I will do so."</p> + +<p>The great clock struck the hour—it was eight. +The director would make his appearance at nine.</p> + +<p>No sooner had this extraordinary court of appeal +ratified the sentence he had submitted to it, than +Sam resumed his former serenity. He placed upon +the table all the linen and garments he possessed—the +scanty property of a prisoner—and calling to him, +one after the other, those of his companions whom +he loved best after Heartall, he divided all amongst +them. He only kept the little pair of scissors. Then +he embraced them all. Some of them wept—upon +these he smiled.</p> + +<p>There were moments in this last hour, when he +chatted with so much tranquillity, and even gayety, +that many of his comrades inwardly hoped, as they +afterward declared, that he might perhaps abandon +his resolution.</p> + +<p>He perceived a young convict who was pale, who +was gazing upon him with fixed eyes, and trembling +doubtless from expectation of what he was about to +witness. "Come, courage, young man," said Sam +to him, softly, "it will be only the work of a +moment."</p> + +<p>When he had distributed all his goods, made all +his adieux, pressed all their hands, he interrupted the +restless whisperings which were heard here and there +in the dim corners of the work-room, and commanded +that they should return to their labor. All obeyed +him in silence.</p> + +<p>The apartment in which this passed was an oblong +hall, a parallelogram, lighted with windows on its +two longer sides, and with two doors opposite each +other at the two ends of the room. The working-frames +were ranged on each side near the windows, +the benches touching the wall at right angles, and +the space left free between the two rows of frames +formed a sort of avenue, which went straight from +one door to the other, crossing the hall entirely. It +was this which the director traversed in making his +inspection; he was to enter at the south door, and go +out by the north, after having looked at the workmen +on the right and left. Commonly he passed through +quickly and without stopping.</p> + +<p>Sam Needy had reseated himself on his bench, and +had betaken himself to his work. All were in expectation—the +moment approached; on a sudden +they heard the clock strike. Sam said, "It is the +last quarter." Then he rose, crossed gravely a part +of the hall, and placed himself, leaning on his elbow, +on the first frame on the left hand side, close to the +door of entrance; his countenance was perfectly +calm and benign.</p> + +<p>Nine o'clock struck—the door opened—the director +came in.</p> + +<p>At that moment the silence of the work-room was +as of a chamber full of statues.</p> + +<p>The director was alone as usual; he entered with +his jovial, self-satisfied, and stubborn air, without +noticing Sam, who was standing at the left side of +the door, his right hand hidden in his trowsers, and +passed rapidly by the first frames, tossing his head, +mumbling his words, and casting his glance, which<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span> +was law, here and there, not perceiving that the eyes +of all who surrounded him were fixed upon him as +upon a fearful phantom. On a sudden he turned +sharply round, surprised to hear a step behind him.</p> + +<p>It was Sam Needy, who for some instants followed +him in silence.</p> + +<p>"What are you about there?" said the director. +"Why are you not in your place?"</p> + +<p>Sam Needy answered respectfully, "Because I +have something to say to you, Mr. Flint."</p> + +<p>"What about?"</p> + +<p>"Concerning Heartall."</p> + +<p>"Still Heartall!" exclaimed the director.</p> + +<p>"Always," replied Sam.</p> + +<p>"Be quiet," said the director, walking on again. +"You are not content, then, with your four-and-twenty +hours of solitary confinement?"</p> + +<p>Sam followed him—"Mr. Flint, give me back my +comrade."</p> + +<p>"Impossible!"</p> + +<p>"Sir," said Sam, in a tone which might have +softened the heart of a fiend, "I entreat you, restore +Heartall to me. You shall see how well I will work. +To you who are free, it is no matter—you do not +know what the worth of a friend is; but I have only +the four walls of my prison. You can come and go, I +have nothing but Heartall—give him back to me. +Heartall fed me—you know it well. It will only +cost you the trouble of saying yes. What can it be +to you that there should be in the same room one +man called Sam Needy, another called Heartall?—for +the thing is simply that, Mr. Flint; good Mr. +Flint, I beseech you earnestly, for Heaven's sake!"</p> + +<p>Sam had probably never before said so much at one +time to a jailer; exhausted with the effort, he paused. +The director replied, with an impatient gesture,</p> + +<p>"Impossible—I have said it; speak to me no more +about it, you wear me out."</p> + +<p>Then, as if in a hurry, he stepped on more quickly, +Sam following. Thus speaking, they had reached +the door of exit; the prisoners looked after them, and +listened breathlessly.</p> + +<p>Sam gently touched the director's arm. "At least +let me know why I am condemned to death—tell +me why you have separated him from me?"</p> + +<p>"I have told you," answered the director; "<i>it is +my will</i>."</p> + +<p>He turned his back upon Sam, and was about to +take hold of the latch of the door.</p> + +<p>On this answer Sam had retreated a step; the +assembled statues who were there saw him bring out +his right hand, and the hatchet with it; it was raised, +and ere the victim could utter one cry, three blows, +one upon the other, had cleft his skull. At the moment, +when he fell back, a fourth blow laid his face +open; then, as if his frenzy, once let loose, <i>could not +stop</i>, Sam struck a fifth blow; it was useless—he +was dead.</p> + +<p>"Now for the other!" cried the murderer, and +threw away the hatchet. That other was himself. +They saw him draw from his bosom the small pair +of scissors, and before any one could attempt to +hinder him, bury them in his breast. The blade was +too short to penetrate. He struck them in again and +again, so many as twenty times. "Accursed heart! +cannot I then reach you?" and finally fell in a dead +swoon, bathed in his blood.</p> + +<p>Which of these men was the victim of the +other?</p> + +<p>When Sam returned to consciousness, he was in +bed, well attended, his wounds carefully bandaged; a +humane nurse was about his pillow, and more than +one magistrate, who asked him, with the appearance +of great interest, "Are you better?"</p> + +<p>He had lost a great quantity of blood, but the +scissors with which he had wounded himself, had +done their duty ill—none of the wounds were +dangerous.</p> + +<p>The examinations commenced. They asked him +if it were he who had killed the director of the +work-rooms. He replied, "It was." They asked +him why he had done it. He answered—<i>it was +his will.</i></p> + +<p>After this the wounds festered. He was seized +with a severe fever, of which he only did not die. +November, December, January, and February, went +over in recovering him and preparing for his trial; +physicians and judges alike made him the object of +their care—the former healed his wounds, the latter +made ready his scaffold. To be brief, on the 5th of +April, 1834, he appeared, being perfectly cured, +before the Court of Sessions.</p> + +<p>Sam made a good appearance before the court; he +had been carefully shaved, his head was bare; he +was dressed in the sad prison livery of two shades +of gray.</p> + +<p>When the trial was entered upon, a singular +difficulty presented itself. Not any of the witnesses +of the events of the 10th of November, would make +a deposition against Sam. The presiding judge +threatened them with his discretionary power in vain. +Sam then commanded them to give evidence. All +their tongues were loosed. They related what they +had seen.</p> + +<p>Sam Needy listened with profound attention. +When one of them, out of forgetfulness, or affection +for him, omitted some of the circumstances chargeable +upon the accused, Sam supplied them. By this +means the chain of facts which has been related was +unfolded before the court.</p> + +<p>There was one moment when some of the females +present wept. The clerk of the court summoned +the convict, Heartall. It was his turn to come forward. +He entered, staggering with emotion—he +wept. The police could not prevent his falling into +the arms of Sam. Sam raised him, and said with a +smile to the attorney-general, "Here is a villain who +shares his bread with those who are hungry." Then +he kissed Heartall's hand.</p> + +<p>The list of witnesses having been gone through, +the attorney-general rose and spoke in these words: +"Gentlemen of the jury, society would be shaken to +its foundation if public vengeance did not overtake +such great criminals as this man, who, etc., etc."</p> + +<p>After this memorable discourse, Sam's advocate +spoke. The pleader against, and the pleader for,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span> +made each in due order, the evolutions which they +are accustomed to make in the arena which is called +a criminal court.</p> + +<p>Sam did not think that all was said that might be +said. He arose in his turn. He spoke in a manner +which must have amazed all the intelligent persons +present on the occasion. It appeared as if there +were more of the orator than the murderer in this +poor artisan. He spoke in an upright attitude, with +a penetrating and well-managed voice; with an open, +sincere, and steadfast gaze, with a gesture almost +always the same, but full of command. There were +moments in which his genuine, lofty eloquence +stirred the crowd to a murmur, during which Sam +took breath, casting a bold gaze upon the bystanders. +Then again, this man, who could not read, was as +gentle, polished, select in his language, as a well-informed +person—at other moments modest, measured, +attentive, going step by step over the irritating +parts of the argument, courteous to his judges. +Once only he gave way to a burst of passion. The +attorney-general had proved in his speech that Sam +Needy had assassinated the director without any violence +on his part, and consequently <i>without provocation</i>.</p> + +<p>"What!" exclaimed Sam Needy, "I have not +been provoked! Ay—it is very true—I understand +you. A drunken man strikes me with his dagger—I +kill him, I have been provoked; you show mercy +to me, you send me to Botany Bay. But a man who +is not drunk, who has the perfect use of his +reason, wrings my heart for four years, humbles me +for four years, pierces me with a weapon every day, +every hour, every minute, in some unexpected point +for four years. I had a wife, for whose sake I became +a thief—he tortures me through that wife; a +child for whom I stole—he tortures me through that +child. I have not bread enough to eat—a friend gives +it me; he takes away my friend and my food. I ask +for my friend back—he condemns me to solitary confinement. +I speak to him—him, the spy—respectfully; +he answers me in dog's language. I tell him +I am suffering—he tells me I wear him out. What +would you, then, that I should do? I kill him. It is +well—I am a monster; I have murdered this man; I +have not been provoked. You take my life for it—be +it so."</p> + +<p>The debates being closed, the presiding judge made +his impartial and luminous summing up. The results +were these: a wicked life—a wretch in purpose. +Sam Needy had begun by stealing—he then murdered. +All this was true.</p> + +<p>When the jury were about being conducted +to their apartment, the judge asked the accused +if he had any thing to say upon the questions before +them.</p> + +<p>"Little," replied Sam, "only this; I am a thief and +an assassin. I have stolen, and have slain a man. +But why have I stolen? Why have I murdered? +Add these two questions to the rest, gentleman of +the jury."</p> + +<p>After a quarter of an hour's deliberation on the +part of the twelve individuals whom he had addressed +as <i>gentlemen of the jury</i>, Sam Needy was +condemned to death.</p> + +<p>Their decision was read to Sam, who contented +himself with saying, "It is well—but why has this +man stolen? Why has this man murdered? These +are questions to which they make no answer."</p> + +<p>He was carried back to prison—he supped almost +gayly.</p> + +<p>He had no wish to make an appeal against his +sentence. The old woman who had nursed him +entreated him with tears to do so. He complied out +of kindness to her. It would appear as if he had +resisted till the very last moment, for when he signed +his petition in the register, the legal delay of three +days had expired some minutes before. The benevolent +old nurse gave him a crown. He accepted +the money and thanked her.</p> + +<p>While his appeal was pending, offers of escape +were made him. There was thrown, one after the +other, in his dungeon, through its air-hole, a nail, +a bit of iron file, and the handle of a bucket. Any of +these three tools would have been sufficient to so +skillful a man as Sam Needy to cut through his irons. +He gave up the nail, the file, and the handle to the +turnkey.</p> + +<p>On the 10th of June, 1834, seven months after the +deed, its expiation arrived. That day, at seven +o'clock in the morning, the recorder of the tribunal +entered Sam Needy's dungeon, and announced to +him that he had not more than an hour to live. His +petition was rejected.</p> + +<p>"Come," said Sam, coldly, "I have this night +slept well, without troubling myself that I should +sleep still better the next."</p> + +<p>It would appear as if the words of strong men +always receive a certain dignity from approaching +death.</p> + +<p>The chaplain arrived—then the executioner. He +was humble to the one, gentle to the other.</p> + +<p>He maintained a perfect ease of spirit. He listened +to the chaplain with extreme attention, accusing himself +of many things, and regretting that he had not +been instructed in religion.</p> + +<p>At his request they had given him back the scissors +with which he had wounded himself. One blade, +which had been broken in his breast, was wanting. +He entreated the jailor to have these scissors taken +to Heartall as from himself.</p> + +<p>He besought those who bound his hands to place +in his right hand the crown-piece which the good +nurse had given him—the only thing which was now +remaining to him.</p> + +<p>At a quarter to eight he was led out of his prison, +with the customary mournful procession which +attends the condemned. He was pale; his eyes were +fixed on the chaplain—but he walked with a firm +step.</p> + +<p>He ascended the scaffold gravely. He shook hands +with the chaplain first, then the executioner, thanking +the one, forgiving the other. The executioner +<i>pushed him back gently</i>, says one account. At the moment +when the assistant put the hideous rope round +his neck, he made a sign to the chaplain to take<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span> +the crown-piece which he had in his right hand, and +said to him, "<i>For the poor</i>." At that moment the +clock was striking eight, the sound from the steeple +drowned his voice, and the chaplain answered that +he could not hear him. Sam waited for an interval +between two of the strokes, and repeated with +gentleness, "<i>For the poor</i>."</p> + +<p>The eighth stroke had scarcely sounded when +this noble and intelligent criminal was launched +into eternity.</p> +<br /><br /> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_ANGEL_OF_THE_SOUL" id="THE_ANGEL_OF_THE_SOUL"></a>THE ANGEL OF THE SOUL.</h2> + +<hr class="short" /> +<h4>BY J. BAYARD TAYLOR.</h4> +<hr class="short" /> + +<h5>Una stella, una notte, ed una croce. <i>Antonio Bisazza.</i></h5> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Silence hath conquered thee, imperial Night!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou sit'st alone within her void, cold halls,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy solemn brow uplifted, and thy soul<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Paining the space with dumb and mighty thought.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dreary wind ebbs, voiceless, round thy form,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Following the stealthy hours, that wake no stir<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the hushed velvet of thy mantle's fold.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy thoughts take being: down the dusky aisles<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Go shapes of good, and beckoning ghosts of crime,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And dreams of maddening beauty—hopes, that shine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To darken, and in cloudy height sublime,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The spectral march of some approaching Doom!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor these alone, oh! Mother of the world,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">People thy chambers, echoless and vast;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their dewy freshness like ambrosial cools<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Life's fever-thirst, and to the fainting soul<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their porphyry walls are touched with light, and gleams<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of shining wonder dazzle through the void,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like those bright marvels which the travele'rs torch<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wakes from the darkness of three thousand years,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In rock-hewn sepulchres of Theban kings.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Prophets, whose brows of pale, unearthly glow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Reflect the twilight of celestial dawns,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bards, transfigured in immortal song,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like eager children, kneeling at thy feet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unclasp the awful volume of thy lore.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My soul goes down thy far, untrodden paths,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the dim verge of being. There its step<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Touches the threshold of sublimer life,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And through the boundless empyrean leaps<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its prayer, borne like a faint, expiring cry,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To angel-warders, listening as they pace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The crystal walls of Heaven. Down the blue fields<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the untraveled Infinite, they come:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beneath their wings one sweet, dilating wave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thrills the pure deep, and bears my soul aloft,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To walk amid their shining groups, and call<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its guardian spirit, as an orphan calls<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His vanished brother, taken in childhood home:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"White through my cradled dreams thy pinions waved,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lost Angel of the Soul! thy presence led<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The babe's faint gropings through the glimmering dark<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And into Being's conscious dawn. Thy hand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Held mine in childhood, and thy beaming cheek<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lay close, like some fond playmate's, to mine own.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Up to that boundary, whence the heart leaps forth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To life, like some wild torrent, when the rains<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pour dark and full upon the cloudy hills,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy gentle footsteps wandered near to mine.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be with me now! Oh, in the starry hush<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the deep night, that holds the earthly down<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In all my nature, bring to me again<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The early purity, which kept thy hand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the entrancing harp it held in Heaven!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through the warm starting of my hoarded tears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let me behold thine eyes divine, as stars<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gleam through the twilight vapors of the sea!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Not yet hast thou forsaken me. The prayer<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose crowning fervor lifts my nature up<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Midway to God, may still evoke thy form.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou hast been with me, when the midnight dew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Clung damp upon my brow, and the broad fields<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stretched far and dim beneath the ghostly moon;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the dark, awful woods were silent near,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with imploring hands toward the stars<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Clasped in mute yearning, I have questioned Heaven<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the lost language of the book of Life.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, then thy face was glorious, and thy hair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the white moonbeam floating, veiled thy brow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But in the holy sadness of thine eye<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which held my spirit, tremblingly I saw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through rushing tears, the sign of angel-grief<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er the false promise of diviner years.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the far glide of some descending strain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of tenderest music I have heard thy voice;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thou hast called amid the stormy rush<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of grand orchestral triumph, with a sound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Resistless in its power. I feel the light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which is thine atmosphere, around my soul,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When a great sorrow gulfs it from the world.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Come back! come back! my heart grows faint, to know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How thy withdrawing radiance leaves more dim<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The twilight borders of the night of Earth.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now when the bitter truth is learned; when all<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That seemed so high and good but mocks its seeming—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the warm dreams of youth come shivering back,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the cold chambers of the heart to die—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When, with the wrestling years, familiar grows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The merciless hand of pain, desert me not!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come with the true heart of the faithful Night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When I have cast away the masquing garb<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of hollow Day, and lain my soul to rest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On her consoling bosom! From the founts<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of thine exhaustless light, make clear the road<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through toil and darkness, into God's repose!"<br /></span> +</div></div> +<br /><br /> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="SCOUTING_NEAR_VERA_CRUZ" id="SCOUTING_NEAR_VERA_CRUZ"></a>SCOUTING NEAR VERA CRUZ.</h2> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span> + +<h3>A SKETCH OF THE LATE CAMPAIGN.</h3> + +<hr class="short" /> +<h4>BY ECOLIER.</h4> +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>Hours before day, Lieutenant Rolfe and his party +were threading the mazes of the chapparal. The +moon glistened upon their bayonets and bright barrels. +Their path lay in a southwesterly direction, +near the old road to Orizava. Here it passed through +a glade or opening, where the moonbeams fell upon +a profusion of flowers, there it reëntered dark alleys +among the clustering trees, where the "trail arms" +was given in a half whisper. The boughs met and +locked overhead, and the thick foliage hid the moon +from sight. Now a bright beam escaping through +some chance opening in the leaves, quivered along +the path, and scared the wolf in his midnight wanderings. +Out again upon the open track through the +soft grass, and winding around the wild maguey, or +under the claw-shaped thorns of the musquit. A deer +sprung from his lair among the soft flowers—looked +back for a moment at the strange intruders, and +frightened at the gleaming steel, dashed off into the +thicket. The woods are not silent by night, as in +the colder regions of the north. The southern forest has +its voices, moonlit or dark. All through the livelong +night sings the mock-bird—screams the "loreto." +From dark till dawn, you hear the hoarse baying +of the "coyote," and the dismal howl of the +gaunt gray wolf. The cicada fills the air with its +monotonous and melancholy notes. In all these +sounds there is a breathing, a wild voluptuousness +that tells you you are wandering in the clime of the +sun—amidst scenes like those rendered classical by +the pen of St. Pierre. They who have read the +sweet French romance, will recognize his faithful +painting of tropical pictures. The sunny glades—and +shady arbors—the broad green and yellow leaves—the +tall palm-trees, with their long, lazy feathers +and clustering fruits waving to the slightest breeze, +and looking the same as in that sea island where they +flung their changing shadows over the loves of Paul +and Virginia. Scouting at night, and to strangers +(as were Rolfe and his men) in the land, was not +without its perils. Objects of alarm were near and +around. The nopal rose before you like the picket +of an enemy. Its dark column gleaming under the +false light of the moon is certainly some sentinel +on the outpost. A halt is the consequence, and +silent and cat-like one of the party, on his hands +and knees, steals nearer and nearer, through the +thorny brambles, until the true nature of the apparition +betrays itself, in the shape of a huge column of +prickly pear. He then returns to his comrades, and +the obstacle is passed, some one as he passes, with +a muttered curse, slashing his sabre through the soft +trunk of the harmless vegetable.</p> + +<p>The wild maguey grasps you by the leg, as though +some hideous monster had sprung from the bushes. +You start and rush forward, only to be dragged back +among the elastic leaves. It is useless to struggle. +You must either return and unwind yourself by gentle +means, or leave the better part of your cloth inexpressibles +in the ruthless fangs of the plant. The +ranchero fences his limbs with leather, or with leggings +of tiger-skin. It is not fancy or choice to wear +leather breeches in Mexico. Necessity has something +to say in fixing the fashion of your small +clothes.</p> + +<p>When day broke, Rolfe and his party were ten +miles from camp—ten miles from the nearest American +picket, and with only thirty men! They were +concealed in a thicket of aloes and musquit. This +thicket crowned the only eminence for miles in any +direction. It commanded a view of the whole country +southward to the Alvarado.</p> + +<p>As the sun rose the forest echoed with sounds and +song. The leaves moved with life, as a thousand +bright-plumed birds flashed from tree to tree. The +green parrot screamed after his mate, uttering his +wild notes of endearment. They are seen in pairs +flying high up in the heavens. The troupiale flashed +through the dark foliage like a ray of yellow light. +Birds seemed to vie with each other in their songs of +love. Amidst these sounds of the forest, the ear of +Rolfe caught the frequent crowing of cocks, the +barking of dogs, and the other well-known sounds +of the settlement. These were heard upon all sides. +It was plain that the country was thickly settled, +though not a house was visible above the tree-tops. +The thin column of blue smoke as it rose above the +green foliage proved the existence of dwellings.</p> + +<p>At some distance, westward, an open plain lay +like an emerald lake. The woods that bordered it +were of a darker hue than the meadow-grass upon +its bosom. In this plain were horses feeding, and +Rolfe saw at a glance that they were picketed. Some +of them had dragged their laryettes and were straying +from the group. There appeared to be in all about an +hundred horses. It was plain that their owners were +not far off. A thin blue smoke that hung over the +trees on one side of the meadow gave evidence of a +camp. The baying of dogs came from this direction, +mingled with the sounds of human voices. It +was evidently a camp of the "Jarochos," (guerilleros.)</p> + +<p>Suddenly a bugle sounded, wild and clear above +the voices of the singing-birds, a few notes somewhat +resembling the dragoon stable-call. The horses +flung up their heads and neighed fiercely, looking toward +the encampment. Presently a crowd of men +were seen running from the woods, each carrying a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span> +saddle. The few strays that had drawn their pickets +during the night, came running in at the well-known +voices of their masters. The saddles were flung on +and tightly girthed—the bits adjusted and the laryettes +coiled and hung to the saddle-horns, in less +time than an ordinary horseman would have put +on a bridle. Another flourish of the bugle, and the +troop were in their saddles and galloping away over +the greensward of the meadow in a southerly direction. +The whole transaction did not occupy five +minutes, and it seemed to Rolfe and his party, who +witnessed it, more like a dream than a reality. The +Jarochos were just out of musket range. A long +shot might have reached them, but even had Rolfe +ventured this, it would have been with doubtful propriety. +Rumor had fixed the existence of a large +force of the enemy in this neighborhood. It was +supposed that at least a thousand men were on the +Alvarado road, with the intention of penetrating our +lines, with beeves for the besieged Veracruzanos.</p> + +<p>"They got off in good time, sergeant," muttered +Rolfe, "had they but waited half an hour longer—Oh! +for a score of Harney's horses!"</p> + +<p>"Lieutenant, may I offer an opinion?" asked the +sergeant, who had raised himself and stood peering +through the leafy branches of a cacuchou-tree.</p> + +<p>"Certainly, Heiss, any suggestion—"</p> + +<p>"Wal, then—thar's a town," the sergeant lifted +one of the leafy boughs and pointed toward the south-east—a +spire and cross—a white wall and the roofs +of some cottages were seen over the trees. "Raoul +here, who's French, and knows the place, says it's +Madalin—he's been to it—and there's no good road +for horses direct from here—but the road from Vera +Cruz crosses that meadow far up—now, lieutenant, +it's my opinion them thieving Mexicans is bound +for that 'ere place—Raoul says it's a good sweep +round—if we could git acrosst this yere strip we'd +head 'em sure."</p> + +<p>The backwoodsman swept his broad hand toward +the south, to indicate the strip of woods that he desired +to cross. The plan seemed feasible enough. +The town, although seemingly near, was over five +miles distant. The road by which the guerrilleros had +to reach it was much farther. Could Rolfe and his +party meet them on this road, by an ambuscade, they +would gain an easy victory, although with inferior +numbers, and Rolfe wished to carry back to camp a +Mexican prisoner. This was the object of the scout, +to gain information of the force supposed to be in the +rear of our lines. The men, too, were eager for the +wild excitement of a fight. For what came they +there?</p> + +<p>"Raoul," said Rolfe, "is there any path through +these woods?"</p> + +<p>"Zar is, von road I have believe—oui—Monsieur +Lieutenant."</p> + +<p>Raoul was a dapper little Frenchman, who had +joined the army at Vera Cruz, where we found him. +He had been a sort of market-gardener for the plaza, +and knew the back country perfectly. He had fallen +into bad odor with the rancheros of the <i>Tierra Caliente</i>, +and owed them no good-will. The coming of +the American army had been a perfect godsend to +Raoul, who was now an American volunteer, and, +as circumstances afterward proved, worthy of the +title.</p> + +<p>"Close teecket, monsieur," continued the Frenchman, +"but there be von road, I make ver sure, by +that tree, vot you call him, big tree."</p> + +<p>Raoul pointed to some live-oaks that formed a dark +belt across the woods.</p> + +<p>"Take the lead, Raoul."</p> + +<p>The little Frenchman sprung out in front and commenced +descending into the dark woods beneath. +The party was soon winding through the shadowy +aisles of a live-oak forest. The woods were at first +open and easy. After a short march they came to a +small stream, bright and silvery. But what was the +surprise of Rolfe to find that the path here gave out, +and on the opposite bank of the rivulet the trees grew +closer together, and the woods were almost woven +into a solid mass, by the lianas and other creeping +plants. These were covered with blossoms. In +some places a wall of snow-white flowers rose up +before you. Pyramidal forms of foliage, green and +yellow, over which hung myriads of vine-blossoms, +like a scarlet mantle. Still there was no path—at +least to be trodden by human foot. Birds flew around, +scared in their solitary haunts. The armadilla and +the wolf stood at a distance with glaring eyes. The +fearful-looking guana scampered off upon the decaying +limbs of the live-oak, or the still more fearful +cobra di capella glided almost noiselessly over the +dry leaves and brambles.</p> + +<p>Raoul confessed that he had been deceived. He +had never traveled this belt of timber. The path +was lost.</p> + +<p>This was strange. A path had conducted them +thus far, but on reaching the stream had suddenly +stopped. Soldiers went up and down the water-course, +and peeped through the trellis of vines, but +to no purpose. In all directions they were met by +an impenetrable chapparal.</p> + +<p>Chafing with disappointment, the young officer was +about to retrace his way, when an exclamation from +Heiss recalled him. The backwoodsman had found +a clew to the labyrinth. An opening led into the +thicket. This had been concealed by a perfect curtain +of closely woven vines, covered with thick +foliage and flowers. It appeared at first to be a natural +door to the avenue which led from this spot, but +a slight examination showed that these vines had +been trained by human hands, and that the path itself +had been kept open by the same agency. Branches +were here and there lopped off and cast aside, and +the ground had the marks of human footsteps. The +track was clear and beaten, and Rolfe ordering his +men to follow noiselessly, in Indian file, took the +lead. For at least two miles they traced the windings +of this forest road, through dark woods, occasionally +opening out into green flowery glades. The +bright sky began to gleam through the trees. Farther +on and the breaks became larger and more frequent. +An extensive clearing was near at hand. +They reached it, but to their astonishment, instead<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span> +of a cultivated farm, which they had been expecting +to see, the clearing had more the appearance of a +vast flower-garden. The roofs and turrets of a house +were visible near its centre. The house itself appeared +of a strange oriental style, and was buried +amidst groves of the brightest foliage. Several huge +old trees spread their branches over the roof, and +their leaves hung around the fantastic turrets.</p> + +<p>What should have been fields were like a succession +of huge flower-beds—and large shrubs, covered +with sheets of pink and white blossoms that resembled +wild roses. This shrubbery was high enough +to conceal the approach of Rolfe and his party as +they followed the path—apparently the only one +which led to the house.</p> + +<p>On nearing this, the officer halted his men in a little +glade, and taking with him Heiss and the boy Gerry, +(who might return for the men in case of a surprise,) +proceeded to reconnoitre the strange-looking habitation.</p> + +<p>A wall of ivy, or some perennial vine, lay between +him and the house. A curtain of green leaves +covered the entrance through this wall. This appeared +to have grown up by neglect. As Rolfe lifted +this festoon, to pass through, the sound of female +voices greeted him. These voices reached his ear +in tones of the lightest mirth. At intervals came a +clear ringing laugh from some throat of silver, and +then a plunging, splashing sound of water. Rolfe +conjectured that some females were in the act of +bathing, and not wishing to intrude upon them sat +down for a moment outside the wall. The sounds +of merriment were still heard, and among the soft +tones the officer imagined that he could distinguish +the coarser voice of a man. Curiosity now prompted +him to enter. Moreover, he reflected that if there +were men there already there could not be much impropriety +in his taking a share in the amusement.</p> + +<p>Drawing aside the curtain of leaves he looked in. +The interior was a garden, but evidently in a neglected +state. It appeared the ruin of a once noble +garden and shrubbery. Broken fountains and statues +crumbling among weeds, and untrained rose-trees, +met the eye. The voices were more distinct, but +those who uttered them were hidden by a hedge of +jessamines. Rolfe stepped silently up to this hedge +and peeped through an opening. The picture presented +was indeed an enchanting one.</p> + +<p>A large fountain lay between him and the house +filled with crystal water. In this fountain two young +girls were plunging and diving about in the wildest +abandon of mirth. The water was not more than +waist deep, and the arms and bosoms of the young +girls appeared above its surface. They were strikingly +alike, in all except color. In this there was +a marked contrast. The neck, arms and bosom of +one seemed carved from snow-white marble, while +the other's complexion was almost as dark as mahogany. +There was the same cast of features, the +same expression in both countenances, and their +forms, just emerging from the slender figure of +girlhood, were exactly alike. Their long hair trailed +after them, black and luxuriant, on the surface of +the water, as they plunged and swam from one side +of the basin to the other. A huge negress sat upon +the edge of the fountain, seemingly enjoying the +bath as much as those who partook of it. It was the +voice of this negress that Rolfe had mistaken for that +of a man.</p> + +<p>The young officer did not hesitate a moment, but +stole gently back and regained his comrades.</p> + +<p>Then striking through the flowery fields that +stretched away toward the wood in the rear, he +commenced searching for the path that led from the +woods in a direction opposite to that whence he had +come, without disturbing the inmates of this peaceful +mansion. Finding this path on the other side, the +party entered and hastily kept on, in order to intercept +the guerilleros, whom they still hoped to fall in +with. In these hopes they were not disappointed, +for emerging from the woods near Medellin they +came upon the guerilleros, with whom they had a +sharp skirmish. Rolfe and his party were successful, +killing two of the guerrilla and taking the same +number prisoners.</p> + +<p>The young girls continued their pleasant pastime, +little dreaming how near to them had been these +strange and warlike visiters.</p> +<br /><br /> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="I_WANT_TO_GO_HOME" id="I_WANT_TO_GO_HOME"></a>I WANT TO GO HOME</h2> + +<hr class="short" /> +<h4>BY RICHARD COE, JR.</h4> +<hr class="short" /> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I want to go home!" saith a weary child,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That hath lost its way in straying;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye may try in vain to calm its fears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or wipe from its eyes the blinding tears,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">It looks in your face, still saying—<br /></span> +<span class="i3">"I want to go home!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I want to go home!" saith a fair young bride,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">In anguish of spirit praying;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her chosen hath broken the silver cord—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hath spoken a harsh and cruel word,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And she now, alas! is saying—<br /></span> +<span class="i3">"I want to go home!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I want to go home!" saith the weary soul,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Ever earnest thus 'tis praying;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It weepeth a tear—heaveth a sigh—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And upward glanceth with streaming eye<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To its promised rest, still saying—<br /></span> +<span class="i3">"I want to go home!"<br /></span> +</div></div> +<br /><br /> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_HUMBLING_OF_A_FAIRY" id="THE_HUMBLING_OF_A_FAIRY"></a>THE HUMBLING OF A FAIRY.</h2> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span> + +<hr class="short" /> +<h4>BY G. G. FOSTER.</h4> +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>The Princess Dewbell was confessed to be the +queen of the ball, notwithstanding that the beauty +and grace and wit of the whole realm were there, +for it was the birth-night festival of the fairy princess, +and her royal father, with all a parent's fond pride, +had exhausted invention, and impoverished extravagance, +to give <i>éclat</i> to the occasion. The walls of +his ancestral palace were sparkled all over with +dew-drops, which a troop of early bees had spent all +the summer mornings in collecting and preserving +in the royal patent dew-preserver, invented by one +of the native geniuses of the realm. These brilliant +mirrors, flashing in the light of ten thousand fire-flies +of the royal household, whose whole lives had been +expended in learning how to carry their dainty lamps +about so as to produce the finest effects, reflected the +forms of the ladies and the dazzling military trappings +of the handsome cavaliers, (there was war at +that time between the glorious empire of Fairydom +and the weak and infatuated republic of Elfland on +its southern borders, and the epaulette and spurs +were the only pass to the hearts of the fair,) imbuing +them with an infinitude of prismatic hues, all softened +into a kind of timed starlight, exquisite as the +dying voice of music. In this gorgeous saloon, at +the head of which sat, well pleased, the benevolent +old King Paterflor and his modest and still lovely +queen Sweetbine, all were noble and accomplished +and beautiful and gay; but the charms of the Princess +Dewbell, just bursting into the richness of full-grown +fairyhood, were so surpassing that none had +ever been found to question, even in their own +hearts, her supremacy. This, perhaps, may appear +strange to many of my pretty readers, but they must +remember that mine is a faithful chronicle of fairies—not +of women. The princess was standing lightly +touching—it could not be said that she leaned against—the +slender stalk of a garden lily, that rose like an +emerald column of classic mould above her lovely +form, and expanded into a graceful dome of transparent +and crimson-veined cornelian above her head. +Her eyes were cast pensively (at the Musical Fund +Hall it would have been called coquettishly) upon +the ground, and ever and anon she tossed her proud +head with an imperious gesture, until the streaming +curls waved and parted around her cheek and neck, +like vine-leaves about a marble column as the south +wind creeps among them soliciting for kisses. The +lady Dewbell, amid all this scene of enchantment, +which spread out before and around her, as if her +own loveliness had breathed it into existence, still +was discontented; sad, perhaps, at the total absence +of care in her bosom, and sighing for a sorrow. Unhappy +lady Dewbell! She had so many hundred +times been told, what she herself believed full well, +that she was absolutely the most beautiful creature +in existence, that the tale had lost its interest. The +champagne of flattery, its creaming foam long ago +melted into the brain, stood untasted before her, dull +and flat as the subsided fountain poured by the last +rain-shower into the tulip's cup. And so the fairy +princess stood listless and apart from the joyous +revel, her little form swaying lightly to and fro, with +the undulations of the lily-stem against which she +more perceptibly rested. It is well for Root and +Collins and Plumbe that the royal daguerreotyper +was laid up in a cowslip, with a broken skylight +which he had received in a rough-and-tumble with a +gnat, about the ownership of a particular ray of light, +at last sunsetting.</p> + +<p>But if the lady Dewbell were queen of the ball, the +noble knight Sir Timothy Lawn was as undisputedly +worthy of the post of honor among her gallant train +of admirers. Indeed, it was universally known, of +course as a profound secret among the gossips of the +palace, that Sir Timothy was the declared lover of +the proud Dewbell, and it was even whispered that +she had actually been seen hanging around his neck +one bright June morning, in a sweet clover-nook by +the brook-side, while he bent tenderly over her, his +eyes filled with tears of rapture. But as this story +could only be traced to a rough beetleherd, who said +he saw the lovers thus as he was driving his herd of +black cattle to water, it was not generally believed. +At any rate, all the ladies were decidedly of opinion +that Sir Timothy was in every way a match for the +haughty beauty, and that if she did not accept him +while he was in the humor she would be very likely +to go farther and fare worse. In fact, several old +maids and bluestockings, over their dishes of scandal +and marsh-fog, (both of which they made uncommonly +strong,) openly avowed it as their opinion, +that he was a great deal too good for her, and that, +if the truth must be told, the princess was an impertinent, +saucy and irreverent creature, who hadn't +the slightest respect for her superiors. "As to her +beauty," said one of these crones, whose little face +was very much of the size and complexion of a dried +camomile-flower, and who was shrewdly suspected +of qualifying her marsh-fog with pale pink-brandy—"As +for her beauty, that is all in my eye. I have +seen plenty of your plump, smooth-skinned pieces of +paint and affectation fade in my time, little as I have +yet seen of life. Mark my words—before we have +reached our prime, my great lady princess will be +as ugly as—"</p> + +<p>"As ugly as yourself, granny! Ha, ha, ha! ho, +ho, ho! haw, haw, haw!" shouted a mirthful voice, +while an indescribably comic face, half cat and half +baby, appeared for a single glimpse above the bur<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span>dock +leaf behind which the spinsters were holding +their <i>conversazione</i>.</p> + +<p>"There 's that imp Puck again, as sure as I am +a woman!" exclaimed the gentle Mrs. Mullenstalk, +rising hastily and spilling a dish of fog all over the +front of her new green and yellow striped grass +dress, as she ran toward the spot whence the voice +had proceeded. "I'll to the palace this very night, +and lay my complaint against that wretch. We'll +see whether virtuous ladies are to be insulted in this +manner, and their helplessness trampled under foot!"</p> + +<p>The intruder had already disappeared; but as the +amiable Mrs. Mullenstock got her spectacles adjusted, +she just caught sight of him throwing a +somerset into a pumpkin-flower; while his laugh +still sounded faintly upon the air, mingled with +snatches of a wild refrain, of which she could only +distinguish these lines:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Oh ho, Granny Mullenstock, how envious you be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll plague you to death, or the hornets catch me!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The spinster shook her fist and grinned horribly at +the broad-mouthed, innocent yellow flower, down +whose throat the varlet had leaped—but chancing at +that moment to catch a glimpse of her own face in a +little bit of mica, which served her for a toilet-mirror, +she uttered the least bit of a little shriek in the world +and fainted—her companions, who had by this time +gathered round her, exchanging sly winks and malicious +looks of gratification as she went off.</p> + +<p>But we must return to the ball-room, where the +fire-flies have got sleepy, and many of them had +already put out their lamps and retired, and the brilliant +company of dancers and promenaders has +dwindled down to a few sets, composed of those +ladies who had not been asked to dance in the height +of the evening, and some sour-looking gentlemen in +very tight coats and pants, who had "got the mitten" +from their sweethearts at the door, and were desperately +trying to do the amiable out of sheer revenge. +At length even these disappeared; the saloons were +entirely deserted, save by the beautiful mother moonbeam, +who slept upon the fragrant turf, her babe, the +silver starlight, folded lovingly within her bosom.</p> + +<p>Yet no, the scene is not quite solitary. Carefully +bending aside the tall, slender spears of diamond-tipped +grass that perpetually guarded the sacred domain +of the imperial palace, a cavalier in full armor +appears, making way for a lady, whose long veil of +the finest spider's web completely conceals her head +and form, making her seem like an exhalation, taking, +as its highest gift of grace, the shape of woman. +The two advance slowly and cautiously to the centre +of the saloon, and then the cavalier, throwing himself +on his knees, (that's the way fairies invariably +make love,) beseeches his companion to have pity +upon him. The lady throws back her veil with a +motion of indescribable grace, and looking down into +the upturned face of her lover, seriously a moment, +then lightly, utters a low laugh, and replies,</p> + +<p>"Very well, Sir Timothy Lawn, upon my word! +Quite prettily done, indeed!. You must have been +taking lessons of Signor Sweetbriar, the royal parson. +Now do run and bring me a glass of geranium-dew—I +protest I have drank scarcely a drop all the +evening."</p> + +<p>"Not one word, then, for your poor lover and +true knight," sighed Sir Timothy, in a tone of the +deepest despondence.</p> + +<p>"I did not come here to listen to school-boy nonsense," +said the lady Dewbell, with a haughty and +impatient motion of the head. "I came to get a +glass of geranium-water. But, as you decline +obliging me to that extent, I suppose I must e'en get +it for myself. Good-night to you, Sir Timothy! +Pleasant dreams!" and she disappeared.</p> + +<p>The knight was for a moment confounded; then +rising slowly, he pointed to a bright star that shone +directly above him, winking and winking with all +its might, as much as to say, "what a green-horn +you are!" and swore an oath that no fairy should ever +henceforth have power over his heart, till she who +had so wantonly scorned and insulted him should +beg to be forgiven. As he was turning sadly away, +to seek his solitary chamber in the upper branch of +a bachelor's button, on the other side of the brook, +the elf-clown Puck stood before him, looking as +demure as puss herself.</p> + +<p>"Well, fool," said the knight, somewhat impatiently, +"how long hast thou been listening here?"</p> + +<p>"As long as my ears, your worship," replied the +urchin, undauntedly, "and they were long enough +to hear that your worship's valiancy is a very much +over-praised commodity—since a maiden's dainty +veil of knitted night-air has proved too strong +for him."</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The knight he sued, and the knight he sighed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But he went away without supper or bride."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"Silence, imp! or I 'll make thine ears, of which +thou hast had such pestilent service, shorter by +a span."</p> + +<p>"No, I thank your valiancy! my ears do very +well as they are. And I came to do you a good turn +by offering you the use of them. But as your worship +is so high and dry in Dundrum Bay, as we say +at sea, I'll e'en get back to my nap in the hazle copse +again."</p> + +<p>"Nay, good Puck, I meant thee no harm, as thou +knowest well enough. Since thou knowest my +innermost grief, let me hear thy fool's advice in the +matter."</p> + +<p>"If I gave thee advice, I were in truth a fool. +But I'll very willingly forgive thee this time, and +tell thee what I overheard to-night at the palace."</p> + +<p>"Ah, that's a good Puck!"</p> + +<p>"That depends on circumstances, your valiancy. +I am somewhat like a dish of toasted gallinippers—whether +it is palatable or not depending very much +in the way it is served. But this is what I heard his +majesty say to her majesty. 'Sweetbine, my dear,' +said he, 'don't you think Dewbell has a fancy for +our brave and noble knight, Sir Timothy Lawn?' +'Why, my love,' replied her majesty, 'I have long +been almost certain that she loved him. But she is +such a confirmed flirt I am afraid she can never be +brought to say so. I haven't the least idea that she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span> +would not reject Sir Timothy, were he to propose.' +'We must cure her of this fatal pride and folly,' +replied his majesty, 'and I think that, with a little of +your assistance, I can manage it capitally.' And +then the dear old people passed into the royal bed-chamber, +in the japonica wing, and I heard no more."</p> + +<p>"I'll to the king."</p> + +<p>"And I'll to a better friend than he; if you permit +me, your worship, I take my <i>bough</i> and <i>leave</i>."</p> + +<p>"Avaunt, vile punning Puck! Thou hast been to +Philadelphia, where all the streets rhyme, and every +corner is a pun upon the next. May the fiend unquip +thee! Away!'</p> + +<p>"If thou I kest not jokes, thou hadst best stick to +thy bachelor's-buttonhood. I tell thee, marriage is a +capital joke."</p> + +<p>"What knowest thou of marriage?"</p> + +<p>"I am one of its fruits."</p> + +<p>"A bitter jest, indeed, and plucked ere half ripened. +St. Bulwer! but thou wilt be a mother's blessing +when thou art fully grown!"</p> + +<p>"Better save thy wits, sir knight! Thou wilt have +a plentiful lack of them ere the honeymoon be out of +the comb. A pleasant roost in thy bachelor's hall, +and many of them!" and the vagabond sprung upon +the back of a green lizard creeping silently through +the grass, and sticking his heels into his astonished +charger, dragoon-fashion, disappeared down the bank +of the brook.</p> + +<p>The old king and his good wife, Sweetbine, were +very much grieved at the foolish trifling of their +daughter, Dewbell—for they were well assured that +Dewbell loved the noble knight, Sir Timothy, and +that it was only a spirit of mere wantonness that led +her to vex and torment him. Long into the night +did the royal couple converse, striving to devise +some means of bringing their wayward daughter to +her senses. They at last hit upon a plan, which they +fondly hoped might be the means of securing the +happiness of their child, and settling her comfortably +in life.</p> + +<p>The next morning his majesty sent for the dwarf, +Puck, to his private cabinet, and received him with +an unusually grave and troubled aspect.</p> + +<p>"Venerable sire," said Puck, making a mock +reverence, and scarcely able to suppress a chuckle +at the solemn looks of his master, "what facetious +dream hath been playing its mad pranks about thy +sacred pillow? Never saw I kingly face so mirthfully +beprankt."</p> + +<p>"Come hither, good Puck," said the king, patiently, +"and when thou hast made thy breakfast of fun upon +thy poor master, listen to him seriously."</p> + +<p>"Dear prince", said the dwarf, suddenly running +up to the king and casting himself weeping at his +feet, "art thou, then, really troubled? Forgive thy +poor slave!" and he began blubbering in the most +pitiable manner, while he looked up into the face of +the king with such a look of wo-begone and ludicrous +despair, that Paterflor himself could scarce refrain +from bursting into laughter.</p> + +<p>"Thou hast done nothing wrong, good Puck—handsome +Puck," said the king, chucking his favorite +under the chin. "I have need of thee. Here is my +signet-ring. Bring me straight hither a young and +handsome peasant, one who has never been seen by +the court, nor any inhabitant of the palace. He must +be intelligent, conscientious, and trustworthy. Dost +thou know of such a one?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, your majesty, I think I do. My friend, +young Paudeen O'Rafferty, the son of the old forest-keeper, +has just returned from Ireland, where he was +carried by the fairies at his christening, and has been +kept ever since until now, trying to get through the +rent made by Mr. O'Connell in the pockets of his +relatives. He's as tight an Irish lad as your majesty +ever saw; and as for his honesty, I'll endorse it with +both hands. The O'Raffertys are constitutionally +honest."</p> + +<p>"Well, bring him hither at once. I shall be ready +to receive him."</p> + +<p>Puck, with his funny face entirely restored to +good humor, left the palace by a private gate, and +running across a beautiful meadow, disappeared in +the dark green forest. Idle lingerer as he was, he +felt a strong inclination, at every hazel-copse he +passed, to stop and have a chat with the rabbits he +knew were hid beneath it; and more than once he +was on the point of running up to a friendly deer and +kissing his cold, black nose, just for auld lang syne. +But, for a wonder, he was constant to his errand, +and ran straight on—not stopping even to throw +stones at a squirrel by the way—till he came to the +forester's hut.</p> + +<p>He found the old forester and his wife alone. +They received him kindly, for, notwithstanding his +mad pranks, Puck was a favorite every where, and +especially among the poor and humble, who were +always safe from his mischievous propensities. The +young Paudeen was out a little bit in the forest, but +would return directly.</p> + +<p>"And what brings good Master Puck from among +the great lords and beautiful ladies of the coort to our +poor little shieling, not bigger nor betther than the +mud cabins of ould Ireland itself?" inquired the old +woman, who had grown, with age and toil, wrinkled +deaf and sour.</p> + +<p>"I'll explain all that as soon as Paudeen comes +home," replied the grave and mysterious Puck; +"but, in the meantime, how do you get on Mr. +O'Rafferty, and what is the news in the forest?"</p> + +<p>"We get on but poorly," said the old forester, +"and the news is, that the people at the other side of +the forest, where the potatoes have all rotted, and +the land is wore down to its bare bones, for want of +rest like, are very bad. Some of the women and +childhers have already starved, and the men have +for the most part took to dhrinken and fighten, till +things is in a mighty bad way."</p> + +<p>"Yes," chimed in the old woman, who seemed to +have caught by instinct the subject of conversation, +"and the poor stharven people say, too, that there is +plenty of money squandhered upon extravagance by +the king and his coort to give them all bread; +and that the forests that is kept for the deers and +craythurs to be killed for the spoort of the big folks,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span> +would give every man a bit of fresh land, and that +the potatoes would grow well enough then."</p> + +<p>"Auch, Peggy, will ye have us hung for parjery, +out and out!" exclaimed the terrified husband, casting +a deprecating look at Puck. "Poor craythur, she +doesn't know what she is saying."</p> + +<p>At this juncture the young Paudeen made his appearance, +and put a stop to a conversation that was +becoming decidedly stupid. He made his respects +cordially to Puck; and when he heard his errand, +seemed amazed and delighted. After a good deal of +difficulty, the old lady was made to understand what +was the desire of the king.</p> + +<p>"Hooh!" exclaimed the old crone, leaping from +her seat and dancing about the room, "the dhrame's +come true at last! Och, hullybaloo! didn't I know +that the pretty Paudeen wasn't born for the pig-stye! +Bedad, but he'll ruffle the gentles! Wont you, darlint?" +and the old woman fell upon her son's neck, +smothering him with kisses, while the poor youth +could hardly keep his legs under the vigor of her +maternal caresses.</p> +<br /> + +<h4>PART II.</h4> + +<p>In a few days after the interview of Puck and +Paudeen in the hut of the forester, there was great +excitement at the court of Fairyland. The fashionable +milliners and dress-makers never had seen such +a time—orders from the aristocracy poured in upon +them by scores, and their doors were beset by +fashionable carriages, and little fairy footmen caparisoned +in long coats with many capes, and broad, +red bands fastened with shining buckles round their +hats. The great <i>artistes</i> who were at the head of +these establishments saw themselves amassing fortunes +from the sudden influx of fashionable custom. +But the poor little fairy seamstresses, who sat up all +night, sometimes without time to eat or sleep, from +sunset to sunset, so that all these splendid dresses +might be finished in time—they did not fare so well. +They grew pale and sick, and sat swaying and +swinging about as they worked, until one might have +thought them the ghosts of fairy workers, come back +for a ghostly midnight frolic in their old haunts. It +was melancholy enough, truly; but then nobody +knew any thing about it. The rich ladies, when +their splendid robes came home, did not stop to think +that good, earnest, faithful fairy hearts had embroidered +the roses that adorned the skirts from their +own cheeks, and spangled them with the broken +fragments of their youth's faded dreams. If they +had—</p> + +<p>Well, and if they had?</p> + +<p>That is not at all to the purport of my story; and +so I will proceed to let the reader into the secret of +all this flutter and fluster. A great prince had made +his appearance at the court of Paterflor, and had +created almost as great an excitement in Fairyland +as a new prima donna with bright eyes and a <i>sfogato</i> +voice among mere mortals. Nobody knew exactly +who he was, but he came from a great way off, and +had a name as long as a province, and, beside being +incalculably wealthy, it was universally voted (ladies +vote in Fairyland) that he was the very handsomest +love of a fairy knight that ever jingled spurs, or +sighed at the feet of beauty. He had come to court +evidently with the "highest recommendations" to +the king, such as would have procured him immediate +access into the first "circles," even in Philadelphia, +where society lives behind barred doors, +and goes about armed cap-a-pie against encroachment +or intrusion. He had been at once received at +the royal table, and a splendid suite of apartments +had been assigned him in the palace itself. Such extraordinary +attentions from the imperial family, of +course, made the stranger a favorite and a welcome +guest wherever he appeared; and there was not a +lady at court who would not have given her eyes—if +it would not have spoiled her beauty—for a smile +from his magnificent mouth.</p> + +<p>It was discovered, however, at a very early stage +of the proceedings, that the chief object of the prince's +admiration was the lady Dewbell, who, proud as she +was, could not help feeling flattered by the evident +and special devotion of one for whom the whole of +her sex were dying. Sir Timothy Lawn, who, from +pique or melancholy, or from some unknown cause, +had left the court the very day after the arrival of +the new prince, was not entirely forgotten, but was +laid away carefully on a back shelf of her heart; +and the lady Dewbell never had been so beautiful, so +fascinating, so joyous and irresistible. Courts are as +fickle as coquettes; and before the month had passed, +in a series of brilliant <i>fêtes</i> and entertainments, at +all of which the prince and princess were the reigning +toast, it was regarded as a settled thing that there +would, ere the maple leaves grew red in the dying +gaze of the year, be a royal marriage in Fairyland.</p> + +<p>But while to all around the beautiful Dewbell was +ever the same careless, saucy and happy creature +as ever, in her heart she nursed a bitter sorrow. +After many and severe struggles, she was forced at +last to make to herself the humiliating acknowledgment +that she deeply and truly loved Sir Timothy +Lawn, that noble and chivalric spirit, whom her unworthy +trifling had driven—so her frightened heart +interpreted it—in disgust from her. Compelled in +common courtesy to receive the devoted attentions +of the stranger prince, and to hear every day and +every hour repeated the earnest solicitations of her +father that she should school herself to regard the +stranger as her future husband, her little fairy heart +was quite broken with its ceaseless struggles. Her +pride and self-will were entirely vanquished, and she +felt herself truly the most miserable of fairy maidens. +Suicide is of course a thing strictly prohibited among +immortals; but had it been otherwise, I sadly fear +that one of the lady Dewbell's spider-web silk hose +would some morning have been found without a +garter, and she herself hanging like a beauteous exhalation +among the elm-leaves in the morning sunshine. +Oh, had Sir Timothy been there then, he +would have found, instead of his imperious and tantalizing +coquette, the tenderest and truest of dis<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span>consolate +maidens, ready to melt into his arms between +the delicious pause of a sigh and a kiss. +"Naughty, cruel Sir Timothy! Horrid creature! +to take all my nonsense for real earnest, and to go +away and leave me to be persecuted to death!" exclaimed +the lady Dewbell, with an uncontrollable +burst of tears, as she threw herself, her toilet half +finished, and her hair all strewn over her face and +shoulders, upon her little praying cushion. "What +will become of poor Bell!"</p> + +<p>"What ails my daughter?" said the sweet, soft +voice of the queen mother, as she knelt tenderly +over her child, and pressed her head to her bosom. +"Tell your sorrows to your mother."</p> + +<p>"Oh, mother, <i>I</i> am the most wretched fairy that +ever existed. I don't want to marry that odious, +red-haired stranger; and my father has made me +promise that the wedding shall take place on Halloween—and +I—I have consented. But I love Sir +Timothy; and I wont marry any body but him," +sobbed the poor creature, convulsively, as she cast +herself upon the floor, and looked up to her mother, +terrified and half frantic.</p> + +<p>"But, dearest, you know you laughed at poor Sir +Timothy's vows—and he is so sensitive."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, I know I did, but I'll never do so any +more. <i>If</i> Sir Timothy will only come back and forgive +me, and marry me, just this once, I will never, +never offend him again as long as I live—never, +never, never! Do, mamma, do make him come +back!"</p> + +<p>"Poor child! I will certainly do all I can. But +you have promised to be married on Halloween."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, but that is a good fortnight off, and you +can bring Sir Timothy back before then, you know, +and he can kill this horrid stranger, and then every +body will be <i>so</i> happy!" and the face of the +volatile creature began already to re-clothe itself +in smiles.</p> + +<p>"I fear you are mistaken, love," said her mother, +solemnly, and shaking her head in an impressive +manner, she added, "do not deceive yourself with +such fallacies, my daughter; your princely word is +passed, your father's royal honor is pledged, and you +must be married on Halloween."</p> + +<p>The lady Dewbell, sobbing hysterically, again +looked up. She was alone; at the same moment +the cat-and-baby face of Puck glanced by the window, +and a wild, mischievous laugh melted away into +a song, of which the lady only caught the two +last lines:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"He rideth fast, and he rideth well,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But his heart still clings to the pretty Bell."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"Oh, bless thee, dear Puck!" sighed the haply +wondering lady, rising and leaning from the window. +"May thy sweet prophecy come true!"</p> + + +<p>PART III.</p> + +<p>'T is Halloween midnight. Through the tall windows +of the venerable church streamed in the broad +moonlight, in bright silver floods, that lost themselves +in the profound recesses of the distant aisles, or fell +like many-colored snow-flakes upon the marble floor. +Entering without sound, came up the middle aisle +the royal wedding-procession. First walked the +father, the royal Paterflor, looking stern and determined, +yet, it must be confessed, a little roguish +about the crowsfeet. Upon his arm leaned his pale +and stricken daughter, the once proud, joyous and +imperious Princess Dewbell. She was pale as a +lily's cup, and drooping as its stem. She never +raised her head from her bosom, and her eyes, once +sparkling like fountains of light, were hidden beneath +their willowy lids. Next comes the "red-haired +prince," as the lady Dewbell had scornfully denominated +him, (his head <i>was</i> a little inclined to flame, +dear reader, between you and me,) respectfully conducting +the ever sweet and placid Queen Woodbine; +and after them a troop of merry and gayly-dressed +fairies, both ladies and gentlemen, but very demure +and solemn; while Puck, in the united capacity of +Hymen and Grand Usher, was dodging about with +his flaming torch, now in front, now in rear, now +here, now there, and every where imparting an air +of grotesqueness to the whole affair.</p> + +<p>At the altar the party stopped, and ranging themselves +in the approved order for such occasions, the +priest—a grave and reverend bullfrog, whose surplice +was scrupulously neat and tidy—proceeded +with the ceremony. When he came to the question, +"dost thou, my daughter, freely and voluntarily bestow +thy hand and thy affections upon this man, +Paudeen O'Rafferty, commonly called Pat?"</p> + +<p>The pale and shrinking lady raised her head and +opened her great ox-like eyes; the bridegroom looked +sheepish and hung his head; King Paterflor seemed +suddenly troubled with a severe fit of coughing, and +the priest could scarcely forbear a chuckle.</p> + +<p>"Father, dear father, what is the meaning of this +cruel joke?" exclaimed the poor lady Dewbell, +running to her father and catching hold of his arm. +But the old king's cough was still very troublesome. +She then appealed to the priest, but he seemed deaf, +and only made a grum kind of noise in his throat, +that sounded a good deal like "Pat O'Rafferty."</p> + +<p>"Who, then, are you, sir?" demanded she, at +last, of the groom, turning suddenly and imperiously +upon him her piercing gaze.</p> + +<p>"So plaze yer ladyship, I am Paudeen O'Rafferty, +the son of the forester—at yer ladyship's sarvice."</p> + +<p>The fairy princess was about to faint, in the most +approved manner, and had already selected a convenient +cushion upon which to fall, when a tall and +noble form crossed the moon-ray, and Sir Timothy +Lawn stood before her.</p> + +<p>"Beloved princess," said he, kneeling, and respectfully +taking her hand, "I hope my presence is not +disagreeable to the queen of my heart, for whose love +I have so long pined. Speak to me frankly, sweet +lady Dewbell, tell me, can you love me? Will you +permit me to call you mine forever?"</p> + +<p>The lady Dewbell changed her intention respecting +the cushion upon which she had intended to faint, +and, somehow, found herself before she was half<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span> +conscious of it, in her lover's arms. An explanation +ensued; the prince Paudeen gave up his post of +honor to Sir Timothy; the ceremony was concluded +on the spot; and as the gay and joyous party left +the church, Puck was seen sitting at the organ +accompanying himself in a sort of wild yet sweet +chant, of which the lady Dewbell easily distinguished—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Oh, a merry tale will the gossips tell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the happy mishap of the proud lady Bell."<br /></span> +</div></div> +<br /><br /> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="A_NIGHT_THOUGHT" id="A_NIGHT_THOUGHT"></a>A NIGHT THOUGHT.</h2> + +<hr class="short" /> +<h4>BY THOMAS BUCHANAN READ.</h4> +<hr class="short" /> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">Long have I gazed upon all lovely things,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Until my soul was melted into song,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Melted with love till from its thousand springs<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The stream of adoration, swift and strong,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Swept in its ardor, drowning brain and tongue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till what I most would say was borne away unsung.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">The brook is silent when it mirrors most<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whate'er is grand or beautiful above;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The billow which would woo the flowery coast<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dies in the first expression of its love;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And could the bard consign to living breath<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Feelings too deep for thought, the utterance were death!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">The starless heavens at noon are a delight;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The clouds a wonder in their varying play,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And beautiful when from their mountainous height<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The lightning's hand illumes the wall of day:—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The noisy storm bursts down—and passing brings<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The rainbow poised in air on unsubstantial wings.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">But most I love the melancholy night—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When with fixed gaze I single out a star<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A feeling floods me with a tender light—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A sense of an existence from afar,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A life in other spheres of love and bliss,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Communion of true souls—a loneliness in this!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">There is a sadness in the midnight sky—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An answering fullness in the heart and brain,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Which tells the spirit's vain attempt to fly<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And occupy those distant worlds again.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">At such an hour Death's were a loving trust,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If life could then depart in its contempt of dust.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">It may be that this deep and longing sense<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is but the prophecy of life to come;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">It may be that the soul in going hence<br /></span> +<span class="i2">May find in some bright star its promised home;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And that the Eden lost forever here<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Smiles welcome to me now from yon suspended sphere.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">There is a wisdom in the light of stars,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A wordless lore which summons me away—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">This ignorance belongs to earth which bars<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The spirit in these darkened walls of clay,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And stifles all the soul's aspiring breath;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">True knowledge only dawns within the gales of Death.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">Imprisoned thus, why fear we then to meet<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The angel who shall ope the dungeon-door,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And break these galling fetters from our feet,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To lead us up from Time's benighted shore?<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Is it for love of this dark cell of dust,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which, tenantless, awakes but horror and disgust?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">Long have I mused upon all lovely things;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But thou, oh Death! art lovelier than all;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Thou sheddest from thy recompensing wings<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A glory which is hidden by the pall—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The excess of radiance falling from thy plume<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Throws from the gates of Time a shadow on the tomb.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<br /><br /> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_BARD" id="THE_BARD"></a>THE BARD.</h2> + +<hr class="short" /> +<h4>BY S. ANNA LEWIS.</h4> +<hr class="short" /> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Why should my anxious heart repine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That Wealth and Power can ne'er be mine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Love has flown—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That Friendship changes as the breeze?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mine is a joy unknown to these;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In Song's bright zone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To sit by Helicon serene,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hear the waves of Hippocrene<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lave Phœbus' throne.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Here deathless lyres the strains prolong,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That gush from living founts of song,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Without a cross;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here spirits never feel the weight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Wrong, or Envy, or of Hate,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or earthly loss;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The pomp of Pelf—the pride of Birth—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The gilded trappings of this earth<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Return to dross.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, ye! who would forget the ills<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of earth, and all the bosom fills<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With agony!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come dwell with me in Fancy's dream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beside this lovely fabled stream<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of minstrelsy;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And let its draughts celestial roll<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into the deep wells of thy soul<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Eternally.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">God always sets along the way<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of weary souls some beacon ray<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of light divine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And only when my spirit's wings<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are weary in the quest of springs<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of Song, I pine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If I could always heavenward fly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And never earthward turn mine eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bliss would be mine.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<br /><br /> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_WILL" id="THE_WILL"></a>THE WILL.</h2> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span> + +<hr class="short" /> +<h4>BY MISS E. A. DUPUY</h4> +<hr class="short" /> + +<h4>PART I.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There is peace in the Night of the Early Dead—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">It will yield to a glorious morrow! <i>Clarke</i>.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<br /> + +<p>Amid all the brightness and bloom which the imagination +conjures up, when we think of the sunny +islands lying within the tropics, many mournful associations +arise and cast a sadness over the picture. +Very few have not had within the circle of their +relatives, or friends, some cherished one, who has +vainly sought the balmy breezes of those favored +spots, with the feverish hope that amid their loveliness +Death would forget to launch his arrows for +them.</p> + +<p>Alas! to die among strangers is usually the fate of +those who are thus lured from their homes by a deceitful +hope. There, where Nature wears a perpetual +verdure—where the fervid sun brings forth a +luxuriance of vegetation unknown in more northern +regions, the wearied spirit sinks to repose, soothed, +or saddened, by the glow of existence around.</p> + +<p>A spacious apartment on the southern side of a +highly ornamented villa, opened into a magnificent +garden, filled with orange-trees, oleanders, and many +other gorgeous flowers peculiar to the climate of +Cuba; while in the distance the sunlight gleamed +upon a row of towering palms, whose stately +columns, crowned by their verdant coronal, resembled +the pillars of some mighty temple, which found +a fitting canopy in the blue arch of heaven, glowing +with the gorgeous hues of a tropical sunset.</p> + +<p>The floor of this room was inlaid with marble of +different colors, and the couch and windows were +draped with snowy lace, lightly embroidered at the +edges, and looped with cords of blue and silver—tables +with marble tops, supporting porcelain vases +filled with flowers, were placed between the windows, +for these ephemeral children of sunshine were +dear to the heart of the dying one. Beside one of +these stood a large cushioned chair, in which reclined +a young man of delicate features and wasted +form. He appeared in the last stages of his fell disease, +and the friends who had received him beneath +their roof to die, wondered that he should have been +deluded with the hope that health could ever again +reanimate his bowed and shrunken form. There +was an expression of care upon his sharpened features—a +feverish restlessness in his manner, which +betrayed the spirit's unrest.</p> + +<p>At his feet sat a young girl, whose brilliant complexion +and pale-brown hair betrayed her Saxon origin; +the finely rounded figure, the delicately formed +feet and hands, and the gracefully turned head and +bust, were all evidences of the grade of life to which +she belonged. She held the burning hand of the invalid +between her own soft, cool palms, and sung in +a sweet low voice an old ballad which told of the +ancient greatness of the Saxon race. At a short distance +from them sat an elderly lady, clad in deep +mourning, and her saddened countenance corresponded +well with her weeds.</p> + +<p>The young man made an impatient movement, +and said—"Sing not to me England's former prowess, +dear Edith. What to the dying can such themes be +but a bitter mockery? Take your guitar, my sister, +and throw your soul into its vibrating strings, while +you sing me such a lay as I can fancy the angels of +Heaven to be pouring forth around the throne of +God."</p> + +<p>"Shall I sing the chants of our church, dearest +Edgar?" said Edith in a subdued voice.</p> + +<p>"Yes—yes—they breathe peace and resignation +into my restless soul. When I am dying, my sister, +stifle your own feelings as you love me, and pour +into my failing senses those magnificent strains. If +God sees fit to tear me from you before I can legally +provide for you and my beloved mother, I shall be +enabled to forget the bitter truth in listening to your +sweet voice. You promise me this, Edith?"</p> + +<p>"I do—Heaven will sustain me even then, my +darling brother, and give me power to forget my +own anguish in soothing your last moments."</p> + +<p>Edith Euston pressed his hand to her lips, and +raising from the floor a guitar which lay beside her, +she poured forth a strain of melody which seemed +to soothe the senses of the invalid to rest. His eyes +closed, and an expression of repose rested on his +worn features.</p> + +<p>Twilight deepened over the earth—a single ray +of light, from the reddened sky, fell through the open +window upon the figure of the young girl, and the +mother, who sat silent and abstracted, thought as she +glanced upon her that even in a higher world her +beloved Edith could wear no lovelier outward semblance +than was now hers. There was an expression +of elevated feeling, of pure tenderness in her +upturned face which revealed the high and noble +soul within. One fitted to suffer and conquer in the +dark struggle which she felt awaited her.</p> + +<p>Hers were not the only eyes which contemplated +that lovely picture of sisterly devotion upon that +twilight eve. Another stood without, beneath the +shadow of a high hedge, and gazed upon the unconscious +musician with even deeper admiration; and +his dark, expressive features lighted up with an +emotion almost of reverence. The stars came forth +in the translucent depths of ether; the young moon +cast her tremulous light over the garden, yet still the +intruder lingered in his place of concealment. +Twice he put the boughs aside, as if to approach the +room and announce his presence, but again receded,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span> +as if irresolute and uncertain as to the effect his presence +might produce.</p> + +<p>At length all became silent. The tones of the instrument +died slowly away, and the voice of the +singer ceased to pour forth its song. The windows +were still unclosed, for the invalid had reached that +distressing stage in his malady, when his oppressed +breathing required a constant circulation of free air. +A lamp burning beneath an alabaster shade was +swung from the centre of the ceiling, and its mellow +lustre diffused a faint moonlight radiance throughout +the apartment.</p> + +<p>With suppressed breathing the two ladies watched +the sleep of the sick youth, and he who had so earnestly +observed every movement of Edith, ventured +to approach so near the open window that the heavy +and interrupted respiration of young Euston was distinctly +audible to him; while his eagle eye sought to +penetrate the shadow in which his features reposed, +that he might read upon them the ravages made by +approaching dissolution.</p> + +<p>As he stood thus, the moonlight revealed a tall, +well proportioned figure, clad in a suit of black, +well fitted to his form. His prominent features and +flashing black eyes were half concealed by a large +straw hat, which was carelessly placed upon his +head. As he gazed upon the sleeping form, his lips +curled, and a strange expression of exultation came +to his face; his eye wandered triumphantly to the +fair brow of Edith.</p> + +<p>"Twice rejected," he muttered half audibly—"twice +rejected, and with scorn, by yon dainty girl; +now methinks my vengeance is almost within my +grasp. I hold her future destiny in my power; for +this boy <i>cannot</i> drag out his existence another week. +Yes, Edith—to labor you have not been bred—to beg +you will be ashamed, and he who vainly hopes that +time will be granted him to deprive me of my inheritance, +will perish from my path, just as he believes +himself on the verge of consummating his +hatred to me."</p> + +<p>Edith softly arose, and making a sign to her mother, +glided noiselessly from the room by a distant +window, which opened to the floor. The intruder +hesitated a moment, and then followed her with light +and rapid steps. The flutter of her white dress +guided him to the retreat she had chosen, and she had +scarcely thrown herself upon a rustic seat beneath +the shelter of some orange-boughs, and given vent to +her painfully repressed emotion, by a burst of tears, +when the dark stranger stood before her. She started +up and would have fled, but he spoke, and the sound +of his voice seemed to bind her to the spot as by a +spell.</p> + +<p>"Why would you fly from me, Edith?" he asked. +"I come in the spirit of good-will to you and yours."</p> + +<p>A struggle seemed to be passing in the mind of the +young girl. She wiped her tears away, and after a +pause answered in a tone which faltered at first, but +grew firm, and even haughty as she proceeded,</p> + +<p>"What has brought you hither, Mr. Barclay? +Yet why do I ask? To exult in the fate of your unfortunate +victim; to watch each painful breath which +brings him nearer to his grave, with the certainty +that the very eagerness with which he desires a few +more days of existence, that he may fulfill a sacred +duty, is fast wearing away the faint thread that yet +binds him to life. Oh false, unfeeling man! depart, +I pray you, if one human instinct yet remains within +your callous heart, and leave my unhappy brother to +die in peace."</p> + +<p>She turned to depart, but Barclay stepped forward +and placed his hand on her arm, as if to detain her. +She shrunk from his touch with an expression of +loathing, which called the crimson to his cheek, but +he suppressed his emotion, and said calmly—</p> + +<p>"I knew that you would soon need a protector, +Miss Euston, and I came hither with the faint hope +that I might be able to overcome your cruel prejudices +against me—that I might become to you a +friend at least, if no dearer title were allowed me."</p> + +<p>"You a friend to <i>me</i>!" exclaimed Edith impetuously. +"You, who lured my brother from his home, +to wreck his existence in the life of dissipation to +which you tempted him. Ever feeble from his boyhood, +you knew that little was needed to destroy his +frail constitution—yet, because he stood between you +and the possession of wealth, his life was offered as +the sacrifice to your criminal cupidity. And now +you come hither to watch the last fluttering throes of +existence, fearful that Death may delay his arrows +until he shall have passed that hour which entitles +him to dispose of his property—and disappoint your +hopes, by bequeathing his wealth to those who are +dearest to him."</p> + +<p>"You are excited, Edith. You judge me too severely. +Edgar's own headlong passions destroyed +him. I merely urged him to do as others of his years +and station, without foreseeing such fatal results. +My love for you would have prompted me to save +your brother."</p> + +<p>"Speak not to me of love—dare not approach the +sister of your victim with proffers of affection. The +death of Edgar may leave me penniless—nearly +friendless—I have been tenderly nurtured, but I +would sooner embrace a life of sternest self-denial, +of utter poverty, than link myself with infamy in +your person. Leave me—and dare not approach the +room of my brother, to imbitter his last hours by +your presence."</p> + +<p>"And your mother, my fair heroine?" said Barclay, +in a tone of sarcasm bordering on contempt. +"What will become of her if you persist in the rejection +of the only person in the wide world on whom +you have any claim? She is old, feeble, broken in +health and spirit. Ah! will not your proud heart +faint when you behold her sharing this life of poverty +and self-denial, which seems to you so much more +attractive than the home and protection I offer you?"</p> + +<p>Edith stifled the tears that sprung anew to her eyes, +and after a brief struggle said with composure—</p> + +<p>"My mother is too honorable—she has too bitter a +disdain of meanness ever to wish her child to sacrifice +the truth and integrity of her soul, by accepting +the hand of one for whom she has no respect."</p> + +<p>"By Heaven!" said Barclay passionately, "you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span> +force me to throw away the scabbard and declare +war to the knife. Be it so, then. Yonder weak boy +cannot survive five of the ten days yet required to +complete his majority. Then comes to me—yes to +<i>me</i>—all his wealth; and only as <i>my</i> wife shall one +ray of my prosperity shine upon you. The gray +hairs of your only parent may be brought to the +grave by want and sorrow, and unless you relent +toward me my heart shall be steeled to her sufferings."</p> + +<p>At this picture, which was only too likely to be +realized, the courage of the unhappy Edith forsook +her, and she exclaimed in faltering tones—</p> + +<p>"My dear, dear mother! for her sake any other +sacrifice might be borne—but not this—not this. My +brother yet lives, and Heaven may in pity prolong +his existence beyond the hour he so anxiously prays +to see. Then we escape your power."</p> + +<p>Barclay laughed mockingly.</p> + +<p>"This is the fifteenth, and he is not of age until +the twenty-fifth, exactly at the second hour of the +morning. One moment only before that time should +Death claim his victim the estate is mine, and you +dependent on my bounty. Think you that the frail +and wasted ghost of a man who struggles for breath +in yonder room can live through another week? +Hope—yes, hope for the best, for despair will come +soon enough. I feel as secure of my inheritance as +though it were already mine."</p> + +<p>Edith proudly motioned him from her path, and +fled toward the house, with his mocking words still +ringing in her ears. Her brother yet slept, and as she +gazed upon his sunken features it seemed to her as +if death were already stamped upon them, and she +bent her head above his still face, to convince herself +that he yet breathed.</p> + +<p>Barclay and Euston were distantly related, and had +both been educated by an eccentric kinsman, with +the belief among their connections that he designed +dividing his ample fortune between them. To the +surprise and chagrin of Barclay, he found on the +death of Colonel Euston that the whole of his estate +was bequeathed to his young cousin, encumbered +with an annuity to himself, which appeared to one +of his expensive tastes, and lavish prodigality, as +absolute poverty.</p> + +<p>Edgar Euston was then but seventeen years of +age, and of a delicate bodily organization, which did +not promise length of days. A clause in Colonel +Euston's will offered a temptation to Barclay, which +he had not sufficient principle to resist. If Euston +died before attaining his majority the estate was to +pass into the hands of his kinsman, and no mention +was made of the mother or sister of the young heir. +Barclay reflected that if he could remove Euston +from his path, before he attained his twenty-first +year, the coveted wealth would yet be his.</p> + +<p>From that hour he made every effort to win the +confidence and affection of young Euston. He was +his senior by nearly ten years, and possessed a +knowledge of the world, and a fascination of manner +which was extremely attractive to a youth who had +passed the greater portion of his life, at a country +residence, in the society of his mother and sister. +Euston entered one of our Northern colleges, and +under the auspices of his kinsman he soon achieved +a reputation which was far more applauded by the +wild students than agreeable to the professors. He +blindly followed wherever Barclay led, and before +he entered his twenty-first year he returned to his +early home, with a constitution completely broken +by the reckless life he had led, and the symptoms of +early decay in his flushed cheek and hollow cough. +Vain had been the entreaties and remonstrances of +his mother and sister; under the influence of his +tempter, they were utterly disregarded—until the +hand of disease was laid upon him, and he felt that +the only atonement he could offer for all the suffering +he had inflicted upon them would probably be denied +to him.</p> + +<p>He earnestly desired to live, that he might reach +that age which would entitle him to make a legal +transfer of his property to those who were deservedly +dear to him, for in the event of his death without +a will, his mother and sister would be left entirely +dependent on the tender mercies of his successor. +An unfortunate lawsuit had deprived his +mother of the property which had become hers on +the death of his father, and his own reckless extravagance +had dissipated more than the annual +revenue of his own property since it came into his +possession.</p> + +<p>Too late he discovered the baseness of Barclay's +motives, and renounced all intercourse with him—but +he would not thus be cast off. He had seen and +loved the noble-hearted Edith, and he forced his +hypocritical offers of service upon the afflicted +family, until Edith distinctly assured him that he +need never hope for a return to his passion.</p> + +<p>Euston had long since abandoned all hope of recovery, +but he sought the mild climate of Cuba, +trusting that the fatal day might be deferred until he +had secured independence to his family, but his physician +feared that the very eagerness of his wishes +would eventually defeat them. It was mournful, +and deeply touching, to witness that clinging to +existence in one so young, not from love of life itself, +but from a desire to perform an act of justice. +That completed, his mission on earth was ended, and +Death might claim him without a murmur.</p> + +<p>The hours dragged heavily on toward the desired +day, and each one as it passed appeared to hurry +the poor invalid with rapid strides toward the grave, +that seemed eager to claim its prey. Barclay had +not again ventured to intrude on Edith, but he nightly +hovered around the room of the dying youth, and +gloated on the wasted and death-like form which +held his earthly fortunes in his hands.</p> + +<p>A skillful physician had accompanied Euston from +his native land, and his unremitting attention, aided +by the tender nursing of his affectionate sister, +seemed as if they would eventually reap their reward +in the preservation of life beyond the hour of +his majority.</p> + +<p>In pain and weariness time slowly waned, but it +still left him life and an unclouded mind; and the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span> +bold, bad heart, that nightly watched him, feared that +the wealth he so ardently coveted, might yet elude +his grasp.</p> + +<p>The evening of the twenty-fifth at last arrived. +Euston reclined in his chair as we first beheld him, +wrapped in a brocade dressing-gown, whose brilliant +colors made his extreme pallor the more remarkable; +a table was drawn close beside him, and on it, at his +own desire, was placed his repeater, from which +his eyes scarcely wandered. His breath came slowly +and gaspingly, and at brief intervals his physician +moistened his parched lips with a restorative cordial, +and murmured words of encouragement in +his ear.</p> + +<p>As before, Edith sat at his feet, with her guitar, +ready to stifle her deep emotion, and fulfill her promise +to sing to him while his parting soul was struggling +for release from its earthly tenement. His +mother leaned over his chair, and bathed his cold +brow with her burning tears; in the back-ground sat +a clergyman, gazing on the scene with absorbing +interest.</p> + +<p>Each one in that hushed room felt the approach of +the stern tyrant, and all prayed fervently that his +dart might be stayed yet a few hours.</p> + +<p>"My sister, sing to me. Soothe me into quietness +by the loved tones of your voice. It is my <i>only</i> hope +for life beyond the desired hour," murmured the +dying youth.</p> + +<p>With tremulous fingers Edith touched the chords, +and poured forth the solemn strains to which he loved +to listen, and he sunk back and closed his eyes. At +first her voice faltered, but she gradually regained +her self-command, and never had those clear, rich +tones uttered a sweeter strain, than that which floated +around the fluttering spirit, which struggled to release +itself from the attenuated form of the early +doomed.</p> + +<p>Barclay stood without, watching the scene with +breathless interest, and a terrible struggle was passing +in his dark and stormy soul. Euston might live beyond +the hour of two, and he would then be a beggar. +His eye wandered toward Edith, so nobly devoted, +so purely beautiful; and the tempter whispered,</p> + +<p>"She might save you—ennoble you; the love, the +sweet influence of such a woman are all powerful. +Once yours, you could surround her with such an +atmosphere of care and tenderness, that her heart +must be won to love you—to forget the past. Without +her, you are doomed—doomed. What matters a +few more moments of existence to one like him, +when the eternal welfare of a human being hangs +trembling in the balance? Deprived of the means +of living, Edith will have no choice—she must marry +you, or debase her pride of soul before the iron +sway of poverty. Her mother is old—infirm; and +for her sake, the daughter will listen to your proffers +of love. Take your destiny into your own hands. +Cowardly soul! why falter now? It is but completing +your own work. He is <i>your</i> victim—you know +it, and feel it in every pulse of your throbbing heart. +Years of usefulness might have been his, but for you; +then complete the sacrifice without hesitation. What +avails it to have accomplished so much, if the reward +escapes you at the last moment?"</p> + +<p>Such were the wild thoughts that oppressed his +soul during those terrible hours. He saw that the +parchment which disinherited him was placed beside +Euston, and the pen stood in the inkstand, ready +to do its service, so soon as the hand of the watch +pointed to the hour of two; and he ground his teeth +in impotent rage, as the moments flitted by, and +Euston yet continued to breathe.</p> + +<p>Terrible is the watch of love beside the flitting soul +which parts in peace; but how much more awful +was that vigil, in which the anguish of bereavement +was doubly embittered by the fear of future want to +those who had been reared amid all the refinements +of luxury. The mother looked upon her remaining +child, and felt that she was not formed to struggle +with poverty and neglect, and the daughter bent her +earful eyes on that venerable form, and in the depths +of her soul, prayed that her old age might be spared +;he grinding cares of want.</p> + +<p>The watch struck the half hour—then the quarter—and +a feeble motion of Euston stopped the hand of +Edith as she swept it over the strings of her instrument. +She arose and stood beside him; a breathless +silence reigned throughout the apartment, only +broken by the monotonous ticking of the watch, +which struck upon the excited nerves of those around +with a sound as distinct as the reverberations of +thunder.</p> + +<p>Not a word was uttered until the hand pointed to +the hour, then, as if endued with sudden energy, the +dying man stretched forth his hand, and grasping the +pen, said in a firm, distinct voice,</p> + +<p>"Now let me sign my name, and yield up my +spirit to the angel that has been beckoning me away +for hours. My mother—my sister, God has vouchsafed +to me a mercy I did not deserve. Thank +Heaven! your interests are safe. You are free from +<i>his</i> power."</p> + +<p>At that instant a strange cry was heard; a bird +flew into the room, and, dazzled by the light, flapped +his wings against the shade of the lamp, overturned +it, and left the apartment in utter darkness. In the +confusion of the moment, a figure glided through the +open window, and stood beside the chair of Euston. +He noiselessly placed his firm grasp upon his laboring +breast, and held it there a single instant. A faint +rattling sound was heard, and Edith wildly called +for lights.</p> + +<p>Noiselessly as he had entered glided that dark form +from the side of his victim, and buried itself in the +shadows of the trees without. Many lights flashed +into the room—they glared coldly on the face of the +dead, and the mother sunk senseless in the arms +of her daughter.</p> +<br /> + +<h4>PART II.</h4> + +<p>Several months have passed away, and Mrs. +Euston and her daughter have returned to their native +land. A single room in an obscure boarding-house +in the heart of a southern city was occupied by both. +The expenses of their voyage to New Orleans, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span> +a few months sojourn in their present abode, humble +as it was, had nearly exhausted their slender resources. +Edith had made many efforts to procure a few +scholars to instruct in music and drawing, but the +departure of the greater portion of the wealthy, +during the unhealthy season, had deprived her of +those she had been able to obtain. She thought of +going out as a daily governess, but the feeble health +and deep dejection of her mother, offered an insuperable +objection to such an arrangement. When she +left her alone even for an hour, she usually found +her in such a state of nervous excitement on her +return, as was painful to behold.</p> + +<p>Edith is seated near the only window of their +sordid apartment in the afternoon of a sultry summer +day; the sun is shining without with overpowering +splendor; a heated vapor rises from the paved streets +and seems to shimmer in the breathless atmosphere. +Edith had lost all the freshness and roundness of +youth; her cheek was deadly white, and her emaciated +form seemed to indicate the approach of the +terrible disease of which her brother had died. She +was sewing industriously, and her air of weariness +and lassitude betrayed the strong mastery of the +spirit over the body, in the continuance of her employment.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Euston was lying on the bed; and twenty years +seemed to have passed over her since the night of +her son's death. The oppressive heat had induced +her to remove her cap, and her long hair, white as +the snows of winter, lay around her wasted and furrowed +features. From infancy the respect and observance +due to one of high station had been bestowed +upon her, and the reverse in their fortunes +was more than she could bear. At first, her high-toned +feelings had shrunk from obligations to the new +heir, and she approved of Edith's rejection; but as +time passed, amid privations to which she had never +been accustomed, her very soul revolted against +their miserable mode of living.</p> + +<p>To a woman of refined feelings and vivid imagination, +the coarse and sordid realities around her were +sufficiently heart-sickening, without having the terrible +fear forced upon her that her only child was +hurrying to the grave through her exertions to keep +them literally from starvation. Her daughter now +thought she slept, but her mind was far too busily +occupied to permit the sweet influences of slumber +to soothe her into a momentary forgetfulness of her +bitter grief. Suddenly she unclosed her eyes, and +spoke.</p> + +<p>"Edith, my child, lay aside that work—such constant +employment is destroying you. Is it not time +that we heard from Robert Barclay? Surely he will +not be relentless, when he hears that your health is +failing. After all, Edith, you need not be so averse +to receiving assistance from him; the property he +holds is rightfully ours."</p> + +<p>"Mother," replied Edith, a faint flush mounting to +her cheek, "for your sake I have submitted to humiliate +myself before our ruthless kinsman, but I fear it +will be in vain. Only as his wife will my claims +on his humanity and justice be acknowledged. Would +you not shrink, dearest mother, from condemning +your child to such a doom? Could you not better +bear to stand above my grave, and know me at peace +within it, than to behold me wedded to this unprincipled +man, to whose pernicious example my +brother owed his early doom?"</p> + +<p>"Speak not of dying, my daughter," said the poor +mother, hysterically, "I cannot bear it; I am haunted +by the fear that I shall at last be left on earth alone. +I daily behold you fading before my eyes without +the power to avert the fate I see written upon your +pale cheek and wasted form. As Robert's wife you +would have a luxurious home, the means of gratifying +refined tastes, and of contributing to the happiness +of others. He may atone to me, by the preservation +of one child, for the destruction of the other."</p> + +<p>"Mother, your fears for me blind you to the truth. +Are not mental griefs far more difficult to bear than the +privations of poverty, galling as they are? As Mr. +Barclay's wife, I should loathe myself for the hypocrisy +I should be compelled to practice toward him; +and the wealth for which I had sold myself, would +allow me leisure to brood over my own unworthiness, +until madness might be the result. No, no, mother +-come what may, I never can be so untrue to myself +as to become the wife of Robert Barclay."</p> + +<p>"God help us, then!" said Mrs. Euston, despondingly.</p> + +<p>A carriage drove to the door, and a gentleman +alighted from it. Edith heard the bustle, but she did +not look out to see what occasioned it, and she was +startled from her painful reverie by a knock on the +door. She opened it, and started back with a faint +cry as she recognized Barclay.</p> + +<p>"The landlady told me to come up," he said, as +he glanced around the wretched apartment, and a +slight twinge of remorse touched his heart as he remarked +the changed appearance of Edith. She motioned +him to enter, while Mrs. Euston arose from +the bed, and offered him a seat.</p> + +<p>"I concluded it would be best to reply to your +communication in person," said he to Mrs. Euston, +as he took the offered chair. "I come with the most +liberal intentions, provided Miss Euston will listen +to reason. I am grieved to see you in a place so +unsuited to your former station as this wretched +apartment."</p> + +<p>"And yet," said Edith, "I have passed some pleasant +hours in this room, comfortless as it looks. So +long as I had the hope of being able to provide for +our wants by my own exertions, I found contentment +in its humble shelter."</p> + +<p>"Your happiness must then be truly independent +of outward circumstances," replied Barclay, with a +touch of his old sarcasm. "I supposed, from the +tenor of your mother's petition, that you had begun +to repent of your high-toned language to me in our +last interview, and would now accede to terms you +once spurned, as the price of my assistance to you +and yours."</p> + +<p>Edith curbed her high spirit, and calmly replied, +"You misunderstood my mother's words. As the +mother of the late heir, she justly considers herself<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span> +entitled to a pittance from your estate, and she claimed +from your humanity, what she was hopeless of obtaining +from your sense of justice. For myself, I hoped +for nothing from either, but I acquiesced in her application. +I am sorry that you have founded on it +expectations which must prove fallacious."</p> + +<p>"Then, madam, I need remain no longer," said +Barclay, addressing Mrs. Euston. "Your daughter +remembers our interview previous to, and after, the +death of her brother; the only terms on which I +would assist you were then explicitly expressed."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Euston caught his hand, and bowed her venerable +head upon it.</p> + +<p>"Have mercy, Robert, upon my gray hairs—my +daughter; look at her—she is dying by inches—she +is stifling in this wretched spot. The money that was +my son's should surely buy a shelter for us. Leave us +not helpless, hopeless. My God! my God! give me eloquence +to plead for my child!" and she threw herself +upon the floor, and raised her clasped hands to heaven.</p> + +<p>"Madam," said Barclay, "it only rests with your +daughter to have mercy upon you and herself. +Where, I ask you, is her filial piety, when she beholds +you suffer thus, and relents not toward one who +offers her a love that has survived coldness, contempt, +contumely."</p> + +<p>Edith approached her mother, and assisted her +to rise.</p> + +<p>"My dearest mother, calm yourself. Humble not +yourself thus before our oppressor. God is just—is +merciful. He will not forget the widow and the orphan +in their extremity. Leave us, Mr. Barclay; had my +wishes alone been consulted, you never would have +been called on thus to witness our misfortunes."</p> + +<p>Barclay bowed, and haughtily strode from the room.</p> + +<p>"Another month of privation," he muttered, "and +she will surely be mine or Death's. It does not much +matter to which she belongs. Ah, if she only knew +all!" and he sprung into his cabriolet, and dashed off +toward the more aristocratic portion of the city.</p> + +<p>In the hope that Edith would be forced to relent, +Barclay had remained in New Orleans thus late in +the season, and he resolved to linger yet a little +longer, until want and suffering should leave her no +choice. His passion for her was one of those insanities +to which men of his violent character are +often liable. He desired her as the one great gift, +which was to purify, to exalt him in the scale of +humanity. The delicate beauty of her person, the +sensibility of her soul, the grace of her manner, rendered +her irresistibly attractive to him; but so selfish +was his love, that he would sooner have seen her +perish at his feet, than have rendered her assistance, +except at the price proposed.</p> + +<p>Another month passed by, and still there was no +news of Edith or her mother. He grasped the daily +paper, almost with a sensation of fear, and glanced +at the column of deaths, which at that season usually +contains a goodly array. Their names were not yet +among them, or perchance in their poverty and obscurity +they would not find admittance even among +the daily list of mortality.</p> + +<p>The yellow fever had commenced its annual +ravages, and Barclay retreated to a country-house +in the vicinity, owned by a friend, and dispatched a +confidential servant to inquire concerning Mrs. +Euston and her daughter. They were still in the +same place, but the mother had been ill, and was still +confined to her bed.</p> + +<p>One morning, about two weeks afterward, Barclay +was seated in a delightful little saloon, over a late +breakfast. The room was furnished with every appliance +of modern luxury, and the morning air stirred +the branches of noble trees without, whose verdant +shade completely shut out the glare of the sun. A +servant entered, and presented to him a letter which +had just been left. The irregular hand with which +it was directed, prevented him from recognizing the +writing of Edith, and when he opened the missive, +which had evidently been blotted with her bitter +tears, a flush of triumph mounted to his cheek, and he +exclaimed with an oath,</p> + +<p>"Mine at last!—I knew it must end thus!"</p> + +<p>The letter contained the following words:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"After a night of such suffering as casts all I have +previously endured into the shade, I address you. +My mother now lies before me in that heavy and +death-like sleep which follows utter exhaustion. +Her state of health for the last month has demanded +my constant care, and the precarious remuneration +I have been able to obtain for sewing, I have thus +been compelled to give up. We have parted with +every souvenir of our better days—even our clothing +has been sacrificed, until we have but a change of +garments left; and now our landlady insists on being +paid the small sum we owe her, or we must leave +her house to-day. She came into our room last +evening, and the scene which ensued threw my mother +into such a state of nervous excitement, that she +has not yet recovered from it."</p> + +<p>"I cannot disguise from myself that she is very +ill. If she awakes to a renewal of the same anguish, +I dare not contemplate the consequences. You +know that I do not love you, Mr. Barclay. I make +no pretension to a change in my feelings; repugnant +as it must be to a heart of sensibility, I must +view this transaction as a matter of bargain and sale. +I will accept your late offer, to save my mother from +further suffering, and to gain a home for her declining +years."</p> + +<p>"For myself, I will endeavor to be to you—but +why should I promise any thing for myself. God +alone can give me strength to live after the sacrifice +is completed."</p></div> + +<p class="right">"<span class="smcap">Edith.</span>"</p> + +<p>There was much in this letter that was wounding +to his vanity, and bitter to his feelings; but he had +triumphed! The stately pride of this girl was humbled +before him—her spirit bowed in the dust before +the gaunt spectre she had thought herself capable of +braving. She would be his—the fair, the pure in +heart, would link herself to vice, infamy and crime, +for money. Money! the world's god! See the +countless millions groveling upon the earth before +the great idol—the golden calf, which so often brings +with it as bitter a curse as was denounced against<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span> +the people of old, when they forsook the living and +true God for its worship.</p> + +<p>Can it not buy every thing—even woman's love, +or the semblance of it, which would serve him just +as well? He, the murderer of the brother, would +purchase the compliance of the sister with this +magical agent; but—and his heart quailed at the +thought—could it buy self-respect? Could it enable +him to look into the clear eye of that woman he +would call his wife, and say, "My soul is worthy +to be linked with thine in the realms of eternity."</p> + +<p>No—he felt that the sacrilegious union must be +unblessed on earth, and severed in heaven, yet he +shrunk not from his purpose.</p> + +<p>He lost no time in seeking Edith; Mrs. Euston was +yet buried in the leaden slumber produced by a +powerful narcotic. The unhappy girl received him +alone, and he remarked that his words of impassioned +love brought no color to her marble cheek—no emotion +to her soul; she seemed to have steeled herself +for the interview, and it was not until he pressed +the kiss of betrothal upon her pallid lips, that she betrayed +any sensibility—then a thrill, a shudder pervaded +her whole frame, and he supported her nearly +insensible form several moments before she regained +power to sustain herself. Could he have looked into +that breaking heart, and have read there all the +bitter loathing, the agonized struggles for self-control, +would he have persisted in his suit? Yes—for this +was a part of his vengeance for the slights she had +put upon him; and in the future, if she did not play +the part he thus forced upon her, with all the devotion +he should exact, had he not bitter words at his +command to taunt her with the scene of that morning?</p> + +<p>A physician was called in, who advised the removal +of Mrs. Euston while she slept; and arrangements +were soon made to accomplish it. The family +to whom Barclay's present retreat belonged, were +spending the summer at the north, and their house +had been left at his disposal. He determined to remove +Mrs. Euston and her daughter thither, while +he took up his own abode, until the day of his marriage, +with a bachelor friend in the neighborhood.</p> + +<p>Edith demanded an interval of a week before their +union took place, which he reluctantly granted. +Naturally prodigal, he employed the time in ordering +the most elegant <i>trousseau</i> for his bride. She who so +lately was struggling with bitter want, was now surrounded +by servants eager to anticipate every wish, +while Barclay played the devoted lover. Edith +prayed earnestly for power to regard him with such +feelings as alone could hallow the union they were +about to form. Vain were her lonely struggles—her +tearful supplications; a spectral form seemed to rise +ever between them, and reproach her that she had +been so untrue to herself, even for the preservation +of a mother.</p> + +<p>The only thing that consoled her for her great +sacrifice, was that her beloved mother seemed to +revive to some sense of enjoyment, when she +again found herself surrounded by that comfort to +which she had been accustomed. Weakened in +mind as in body, Mrs. Euston fondly flattered herself +that her daughter might yet be happy amid the +splendors of wealth; and the poor mother welcomed +the arbiter of their future fate with smiles and courteous +words, to which he listened with politeness, +and scorned as the hollow offspring of necessity.</p> + +<p>The dreaded day at length arrived, and with the +calmness of exhausted emotion, Edith prepared herself +for the ceremony which was to consign her to +the protection of Barclay. She believed her earthly +fate sealed, and resignation was all she could command.</p> + +<p>Amid all her suffering, there was one thought which +arose perpetually before her; there was one human +being on earth who would have risked his life to +serve or save her, and she knew that a heart worthy +of her love would hear the history of her enforced +marriage with bitter disappointment and anguish.</p> + +<p>Near the home of her infancy dwelt a family of +sons and daughters with whom she had been reared +in habits of intimacy. Between herself and the +eldest son a strong attachment had grown up; it had +never been expressed in words, yet each felt as well +assured of the affection of the other, as if a thousand +protestations had been uttered. About the +time that Mrs. Euston and her daughter left their +own home to travel with their beloved invalid, +Walter Atwood bade adieu to his paternal home, on +a tour to Europe, where he was to complete his professional +education as a medical man.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Euston's place passed into the hands of +strangers, and after a few months all intercourse by +letter ceased between their former friends and themselves. +After the death of her son, the bereaved +mother would not consent to return to their former +neighborhood, and thus all trace of them was lost to +the Atwoods; but Edith knew in her deep heart that +Walter would return—would seek her; and it was +this conviction which gave her firmness to resist so +long the overtures of Barclay.</p> + +<p>Now all was at an end; another hour and the right +even to think of him would no longer be hers. Her +mother entered her room, folded her to her breast, +and whispered,</p> + +<p>"The hour has arrived, my child. Robert is here +with the clergyman. Do not keep them waiting."</p> + +<p>"I am quite ready, mother," said Edith, calmly, +and she advanced without hesitation toward the door, +for she heard an impatient step without, which she +well knew. Barclay awaited her in the hall—he impetuously +seized her hand and drew it beneath his arm.</p> + +<p>At that moment the door-bell was violently pulled, +and both turned impulsively to see who made so imperious +a demand for admittance.</p> + +<p>At the open door stood two figures, one of a young +man, who appeared deeply agitated, for his features, +beneath the light of the lamps, seemed white and +rigid, as if cut from marble. Over his shoulder appeared +a swarthy face, with a pair of bright, keen +eyes, gleaming from beneath overhanging brows.</p> + +<p>Edith and Barclay both uttered an exclamation—but +they were very different in their character. In +the impulse of the moment, the former drew her hand +forcibly from him who sought to retain it, and with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span> +one bound, was in the arms of the foremost stranger, +as she exclaimed,</p> + +<p>"Walter—my saviour—my preserver! you have +come at last!"</p> + +<p>The face of Atwood lost its unnatural rigidity as +he pressed her to his heart, and said,</p> + +<p>"Thank Heaven! I am not then too late!"</p> + +<p>Barclay advanced threateningly,</p> + +<p>"What does this mean, sir? Are you aware that +such conduct in my house is not to be tolerated—that +you shall answer for it to me with your life?"</p> + +<p>"It means, Mr. Barclay, that I come with authority +to prevent the unholy alliance you were about to +force upon this helpless and unprotected girl, to +place the seal upon your crimes, by clasping in +wedlock the hand of the sister with that which is +red with the brother's blood."</p> + +<p>"'T is false—the boy killed himself, as Edith herself +knows full well. Am I to be held accountable +for the dissipation of a young fool, who, when once +the curb was removed, went headlong to destruction +without the necessity of any prompting from me."</p> + +<p>"We will waive that part of the question, if you +please, Mr. Barclay. I have brought with me one +who can prove much more than that. Come forward, +Antoine."</p> + +<p>The Frenchman advanced, and Barclay grew pale +as he recognized him.</p> + +<p>"Let us retire to a private room," continued Atwood, +in a lower tone—"I would not have Mrs. +Euston and her daughter hear too suddenly the developments +I am prepared to make."</p> + +<p>Then turning to Edith he said—</p> + +<p>"You are saved, my dear Edith. Retire with +your mother, while I settle with Mr. Barclay."</p> + +<p>Mechanically Barclay led the way into an adjoining +room. When there, he turned haughtily and said—</p> + +<p>"Now, sir, explain yourself—tell me why my +privacy is thus invaded, and—"</p> + +<p>Atwood interrupted him.</p> + +<p>"It is useless to attempt bravado with me, sir. +Your whole career is too intimately known to me to +render it of any avail. You know that from my +boyhood I have loved Miss Euston, for you may remember +a conversation which took place between +us several years since, when you were received as +a visiter at her mother's house. Jealousy enabled +you to penetrate what had been carefully veiled from +others, and you taxed me with what I would not +deny. Do you remember the words you used to the +boy you then spoke to? That you would move +heaven and earth to win Edith Euston."</p> + +<p>"To what does all this tend?" asked Barclay, in +an irritated tone.</p> + +<p>"Patience, and you will see. I returned from +Europe and found that Mrs. Euston's family had left +for Havanna. Her lawsuit had gone against her, +and she had lost her home. Nothing more was +known of her. I lost no time in following her. I +reached Cuba, and after many inquiries, traced her +to the house of the family which had received her +beneath their roof. There I heard the history of her +son's unhappy death, at the moment he was about to +confer independence upon his mother and sister. +<i>You</i> were mentioned as a visiter after his death; +your <i>generous</i> offer to share with Miss Euston as +your wife the wealth which should have been hers +was dwelt on. All this aroused a vague suspicion +in my mind. I made minute inquiries, and traced +you through all the orgies of your dissipation. One +night I was following up the inquiry, and I entered a +tavern much frequented by foreigners. A man sat +apart in gloomy silence. One of his comrades said—</p> + +<p>"'Antoine grieves over the loss of his bird. All +the money the American paid him does not make +him forget that he sold his best friend!'</p> + +<p>"By an electric chain of thought, the incident +which attended poor Euston's last moments, occurred +to me. I approached the man, and addressed +him in French, for I saw that he was a native of +that country. I spoke of his bird. He shook his +head and said—</p> + +<p>"'It is not the loss of the bird, monsieur, but the +use that was made of him, that troubles my conscience.'</p> + +<p>"In short, to condense a long story, I learned from +Antoine, that he remained in your lodgings several +days, until the mackaw he sold to you became sufficiently +accustomed to you to be caressed without +biting. During that time you had a room darkened, +and required him to train the bird to fly at a light and +overturn it. When he was dismissed, his curiosity +was excited, and he watched your movements. He +nightly dogged your steps, and traced you to the +garden of the villa. He stood within a few feet of +you on the night of Euston's death, and beheld the +use to which you put his bird. His eyes, accustomed +to the gloom without, beheld your dark form glide to +the side of your victim. He saw your murderous +hand pressed upon the breast of the dying youth."</p> + +<p>"'T is false—false. I defy him to prove it."</p> + +<p>"It is true, sir—the evidence is such as would +condemn you in any court; and now listen to me. I +offer you lenient terms, in consideration of the ties +of relationship which bind you to those you have so +cruelly oppressed. One third of the fortune for +which you have paid so fearful a price shall be yours, +if you will sign a paper I have with me, which will +restore the remainder to Mrs. Euston. If you refuse, +I have in my pocket a writ of arrest, and the officers +are in the shrubbery awaiting my orders to execute it. +Comply with my terms and I suffer you to escape."</p> + +<p>Thus confronted by imminent danger, Barclay +seemed to lose his courage and presence of mind. +He measured the floor with rapid steps a few moments, +and then turning to Atwood motioned for the +paper, to which he affixed his signature without +uttering a word.</p> + +<p>"There is yet another condition," said Atwood.</p> + +<p>"Leave this country within forty-eight hours. If, +after that time, I am made aware of your presence +within the jurisdiction of the United States, I will +have you arrested as a murderer. The peace of +mind of those I have rescued from your power shall +not be periled by your presence within the same +land they inhabit."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span> +Barclay ground his teeth with rage.</p> + +<p>"I <i>shall</i> leave it, be assured, but not to escape +from this absurd charge."</p> + +<p>"Go then. I care not from what motive."</p> + +<p>Another instant, and Barclay had passed from the +room. Edith and her mother traveled to their former +home in the beautiful land of Florida, under the protection +of Atwood, and there, amid rejoicing friends, +surrounded by all the happy associations of her bright +youth, she gave her hand to her faithful lover.</p> + +<p>Barclay perished in a street brawl, in a foreign +land, and the whole of her brother's estate finally devolved +upon her.</p> +<br /><br /> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="A_VOICE_FOR_POLAND" id="A_VOICE_FOR_POLAND"></a>A VOICE FOR POLAND.</h2> + +<hr class="short" /> +<h4>BY WM. H. C. HOSMER.</h4> +<hr class="short" /> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Up, for encounter stern<br /></span> +<span class="i1">While unsheathed weapons gleam;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The beacon-fires of Freedom burn,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Her banners wildly stream;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Awake! and drink at purple springs—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lo! the "White Eagle" flaps his wings<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With a rejoicing scream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That sends an old, heroic thrill<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through hearts that are unconquered still.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Leap to your saddles, leap!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Tried wielders of the lance,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And charge as when ye broke the sleep<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of Europe, at the call of France:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The knightly deeds of other years<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Eclipse, ye matchless cavaliers!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">While plume and penon dance—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That prince, upon his phantom steed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In Ellster lost your ranks shall lead.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Flock round the altar, flock!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And swear ye will be free;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then rush to brave the battle shock<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Like surges of a maddened sea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Death, with a red and shattered brand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet clinging to the rigid hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A blissful fate would be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Contrasted with that darker doom<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A branded brow—a living tomb.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Speed to the combat, speed!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And beat oppression down,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or win, by martrydom, the meed<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of high and shadowless renown;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye weary exiles, from afar<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Came back! and make the savage Czar<br /></span> +<span class="i1">In terror clutch his crown;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While wronged and vengeful millions pour<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Defiance at his palace-door.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Throng forth with souls to dare,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">From huts and ruined halls!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the deep midnight of despair<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A beam of ancient glory falls:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The knout, the chain and dungeon cave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To frenzy have aroused the brave;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Dismembered Poland calls,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And through a land opprest, betrayed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stalks Kosciusko's frowning shade.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<br /><br /> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="TO_HER_WHO_CAN_UNDERSTAND_IT" id="TO_HER_WHO_CAN_UNDERSTAND_IT"></a>TO HER WHO CAN UNDERSTAND IT.</h2> + +<hr class="short" /> +<h4>BY MAYNE REID.</h4> +<hr class="short" /> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They tell me, lady, that thy heart is changed—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That on thy lip there is another name;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll not believe it—though for life estranged—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I know thy love's lone worship is the same.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bee that wanders on the summer breath,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">May wanton safely among leaves and flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But by the honied jar it clings till death—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">There is no change for hearts that loved like ours.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You may not mock me—'tis an idle game—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The lip may lie, the eye with bright beguiling<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May, from the world, conceal a suffering flame,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">But 'tis the eye and not the heart is smiling;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I, too, have that power of deceiving,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">By the strong pride of an unfeeling will,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The cold and cunning world in its believing—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">What boots it all? The heart will suffer still.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Comes there not o'er thy spirit, when 'tis dreaming<br /></span> +<span class="i1">In the lone hours of the voiceless night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the sweet past like a new present seeming,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Brings back those rosy hours of love and light?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Comes there not o'er thy dreaming spirit then<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Delicious joy—although 'tis but a vision—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That we have met, caressed and kissed again,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And revel still among those sweets Elysian?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Comes there not o'er thy spirit when it wakes,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And finds, with sleep, the vision too hath parted<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A lone depression, till thy proud heart aches,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And from thy burning orb the tear hath started?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with sad memories through thy bosom thronging,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Within thy heart's most secret deep recesses<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Feel'st thou not then an agony of longing<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To dream again of those divine caresses?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To dream them o'er and o'er, or deem them real,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">While penitence is speaking in thy sighs—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For this, unlike thy dream, is not ideal—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">It brings the pallid cheek, the moistened eyes:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then, lady, mock not love so deeply hearted,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With that light seeming which deceit can give—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The love I promised thee, when last we parted,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Shall never be another's while <i>you</i> live.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<br /><br /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 603px;"> +<img src="images/illus295.png" width="603" height="800" +alt="A PIC NIC IN OLDEN TIME" title="" /></div> +<h5>Engraved by W. E. Tu</h5> +<h4>A PIC NIC IN OLDEN TIME.</h4> +<h5>Engraved Expressly for Graham's Magazine</h5> +<br /> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="A_PIC-NIC_IN_OLDEN_TIME" id="A_PIC-NIC_IN_OLDEN_TIME"></a>A PIC-NIC IN OLDEN TIME.</h2> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span> + +<hr class="short" /> +<h4>BY QUEVEDO.</h4> +<hr class="short" /> + +<h5>[SEE ENGRAVING.]</h5> + + +<p>Joy is as old as the universe, yet as young as a +June rose: and a pic-nic has of all places been its +delight, since the little quiet family <i>fêtes champêtres</i> +of Adam and Eve in the garden of Eden. So it is of +no especial consequence in what reign of what kingdom +our clever artist has laid his scene—and sooth +to say, from the diversified and pleasantly incongruous +costume and accessories of the picture, it +might puzzle an uninitiated to tell. But we, who are +in the secrets of Maga, and to whom the very brain-workings +of her poets and painters are as palpable +as the crystal curdling of the lake beneath the filmy +breath of the Frost King, of course know all about +it, and will whisper in your ear the key to the pretty +harmonies of wood and sky and happy faces which +he has spread out in a sort of visible cavatina, or +dear little love-song, beneath your eye.</p> + +<p>It was a gay time at Sweetbriar Lodge—for the +fair Alice Hawthorn had just been married to the +Squire of Deerdale, and the happy pair (new-married +people were even in those times happy, although +they were not so set down in the newspapers,) had +determined to spend the honeymoon quietly at +home, like sensible people, instead of posting off to +Bath or Brighton; or mewing themselves up in some +outlandish corner of the country, where they could +see and hear nothing but themselves, until they were +ready to commence the married life by being cloyed +with each other's society. The season was mid-summer, +and the weather so balmy and beautiful +that after wandering about in the woods and fields all +day, and watching the moon creep stealthily up the +sky to view herself in the fountain, one felt a longing +to make his bed on the fresh turf under the katydid's +bower, and sleep there. Of course I don't +mean the young and happy bridegroom. He never +dreamed of being absent from his Alice; and he +even felt quite jealous of her little sister Emma, who +used sometimes to come and put her laughing, roguish +face and curly head between the lovers, as they were +sitting on the sofa or reclining on the green turf by +the little fountain.</p> + +<p>But Alice had another sister, older than herself, +and who had already refused several excellent offers +of marriage—declaring that she intended to live and +die single, unless she should fall in love with some +wandering minstrel or prince in disguise, like Lalla +Rookh. Her name was Hortensia; but on account +of her proud indifference to the attentions and compliments +which were every where offered to her +wonderful beauty, she was usually called Haughty +Hawthorn—a name which seemed to please her better +than all the flatteries of which she was the object. +She was already twenty-two, and ripening into the +full magnificence of glorious womanhood—her heart +yet untouched by the electric dart of love, and her +fancy free as the birds of air.</p> + +<p>Now it was quite natural that the gentle Alice, +whom love had made so happy, should willingly +enter into a conspiracy with her husband and a parcel +of the young people of the neighborhood against +the peace and comfort of her haughty sister—deeming +of course—as I myself am also of opinion—that +a young lady out of love ought to be supremely +miserable, whatever she herself may think about it.</p> + +<p>Keeping in view the peculiar requisites required +by Haughty in a lover, the plan was to get up an old-fashioned +pic-nic, at which a young friend of Squire +Deerdale, who was studying for an artist, and had +just returned from Italy, where he had picked up a +little music as well as painting, should be introduced +after a mysterious fashion, which would be sure to +inflame the imagination of the loveless lady. The +artist, according to the squire, was handsome as a +prince and eloquent as a minstrel, and his extensive +practice in Rome had made him perfect master of +the fine arts, the art of making love included. So +the pic-nic was proposed that very evening, to take +place the next day. Hortensia, who was fond of frolick +and fun as the best of them, albeit not yet in +love, fell at once into the snare; and the squire carelessly +led the conversation to turn upon the sudden +and unexpected arrival of the young Duke of St. +James upon his magnificent estate adjoining Sweetbriar +Lodge, which he said had taken place that very +day.</p> + +<p>"The duke," said the squire, "is, as you all have +heard, one of the most romantic and sentimental +youths in the world, and quite out of the way of our +ordinary extravagant, matter-of-fact young nobility. +I had the pleasure of meeting him when I was in +Rome, and could not help being charmed with him. +He read and wrote poetry divinely, played the mandolin +like St. Cecilia, and sung like an improvisatore. +I met him to-day, as he was approaching +home in his carriage, and found him, as well as I +could judge from a five minutes' conversation, the +same as ever. I say nothing—but should a fresh-looking, +golden-haired, dreamy-eyed youth be seen +at our pic-nic to-morrow, I hope he will be greeted +with the courtesy and welcome due not only to a +neighbor but a man of genius."</p> + +<p>This adroitly concocted speech was drank in like +wine by the unsuspicious Hortensia. A duke! a +poet! a romantic man of genius! What was it +made her heart beat so rapidly?—<i>her</i> heart, that had +never beat out of time save over the page of the poet +or the novelist—or may be in the trance of some beautiful +midnight dream, such as love to hover around +the pillows of fair maidens, and who can blame them?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span></p> + +<p>The next morning, as Willis says of one of his +fine days, was astray from Paradise; and bright and +early our pic-nickers, comprising a goodly company +of young people, married and single, with several +beautiful children, including of course the roguish +Emma, were on the field selected for the day's campaign. +It was a lovely spot. Under a noble oak +whose limbs, rounded into a leafy dome, shed a palpitating +shadow around a sweet little fountain, +guarded by a marble naiad, gathered the merry company +upon the green velvet ottoman, daisy-spangled, +that ran around this splendid natural saloon, bower +and drawing-room combined. The day had fulfilled +the golden promise of the early morning; the air, impregnated +with a sparkling, effervescing sunshine, +was as bewitching as the breath of champagne foam, +and our adventurers were in the liveliest and gayest +spirits.</p> + +<p>Noon was culminating, and the less excitable and +more worldly portion of the company began to be +thinking seriously of the bountiful refection which +had been provided for the grand occasion. Hortensia, +it was observed by Squire Deerdale and his +wife, and the others who were in the secret, had +seemed absent and thoughtful, all the morning, and +little Emma had teased her sufficiently for not playing +with her as usual. At this moment a young man +was seen coming down the broad sloping glade at +the foot of which the party were seated. The squire +immediately rose and welcomed the stranger, introducing +him to his bride and sister-in-law, and expressing +his pleasure that he had come. "We +almost began to fear," he added, "that you had forgotten +our humble festival."</p> + +<p>"A <i>fête</i> thus embellished," replied the stranger, +bowing with peculiar grace to the ladies, and glancing +admiringly at Hortensia, "is not an affair to be so +easily forgotten by a wanderer who comes, after +years of exile, to revive beneath the blue skies and +bluer eyes of his native land."</p> + +<p>"But your mandolin, Signor Foreigner; I hope +you have not forgotten that?"</p> + +<p>"Oh no indeed," returned the stranger with a +musical laugh, "I never forget my little friend, +whose harmonies have often been my only company. +Here it comes," pointing to a lad who just then came +up, bearing a handsome though outlandish-looking +guitar gingerly across his arm.</p> + +<p>Another of the party had also brought his guitar, +and the two were soon tinkling away at different +parts of the grounds—the latter surrounded by half a +dozen young men and women, and several beautiful +children; while the stranger, throwing himself on +the grass at the feet of Hortensia, upon whose lap +nestled the little Emma, began a simple ballad of the +olden time—while the squire and his bride stood +against the old oak behind Hortensia. At length the +strain of the young musician changed, subsiding into +low and plaintive undulations.</p> + +<p>"It is time for us to go," whispered Alice to her +husband; "we are evidently <i>de trop</i> here"—and the +wedded pair glided noiselessly off, casting mischievous +glances at the haughty Hortensia, who sat +absorbed in the music, and tears of sympathy and +rapture ready to fall from her eyes. It was a clear +case of love at first sight.</p> + +<p>From this pleasant reverie both musician and +listener were suddenly roused by little Emma, who, +raising her head and shaking back the long ringlets +from her face, exclaimed,</p> + +<p>"Oh, sister, hear that! There goes the champagne, +and I am so hungry. Come, let us go to dinner."</p> + +<p>"Excuse me, madam," exclaimed the stranger, +ceasing to play and springing to his feet, "your +beautiful little monitor is right. I was already forgetting +myself and venturing to dream as of old;" +and he offered his arm to Hortensia, with that polite +freedom not only permitted, but enjoined, by the +etiquette of the pic-nic.</p> + +<p>"And do you call it forgetfulness to dream?" inquired +Hortensia.</p> + +<p>"With so fair a reality before me, yes; but at +other times to dream is to live."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, it <i>is</i> nice to dream!" broke in the little +Emma. "Almost as nice as a wedding. Now last +night I dreamt that you were married, Haughty, like +sister Alice."</p> + +<p>A lambent rosy flame seemed to envelop for an +instant the beautiful Hortensia, disappearing instantly, +yet leaving its scarlet traces on cheek and brow.</p> + +<p>"What say you, my pretty one," said the stranger, +patting the lovely child upon the head, "what say +you to a sandwich and a glass of wine with me, here +on the greensward? (They had now approached +the <i>table</i>—if a snow-white damask spread upon the +velvet grass, and loaded with tempting viands could +be called so.) Is not that better than dreams?"</p> + +<p>"I love wine, sir, but mamma and sister say I +shouldn't drink it, because it makes my eyes red. +Now <i>your</i> eyes are as bright as stars. Do you +drink wine?"</p> + +<p>It was the stranger's turn to blush. And this little +childish prattle seemed to have removed the barrier +of strangership from between the two young people, +who exchanged glances of a sort of merry vexation, +and seemed to understand each other as if they were +old friends.</p> + +<p>That was a merry meal, "all under the greenwood +tree," and on the margin of that sweet little fountain, +whose waters came up to the very lip of the turf, +which it refreshed with a sparkling coolness that +ever renewed the brightness of the flowers upon its +bosom. After the dinner was over, a dance was +proposed, and the services of the handsome stranger, +as musician, were cheerfully offered and promptly +accepted. It was observed, however, that Hortensia, +usually crazy for dancing, strolled pensively about +with little Emma at her side, and at length seated +herself on a little grassy bank, remote from the +dancers, yet where she could overlook the scene.</p> + +<p>There was a little pause in the dance, and Squire +Deerdale approached the stranger and whispered,</p> + +<p>"Do you like her?"</p> + +<p>"She's as beautiful as Juno, but I dare not hope +that she would ever love a poor vagabond like me. +She deserves a prince of the blood, at the very least."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Never mind!—<i>Vedremo</i>, as we say in Italy;" +and with a laugh the young man bounded again into +the dance, while the stranger redoubled his attention +to his guitar.</p> + +<p>The day began to wane, and the shadows of a +neighboring mountain to creep slowly across the lea; +and yet, so absorbed was that gay company in the +merry pleasures of the day, that hours glided by unnoticed; +and it was not until the round, yellow moon +rose over the eastern hills, as if peeping out to see +the sun set, that they thought of breaking up a scene +of little less than enchantment.</p> + +<p>The stranger scarcely left the side of Hortensia, +who seemed completely subdued and fascinated by +the serious eloquence, the inexhaustible brilliancy of +his conversation, as well as enthralled by the classic +beauty of his face, and the respectful yet tender +glances which he from time to time cast upon her +face. It may also be supposed that the hints casually +dropped by the squire the night before, respecting his +distinguished acquaintance, the young Duke of St. +James, had not been without their effect. Sooth to +say, however, that the hitherto cold and impassive +Hortensia was really in love, and that she had too +much self-respect to make any conditions in the +bestowal of her admiration. She was haughty, +proud and ambitious—yet at the same time high-minded +and generous where her feelings were really +interested.</p> + +<p>Much may be accomplished in an afternoon between +two congenial hearts that meet for the first +time; and it is not at all surprising that on their way +home the stranger and Hortensia should have lingered +a little behind the rest of the party, engaged in deep +and earnest talk.</p> + +<p>"Beautiful being," whispered the stranger, "I +have at length found my heart's idol, whom in dreams +I have ever worshiped. What need of long acquaintanceship +between hearts made for each other? Lady, +I love you!"</p> + +<p>"Sir, sir, I beg you to pause. You know not what +you are saying—you cannot mean that—"</p> + +<p>"But I tell you he does mean it, though," exclaimed +a merry voice close at the lady's elbow; +and turning round, she saw her mischievous brother-in-law, +who had been demurely following their tardy +footsteps.</p> + +<p>"Brother! you here! I—really—am quite astonished!"</p> + +<p>"And," interrupted the stranger, while a dark +flush came over his face, "allow me to say, Squire +Deerdale, that I also am astonished at this violation +of the rights of a friendship even so old and sincere +as ours."</p> + +<p>"Well, well, I beg your pardon, fair lady; and as +for you, sir, after you have heard my explanation, +I shall be prepared to give you any satisfaction you +may require. You must know, then, my dear old +friend, that from a few careless words I dropped last +evening, by way of joke, this young lady has imbibed +the idea that you are the young Duke of St. +James in disguise; and for the purpose of preventing +any misunderstandings for the future, it is requisite +that my sister and my friend Walter Willie, the +artist, should comprehend one another's position +fully."</p> + +<p>"Good heavens! madam, you cannot believe that +I was accessory to this mad prank of your brother's? +Do not believe it for the world."</p> + +<p>"No, no, I acquit you and every body but myself. +I am sure I intended no harm by my thoughtless +joke. Come, come, make up the matter at once, so +that I may hasten back to Alice, who will begin to +grow jealous, directly."</p> + +<p>"Madam, dear madam, (Hortensia turned away +her head with an imperious gesture,) I have only to +beg your pardon for having too long intruded upon +your attention, and to take my leave. The poor +artist must still worship his ideal at a distance. For +him there is but the world of imagination. No such +bright reality as being beloved rests in his gloomy +future. Farewell!" and the young man, bowing for +a moment over the hand of Hortensia, withdrew.</p> + +<p>"Brother, brother, what have you done!" passionately +exclaimed the beauty, in a voice choked by +sobs. "For a foolish joke you have driven away +the only being who has ever interested my lonely +heart. And now I can never, never be happy again."</p> + +<p>"But, dear Hortensia, would you stoop to love a +mere artist?"</p> + +<p>"Stoop, sir,—stoop! I know not what you mean. +Think you so meanly of me as to believe I would +sell myself for wealth and a title? Proud I may be—but +not, I thank God, mercenary nor mean. And +what a lofty, noble spirit is that of your friend! What +lord or duke could match the height of his intellect or +the gorgeousness of his imagination. Oh, too soon +my beautiful dream is broken!" and the young lady, +all power of her usual self-restraint being lost, wept +like a child upon the shoulder of her brother.</p> + +<p>"Nay, nay, sister dear, weep not," at length said +the squire, tenderly raising her head and leading her +homeward. "All is not lost that is in danger. And +so that you really <i>have</i> lost your hard little heart to +my noble, glorious friend, I'll take care that it is +soon recovered—or at any rate another one quite as +good. Come, come, cheer up! All will go well."</p> + +<p>The squire, although not usually rated as a prophet, +predicted rightly for once; for the very next day saw +young Walter Willie at Sweetbriar Lodge, with a +face as handsome and happy as the morning. Hortensia +was ill, and must not be disturbed; and at this +information his features suddenly became overcast, +as you may have seen a spring sky by a thick cloud, +springing up from nobody knows where. However, +the squire entered directly after, and whispered a +few words to his guest, which seemed to restore in +a measure the brightness of his look.</p> + +<p>"And you really think, then, that I may hope?"</p> + +<p>"Nay, my friend, you may do as you like about +that. All men may hope, you know Shakspeare +says. But I tell you that Hortensia has fallen in +love with your foolish face—it's just like her!—and +that's all about it. Come in and take some +breakfast. Oh, I forgot—you've no appetite. Of +course not. Well, you'll find some nice fresh dew<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span> +in those morning-glories yonder, and I will rejoin you +in a minute. We 'll make a day of it."</p> + +<p>That evening the moon shone a million times +brighter, the sky was a million times bluer, and the +nightingale sung a million times sweeter than ever +before. At least so thought the beautiful Hortensia +and her artist-lover, as they strolled, arm-in-arm, +through the woody lawn that skirted the garden of +Sweetbriar Lodge, and held sweet converse of immortal +things by gazing into each other's eyes. +And so ends our veracious history of the Pic-Nic in +Olden Time.</p> +<br /><br /> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="TO_THE_VIOLET" id="TO_THE_VIOLET"></a>TO THE VIOLET.</h2> + +<hr class="short" /> +<h4>BY H. T. TUCKERMAN.</h4> +<hr class="short" /> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sweet trophy of life's morning, fresh and calm,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Dropped from the gleanings of relentless time,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How from thy dainty chalice steals the balm<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That hung like incense o'er its dewy prime!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The lily's stateliness thou dost not own,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Nor glow voluptuous of the damask rose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou canst not emulate the laurel's crown,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Nor, like the Cereus, watch while all repose.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And these gay rivals of parterre and field<br /></span> +<span class="i1">May freely drink the sunshine and the dew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But only unto thee does heaven yield<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The pure reflection of her cloudless blue.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thy tint will sometimes darken till it wear<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A purple such as decked the eastern kings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yet, like innocence, all unaware<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Its tribute to the wind thy blossom flings.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Symbol of what is cherished and untold,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Thy fragrance oft reveals thee to the sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Peering in beauty from the common mould,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">As casual blessings the forlorn requite.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thy image upon Laura's robe was wrought,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">O'er which her poet with devotion mused,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gentle souls, I ween, have ever caught<br /></span> +<span class="i1">From thee a solace that the world refused.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Tuscan flower-girls delight to cheer<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Each pensive exile with thy scented leaves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fit largess of a clime to fancy dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Which a new blandishment from thee receives.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Grief's frenzy, when it melts, of thee will rave,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">As of a thing too winsome to decay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thus Laertes at his sister's grave<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Bids violets spring from her unsullied clay.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lowly incentive to celestial thought!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">We ne'er with listless step can pass thee by,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For thou with tender embassies art fraught,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Like the fond beaming of a northern eye.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hence thou art sacred to our human needs;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Laid on the maiden's white and throbbing breast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy delicate odor for the absent pleads,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And mourners strew thee where their idols rest.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In those wild hours when feeling chafed its bound,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And deepened more that utterance was denied,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In thee persuasive messengers I found<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That reached the haven of love's wayward tide.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And I have borne thee to the couch of death<br /></span> +<span class="i1">When naught remained to do but wait and pray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And marked the sudden flush and quickened breath<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That proved thee dear though all had passed away!<br /></span> +</div></div> +<br /><br /> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THEY_MAY_TELL_OF_A_CLIME" id="THEY_MAY_TELL_OF_A_CLIME"> +</a>THEY MAY TELL OF A CLIME.</h2> + +<h3>TO —— ——.</h3> + +<hr class="short" /> +<h4>BY CHARLES E. TRAIL.</h4> +<hr class="short" /> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They may tell of a clime more delightful than this,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The land of the orange, the myrtle and vine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the roses blush red beneath Zephyr's warm kiss,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And the bright beams of summer unceasingly shine.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I know a sweet valley, a beautiful spot,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Where the turf is so green, and the breezes are bland;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And methinks, if you'll share there my ivy-crowned cot,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">There'll be no place on earth like my own native land.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A palace 'neath Italy's star-covered sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Unblest by thy presence would desolate be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But cheered by the light of thy soft beaming eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Ah! sweet were a tent in the desert with thee.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For 'tis love—O! 'tis love which thus hallows the ground,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And brightens the gloom of the anchorite's cell;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the Eden of earth—wheresoe'er it be found—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Is the spot where the heart's cherished idol doth dwell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then come to my cottage—though cool be the shade,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And verdant the sod 'neath the wide-spreading bough—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the wood-dove its nest 'mid the foliage hath made,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Yet lone is that cottage, and desolate now.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For as the green forest, bereft of the dove,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">No more with sweet echoes would musical be—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even so is the rose-mantled bower of love,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Unblest and uncheered, if not gladdened by thee.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<br /><br /> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="A_DREAM_WITHIN_A_DREAM" id="A_DREAM_WITHIN_A_DREAM"> +</a>A DREAM WITHIN A DREAM</h2> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span> + +<hr class="short" /> +<h4>BY C. A. WASHBURN.</h4> +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>I dreamed that for a long time I courted Charlotte—what +need of dreaming? It was true. Nevertheless +I dreamed that for a long time I courted Charlotte, +and at last, which was not true, married her. And +I thought that Charlotte and I lived very happily +together.</p> + +<p>She loved me better than she ever thought she +could before we were married, for I loved her exceedingly, +and was very kind to her.</p> + +<p>I remember how long it was that I wooed her, · +always hoping, though sometimes fearing that she +would never love me so as to marry me; how, when +at last we were married, and I carried her home to +my pretty cottage, I could hardly contain myself for +joy; and when I saw her seated in our own parlor +on the wedding eve, I could not keep a tear from +trickling down my cheek; and how she kissed away +the tear, and when she knew the cause, how she +burst into a flood of tears, and said she would love +me the better for my having loved her so; and how +that we were from that time wholly united in heart +and sympathy.</p> + +<p>Then, in the course of time, we had two darling +children, which we both loved—and I thought my +cup of happiness completed. I had been an ambitious +man in my youth, and had experienced much +of the disappointment incident to a life for fame. +But when God had given us two such lovely children, +I thought it was abusing his mercy to neglect them +for the applause of the world—and so devoted myself +entirely to their welfare. If I worked hard and was +inclined to feel peevish and cross, I thought how +that I was laboring to make happy, and good, and +great, the dear boys, and I forgot every thing else. +If I became tired of the turmoil of life, I was the +more happy when I got home, for the children were +always waiting and glad to see me, and their presence +immediately banished all anxiety and care. +They seemed so happy when I came—for Charlotte +used to teach them to prize my presence by dating +their pleasures by my arrival; that I thought it joy +enough for one mortal to have looked upon the impersonation +of innocence and joy in his own children.</p> + +<p>Then, when the boys were asleep, how we used +to talk about them; how anxious we were when +either of them was restless or unquiet! How we +used to reckon on the joy they would give us in +age, and how in the happiness of our lot we shed +tears of happines and joy! With what fervor did +we unite in prayer for their health and preservation, +and wish all the world as happy as we were. We +became selfish in our joy, and felt to care little for +any thing but home, and in our enjoyment of the +gift we had like to have forgotten the Giver.</p> + +<p>But at length Charlie, the younger boy, was sick, +and we feared he would die. We then remembered +in whose hands his life was, and, I believe, ever +after regarded our treasures as trusts committed to +our keeping. Charlie suffered great pain, but he +complained not. His very submission smote our +hearts, and though we could not think he was to die, +yet we thought he was too good to live. Benny +could no longer smile upon us, but watched by his +brother's bed without speaking or moving, unless to +do him some service. We felt anxious about Charles, +yet forbore to speak of our anxiety, though when he +was asleep we could no longer conceal our sorrow +and fears. And when one day the physician imprudently +said in his hearing that he feared Charles +would die, he looked at him in surprise, as if he had +not thought of that; and kissing the fevered brow of +his sick brother, he came and stood by his mother's +side, and looking in her face as much as to say you +wont let brother die, he saw a tear in the clear blue +eye of his mother, and he sobbed aloud; and Charlotte +could contain herself no longer, but dropped +hot tears on his face faster than she could kiss them +away. Then I feared if Charlie should die lest +Benny should die too; and then I knew that Charlotte +could not bear all this, and I prayed in my heart to +God for Charles. And the next day, when the good +physician said the danger was past, we felt to thank +God that he had so chastened our affections, and ever +loved him the more.</p> + +<p>So we lived in love and happiness for many years, +and all that time not a shade of discord passed between +us; and I often thought what a dreary world +this had been to me if Charlotte had never been mine. +I used to pity my bachelor neighbor, and, as I thought, +I could see the tear of disappointment in his eye +when he witnessed my happy lot. I saw it was a +vision, and only the figure of Margaret, my once +loved and pretty sister, who existed then but in the +land of spirits, was before me.</p> + +<p>And I told Margaret of the vision, and could +not repress a sigh that it was not reality; and musing +long on what I was, and what I might have been had +nature dealt with me more kindly, until the vision +returned. Again I lived the life of youth's fancy.</p> + +<p>But the boys now began to mingle a little with the +world, and we feared we were not equal to the task +of educating them. We trembled when we thought +of the dangers before them, though we could not +believe it possible that they should ever do wrong. +Alas! what trouble was before us!</p> + +<p>I had carried home a box of strawberries, and set +them in the pantry, and setting myself down in the +library, waited for Charlotte to come home from +shopping. I saw Charlie come from the pantry, but +thought nothing at the time, and when Benny came +in, bade him bring them to me that I might divide +them between them—they were gone; Charles must<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span> +have taken them, for no one else had been in the +pantry. I called him to me, and asked if he had +taken them. I asked without concern, for I knew if +he had, he did it supposing it to be right. He said, "No, +sir." "Ah," said I, "you did." He then inquired what +ones I meant, and I told him, and told him he must +confess it, or I must punish him. But when I talked +so seriously of punishment, he seemed confounded. +He turned pale, and only said, "I did not do it." +That was a trying moment; and when Charlotte came +in, we considered long and anxiously what we ought +to do. Should we let the theft go unpunished, and +the falsehood to be repeated. Again we urged him +to confess. The answer was still the same. There +was no alternative but a resort to what I had prayed +Heaven might spare me. I punished him severely, +but he confessed not. I wished I had not begun, but +now I must go on. I still increased the castigation, +and it was only when I told him that I would stop when +he owned the theft, and not before, that he confessed +he had taken the berries.</p> + +<p>After this cruel punishment he went out and found +Benny, who had been crying piteously all the time, +and then my two boys went and hid themselves. I +would have suffered the rack to have recalled that +hour. It was too late. On going into the kitchen +shortly after, I found a poor woman of the neighborhood +with the box, which she said her thievish +son had confessed he stole from the pantry. Perhaps +some parents imagine the feelings of Charlotte and +myself when we made this discovery. But they are +few. The boys both shunned us, and we dreaded to +see them. But at last we sent for them to come in, +and they dared not refuse to obey. I took Charles +in my arms. I asked him to forgive me; I told him +who took the berries; I shed tears without measure; +I begged him to forgive me—to kiss me as he was +wont. He could not do it. It was cold and mechanical. +His little heart seemed broke. Had he +died I thought I could have borne it, but I could not +endure this. When he slept he was fitful and +troubled; ah! his troubles could not be greater than +mine. I slept not that night; no, nor for many nights +after that; but I watched him in his sleep, and many +a hot tear did I drop on his cheek, which he wiped +off as poison; and for many weeks I would rise +several times every night, and go and gaze on his +yet pretty face, on which was stamped the curse for +my own cruel haste.</p> + +<p>In the midst of these sore trials, the lovely face of +Margaret again appeared before me, and again the +vision vanished into nothing. And I told her this +part of the dream, and even then could not suppress +a tear that it was a dream, and that the children of +W—— could never have an existence or a name.</p> + +<p>Then the kind Margaret spoke words of comfort +to me, and made me repress the half-formed feeling +of discontent.</p> + +<p>"Have you not," said she, "said you would be +satisfied for only one hour of the love of Charlotte?"</p> + +<p>"True," I replied, "and that dream was worth +more than all my life before."</p> + +<p>"Have you not known in that the joys of a parent, +and have you not seen what sorrows and trials +might have been yours, from which you have now +escaped? And do you now complain of your lot, +W——? You know not the designs of Providence. +Will not Charlotte be yours in the world to come?"</p> + +<p>"God grant it!" said I; "but where will be Benny +and Charles? They can never be, and I shall die, +and the flame of parental love will burn in me, and +never can it have an object."</p> + +<p>"Hush you!" said Margaret, "cannot God give +you in the other world those spirits of fancy? Did +you not enjoy them in the dream, and cannot the +same power make you enjoy them in Elysium? +Is it nothing that God has done for you in showing +you what might have been, and what can be <i>there</i>? +Are you still ungrateful, and do you still distrust his +goodness? Is it nothing that he has kept you from +temptation, and that you have so clear a conscience? +Will you not be worthy of Charlotte in heaven; +and have you no gratitude for all this? Have you +not dear friends still; and will not Margaret be a +guardian-angel to you so long as you sojourn in this +valley of tears?"</p> + +<p>"Ah!" said I, "I am blest beyond my deserts, and +I will no more complain, but thank my heavenly +Father for the dream-children he hath given me."</p> + +<p>I felt reproved by the words of Margaret, for I +felt I had often indulged in useless repinings; and I +determined I would do so no more, but patiently +await my time to enjoy the loved ones, both real +and ideal, in heaven. I again turned to speak to +Margaret—but Margaret had vanished to the land of +spirits, and I was alone, the solitary man I had long +been. It was but a dream within a dream.</p> +<br /><br /> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="PASSED_AWAY" id="PASSED_AWAY"></a>PASSED AWAY.</h2> + +<hr class="short" /> +<h4>BY W. WALLACE SHAW.</h4> +<hr class="short" /> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With wearied step, and heavy heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">O'erburdened with life's woes—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My soul bowed down with grief and care<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The orphan only knows—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I strayed along old ocean's shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where I had wandered oft before,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">My grief to hide from men;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I listened—something seemed to say—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The joys that once did fill thy breast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where, oh! where are they?<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A voice that mingled with the roar<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of dashing waves against the shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In hollow tone, replied—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"They <i>bloomed</i>; and <i>died</i>!"<br /></span> +</div></div> +<br /><br /> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="AN_EVENING_SONG" id="AN_EVENING_SONG"></a>AN EVENING SONG,</h2> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span> + +<hr class="short" /> +<h4>BY PROFESSOR WM. CAMPBELL.</h4> +<hr class="short" /> + +<h3>[AN EXTRACT.]</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lyre of my soul, awake—thy chords are few,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Feeble their tones and low,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wet with the morning and the evening dew<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of ceaseless wo.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The time hath been to me and thee, my lyre,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">When soul of fire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was ours, and notes and aspirations bold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of higher hopes and prouder promise told—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Those days have flown—<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Now we are old,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Old and alone!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Old in our youth—for sorrow maketh old,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And disappointment withereth the frame,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And harsh neglect will smother up the flame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That else had proudly burned—and the cold<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Offcasting of affection will repel<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The warm life-current back upon the heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And choke it nigh to bursting—yet 't is well,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wise-intended, that the venomed dart<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Shall bear its sure and speedy remedy.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Why should the wretched wish to live? to be<br /></span> +<span class="i1">One in this cold wide world—ever to feel<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That others feel not—wounds that will not heal—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A bruised, though yet unbroken spirit's strife—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A waning and a wasting out of life—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A longing after loving—and the curse<br /></span> +<span class="i6">To know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One's self unknown—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">In secrecy a hopeless hope to nurse—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Down to the grave to go<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unloved—alone!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet not alone! Pardon, thou gentle breeze,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That comest o'er the waters with the tread<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of beauty stealing to the sufferer's bed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To cool the burning brow, and whisper peace.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pardon, ye sweet wild flow'rets, that each morn<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Woo us to brush the dew-drop from the lid<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of tearful innocence, and meekly warn<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of worth in garb of lowliest texture hid.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beings of gentlest life, ye murmuring streams,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lull of our waking, music of our dreams,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye things of artless merriment, that throw<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Around you gladness, wheresoe'er ye flow—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ye dark mountains, down whose changeful sides<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mystic guardian, giant shadow strides,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose kindly frown, howe'er the storms prevail,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Peace and repose ensureth to the vale—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye tall proud forests, that forever sway<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In kingly fury, or in graceful play—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye bright blue waters whose untiring drip<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Against this island shore doth lightly break,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gentle and noiseless as the parting lip<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of dreaming infant on its mother's cheek,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pardon my rash averment—pardon, ye<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Flow'rets and streamlets, mountains, woods and waves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That pour into the soul a melody,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Like to the far down music of the caves<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of ocean, heard not, felt not, save within,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seeking to joy the darker depths to win—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Oh! while your sweet and sacred voices steal<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Into my spirit, as the joyous fall<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of the warm sunbeam on the frozen rill,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To wake the voice that slumbereth, and call<br /></span> +<span class="i3">To bear you company<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In your glad hymnings, let the wretched own<br /></span> +<span class="i3">He cannot be<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Alone!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Never alone!—awake, my soul—on high<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The glorious sun his thousand rays has flung<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Athwart the vaulted sky—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Lo! there the heavens their mighty harp have strung,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The gold, the silver and the crimson chord,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To hymn their evening hymn unto the Lord.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hark! heard ye not that glorious burst of song,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Which, touched by hands unseen, those chords sent forth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bidding the attuned spheres the notes prolong<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Deeper and louder, till the trembling earth<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Catcheth the thrilling strain—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Echoeth back again—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the bosom of ocean a voice<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pealeth forth, and the mountains rejoice<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the plains and the woods and the valleys rebound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the Universe all is a creature of sound,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That runneth his race<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Through the infinite regions of infinite space,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Till arrived at the throne<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Of HIM who alone<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Is worthy of honor and glory and praise.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And it is ever thus—morn, noon and eve,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And in the still midnight, undying<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Choirs of creation's minstrels weave<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Sweet symphony of incense, vying<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In wrapt intricacy of endless songs.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Ever, oh ever thus they sing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But to our soul's dull ear belongs<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Seldom the trancing sense<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To list the universal worshiping,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thrill with the glorious theme, and drink its eloquence.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Mocking all our soul's desiring,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Distant now the notes are stealing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the minstrels high reining,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Drapery blue their forms concealing.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<br /><br /> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_OCEAN-BURIED" id="THE_OCEAN-BURIED"></a>THE OCEAN-BURIED.</h2> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span> + +<h5>COMPOSED, AND DEDICATED TO MISSES HARRIET AND MARY HALSEY.</h5> + +<h5><span class="smcap">Of Blooming Grove</span>, O. C., N. Y.,</h5> + +<hr class="short" /> +<h4>BY MISS AGNES H. JONES.</h4> +<hr class="short" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 592px;"> +<img src="images/music1.png" width="592" height="600" +alt="music1" title="" /></div> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 578px;"> +<img src="images/music2.png" width="578" height="600" +alt="music2" title="" /></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Let my death-slumber be where a mother's prayer<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sister's tears can be blended there.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, it will be sweet ere the heart's throb is o'er,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To know, when its fountain shall gush no more,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That those it so fondly has yearn'd for will come,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To plant the first wild-flower of spring on my tomb.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let me lie where lov'd ones can weep over me—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bury me not in the deep, deep sea!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And there is another, her tears would be shed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For him who lays far in an ocean bed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In hours that it pains me to think of now,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She has twin'd these locks and kiss'd this brow—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In this hair she has wreathed shall the sea-snake hiss?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The brow she has press'd shall the cold wave kiss?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the sake of that bright one that wails for me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bury me not in the deep, deep sea!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"She hath been in my dreams"—his voice failed short,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They gave no heed to his dying prayer.—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They have lowered him o'er the vessel's side—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Above him hath closed the solemn tide.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where to dip her wing the wild fowl rests—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the blue waves dance with their foamy crests—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the billows bound and the winds sport free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They have buried him there, in the deep, deep sea.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<br /><br /> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="REVIEW_OF_NEW_BOOKS" id="REVIEW_OF_NEW_BOOKS"> +</a>REVIEW OF NEW BOOKS.</h2> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>Calaynos: A Tragedy. By George H. Boker, E. H. Butler +& Co. Philadelphia, pp. 218.</i>#/</p></div> + +<p>The spirit of English poetry has been for years eminently +lyric; the few attempts at the epic or dramatic having been +laid aside, if not permanently, at least for a time. The age +has been too busy in working out, with machinery and +steam, its own great epic thought, to find leisure to listen +to any thing longer than a single bugle-blast encouraging +its advancement. We cannot but believe, however, if we +may be allowed an analogical inference, that the age is +fast approaching the climax of its utilitarian inventions, +and that man, instead of chasing through unknown regions +every will-o-wisp of his brain, in the hope of bringing it +a captive to the Patent-office, will sit modestly down to +apply to their various uses the discoveries already made. +Then will the healthy feast of literature once more begin, +and the public cease to be surfeited by the watery hash +which has been daily set steaming before them. In the +volume under consideration we think we can discern the +promise of the return of the good old spirit of English +poetry—of solid honest thought expressed in straight forward +Saxon. The story, which is one of the chivalrous +days of Spain, while it is devoid of trick is full of thrilling +interest, and its style, while it is eminently poetical, neither +swells into bombast nor descends to the foppery so common +among the verse-makers of our day. There is a +stately, old-fashioned tread in the diction, as of a man in +armor, who, should he attempt to gather flowers of mere +prettiness, would crush them at the first touch of his iron +gauntlet, and who, if he seems to move ungracefully at +times, owes his motion to his weight of mail. Calaynos, +the hero, is in every respect a nobleman, not only in blood, +but what is better, in mind. He is a scholar, one who, in +the words of Dona Alda his wife,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">—uses time as usurers do their gold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Making each moment pay him double interest.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>He is a philosopher—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Things nigh impossible are plain to him;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His trenchant will, like a fine-tempered blade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With unturned edge, cleaves through the baser iron.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>He is generous and has</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">—a predetermined trust in man;<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>and holds that</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He who hates man must scorn the Source of man,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And challenge as unwise his awful Maker.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The character of Dona Alda is noble and womanly—her +chief trait being her great pride and jealous care of her +honor. She conceives that no one will brave the</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">—peril, such as he must brook,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who dares to love the wife of great Calaynos.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Her maid, Martina, tells her that</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">—Queens of Spain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have had their paramours—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>and she replies,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">—So might it be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Yet never hap to bride of a Calaynos</i>!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Don Luis, the villain of the plot, thus paints his own +picture:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">—I was not formed for good:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To what Fate orders I must needs submit:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sin not mine, but His who made me thus—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not in my will but in my nature lodged.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">I will grasp the stable goods of life,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor care how foul the hand that does the deed.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Martina is admirably drawn; her wit is excellent, and +as exhaustless as it is keen. She says of Calaynos—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He looks on pleasure as a kind of sin,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Calls pastime waste-time——<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I heard a man, who spent a mortal life<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In hoarding up all kinds of stones and ores,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Call one, who spitted flies upon a pin,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A fool to pass his precious lifetime thus.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>She says of Oliver, Calayno's secretary,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yes, there he goes—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Backward and forward, like a weaver's shuttle,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spinning some web of wisdom most divine.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>She addresses him thus—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Our clay, the preachers say, was warmed to life;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But yours, your dull, cold mud, was froze to being.<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>I would not be the oyster that you are</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>For all the pearls of wisdom in your shell!</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>All the persons of the play are vivid and life-like. With +the beginning of the third act the interest becomes intense, +and nothing could be more vigorous and touching than the +action and depth of pathos toward the close of the piece. +Every page teems with fine thoughts and images, which +lead us to believe that the mine from which this book is a +specimen, contains a golden vein of poetry which will go +far to enrich our native literature.</p> +<br /> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>Literary Sketches and Letters: Being the Final Memorials of +Charles Lamb, Never before Published. By Thomas Noon +Talfourd. New York: D. Appleton & Co. 1 vol. 12mo.</i></p></div> + + +<p>The present work is important in more respects than one. +It was needed to clear up the obscurity which rested on +several points of Lamb's life, and it was needed to account +for some of the peculiarities of his character. The volume +proves that this most genial and kindly of humorists was +tried by as severe a calamity as ever broke down the energies +of a great spirit, and the frailties commonly associated +with his name seem almost as nothing compared with the +stern duties he performed from his early manhood to his +death. The present volume is calculated to increase that +personal sympathy and love for him, which has ever distinguished +the readers of Lamb from the readers of other +authors, and also to add a sentiment of profound respect +for his virtues and his fortitude. The truth is that Lamb's +intellect was one of the largest and strongest, as well as +one of the finest, among the great contemporary authors of +his time, and it was altogether owing to circumstances, +and those of a peculiarly calamitous character, that this +ample mind left but inadequate testimonials of its power +and fertility. He is, and probably will be, chiefly known +as an original and somewhat whimsical essayist, but his +essays, inimitable of their kind, were but the playthings of +his intellect.</p> + +<p>Talfourd has performed his editorial duties with his usual +taste and judgment, and with all that sweetness and grace +of expression which ever distinguishes the author of Ion. +His sketches of Lamb's companions are additions to the +literary history of the present century. Lamb's own letters, +which constitute the peculiar charm of the book, are<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span> +admirable—the serious ones being vivid transcripts of his +moods of mind, and some of them almost painful in their +direct expression of agony, and the semi-serious rioting in +mirth, mischief and whim, full of wit and meaning, and +full also of character and kindliness. One of his early +letters he closes, as being from his correspondent's +"afflicted, headachey, sore-throatey, humble servant." +In another he calls Hoole's translation of Tasso "more +vapid than smallest small beer, 'sun-vinegared.'" In +speaking of Hazlitt's intention to print a political pamphlet +at his own expense, he comes out with a general maxim, +which has found many disciples: "The first duty of an +author, I take it, is never to pay any thing." When Hannah +More's Cœlebs in Search of a Wife appeared, it was +lent to him by a precise lady to read. He thought it among +the poorest of common novels, and returned it with this +stanza written in the beginning:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If ever I marry a wife<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I'd marry a landlord's daughter,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For then I may sit in the bar,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And drink cold brandy-and-water.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>In speaking of his troubles toward the close of his life, he +has a strange, humorous imagination, in every way worthy +of his peculiar genius: "My bedfellows are cough and +cramp; <i>we sleep three in a bed</i>."</p> + +<p>The present volume is elegantly printed, and will doubtless +have a run. It is full of matter, and that of the most +interesting kind. No reader of Lamb, especially, will be +without it.</p> +<br /> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>Modern French Literature. By L. Raymond de Vericour. +Edited by W. S. Chase, A. M. Boston: Gould, Kendall +& Lincoln. 1 vol. 12mo.</i></p></div> + +<p>This work is the English production of a native Frenchman, +and was written for one of Chambers's series of +books for the people. It is edited, with notes alluding particularly +to writers prominent in the late French Revolution, +by a young American scholar, who has recently resided +in France. The book, though deficient and sometimes +incorrect in details, deserves much praise for its +general correctness and accuracy. The author, though by +no means a critic of the first class, is altogether above the +herd of Grub street hacks who commonly undertake the +popularizing of literary history. He is no Winstansley +and no Cibber. The range of his reading appears to be +extensive. His judgments are somewhat those of a school-master, +but one of the highest grade. There are several +amusing errors relating to the position of English authors, +to some of which we cannot help alluding, as they seem to +have escaped the vigilant eye of the editor. Speaking of +Guizot and Sismondi as the leaders of the school of French +philosophical historians, he remarks that "the English +language possesses some good specimens of this class of +history; the most remarkable are Gibbon's Decline and +Fall and the works of Mr. Millar." This is as if the +author had said that England possessed some good specimens +of the Romantic Drama, the most remarkable being +Shakspeare's Macbeth and the works of Mr. Colman.</p> + +<p>Again, in speaking of the novels of Paul de Kock, and +protesting against those English critics who call him the +first writer of his time and country, he says that it is as +ridiculous as it would be in Frenchmen to exalt the novels +of Charles Dickens above Ivanhoe, <i>Philip Augustus</i> and +Eugene Aram, The idea of a Frenchman thinking it a +paradox to rank Dickens above James, or even Bulwer, +shows how difficult it is for a foreigner, especially a +Frenchman, to pass beyond the external form of English +literature.</p> + +<p>The author deserves the praise of being a sensible man, +in the English meaning of the phrase. There is one sentence +in his introductory which proves that his mind has +escaped one besetting sin of the French intellect, which +has prevented its successful cultivation of politics as a practical +science. In speaking of the histories of Thiers and +Mignet, he says that they "have hatched a swarm of +<i>Jeunes Prances</i>, vociferating in their wild aberrations, emphatic +eulogies on Marat, Coulhon and Robespierre, and +breathing a love of blood and destruction, which they call +the progressive march of events."</p> +<br /> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>Rise and Fall of Louis Philippe, Ex-King of the French, +Giving a History of the French Revolution from, its Commencement +in 1789. By Benj. Perley Poore, Boston: +Wm. D. Ticknor & Co. 1 vol. 12mo.</i></p></div> + +<p>Of all the publications we have seen relating to Louis +Philippe this is the most complete and the most agreeable. +The author, from his long residence in Paris, and from his +position as Historical Agent of the State of Massachusetts, +was enabled to collect a large mass of matter relating to +French history, and also to learn a great deal respecting +the Orleans dynasty, which would not naturally find its +way into print. The present volume, though it has little +in relation to the first French Revolution not generally +known by students, embodies a large number of important +facts respecting Louis Philippe, which we believe are now +published for the first time. The biography itself has the +interest of a romance, for few heroes of novels ever were, +in imagination, subjected to the changes of fortune which +Louis encountered in reality. Mr. Poore's view of his +character is not more flattering than that which commonly +obtains—on both sides of the Atlantic. To sustain this disparaging +opinion of his subject, however, he is compelled +to suppose policy and hypocrisy as the springs of many actions +which a reasonable charity would pronounce virtuous +and humane. It must be conceded that the conduct of the +king during the last few days of his reign was feeble, if +not cowardly, but his uniform character in other periods +of his life was that of a man possessing singular readiness +and coolness in times of peril, and encountering obstacles +with a courage as serene as it was adventurous.</p> +<br /> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>The Tenant of Wildfield Hall. By Acton Bell, Author of Wurthuring Heights.. New York: Harper & Brothers. +1 vol. 12mo.</i></p></div> + +<p>The appearance of this novel, so soon after the publication +of Wurthuring Heights, is an indication of Mr. Bell's +intention to be a frequent visiter, or visitation, of the public. +We are afraid that the personages he introduces to +his readers will consist chiefly of one class of mankind, and +this class not the most pleasing. He is a monomaniac on +the subject of man's rascality and brutality, and crowds +his page with forcible delineations of offensive characters +and disgusting events. The power he displays is of a high +but limited order, and is exercised chiefly to make his +readers uncomfortable. To be sure the present novel is +not so bad as Wurthuring Heights in the matter of animal +ferocity and impish diabolism; but still most of the characters, +to use a quaint illustration of an eccentric divine, +"are engaged in laying up for themselves considerable +grants of land in the bottomless pit," and brutality, blasphemy +and cruelty constitute their stock in trade. The +author is not so much a delineator of human life as of inhuman +life. There are doubtless many scenes in The +Tenant of Wildfield Hall drawn with great force and pictorial +truth, and which freeze the blood and "shiver along +the arteries;" but we think that the author's process in +conceiving character is rather logical than imaginative, +and consequently that he deals too much in unmixed ma<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span>lignity +and selfishness. The present novel, with all its +peculiar merits, lacks all those elements of interest which +come from the generous and gentle affections. His champagne +enlivens, but there is arsenic in it.</p> +<br /> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>Brothers and Sisters. By Frederika Bremer. Translated +by Mary Howitt. New York: Harper & Brothers.</i></p></div> + +<p>This is by no means one of Miss Bremer's best productions, +but it is not on that account a commonplace production. +The pathos, the cheerfulness, the elevation, the +sweet humane home-feeling of the Swedish novelist, are +here in much of their old power, with the addition of universal +philanthropy and the rights of labor. But we fear +that the original vein of our authoress is exhausted, and +that she is now repealing herself. It is a great mistake to +suppose that a new story, new names of characters, additional +sentiments nicely packed in new sentences, make a +new novel, when the whole tone and spirit of the production +continually reminds the reader of the authors previous +efforts. It is no depreciation of Miss Bremer's really fine +powers to assert, that she lacks the creative energy of +Scott, or the ever active fancy and various observation of +Dickens.</p> +<br /> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>Grantley Manor. By Lady Georgiana Fullerton. New +York: D. Appleton & Co. 1 vol. 12mo.</i></p></div> + +<p>This is altogether one of the finest novels which have +appeared for many years. It is written with much beauty +of style; evinces a creative as well as cultivated mind, +and contains a variety of characters which are not only +interesting in themselves, but have a necessary connection +with the plot and purpose. The mind of the author has +that combination of shrewdness and romantic fervor, of +sense and passion, so necessary to every novelist who desires +to idealize without contradicting the experience of +common life.</p> +<br /><br /> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="EDITORS_TABLE" id="EDITORS_TABLE"></a>EDITOR'S TABLE.</h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">To the readers of "Graham".</span>—A series of misfortunes +having bereft me of any proprietory interest in +this Magazine, the present publishers have made a liberal +arrangement with me, and for the future, the editorial and +pictorial departments of Graham's Magazine will be under +the charge of Joseph R. Chandler, Esq., J. Bayard Taylor, +Esq., and myself.</p> + +<p>It is due to the subscribers to "Graham" from me, to +state, that from the first hour I took charge of it, the +warmest support and encouragement were given me, and +from two not very profitable magazines "Graham" sprung +at once into boundless popularity and circulation. Money, +as every subscriber knows, was freely expended upon it, +and an energy untiring and sleepless was devoted to its +business management, and had I not, in an evil hour, forgotten +my own true interests, and devoted that capital and +industry to another business which should have been confined +exclusively to the magazine, I should to-day have +been under no necessity—not even of writing this notice.</p> + +<p>I come back to my first love with an ardor undiminished, +and an energy not enervated, with high hopes and very +bold purposes. What can be done in the next three years, +time, that great solver of doubts, must tell. What a daring +enterprize in business can do, I have already shown in Graham's +Magazine and the North American—and, alas! I +have also shown what folly can do, when business is forgotten—but +I can yet show the world that he who started +life a poor boy, with but eight dollars in his pocket, and +has run such a career as mine, is hard to be put down by +the calumnies or ingratitude of any. Feeling, therefore, +that having lost one battle, "there is time enough to win +another," I enter upon the work of the "redemption of +Graham," with the very confident purposes of a man who +never doubted his ability to succeed, and who asks no odds +in a fair encounter.</p> + +<p class="right">GEO. R. GRAHAM.</p> + + +<p><span class="smcap">An Acquisition.</span>—Our readers will share in the pleasure +with which it is announced, that <span class="smcap">Joseph R. Chandler</span>, +Esq., the accomplished writer, and former editor of "<i>The +United States Gazette</i>," will hereafter be "<i>one of us</i>" in +the editorial management of Graham's Magazine. There +are few writers in the language who equal, and none excel +Mr. Chandler in graceful and pathetic composition. +His sketches live in the hearts of readers, while they are +heart-histories recognized by thousands in every part of +the laud. An article from Mr. Chandler's pen may be +looked for in every number, and this will cause each number +to be looked for anxiously.</p> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Editors Looking Up.</span>—It is expected that an early +number of "Graham" will be graced with a portrait of +our distinguished rival of the "Lady's Book," that gentleman +having "in the handsomest manner," as they say in +theatricals, sat for a picture of his goodly countenance +and proportions. At our command this has been transferred +to steel, to be handed over to the readers of "Graham," +by Armstrong, an artist whose ability is a fair +warrant for a fine picture. Now if any of our fair readers +fall in love with Godey, we shall take it as a formal slight, +and shall insist upon having our face <i>run</i> through an edition +of a magazine, to be gazed at and loved by thousands +of as fine looking people as can be crowded upon a subscription +book.</p> + + +<p><span class="smcap">W. E. Tucker, Esq.</span>—We are very much gratified to be +able to state, that an arrangement has been made by the proprietors +of "Graham" with Mr. W. E. Tucker, whose +exquisite title-pages and other gems in the way of engraving +are familiar to our readers, and that <i>for the year 1849, he +engraves exclusively for Graham's Magazine</i>.</p> + +<p>This is but the beginning of arrangements proposed to +revive the original splendor of the pictorial department of +this magazine, while the literary arrangements are in the +same style of liberality which has ever distinguished +"Graham." "There is a good time a-coming boys" +in 1849.</p> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Sketches From Europe.</span>—In the present absorbing state +of affairs abroad, it will please our readers to know, that +we have engaged an accomplished writer to furnish +sketches of European manners, events and society, such +as escape the daily journals, for the pages of the magazine. +These sketches will occasionally be illustrated with engravings +of scenery and persons taken on the spot, and +cannot fail to add to the value of "Graham."</p> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Gems From Late Readings.</span>—We shall introduce into +the next number of Graham a department which we think +cannot fail to be of interest, by selections from authors +which it is not possible for all the readers of Graham to +have seen. Culling such passages as may strike us in our +reading as worthy of wide circulation and preservation.</p> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 30116 ***</div> + </body> +</html> diff --git a/30116-h/images/illus180.png b/30116-h/images/illus180.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..be1b140 --- /dev/null +++ b/30116-h/images/illus180.png diff --git a/30116-h/images/illus295.png b/30116-h/images/illus295.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..04f200f --- /dev/null +++ b/30116-h/images/illus295.png diff --git a/30116-h/images/music1.png b/30116-h/images/music1.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..c400aa0 --- /dev/null +++ b/30116-h/images/music1.png diff --git a/30116-h/images/music2.png b/30116-h/images/music2.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..4c143d4 --- /dev/null +++ b/30116-h/images/music2.png diff --git a/30116.txt b/30116.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..cf11c7d --- /dev/null +++ b/30116.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7166 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Graham's Magazine Vol XXXIII No. 4 October +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 XXXIII No. 4 October 1848 + +Author: Various + +Editor: George R. Graham + Robert T. Conrad + +Release Date: September 28, 2009 [EBook #30116] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GRAHAM'S MAGAZINE, OCTOBER 1848 *** + + + + +Produced by David T. Jones, Juliet Sutherland and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Canada Team at +http://www.pgdpcanada.net + + + + + + + +[Illustration: Sir W. C. Rofs, R.A. A.B. Ross +THE UNMARRIED BELLE +Engraved Expressly for Graham's Magazine] + + +GRAHAM'S MAGAZINE. + +VOL. XXXIII. PHILADELPHIA, OCTOBER, 1848. No. 4. + + + + +THE UNMARRIED BELLE. + +BY ENNA DUVAL. + +[SEE ENGRAVING.] + + + Talk not of wasted affection, affection never was wasted; + If it enrich not the heart of another, its waters returning + Back to their springs, like the rain, shall fill them full of refreshment; + That which the fountain sends forth returns again to the fountain. + Patience; accomplish thy labor; accomplish thy work of affection! + Sorrow and silence are strong, and patient endurance is godlike; + Therefore accomplish thy labor of love, till the heart is made godlike, + Purified, strengthened, perfected, and rendered more worthy of heaven! + LONGFELLOW'S EVANGELINE. + + +I was loitering beside my mother's chair, in her drawing-room, one day +on my return from school, listening to the conversation between her +and some morning visiters; they were discussing most earnestly the +merits of a reigning belle. + +"She is, indeed, perfectly beautiful," exclaimed my mother. "I looked +at her the other evening, when I saw her at the last concert, and +thought a more lovely creature could not exist. The music excited her, +and her cheek was delicately flushed, which heightened the brilliancy +of her eyes; her lovely lips were just half apart and trembling with +feeling. Then she understands so well the art and mystery of dressing. +While other young ladies around her were in the full pride of +brilliant _costume_, the eye felt freshened and relieved when looking +at her--there was such a repose in her _demi-toilette_. The simple +white dress was so pure and chaste in its effect, displaying only her +lovely throat, and her beautiful chestnut-brown hair was gathered up +carelessly but neatly, while over one tiny ear fell a rich cluster of +ringlets; then, with all her beauty and exquisite taste, she is so +unconscious, so unstudied. That the world should call Mary Lee a +beauty, I do not wonder; but that society should pronounce her a +belle, is, indeed, a surprise to me--she is so unassuming, so free +from art and _affectation_." + +"So unlike her mother," exclaimed a lady, eagerly. "I think Mary's +success in society is as gratifying as unexpected to Mrs. Lee. She +delayed her _entree_ into society as long as she could, and used to +lament most piteously to me the trouble she expected to have with her, +from her total want of animation and spirit. But now she seems to have +entirely forgotten her former misgivings, for she takes many airs on +herself about Mary's popularity, talking all the while as though +scarcely any one was good enough for the husband of the daughter she +pronounced one year ago a stupid, inanimate creature." + +"Ah!" said a gentleman, laughing, "the tie now is between young Morton +and Langley, I believe. As Langley is the more _distingue_ of the two, +I suppose the mother will favor him; but if one can judge from +appearances, the daughter prefers Harry Morton." + +"I can assure you," interrupted Mr. Foster, an intimate friend of our +family, "the daughter has quite as much admiration for the rich Mr. +Langley as the mother. There is a little incident connected with that +same concert Mrs. Duval speaks of, that convinces me of the daughter's +powers of management." + +"Shame on you, Philip Foster!" said my mother, "you should not talk +thus of any lady, much less of Mary Lee." + +"What was the incident, Mr. Foster?" eagerly inquired the other +ladies. + +"Yes, do tell us, Phil," urged his gentleman friend. + +My mother looked reproachfully at Mr. Foster, but he shook his head +laughingly at her, as he said, + +"Hear me first, dear Mrs. Duval, before you judge. I was at Mrs. Lee's +two or three mornings since. Several visitors were in the +drawing-rooms, among them Harry Morton, as usual. I was looking at a +new and costly collection of engravings on the _commode_ table, when I +overheard Harry Morton ask Miss Lee if he should join their party at +the concert the next evening. She replied that she regretted they +were not going, for she had already promised her mother to dine and +spend the evening quietly with an old friend. The next evening at the +concert the whole Lee party were there, and our belle, Miss Mary, was +brought in by young Langley, just newly arrived from Europe. The +unconscious _demi-toilette_ Mrs. Duval speaks so admiringly of, had +the desired effect. Langley's taste has been chastened by a voyage +over the Atlantic; the noisy over-dressing of his countrywomen would, +of course, annoy his delicate sense--therefore was the simple home +costume adopted in preference, and the "_available_" Mr. Langley +secured as an admirer." + +"I do not believe any such thing, Philip!" exclaimed my mother, +indignantly. "I will answer for it, there was some mistake. Mary Lee +would scorn a falsehood, and is entirely above all artifice or design. +Mrs. Lee is said to be maneuvering and worldly; if she is, her +daughter is entirely free from such influences." + +"How did Morton take it, Phil?" asked the other friend, laughingly. + +"He was with me," replied Mr. Foster, evidently enjoying with some +little malice my kind mother's annoyance, "we had dropped into the +concert by chance together. He looked thunderstruck, but said nothing, +and did not approach her during the whole evening. She knew he was +there, however, for I saw her return his cold bow in a painfully +embarrassed manner." + +The entrance of some other visiters, connected with the Lees, put an +end to the conversation. That night, when my nurse was undressing me +for bed, I said, + +"What's a belle, Katy?" + +"A very rich and beautiful young lady," replied my nurse, "who has +plenty of lovers, and gets married very soon." + +"Will I ever be a belle?" I innocently inquired, as she gathered up my +rebellious hair under my cap. + +"No," she replied, in impatient tones, "your hair is too straight, and +your skin too yellow; but you must do as you're told to, or else +nobody will even love you; so go to sleep right away." + +I was silenced, and thus obedience was obtained by appealing to my +love of approbation. Many years passed, bringing me to womanhood, when +I discovered the truth of Nurse Katy's reason why I should not be a +belle. Other people decided that my "hair was too straight, and my +skin too yellow," to use Katy's homely, rough words; but her _brusque_ +admonition, that made me go to sleep so quickly when a child, acted +upon me as a woman. My approbativeness once roused, I managed, despite +my want of personal attractions, to secure a host of friends; and the +lesson I then learned, to please others rather than myself for the +sake of gaining their love, has caused my life thus far to be very +sunny and happy, even more so than if I had been the belle my childish +fancy desired. + +One of Nurse Katy's principal attributes of a belle, however, Mary Lee +was deficient in. She did not get married at all--and Mary Lee she +remained all her life. But she was one of the loveliest old maids in +the world, and quite as popular in our circle as she had been in her +own. She had been confined many years with an invalid mother and +paralytic father, but after their death some time, she re-entered +society; and her house was the favorite resort of the new set of young +people, as it had been in her young days. She gave the most delightful +parties, planned the most pleasant enjoyments for us, and although +acknowledging herself to be an old maid, she still retained her +youthful feelings unimpaired. + +Her mind remained in a fresh, healthy state, and her disposition was +still sweet and joyous. How we all loved her; she was our confidante, +adviser and friend. She was still pretty, and might have proved a very +formidable rival had she chosen to enter society as a young lady; but +she preferred being regarded by us as an elder friend. The young +ladies grouped around her as younger sisters; and one half the young +gentlemen would have married her _instanter_, notwithstanding she was +ten or fifteen years their senior. Old maid as she was, strange to +tell, she was a promoter of marriages. The ill-natured called Mary Lee +a match-maker. She certainly did interest herself very much with +lovers, fathoming all the little mysteries of their love-quarrels, and +setting every thing quite straight, even when they seemed in +inextricable confusion. + +Miss Lee had been very fond of my mother, and extended to me the same +regard, therefore I was, notwithstanding the difference in our ages, +on a more intimate footing with her than her other young friends. One +day, as we were discussing the merits of an approaching wedding, the +conversation assumed a confidential tone. + +"Indeed, Enna," she exclaimed, laughingly, "there is nothing more +interesting to me than a couple of lovers full of romance, poetry, and +perfectly blind and uncaring as to the future. I love to watch them in +courtship, lend them a helping hand in the quicksands of that +dangerous but delicious season; and then it makes me so happy to +congratulate them after their troubles are all over, and they are +happily married." + +"Ah! if they only could be sure of happiness," I replied. + +"Shame on you for that old maid's croak!" she said, with a bright +look; "those who are not happy in married life, would never be happy +in any situation. There should be no old maids or old bachelors, Enna; +we would all be happier married; we fail in fulfilling our missions +when we remain single. Hunt up a lover, Enna; let me watch your +courtship, and rejoice over your wedding. As a clever friend of mine +once said, we think poetry as lovers, but in married life we act true +poetry." + +I opened my eyes with astonishment, and innocently asked, "Why is it, +then, you have never married?" + +A shadow crossed over her face, and I felt a desire to recall the +question, for I feared I had called up disagreeable reminiscences, but +the next instant her countenance was as beaming and calm as before. + +"I will tell you, Enna," she said, as she caressingly rested her head +on my shoulder, "why I have never married; but to do that I must +relate the history of my rather uneventful life. My story has but +little interest, but it will gratify the curiosity of one who loves +me. My childhood was spent with an old aunt. She took me when I was a +delicate wee thing, and I remained with her until her death, which +took place when I was nearly grown. She was a dear, good old lady, and +with her my life passed most happily; my short visits home gave me +little pleasure, for my mother was a very worldly, ambitious woman, +and displayed but little tenderness for me, which, when contrasted +with my aunt's fondness and indulgence, made me feel quite as a +stranger in my family; and when Aunt Mary died, I wept as bitterly, +and felt as lonely and bereft of friends, as though I did not possess +a mother, father, and sisters. The two years after my aunt's death +were spent in close attention to those accomplishments which had been +neglected in my education as unnecessary, and which my mother deemed +so essential; and not a day passed without my poor mother's +exclamations of despair over me. + +"'One comfort there is, however,' she would say, 'your aunt's little +fortune of a few thousands will be exaggerated in society, and people +will forget your _mauvaise honte_ in giving you credit for being an +heiress.' + +"But the report of my being an heiress was not needed, for when I +entered society, to my mother's amazement, I created quite a +sensation. I had been looked upon as a pretty girl always; but my +mother had so often declared that I was so inanimate and innocent, she +never would be able to do any thing with me, and my pretty face would +be of no service to me, that I looked upon myself as quite an ordinary +person, and was as much surprised at my belle-hood as my family. I +wonder my little head was not turned with the attentions I received, +so unused as I had been to admiration; it might have been, however, +had not a disappointment--a bitter, heart-aching disappointment, +wearied me of all this adulation and attention. + +"Soon after my entrance into society, I became acquainted with a Mr. +Morton--agreeable, good-looking, and attentive he was, of +course--quite an acquisition to me in my circle of admirers. His +worldly qualifications were not of so brilliant a nature as to attract +my prudent mother's fancy, for he was only a young lawyer of slender +means and moderate practice. I do not think she ever dreamed of the +interest he excited in me, but looked upon him as one of the crowd of +attendants necessarily surrounding a belle. But how differently I +regarded him. The piles of costly bouquets I received daily, gained +but little attention from me, unless I discerned among them the tiny +bunch of sweet-violets, tea-roses, and mignonette, which he once in a +great while sent me. In my ball-tablets my eyes sought the dances +marked down for him; and when he was my partner, the dance, generally +so wearisome, was only too short, too delightful; the reminiscence of +that happy time makes a silly girl of me again. My mother never +imagined he aspired to my hand--she would have looked aghast at the +bare mention of such a probability; but she regarded him as a friend, +and he was a great favorite with her. She used to say young men like +Harry Morton, that knew their places, were invaluable acquaintances +for a belle; thus were we thrown a great deal together. She was so +blind to his real position with me, quick-sighted as she generally was +in other things, I was permitted to have him for my partner in +dancing, even for several quadrilles during an evening; he was my +constant attendant in my daily rides on horseback, and my mother never +hesitated to call upon him if we were at any time in need of an escort +to a ball or opera. He was upon the footing of a brother or cousin in +the family; but, ah! how dear was he to me. Without any actual +explanation, I felt sure of Harry Morton's love. I never had any +doubts or jealousies--we seemed to perfectly understand each other. I +never looked forward to our future--I was too quietly happy in the +present. I only dated from one meeting to another--from the dinner to +the party, when he would be ready to hand us from our carriage, to +take me off my father's arm in compliance with my mother's constant +inquiry and request of, 'Where's Harry Morton? Here, Harry, do take +charge of Mary,' a request which he always seemed delighted to obey. +Then, after the happy good-night, I would lie my head on the pillow to +dream of him and the morning ride we would take together. Why he never +spoke to me of his love I cannot tell. It might have been that +feelings of delicacy restrained him; my father was rich, while he was +but a poor young lawyer; then report had made me an heiress in my own +right, as well as a belle, to my worldly mother's great content. That +he loved me I am sure, though he never told me with his lips. + +"One morning my mother said to me, 'Do not make any engagement for +to-morrow, Mary; we must dine _en famille_ with dear old Mrs. Langley; +we have not been there for a month.' + +"Now this Mrs. Langley was a person of great consideration in my +mother's eyes. She was very wealthy, and, moreover, had been at the +head of the fashionable world for many years. Since my entrance into +society, she had been quite an invalid, and rarely appeared in public, +but it gratified her exceedingly to have her friends around her, for +she dreaded yielding up her command in the world. My mother was an +especial favorite of hers; and after I had taken such a prominent +situation in society, she expressed great regard for me. Once in a +month or so we spent a day with her. She lived in great style--a +stately dinner, and a stupid, grand, heavy evening was the amount of +the visit. How I used to dread the coming of the day; it was the only +time I was separated from Harry, for Mrs. Langley being very +exclusive, and making no new acquaintances, he had no _entree_ there. +I used to sing for her, arrange her worsteds, tell her of the parties +and different entertainments, and read to her her son's last letter. +She had only one son, and he had been in Europe for two or three +years. He was her idol, and she never tired talking of him. Dear old +lady, my conscience smote me many times for the feelings of impatient +weariness and _ennui_ I would give way to during one of her tedious +dinner parties. + +"The following morning after my mother had announced the visit of +penance, Harry Morton made his appearance in our drawing-rooms, as +usual, with the other morning visiters. Every one was talking of a new +singer who was to make her _debut_ on that evening. + +"'May I join your party at the concert this evening?' Harry asked me, +in a low voice. + +"'I regret exceedingly,' I replied, 'that we are not going to the +concert. I have already promised mamma to spend a quiet day and +evening with an old friend of hers. You must listen attentively to +this new _donna_, and tell me all about her voice if you go.' + +"'I do not think I shall go,' he replied, in low, earnest tones, 'for +I could not enjoy the concert if not with you.' A turn in the general +conversation drew us more into notice, and some ladies and gentlemen +entering, put an end to all further intercourse between us; how long I +remembered and cherished those last words of his. When I made my +appearance in my mother's room at 5 o'clock, shawl and hood in hand, +she regarded me from head to foot smilingly. + +"'What new caprice to-day?' she said, 'and yet I must confess it is +very becoming to you.' + +"I had felt too languid to dress much, and as the weather was warm, +spring being quite far advanced, I had chosen a simple white mull robe +for the visit to our old friend, knowing that we should meet with but +few visiters there. This I explained apologetically to my mother, who +tapped me with her fan good-naturedly, saying that beauties were +cunning creatures, they liked to show once in a while they could defy +the aid of ornament. The first few months of my entrance into society +my mother superintended, with great attention, all my _toilettes_; but +near the close of the season she fell into the general opinion, that +what ever I did was exactly right; and poor little me, that one short +half-year before had no right to express an opinion upon so grave a +subject as dress, was now constantly appealed to; and whatever style I +adopted was perfect in her eyes. Society had placed its stamp upon me, +I could pass current as a coin of high value to her. + +"When I reached Mrs. Langley's, I found the old lady attended by but +one gentleman, who, beside ourselves, was her only visiter. What was +my surprise to hear her introduce him as her son, Templeton Langley. +The dinner passed more pleasantly than usual, for Mr. Langley made +himself very agreeable. After dinner he proposed we should go to the +concert, as he felt an interest in the new _primadonna_, having heard +her at her _debut_ in Europe. I made an objection, which was overruled +by Mrs. Langley's expressing a desire--strange for her--to go +likewise; and we went. I had not been ten minutes in the room when, on +lifting my eyes, the first person I saw was Harry Morton looking +sternly at me. Foolishly, I grew embarrassed, my face burned, and my +whole frame trembled with nervous agitation. He did not approach me, +but gave me only a cold bow. 'He thinks me guilty of falsehood,' I +said to myself. How wretchedly passed the evening, and yet I have no +doubt I was an object of envy to many of my young lady friends. The +rich _distingue_, Templeton Langley showed himself my devoted admirer, +while his mother, the acknowledged leader of _ton_, sat beside us +smiling approvingly. My indifferent, cold manner, my simple costume, +and my beautiful face, completed that evening the conquest of the +fastidious, fashionable young man. You cannot imagine the delight of +my mother, when day after day found Templeton Langley constantly +beside me, she could scarcely restrain her exultation; while I, poor +child, listened with aching, throbbing senses for the approach of one +who never came near me. Two or three weeks passed in a whirl of +gayety. It was the close of the season, and one or two brides in our +circle made the parties very constant. Mrs. Langley proposed that our +family should join her son and herself in their summer visit to the +Lakes; accordingly we did so, and we spent more than three months +traveling. Ere the close of those three months, Templeton Langley +offered himself to me. I could not describe to you the scene that +ensued between my mother and myself when I rejected him. She was a +worldly woman, and my conduct seemed perfectly wild to her. She +remonstrated, persuaded, then reproached me in impatient, angry tones. +My father was a quiet, amiable man, and rarely interfered with my +mother in her management, but he fortunately shook off enough of his +lethargy to come to my rescue at this time. + +"'If Mary does not love Mr. Langley,' he said, 'why urge her to marry +him? Do not scold the poor child,' and he drew me toward him tenderly. + +"Templeton Langley was rather an indifferent person in every way. His +wealth, combined with his situation in the fashionable world, placed +him in a fictitious light; but he had little intelligence, no +originality, and only a passable personal appearance. I was constantly +drawing the comparison between him and Harry Morton. Harry was so +handsome, so brilliant in conversation--and this thought rendered poor +Mr. Langley, with all his fastidious, elegant manners, quite +unbearable to me. To think of being tied to such a man for life was +perfect martyrdom for me; and although hitherto so yielding, I showed +myself on this occasion obstinate. Floods of tears I shed, and my +mother fancied at first she could overcome my 'ridiculous +sentimentality,' as she called it, but in vain; and finding a friend +in my father, I remained firm. I felt more sorry for old Mrs. Langley, +who was, indeed, terribly distressed, but she treated me very kindly, +and exonerated me from all blame. She was, however, really very fond +of me, and had set her heart upon having me for a daughter. Mr. +Langley returned to Europe, and for many months our circle of friends +were quite at a loss to know whether he had offered, been accepted, +or refused, or whether he had only flirted with me. My mother felt too +disappointed to boast of the rejection; and, moreover, she was so +occupied in bringing out my sister, Emma, as to have little time to +think of me or my affairs. My sister was but seventeen, three years +younger than I, but much nearer my age in appearance. I found myself +now of but secondary consideration in my mother's eyes. I fear she +really disliked me then. She was an ambitious woman, and had set her +heart upon my making a brilliant match; this favorite hope of hers I +had blighted, and feeling little interest in society, I became of less +consequence, for my sad, absent manner made me, of course, +uninteresting; therefore, as my reign as a belle was over, my poor +mother now sought to dismiss me from her mind and occupy herself with +other objects. + +"Harry Morton had gone to the Southwest ere we returned from our +summer's journey, and we never met again. A year or so afterward I +heard of his marriage with a dashing southern belle, and he is now a +distinguished man at the South. After these perplexing, unfortunate +misunderstandings, my health failed, and for a long while I was an +invalid, rarely appearing in society. My two sisters, Emma and Alice, +were more lucky than I, for they married happily, and with my mother's +gratified approbation--for they each made the 'best match of their +season.' Neither one was so pretty as I had been, and as my mother +used to ejaculate, + +"'Thank Heaven! neither Emma nor Alice are belles; they at least will +not trouble me with their exaggerated notions about love and all that +nonsense.' + +"I passed a miserable, wretched existence for a year or more after +Harry and I were separated. How earnestly I prayed for death, so +completely prostrated was my spirit by my disappointment. I felt as +lonely as I had at the time of dear Aunt Mary's death. In time, +however, I aroused myself from my morbid feelings, and in reading and +study found at first occupation, then strength and content. + +"The week after my youngest sister was married my father was stricken +down with paralysis. I was the only one at home with my parents, for +my bride sister had sailed for Europe the day after her wedding, and +Emma was far distant in her Southern home, having married a wealthy +South Carolinian two years before. Faithfully I devoted myself to my +father, and when my mother, a year afterward, was seized with a +painful, lingering disease, I made myself so necessary to her comfort, +that she at last acknowledged, that what had appeared to be her +greatest trouble had proved her greatest blessing. She altered very +much before her death, and lost entirely all those worldly feelings +which had actuated her during her early life. She suffered for many +years at times agonizing pain, and during this time I was sole +companion and nurse to my parents. Often I thanked Providence for +having denied to me my early love, granting to me in lieu an +opportunity of fulfilling the most holy of duties. See, Enna, to what +an unromantic and yet enviable state of mind I at last attained. +Believe me, dearest, we never should grieve over unavoidable troubles, +for many times they are but the rough husk of that sweet kernel--a +hidden blessing." + + + + +ZENOBIA. + +BY MYRON L. MASON. + + + 'Twas holyday in Rome. Her sevenfold hills + Were trembling with the tread of multitudes + Who thronged her streets. Hushed was the busy hum + Of labor. Silent in the shops reposed + The implements of toil. A common love + Of country, and a zeal for her renown, + Had warmed all hearts, and mingled for a day + Plebian ardor with patrician pride. + The sire, the son, the matron and the maid, + Joined in bestowing on their emperor + The joyous benedictions of the state. + Alas! about that day's magnificence + Was spread a web of _shame_! The victor's sword + Was stained with cowardice--his dazzling fame + Tarnished by insult to a fallen woman. + Returning from his conquests in the East, + Aurelian led in his triumphant train + Palmyra's beauteous queen, Zenobia, + Whose only crime had been the love she bore + To her own country and her household gods. + + Long had the Orient owned the sovereign sway + Of Rome imperial, and in forced submission + Had bowed the neck to the oppressor's yoke. + The corn of Syria, her fruits and wares, + The pearls of India, Araby's perfumes, + The golden treasures of the mountains, all + Profusely poured in her luxurious lap, + Crowned to the full her proud magnificence. + Rome regal, throned on her eternal hills, + With power supreme and wide-extended hand, + Plundered the prostrate nations without stint + Of all she coveted, and, chiefly thou, + O Liberty, the birthright boon of Heaven. + But Rome had passed her noon; her despotism + Was overgrown; an earthquake was at work + At her foundations; and new dynasties, + Striking their roots in ripening revolutions, + Were soon to sway the destinies of realms. + + The East was in revolt. The myriad seeds + Of dark rebellion, sown by tyranny, + And watered by the blood of patriots slain, + Were springing into life on every hand. + Success was alternating in this strife + 'Twixt power and _right_, and anxious Victory, + With balance poised, the doubtful issue feared. + Amid the fierce contention, 'mid the din + Of war's sublime encounter, and the crash + Of falling systems old, Palmyra's queen + Followed her valiant lord, Palmyra's king. + Ever beside him in the hour of peril, + She warded from his breast the battle's rage; + And in the councils of the cabinet + Her prudent wisdom was her husband's guide. + + Domestic treason, with insidious stab, + Snatched from Zenobia's side her gallant lord, + And threw into her hand the exigencies + Of an unstable and capricious throne. + Yet was her genius not inadequate. + The precepts of experience, intertwined + With intellectual power of lofty grade, + Combined to raise Palmyra's beauteous queen + High in the golden scale of moral greatness. + Under the teachings of the good Longinus + The streams of science flowed into her mind; + And, like the fountain-fostered mountain lake, + Her soul was pure as its ethereal food. + The patronage bestowed on learned men + Declared her love for letters. The rewards, + Rich and unnumbered, she conferred on merit + Her own refined, exalted taste betrayed. + Her graceful and majestic figure, crowned + With beauty such as few but angels wear, + Like the rich casing that surrounds the gem, + Heightened the splendor of her brilliant genius. + Equally daring on the battle-field + And in the chase, her prudence and her courage, + Displayed in many a hot emergency, + Had twined victorious laurel round her brow. + Under her rule Palmyra's fortunes rose + To an unequalled altitude, and wealth + Flowed in upon her like a golden sea, + Her wide dominion, stretching from the Nile + To the far Euxine and Euphrates' flood-- + Her active commerce, whose expanded range + Monopolized the trade of all the East-- + Her stately capital, whose towers and domes + Vied with proud Rome in architectural grace-- + Her own aspiring aims and high renown-- + All breathed around the Asiatic queen + An atmosphere of greatness, and betrayed + Her bold ambition, and her rivalry + With the imperial mistress of the world. + + But 't is the gaudiest flower is soonest plucked; + The sturdiest oak first feels the builder's axe. + Palmyra's rising greatness had awaked + The jealousy of Rome, and Fortune looked + On her prosperity with envious eye. + Under the golden eagles of the empire, + Aurelian's soldiers swept the thirsty sands, + And poured into Palmyra's palmy plains, + A mighty host hot for the battle-field. + Borne on her gallant steed, the warrior queen + The conflict sought, and led her eager troops + Into the stern encounter. Like the storm + Of their own desert plain, innumerable, + They rushed upon the foe, and courted danger. + Amid the serried ranks, whose steel array + Glowed in the noonday sun, and threw a flood + Of wavy sheen into the fragrant air, + Zenobia rode; and, like an angry spirit, + Commissioned from above to chastise men, + Where'er she moved was death. There was a flash + Of scorn that lighted up her fiery eye, + A glance of wrath upon her countenance-- + There was a terror in her frenzied arm + That struck dismay into the boldest heart. + Alas for her, Fortune was unpropitious! + Her fearless valor found an overmatch + In the experienced prudence of Aurelian; + And scarcely could the desert's hardy sons + Cope with the practiced legions of the empire. + The battle gained, Palmyra taken, sacked-- + Its queen a captive, hurled from off a throne, + Stripped of her wide possessions, forced to sue + In humblest attitude for even life-- + The haughty victor led his weary legions + Back to Italia's shores, and in his train + His fallen rival, loaded with chains of gold, + Forged from the bullion of her treasury. + + 'T was holyday in Rome. The morning sun, + Emerging from the palace-crested hills + Of the Campagna, poured a flood of light + Upon the slumbering city, summoning + Its teeming thousands to the festival. + A playful breeze, rich-laden with perfume + From groves of orange, gently stirred the leaves, + And curled the ripples on the Tiber's breast, + Bearing to seaward o'er the flowery plain + The rising peans' joyful melodies. + Flung to the wind, high from the swelling dome + That crowned the Capitol, the imperial banner, + Broidered with gold and glittering with gems, + Unfurled its azure field; and, as it caught + The sunbeams and flashed down upon the throng + That filled the forum, there arose a shout + Deep as the murmur of the cataract. + In that spontaneous outburst of applause + _Rome spoke_; and as the echo smote the hills + It woke the slumbering memory of a time + When Rome was _free_. + + A trumpet from the walls + Proclaimed the day's festivities begun. + Preceded by musicians and sweet singers, + A long procession passed the city-gate, + And, traversing the winding maze of streets, + Climbed to the Capitol. Choice victims, dressed + With pictured ornaments and wreaths of flowers, + An offering to the tutelary gods, + Led the advance. Then followed spoils immense, + Baskets of jewels, vases of wrought gold, + Paintings and statuary, cloths and wares, + Of costliest manufacture, close succeeded + By the rich symbols of Palmyra's glory, + Torn from her temples and her palaces, + To grace a triumph in the streets of Rome. + With toilsome step next walked the captive queen; + And then the victor, in his car of state, + With milk-white horses of Thessalian breed, + And in his retinue a splendid train + Of Rome's nobility. In one long line + The army last appeared in bright array, + With banners high displayed, filling the air + With songs of victory. The pageant proud + Quickened remembrance of departed days, + And warmed the bosoms of the multitude + With deep devotion to the commonwealth. + + High in his gilded chariot, decked in robes + Of broidered purple, and with laurel crowned, + Rode the triumphant conqueror, in his hand + The emblems of his power. The capital + Of his wide empire was inflamed with zeal + To do him honor and exalt his praise. + The world was at his feet; his sovereign will + None dared to question, and his haughty word + Was law to nations. Yet his heart was troubled. + In the dim distance he discerned the flight + Of Freedom, on swift pinions heralding + Enfranchisement to the oppressed of earth. + He knew the feeble tenure of dominion + Based on allegiance with reluctance paid; + And read the future overthrow of Rome + In the unyielding spirit of his victim. + Uncovered in the sun, weary and faint, + Bowed to the earth with chains of ravished gold, + With feet unsandaled, walked Zenobia, + Slave to the craven tyrant's cruelty. + Neither her peerless beauty, nor her sex, + Nor yet her grievous sufferings could melt + The despot's stony heart. She, who surpassed + Her conqueror in all the qualities + Of head or heart which crown humanity + With nobleness and high preeminence-- + She, whose _misfortunes_ in a glorious cause, + And not her _errors_, had achieved her ruin-- + Burdened with ignominy and disgrace + For her resplendent _virtues_, not her _crimes_-- + She who had graced a palace, and dispensed + Pardon to penitence, reward to worth, + And tempered justice with benevolence-- + Wickedly torn from her exalted station, + Now walked a captive in the streets of Rome, + E'en at the feet of the oppressors steeds. + Yet was her spirit all untamed. Disdain + Still sat upon her countenance, and breathed + Unmeasured scorn upon her persecutors. + The blush of innocence upon her cheek, + The burning pride that flashed within her eye, + The majesty enthroned upon her brow, + Told, in a language which the tyrant _felt_, + That her unconquered spirit soared sublime + In a pure orbit whither _his_ sordid soul + Could ne'er attain. Had he a captive led + Some odious wretch, whose sanguinary crimes, + Long perpetrated under sanction of a strength + No arm could reach, had spread a pall of mourning + Over a people's desolated homes, + He then had _right_ to triumph o'er his victim. + But 't was not thus. Insatiable ambition + Had led him to unsheath his victor sword + Against a monarch whose distinctive sway + Ravished from Rome no tittle of her _right_; + And, to augment the aggregate of wrong, + _That monarch was a woman_, whose renown, + Compared with his, was gold compared with brass. + As o'er the stony street the captive paced + Her weary way before the victor's steeds, + And marked the multitudes insatiate gaze, + The look of calm defiance on her face + Told that she bowed not to her degradation. + Her thoughts were not at Rome. Unheeded all, + The billows of the mad excitement dashed + About her, and broke harmless at her feet. + Dim reminiscences of former days + Burst like a deluge on her errant mind; + Leading her backward to the buried past, + When in the artless buoyancy of youth + She sat beneath Palmyra's fragrant shades + And gleaned the pages of historic story, + Red with Rome's bloody catalogue of wrong. + Little she dreamed Palmyra's palaces + Should e'er be scenes of Roman violence; + Little she dreamed that _hers_ should be the lot + (A captive princess led in chains) to crown + The splendor of a Roman holyday. + Alas! the blow she thought not of had fallen. + A bloody struggle, like a dreadful dream, + Had briefly raged, and all to her was lost, + Save the poor grace of a degraded life. + Her sun of glory was gone down in blood-- + The glittering fabric of her power despoiled + To swell the triumph of her conqueror. + But in the wreck of her magnificence, + With eye prophetic, she foresaw the ruin + Of the proud capital of all the world. + She saw the quickening symptoms of rebellion + Among the nations, and she caught their cry + For _freedom_ and for _vengeance_! + + * * * * * + + Hark! the Goth + Is thundering at the gate, His reckless sword + Leaps from the scabbard, eager to vindicate + The cause of the oppressed. A thousand years + The sun has witnessed in his daily course + The tyranny of Rome, now crushed _forever_. + The mighty mass of her usurped dominion, + By its own magnitude at last dissevered, + Is crumbling into fragments; and the shades + Of long-forgotten generations shriek + With fiendish glee over the yawning gulf + Of her perdition. + + + + +TEMPER LIFE'S EXTREMES. + +BY GEORGE S. BURLEIGH. + + + 'Tis wise, in summer-warmth, to look before, + To the keen-nipping winter; it is good, + In lifeful hours, to lay aside some store + Of thought, to leaven the spirit's duller mood; + To mould the sodded dyke, in sunny hour, + Against the coming of the wasteful flood; + Still tempering Life's extremes, that Wo no more + May start abrupt in Joy's sweet neighborhood. + If Day burst sudden from the bars of Night, + Or with one plunge leaped down the sheer abyss, + Painful alike were darkness and the light, + Bearing fixed war through shifting victories; + But sweet their bond, where peaceful twilight lingers, + Weaving the rosy with the sable fingers. + + + + +THE CRUISE OF THE RAKER. + +A TALE OF THE WAR OF 1812-15. + +BY HENRY A. CLARK. + +(_Continued from page 136._) + +CHAPTER V. + +_The Revenge._ + + +The report of the pistol fired by Julia had also been heard upon the +pirate brig. To Florette it gave assurance of the safety of the fair +fugitive. The pirate sprang to his feet, forgetful of his wound, but +fell back helpless upon the companion-way, and soon relapsed into his +former thoughtful state, supposing the sound had come from the deck of +the Raker, though it had seemed much too near and distinct to appear +possible that such was the case. + +The escape of Julia was not discovered until the following morning. +The wrath of the pirate was fearfully vindictive. Even Florette became +alarmed when he fiercely accused her of some share in the +disappearance of the captive girl. This she tremblingly denied, +suggesting the opinion that Julia must have jumped overboard, in her +despair, induced by the threats of the pirate. The loss of the boat +was also noticed, but not connected with the escape of Julia, it being +supposed that it had been carelessly fastened. As a very natural +consequence of his anger, the pirate sought some person on whom he +could vent its fury. + +"Call aft the other woman," shouted he, "unless she, too, has jumped +overboard." + +A grim smile was interchanged between the men who heard this order. +John's true sex had not been long kept concealed after he had reached +the pirate brig, and he had nearly fallen a victim to the rage the +unpleasant discovery excited in the men, but his ludicrous and abject +expressions of terror, though they awoke no emotions of pity, yet +excited the merriment of his captors, and turned their anger into +laughter. A man's garments were thrown to him, in which he speedily +equipped himself, being indeed in no slight degree relieved by the +change. Since that time he had kept himself as much aloof as possible +from the crew, anxiously and fearfully expectant of some sudden +catastrophe, either that his brains would be blown out without +affording him an opportunity to expostulate, or that he would be +called upon to walk the plank. + +He was roused by a heavy hand laid upon his shoulder. + +"O dear, don't," cried John. + +"The captain has sent word for'ard arter you, and faith ye had betther +be in a hurry, for he's a savage when he's mad." + +"O! now I've got to do it." + +"Do what?" + +"Why walk the plank to be sure." + +"Arrah, jewel! don't be onaisy now." + +"Wont I's, don't you think?" + +"Not a bit of it, darling. I think he will be afther running you up to +the yard-arm." + +"But I can't run up it." + +"Ha! ha! but come along, honey." + +Half dragging John after him, the sailor led him to the quarter-deck. + +"Here's the lady, captain, an' faith she's a swate one." + +The truth of the case had already been explained to the pirate. + +"You cowardly fool," said he, "did you expect to escape by such a +subterfuge? Pat, run him up to the yard-arm." + +"Yes, captain, and that will be a relaif to him, for he was mighty +afraid he'd have to walk the plank." + +"He was? well then he shall." + +The vindictiveness of the pirate commander, who had only changed the +mode of John's death because he thought that by so doing he should +render it more fearful and bitter to the victim, was the means of +saving the poor cockney's life. So do revenge and malice often +overreach themselves. + +A long plank was laid out over the side of the brig and John commanded +to walk out on it. He showed a strong disinclination to obeying, but a +huge pistol placed against his forehead quickly influenced his +decision, and with a cry of anguish he stepped out upon it. As the +board tipped he turned to spring back to the brig, but slipping up, +fell upon the board, which he pulled after him into the water. + +"Fool," cried the captain to one of his men, "what did you let the +board loose for, he will float now till the chase picks him up--fire +into him." + +A dozen balls were fired at John, and it seems he was hit, for he let +go the board and sunk. + +"There, captain, he's done for." + +The brig by this time had reached a considerable distance from the +place where John had been committed to the deep, and when he rose to +the surface, as he soon did, he was out of danger from their shot. + +"O dear!" cried he, "I shan't ever get ashore; I never could swim +much." + +The waves threw him against the plank. + +"O! a shark! a shark!" shouted John, "now don't;" and he grasped hold +of the plank in a frenzy of fear. He soon discovered the friendly aid +it would afford him, and held on to it with the tenacity of despair. + +In less than half an hour the Raker came up. John was noticed from its +deck, and a brawny tar seizing a rope and taking two or three turns of +it round his left arm sprang overboard to rescue the half unconscious +cockney. + +As the sailor seized him, John, supposing it to be a shark, uttered a +loud cry and lost all sensation. In this condition he was hauled up to +the deck of the privateer, where, upon recovering his senses, he found +to his great surprise and joy, that instead of being in the belly of +some voracious fish, like Jonah of old, he was in safety, and +surrounded by the crew of his former vessel, the Betty Allen, +including his master. + +The poor fellow was severely wounded by a pistol shot, in the arm, but +regardless of this he was wild in his demonstrations of joy, +especially when told that his young mistress had also escaped. + +Captain Greene found that he had gained little, if any, upon the +pirate during the night, and became convinced that he must again +commence firing upon her, trusting to some lucky ball to carry away a +spar, or failing, to allow the villains to escape the punishment they +so richly deserved, not only for their inhuman treatment of the crew +of the Betsy Allen, but doubtless for numerous other crimes committed +upon the seas, as savage in their conception, and more successful in +their execution. + +The long gun was again uncovered, and a shot dispatched from its huge +portals after the pirate brig. The first ball fired fell short of the +brig, striking the water directly in its wake, and ricochetting again +threw up the water beyond it. + +A succeeding ball, however, did some execution, crashing through her +top-gallant forecastle, but without in any degree lessening her speed. +As every fire from the Raker lessened her speed, Capt. Greene became +exceedingly anxious that no balls should be thrown away, and commanded +Lieut. Morris to point the gun, having more confidence in his skill +than in that of the gunner. The young officer aimed the gun carefully, +and as it was fired three cheers arose from his crew, as they +perceived the pirate's mizzen-mast fall away. + +"She is ours," cried the lieutenant. + +"Stand by, men, to take in sail," shouted the captain. "We will draw +near enough," continued he to Morris, "to fire into her at our +leisure, a pirate is not entitled to a more honorable warfare, and he +seems also to greatly outnumber us in men." + +As the privateer approached the pirate they could not but admire the +singular beauty of her build. She rose and fell upon the waters as +gracefully as a free and wild ocean bird. The long red lines of her +port-holes swept with a gentle curve from stem to stern, and her stem +was so sharp that the bowsprit seemed rather to terminate than to join +it. Twelve carronades occupied a double row of port-holes, and the +deck seemed crowded with men, all armed with cutlases and pistols. + +"A formidable looking set," said Captain Greene, as he laid aside his +glass, "keep the gun lively." + +An ineffectual fire opened upon the privateer from the pirate, but +though they had a swivel of pretty heavy calibre, turning on its axis +amidship in such a manner as to menace at will each point of the +horizon, it was evident that its force was far less than the long gun +of the privateer. + +A well aimed shot brought down the pirate's fore topsail-yard, which +hung in the slings, and succeeding shots did much injury to her masts +and rigging, and at length the main-topmast fell over the side. + +The scene on board the pirate, during this unequal warfare, was one +approaching perplexity and disorder. Their commander stood by the +helm, gazing at the privateer, his brow clouded with angry thought, +and giving little heed to the movements of his crew. He was aroused +from his abstraction by the voice of one of his officers. + +"Captain, this is bad business, what is to be done?" + +The captain gazed at him in silence. + +"The crew are alarmed, and demand of you some relief from this +harassing state. Our guns will not reach the chase, and we cannot +leave her in this crippled state." + +At this moment a heavy ball from the privateer whizzed by them and +buried itself in the main-mast of the brig. + +The captain seemed fully aroused. His eyes flashed with their wonted +fire. He turned toward his crew, and saw at a glance the state of +depression which had fallen upon them all. He even overheard some +muttered words of complaint. + +"Pat," says one, "this seems to be playing a rough game, where nothing +is to be won on our side." + +"Faith, an' ye may say that, but we stand a chance to gain one thing." + +"What may that be, Pat?" + +"O, a two-inch rope, and a run up to the fore yard-arm." + +"The devil! That's not a pleasant thought, Pat." + +"No, but they say it's an aisy death." + +"Silence, men," was heard in the deep tones of the captain's voice. + +In a moment all was still, and every eye turned toward the +companion-way, on which the captain stood, resting one hand upon the +main-boom, as he was exceedingly weak from the wound inflicted by the +ball of Captain Horton. + +"My brave fellows," said their leader, "do not be alarmed, we shall +not be hanged this time. Is our situation any worse than it has been +in times heretofore? Trust in me. Have I ever deceived you--have I +ever failed yet? You know I have not. Where we cannot conquer by fair +battle, we must use stratagem. Be watchful and ready, and we will yet +not only escape yonder vessel, but stand upon her deck as masters." + +The confidence with which he spoke inspired his followers with like +feeling, and with countenances relighted by hope, they returned to +their several stations. Their reliance upon their commander was +unbounded. He had so often triumphed when even greater difficulties +opposed, that they already felt sure of ultimate delivery, now that he +had been restored to his former energy--they had mistaken the lethargy +into which pain and weakness had thrown him for the torpor of despair. +Again the joke and laugh went round, and already they began to compute +their respective shares of booty in the vessel so soon to be theirs, +they knew not how. + +"Haul down the ensign, in token that we surrender," cried the captain. + +A murmur of indignation and surprise arose from the crew. + +"What, men, do you doubt me? 'Tis but a feint. Haul down the flag and +take in sail." + +The men obeyed with alacrity, for they already clearly comprehended +the plan of their leader. It was his intention to entice the privateer +alongside, and, well aware of his own superiority in numbers, to make +a sudden onset upon her deck, and thus, contrary to all laws of +honorable warfare, seize by foul means what could not be obtained in +any other way. + +These pacific indications were viewed with some surprise on board the +privateer. + +"By Heaven!" cried Lieut. Morris, "she's tired of this game soon." + +"Well, she had no other way to do; as it was we should have sunk her +without receiving a shot." + +"It was a losing game for her, true enough." + +"Lay the brig alongside of her," shouted Captain Greene to his men. + +As his men with a cheer began to unfurl all sail, Captain Horton +approached the commander of the privateer. He had up to this period +ventured no interference, both from matter of delicacy, and because he +saw nothing to disapprove of in the course pursued by Captain Greene. + +"My dear sir," said he, as he laid his hand upon the arm of the +captain of the privateer, "allow me to say a word." + +"Certainly, sir," replied the courteous commander. "I ought sooner +than this to have asked your advice." + +"I would not place too great confidence in the pirate's signal of +surrender." + +"Do you apprehend foul play?" + +"Recollect the savage brutality which the fiend has already evinced, +and judge for yourself whether he is worthy of being trusted at all." + +"You are right, sir. Lieut. Morris," continued he, turning to his +young officer. + +"Ay, ay, sir." + +"Load the long gun with grape and canister, and wheel it abaft--load +the larboard guns the same way. Now, my men, don't run too near her. +She must send a boat aboard." + +The privateer approached within half a cable's length of the pirate. + +"Ship ahoy!" cried Captain Greene. + +No answer came from the pirate, but her head was rounded to, so as to +bear directly down on the Raker. + +"Answer me, or I'll fire into you." + +"Fire and be d--d," came from the deck of the pirate, and at the same +time a broadside was poured into the Raker, which killed two or three +men at the guns, and severely wounded Captain Greene. + +"Lieut. Morris," cried he, "take the command of the vessel," and +falling on the deck he was immediately carried below. + +The young officer was fully equal to the emergency of the occasion. At +a glance he perceived that the pirate in the confusion which ensued +from his unexpected broadside, had fallen foul of the privateer's +rigging, and the crowd of his crew in his bow and fore-rigging, all +with cutlases drawn, and ready to spring aboard the privateer, plainly +announced the intention to board. + +"All hands to repel boarders," shouted Morris, and drawing his cutlas +he sprang forward, followed by his men. + +A well contested struggle ensued, the American seamen, indignant at +the foul deceit which had been practiced upon them, fought like +tigers, and for a time kept the pirates at bay--they had indeed, +notwithstanding their superior numbers, nearly driven them from the +deck, when the form of their commander appeared among them. In +consequence of his wound he had, contrary to his custom, entrusted the +command of the boarders to his first lieutenant, and had remained upon +his own vessel watching the fight. He sprung among his crew, with a +sword drawn, and a tight sash bound around his waist, from which the +dark blood was slowly oozing, his wound having burst away from its +ligaments. + +"Cowards!" he shouted, "do ye yield--ye are two to their one." + +Leaping to their front, he struck down a sailor and plunged into the +thickest of the fight. Reanimated by the presence of their leader, who +had so often led them to victory, a new spirit seemed to light up the +fainting courage of the pirates, and with a fierce yell they rushed +forward. The American crew were compelled to fall back before the +fierce assault. At the head of his men Lieut. Morris several times +crossed swords with the pirate captain, but the swaying of the fight +separated them. Perceiving that his men were slowly yielding, though +in good order, Lieutenant Morris, cool and collected, cheered their +courage, and at this moment thought of the long gun which had been +drawn up, loaded to the muzzle with grape and canister, against the +companion-way, and a man with a lighted match stationed by it. + +"Fall back to the quarter-deck," cried the young officer. + +They retreated in close array, and uncovered the mouth of the huge +gun. At the sight of this a cry of dismay broke from the foremost of +the pirates, who broke the front rank, and many of them escaped for +the time by leaping into the sea. + +"Fire," cried Lieut. Morris. In a moment he was obeyed. Wild cries of +agony arose amid the gathering smoke, which, as it rolled away, +revealed a horrible sight. Not a living pirate stood upon the deck of +the privateer. A dense mass of bodies, writhing in pain, lay upon the +fore-deck, and many of the pirates who had jumped into the sea were +seen scrambling up the sides of their own vessel; the pirate chief +lay dead at the head of his followers, foremost in death, as he had +been in life. It was a terrible and revolting scene--the scuppers +literally ran with blood, the bulwarks were bespattered with brains +and pieces of scalps; several limbs were strewn about, and the entire +deck covered with the dead or dying. + +While the crew of the Raker stood for a time awe-struck at the +desolation they had themselves made, the pirates, ferocious to the +last, had regained their own ship and cut her adrift, and as they paid +off fired a broadside into the Raker, which injured several of her +men. Roused by this, the privateersmen rushed to their guns. The +larboard guns, in obedience to the order of Captain Greene, were +already loaded with grape; while with the starboard Morris commanded +his men to keep up a steady fire at the masts and rigging. + +A fortunate shot from the Raker struck the helms-man on board the +pirate, shattering at the same time the tiller. In a moment the brig +was up in the wind, and taken aback, throwing the pirates into +confusion. + +"Ready about," cried Morris, leaping from the carronade-slide on which +he had raised himself, and taking in at a glance the exposed position +of the enemy--"head her round, and stand ready to give the rascals a +taste from our larboard quarter." + +The Raker ranged across the bows of the pirate, and before he could +regain his headway, raked him with a tremendous broadside of the same +deadly missiles which had already destroyed so many of their comrades. +The wild cries of anguish which arose from the clouds of smoke told +with what destructive effect the death-bolts had been hurled. + +The pirate now paid off and returned an ineffectual broadside, but +rendered ungovernable by the loss of her head-sails and tiller, he +immediately broached-to again, and the privateer poured in another +terrible discharge of grape and canister, raking him fore and aft, +then heaving-to and taking up a position on his bow, she fired +broadside after broadside into him in rapid and deadly succession. The +main-mast now fell over the side, and the pirate at the same time fell +off before the wind, and drew out of the deep mantle of smoke which +had for some time covered both vessels. As the smoke slowly curled up +from the deep it was seen that not a living man was visible upon the +deck of the pirate. Several of her guns were dismounted, and her masts +so cut away that she lay upon the waters a helpless and disabled +wreck. Yet the red ensign of death, though rent into ribbons, still +fluttered from the peak, and the young lieutenant hesitated to board, +having learned caution from the treachery of the pirate. + +While the crew of the Raker were thus occupied in watching their +enemy, a light female form was seen to issue from the hatchway and +gaze around the deck of the pirate. She passed from body to body, but +seemed not to find what she sought. At length she turned her eyes, +streaming with tears, toward the Raker, and pointing to the flag above +her, as if to indicate that there was no one to lower it, she knelt +upon the deck, bowing her head upon her hands. Her long hair fell +over her forehead and trailed upon the blood-stained deck, as she +knelt in mute despair among the dying and the dead. It was a mournful +and singular picture of wo, and there were eyes long unused to tears +that filled to overflowing as they gazed upon her. + +A boat was immediately lowered, and Lieutenant Morris with a dozen of +his crew were soon in possession of the pirate's deck. Upon examining +the brig it was found that she was fast filling with water, and after +conveying to the Raker all that they could lay hands on of value, +including a large amount of precious metal, she was left to her fate. +Not one of her crew was found living, so destructive had been the +continual discharge of grape from the Raker. Florette accompanied them +on board, and wept bitterly as she saw the dead body of the pirate +commander lying in front of his slaughtered followers, but suffered +herself to be led below by Julia, who received her with kindness and +gratitude. + +All sail was now set upon the privateer, and she bore away from the +sinking craft of the pirate upon her former course. The latter vessel, +traversed in every direction by the Raker's terrible fire, was rapidly +settling into the ocean. Suddenly, with a sound like the gushing of an +immense water-spout, a huge chasm opened in the waves--the doomed brig +seemed struggling as if with conscious life, and then lashing the +waters with her shattered spars and broken masts, went down forever +beneath the deep waters, over whose bosom she had so long rode as a +scourge and a terror, with blood and desolation following in her wake. + +Among the effects of the pirate captain which had been conveyed on +board the Raker, a manuscript was found, which seemed to be an +autobiography of his life. For what purpose he had written it can +never be known--most probably from an impulsive desire to give vent on +paper to thoughts and feelings which he could not breathe to any +living person, and which he doubtless supposed would never be perused +by human eye--they show that, savage, and lawless, and blood-thirsty +as he had become, strong and terrible motives had driven him into his +unnatural pursuit, and perchance a tear of pity may fall for him, as +the gentle reader peruses the private records of the scourge of the +ocean. + + +CHAPTER VI. + +_The Pirate's Story._ + +I am the youngest son of a gentleman of the northern part of England. +My father's family is as good as any in the county, for without laying +claim to any title of nobility, our blood is as pure and our lineage +as ancient as the most boasted in England. I had but one brother, who +succeeded at our father's death to the broad lands and rich heritage +of our name. The accursed law of primogeniture, to which I owe all the +evil that has befallen me, of course debarred me from all share in the +family estate. I had refused to enter the army, the church or the +navy, though my inclinations were in favor of the latter profession; +yet a stronger claim than ambition or a roving life kept me on the +paternal estate. It was not that I envied my brother the possession of +the wide bounds over which he ruled, or that I found less happiness in +witnessing his, for I loved my brother, as God is my witness, here, in +my lonely cabin, with this great sea around me, and this broad sky +above me; here, though no eye may ever see these lines, I write, do I +repeat it, I loved my brother dearly and proudly. It was love that +kept me idle at home while other young men of England, belonging to +the same position in society as myself, and in the same unfortunate +category of younger sons, were carving out for themselves fame and +wealth in the service of their country. + +Helen Burnett was the loveliest girl I have ever seen, and I loved her +with all the passionate devotedness of a young and ardent heart; she +was to me the light of life, for all was dark when I was not with her. +She was the only daughter of our village curate, and resided near our +family mansion. We had sported together beneath the venerable trees of +the park from the earliest days of childhood. Until I left home for +college she had seemed to me as a sister, and I had loved her as such +until, on returning home from a long absence at college, I found a +blushing and beautiful young woman where I had expected, forgetting +the rapid work of time, to meet with the same playful and lovely child +I had kissed at parting. She was, indeed, beautiful; tall, graceful, +and even commanding in figure, while the mildness of an angel reposed +in the glance of her deep-blue eyes, and the sweet smile that so often +visited her lips, while her pleasantly modulated voice was music +itself. + + "A lyre of widest range, + Touched by all passion--did fall down and glance + From tone to tone, and glided through all change of liveliest + utterance." + +Her hair was of the darkest shade of brown, resting in soft wave-like +smoothness above her high, pale forehead. Alas! that she was _so_ +lovely! had she been less so, either I might not have loved her, or I +might have been permitted by fortune to have been happy with her. + +After leaving college, my time was all devoted to Helen. She loved me +no less than I loved her; and I looked forward to a quiet and happy +life, picturing the future with colorings of the brightest hope and +joyfulness. + +It was at this time that my brother returned from a long tour of the +Continent. He was one of the handsomest men of the day, and had been +distinguished by the appellation which had accompanied him from court +to court, of "the handsome Englishman." He was of a medium stature, +and faultlessly proportioned; his expansive and intellectual forehead +seemed the seat of lofty thought, and his dark flashing eye, intensely +expressive, seemed to penetrate to the heart of all who met its +glance. I see him now--not in his glorious beauty, but pale--pale, +touched by the cold fingers of death. + +I had too much of the pride of my race to live as a dependent on my +brother's bounty, yet I could not bear the thought of leaving Helen. I +was in no situation to marry, and in an undecided state of mind I +suffered the days to glide away. + +My brother had just come back from a day's angling in the trout-stream +that flowed through his lands. He met me at the park-gate. + +"Well, John," said I, "what luck to-day?" + +"O, William," said he, without heeding my question, "I have seen the +most charming girl--the loveliest one that breathes. She outvies all I +have seen in my travels; do you know her. She is the curate's +daughter." + +I felt a sickness at heart, like the bitterness of death--was it a +presentiment, a warning of evil to come. + +"Say, William?" + +"Yes--yes, she is lovely." + +"She is an angel." + +Sir John passed into the park, and I proceeded, with a strange +melancholy I could not dispel, to meet Helen. She was at her father's +door, and greeted me with her accustomed kindness of voice and manner. + +"Why are you so sad this lovely evening William?" + +"Sad!--am I sad?" + +"You look so." + +"Well, I will be so no longer, then;" and I endeavored to shake off my +depression, but not succeeding, I bade her farewell at an earlier hour +than was my custom. + +From that day my brother's angling excursions became more +frequent--but he seldom returned with a full basket. He often spoke to +me of Helen, but I always replied carelessly, and changed the topic of +conversation to something else, yet when alone, I was in continual +torment from my thoughts. I endeavored to console myself with the +reflection that Helen's love was plighted to me, and that she would +not change, yet my thoughts were continually recurring to my brother's +great advantages over me in every respect, not only in fortune but in +personal appearance; and I had already, in my suspicions, placed him +in the light of a rival for the hand of Helen. I knew his high-minded +and honorable disposition too well to fancy for a moment that he would +attempt her ruin; and I also knew that there was nothing in the +inferior station of Helen's family that would prevent him from seeking +her hand in marriage, if she had compelled his love. + +All that followed might perhaps have been prevented had I at first +told my brother frankly of my love for Helen; but a foolish desire to +prove her love for me, and a certain feeling of self-respect kept me +silent. + +It was not a long time before I either saw, or fancied I saw, a change +in the manner of Helen toward me--the thought was torture. I was for +days undecided how to act, but at length determined to learn the true +state of things. I knew my brother was often at the parsonage, and I +trembled for the result. + +"Helen," I asked her, "is not my brother a frequent visitor here?" + +It was twilight, but I thought I observed a heightened color in her +cheek. + +"Yes, he has been here several times since his return." + +"Dear Helen, answer me frankly, has he ever spoken to you of love?" + +She hesitated, but at length replied, + +"He has." + +"And did you not tell him your vows were plighted to another?" + +"My father entered the room before I made any reply at all." + +"Helen, do you love me now the same as ever you have done?" + +"You have my plighted word, William." Yet there was something +bordering on coldness even in the sweet accents with which she spoke; +the nice instinct of love detects each gradation of feeling with an +unerring certainty. I was not satisfied, and when I left her, I was +more unhappy than ever. I longed to speak to my brother on the +subject, yet some indescribable feeling prevented me; and I allowed +the days to glide away, growing more and more troubled in mind as they +passed by. + +I was now convinced that Helen's affection for me was not what it had +been; and after a short interview with her, in which she had again +repeated her love for me, but in such chilling tones that I felt it +was not from the heart she spoke, I sought the chamber of my brother +in a state almost bordering on madness. All of our race have been of +ungovernable passions, but none more so than myself. I paused at his +door to regain in some degree my self-command, then lifting the latch, +I entered. + +"Ah, brother!" said Sir John, in a cheerful tone. + +"Yes, your younger brother," replied I, bitterly. + +Sir John started with wonder. + +"Why, William, what mean you?" + +I paid no heed to the interruption, but continued growing, if +possible, still more enraged as I proceeded. + +"Are not all the broad lands of our family estate yours--its parks, +its meadows, its streams; this venerable mansion, where the _elder +son_ has rioted for so many generations, leaving the younger to make +his way in the world as best he may." + +"Brother, are you mad? My purse is yours--I have nothing that is not +yours." + +"You have every thing, and not content with that, you have sought to +win away the love of my affianced bride." + +"Who mean you, William?" + +"Helen Burnett." + +My brother turned pale, and gazing upon me for a moment with +astonishment, he heaved a deep sigh, and covered his face with his +hands. + +I folded my arms, and stood looking upon him scornfully, for my +passion had made me consider him in the light of one who had knowingly +stolen away my bride. + +Sir John at length uncovered his face and spoke. + +"I would to God, William, you had told me this sooner." + +"Is it then too late?" I inquired, bitterly. + +"Too late--too late for my happiness, but not too late for justice and +honor. She is yours, William, I resign all pretensions to her hand, +and will cease to visit the parsonage." + +I was touched by the generous spirit of my brother, and by the +mournful shadow which clouded his noble brow. I have ever acted from +impulse, and seizing him by the hand, I said, + +"Not so, John--not so! She is, as I have told you, my affianced bride; +her solemn and oft-repeated vows are mine, and I have thought that her +love was forever mine; but this very night I plainly perceived that a +change has been wrought in her feelings. She treated me with coldness +instead of warmth, and maddened by my interview with her, I rushed +into your presence, and have blamed you unjustly." + +"My dear brother--" + +"No, no, John, I was wrong to accuse you. I should have better known +your nobleness. Henceforth let us stand on equal ground; I do not want +an unwilling bride, and if you can win her love from me, take her, +though it drive me mad." + +A gleam of pleasure passed over Sir John's countenance as he replied, + +"Be it so, my brother, it is but honorable; yet will I at once resign +all hope, and leave the country if you but will it so." + +"Sir John, have you reason to think that Helen loves you?" + +"She has never said so, but I did not think she looked coldly upon +me." + +"She is 'false, false as hell!'" + +"My dear William, however this suite terminate, any thing in my power +shall be done for you. If the estates were not entailed, I would at +once give you a deed for half of them, and then I should have no +advantage over you in wealth or position. Here is an order for a +hundred thousand pounds." + +"Sir John I will accept nothing; if I lose Helen, I shall have no more +to live for, and I warn you, if I become mad from disappointment, do +not cross my path, or I know not the consequence." + +"You do not threaten me." + +I felt the turbulent passions of my nature rising within me, and +fearing that I should lose all self-command, I rushed from the room, +and entering the silent park, I wandered from grove to grove till the +cool air of the night had calmed my raging spirit, when I sought my +own chamber. + +I had never told the worthy curate of my love for his daughter, and +Helen had never been accustomed to depend on him for advice or +consolation. It was to her mother that she had always turned for both, +and that mother had died but a year before the return of my brother. +Mr. Burnett was a quiet student, passionately fond of his books, as +innocent of the world as a child, only fretful and peevish when any +thing occurred to disturb the quiet monotony of his existence, and +apparently unconscious that his little Helen had grown from a child +to a woman. His mind was wholly wrapped up in his studies, even at his +meals it was abstracted, and he retired hastily to his closet. Helen +had no inclination to disturb the serenity of his life, until it +became absolutely necessary that he should be made acquainted with her +engagement to me; and I had been too thoughtless of all but my own +happiness to intrude upon his privacy, confident that his sanction to +our marriage would not be refused whenever demanded. + +I had yet to learn the lesson, bitter and agonizing, that no woman is +proof against the captivating temptations of ambition, and the glare +of wealth. I know but little of the sex; they are called angels, and I +had thought Helen was an angel--alas! I found my mistake. I read my +doom in the averted coldness of her glance; I felt it in the unwilling +pressure of her hand whenever we met, and I knew it when I gazed upon +the countenance of my brother, on which was a quiet glow of happiness +his expressive features could not conceal, even when he knew my +searching glance was upon him. O! the agony of feeling which oppressed +me in those bitter days; I felt all the savage passions of my nature +rising within me; there were moments when I felt as if I could gladly +see my brother and Helen stretched dead at my feet. Day by day these +vindictive thoughts increased within me. It wanted but the finishing +stroke to make me completely mad--it came. Though I had long dreaded +to make the trial, on which all my happiness for this world rested, I +at length determined to put it off no longer. + +The shadows of twilight were settling over the earth as I slowly and +sadly approached the parsonage. My head was bowed upon my breast as I +walked with a noiseless step upon the little path that led to the +unpretending dwelling. I was not aware how near I had come, till a ray +of light from the window fell across the path, and recalled me to +myself. As I stopped, I heard the tones of my brother's voice in low +and earnest conversation. I drew nearer, and beheld a sight which +rooted me to the spot, even though I was not wholly unprepared for +such a scene. + +My brother and Helen were seated in the little arbor before the +parsonage, as she and myself had often before sat when I fancied our +love was lasting as life. In the dim light I could see that my +brother's arm was round her waist, and that her head rested upon his +shoulder. I could hear their conversation. + +"And you do love me, then, Helen?" + +I heard no answer, but the long curls moved slightly upon my brother's +shoulder, and as he bent his head and kissed her, I felt that he was +answered--I was answered--that he _was_ loved. + +My brain burned as if on fire--and I sunk to the earth with a low +groan. How long I remained unconscious I do not know; when I +recovered, Helen and Sir John stood beside me. I sprung to my feet, +and gazed upon them with the glare of a maniac. It was so--my brain +was crazed. + +"William," said Helen. + +Her soft voice fell upon my ears with a singular cadence. With a +fierce laugh I struck my brother to the earth, and rushed forth into +the forest. All that night I must have wandered through its depths. I +found myself at the break of day miles from our mansion, lying beneath +an aged oak. I did not seem to know myself. I cannot now describe the +feelings and thoughts which raged within me. The wild storm which is +now lashing the ocean without my cabin is not more wild and +fierce--the black sky above me is not more dark and gloomy. They +seemed at length to settle into one stern, unchanging emotion, and +that was hatred toward my brother, and a stern determination to +revenge upon him the cruel wrong which had driven me mad. + +My path led along the course of a mountain torrent, whose sudden +descent as it hurried toward the river, formed successive water-falls +not unmusical in their cadence. A few purple beech and drooping +willows with here and there a mountain ash, skirted the ravine that +formed its bed; their leaves had fallen before the blasts of autumn, +they seemed emblematic of myself; like me their glory had +departed--they were shorn of their loveliness by the rough storm, left +bare and verdureless in the chilling breath of autumn; the seasons in +their round would restore to them their beauty and their bloom, +clothing their branches again in all the freshness of youth; but what +should give back to me the freshness and youth of the heart? what +restore the desolation of of the soul? + +Weak and exhausted, I flung myself down in a rude grotto, which +commanded a view of the foaming stream as it washed the rocks below; +it was a scene fitted to my mood, for I turned in disgust from the +beautiful landscape an opening in the forest revealed--the beauty of +earth had forever passed away from me. That same opening, however, +unfolded to the sight the gray towers of my family mansion, and at +once I started to my feet and bent my course toward them. + +At length I reached my home--how hateful every thing about the +venerable building seemed. I stole to my chamber, and falling upon my +couch, slept from pure exhaustion. + +It was night when I awoke. I arose, but did not leave my room; seated +by the window with the cold wind of November blowing upon my burning +brow, I nursed my thoughts of vengeance. I forgot that he against whom +I harbored such thoughts was my only brother; I forgot my self-offered +trial of our powers with Helen; I forgot every thing--every thing but +the fiery feeling of revenge. Yes, I was mad. + +Day after day I wandered around the old castle, shunning every one. My +brother strove to converse with me, but glaring upon him like a maniac +as I was, I rushed past him. I felt the poison of hatred working +within me, and I knew the time was coming when my revengeful spirit +would find its vent. + +I often wandered toward the parsonage, but never sought an interview +with Helen. At times I caught a glimpse of her light form as it passed +by a window or before the open door that led into the hall. One +evening I saw my brother enter, and drawing near the window, I saw +through the slightly-parted curtain, such evidence of their mutual +affection, that, if possible, I became more than ever crazy in my +anguish and despair. I waited for him to come out long hours, hours to +me of bitterest sorrow, to him of most intense delight. It was an +exceedingly cold night. A slight snow had fallen during the day, and +the landscape around me glistening in the moonlight, seemed wrapped in +a robe of the purest white. Yet as I gazed all seemed to turn into the +deep hue of blood--wherever I gazed, every thing presented the same +fearful coloring. It was but the shadowy reflection of a coming deed +that should forever stain my soul with a deeper red, that the years of +eternity could never efface. + +At length my brother opened the door of the parsonage and came forth. +Leaning against the trunk of an old tree but a little distance from +them, I saw and heard the parting acts of endearment. At that terrible +moment the determination of my soul was made, and I heard the dark +devil within me whisper one of you must die. I shuddered at the +thought, but when scarcely out of sight of the parsonage, almost as +soon as the door had closed upon the form of Helen, I confronted my +brother. Sir John started back, surprised. + +"What, William, is it you?" + +I laughed scornfully. + +"My poor brother!" + +"Do you dare to pity me--ha! ha! ha! Sir John! one of us must die this +night--here, upon this spot; here are two pistols, take one of them, +and it will be soon seen which is the fated one." + +Sir John mechanically took the pistol; cocking my own, I retired a few +paces, and turning, exclaimed, + +"Are you ready?" + +My words recalled him to himself; flinging his pistol far into the +wood, he exclaimed, + +"I will not fire at my brother." + +"Coward!" + +"The name belongs not to our race; fire at me if you will, I will not +at you." + +Enraged beyond expression, yet even in my madness ashamed to fire at +an unarmed man, I hesitated. + +My brother spoke. + +"Come, William, let us go home." + +"Home!--ha! ha! ha! my home is the wood and the cave! Here, take my +good-night." + +Thus speaking I flung my pistol full at his face with all my strength; +it struck him lengthwise, and being cocked, went off in consequence of +the concussion. + +Sir John fell upon the cold snow. I rushed up to him, and beheld the +blood flowing in torrents from a ghastly wound; the ball had taken a +downward direction, and penetrated the abdomen. + +"William," he said, faintly, "you have murdered me. God forgive you!" + +It seemed as if my reason came back to me at that terrible moment as +suddenly as it had left me. At the report of my pistol, I had heard a +loud scream in the parsonage, and almost at the same time with myself +Helen rushed up to the side of my brother. + +"Oh!" she cried, in accents of agony, "who has done this?" + +"Who!" said I, bitterly, "do you ask? You have done it; but no, Helen, +I do not mean it--let us carry him into the parsonage." + +With difficulty we lifted the body of my brother, and bearing him into +the house, laid him upon a bed. Helen, who had up to this time been +sustained by the necessity of exertion, fainted beside the body. I +stood gazing upon them in stupid despair. The worthy pastor opened the +door of the room; he had heard an unusual noise, and left his books to +learn the cause. + +I stopped not to converse with him, I could not trust myself to speak, +but stooping to the lifeless form of Helen, I imprinted a last kiss +upon her pale lips, and burst from the chamber. I do not know the +result of that fatal night. It may be that my brother and Helen were +both restored to life and happiness. God grant that it was so. It may +be that the spirits of both had already passed to another world when I +broke from the room, leaving the pale and astonished pastor gazing +upon the lifeless bodies of his only daughter and the young lord of +the manor. Years have passed since then, and not a happy hour have +their long ages borne to me; yet methinks if I could but know that my +brother and Helen are living in happiness in the mansion of my +fathers, much that is dark and despairing in the remnant of life would +be taken from the future. + +That night I bade farewell to the haunts of boyhood, and the next day +I was out upon the broad ocean. I had jumped aboard of a little vessel +which was just weighing anchor, without asking its destination or +caring where it bore me. I made brief reply to all interrogatories, +merely showing a purse of gold, which was sufficient answer, inasmuch +as it showed I was not to be an unprofitable part of the cargo. + +Seated upon the companion-way, that evening I watched the receding +shores of my native isle, and as the sunlight went out on its white +cliffs, leaving them in sombre shade, I felt that so had the light of +my life gone out, leaving the darkness of despair forever. Reckless as +I was of the future, and dark as was the past, I was not yet dead to +all emotion, and I could not witness my native land fading from my +view without experiencing those melancholy feelings which the +endearing recollections of former years excite, embittered as they +were with me by the thought that even if I ever should return to the +home of my fathers, I should find no kindred to welcome me back. No +wonder, then, that I felt a chilling sickness of the heart as I caught +a last glimpse of the Wicklow Mountains gleaming in the warm colorings +of the evening sun, as they mingled their hoary summits with the "dewy +skies" of my native isle. + +The vessel on which I had chanced to take passage was bound for the +West Indies. It was a small merchantman, and fell an easy prey to the +first pirate that gave chase. We were boarded and all consigned to +death. When the command was given to the pirates to shoot us all +through the head, I stepped forward with a smile, and a heart +partaking more of gladness than it had felt for long months, a pistol +was at my temple, when the stern voice of the pirate captain commanded +his man to stay his hand. He stepped forward and gazed into my face. + +"My fine fellow, are you not afraid to die?" + +"I have nothing to live for--blow away, and I will thank you." + +"By heaven, you are just the man for us! Now take your choice, I have +no objection to shoot you, indeed it would be rather pleasant than +otherwise, but one of my lieutenants was killed yesterday, and you can +fill his place if you will. I give you five minutes to decide while we +are dispatching these dogs." I gazed upon the cruel work--it did not +shock me; I even smiled at their agony, and had determined to share +their fate, when a momentary thought of the unknown, mysterious +hereafter restrained my advancing step. Am I ready, thought I, to +plunge into its mysteries. I shuddered at the thought. It was not the +beautiful blue sky unrolled above me, nor the broad, playful sea +around that wooed me to life. No, it was that fear of the "something +after death." + +"Are you ready to answer?" + +"I am thine." + +"It is well, throw these carcasses into the sea, and set all sail for +the Bermudas. Well, lieutenant," continued he, as the ship fell off +before the wind, "give us your name, or it will be awkward work +hailing you." + +"William--" I stopped, the pride of my race arose within me. + +"Well?" + +"I will not give my name--call me William, I'll answer to that." + +"Very well--lieutenant William, my lads, your second lieutenant." + +The men seemed to like me from the first, and as I gazed upon them +with a proud, fearless eye, a hearty cheer arose that endorsed my +command. + +Since then my home has been the pirate's deck; my heart has grown +harder and harder with the lapse of time. I love the sight of blood +better than I love the flowing wine--the agonizing shriek of death +better than the sweetest music--like an emissary of evil I gloat over +the tortures of man. I have learned to hate the land of my birth, and +all who first drew breath upon her detested soil. I have been foremost +in every conflict, yet have I not met death--the only foe whom I +cannot conquer by my fierce will and dark heart. + +I could not long remain a subordinate in command. I had become the +idol of our lawless crew, and a single blow from my sword laid our +captain low in death upon his own deck; and I filled his place, +smiling with a fiendish pleasure, as I saw his body thrown into the +waves, and the hungry sharks severing the limbs yet throbbing with +life. I have no feeling for my kind--yet I was not meant for this. +Under happier auspices, I might have been a leader in the ranks of God +as I am now in those of Satan; my sword might have been drawn for my +native land with the purest and loftiest feelings of patriotism, +instead of being turned against her and her children. Even now, in the +midst of my crimes and desolation, my heart throbs when I think of the +great and good of earth, and I feel that, like them, I might have left +a name of boast and pride to mankind; now, I shall perish, unknown and +unwept; the annals of my house shall never record that one of its +scions led a pirate crew to deeds of bloody cruelty and death. Long +since I have buried my name in oblivion--I am dead to my kindred, dead +to the world; the caves of ocean are yawning for the body of the +pirate-chief, and there will he sleep with the howling ocean and the +shrieking storm to sing his requiem and his dirge. + + [_To be continued._ + + + + +DREAMS. + + + Yes, there were pleasant voices yesternight, + Humming within mine ear a tale of truth, + Reminding me of days ere the sad blight + Of care had dimmed the brightness of my youth: + Yes, they were pleasant voices; but, forsooth, + They threw a kind of melancholy charm + Around my heart; as if in vengeful ruth, + Our very dreams have knowledge of the harm + Ourselves do to ourselves, without the least alarm! + + I love such dreams, for at my couch there stood + One who, in other lands, with magic spell, + Had taught my untaught heart to love the good, + The pure, the holy, which in her did dwell. + It was a lovely image, and too well + I do remember me the fatal hour, + When that bright image--but I may not tell + How deep the thraldom, absolute the power-- + My very dreams decide it was her only dower. + + _Sandwich Islands._ + + What are our dreams? A sort of fancy sketches, + Limned on the mind's retina, with a grace + More subtle than the wakeful artist catches, + And tinted with a more ethereal trace. + Our dreams annihilate both time and space, + And waft us, with magnetic swiftness, back + O'er an oblivious decade to the place + Where youth's fond visions clustered o'er our track; + Of youth's fond hopes decayed, alas! there is no lack! + + I love such dreams, for they are more than real; + They have a passion in them in whose birth + The heart receives again its beau ideal-- + Its Platonized embodiment of worth. + Call ye them dreams! then what a mortal dearth + Throws its gaunt shadow o'er our little life! + Our very joy is mockery of mirth, + And our quiescence agony of strife: + If dreams are naught but dreams, what is our real life? + + E. O. H. + + + + +A LEAF IN THE LIFE OF LEDYARD LINCOLN. + +A SKETCH. + +BY MARY SPENCER PEASE. + +It was in the joyous leaf-giving, life-giving month of June, of 18--, +after an absence of six years, that I found myself once more among my +own dearly loved native hills. + +An intense worshiper of Nature, I had gratified to the utmost my +passion and curiosity by exploring all the accessible regions of the +old world. I had studied every scene that was in any way famous, or +_in_famous I might say with regard to some, if the necessity of +clambering down or up unclimbable precipices, or wading through +interminable swamps, could render them so. + +With all the fatigue and hardships I had undergone my reward was +great, and had more than repaid me for the perilous dangers I had +courted and conquered. I had gazed, and dreamed, and raved by turns. I +had been melted into tears of tenderness by the perfect harmony and +loveliness of some scenes, and had been frozen into awe by the +magnificent grandeur and terrible sublimity of others. And, after +those six years of travel in foreign lands, I had returned, my brain +one endless panorama of hills, valleys and cloud-capped mountains, +earth, skies, wood and water. Not one of those gorgeous scenes, +however, had moved me as I was moved when once again I beheld my +boyhood's home--the stately mansion of my fathers. Half hidden, it +rose majestically amid the noble elms that surrounded it; there lay +the velvet-green sloping lawn in front--down which, as a boy, I had +rolled in the summer and sledded in the winter--there the wild, +night-dark ravine in the rear--fit haunt for elves and gnomes--that +terminated amid jagged rocks and tangled trees, in a rushing, roaring +brook of no mean dimensions, almost as large as many of the so-called +rivers of the mother country. Just at this point, at the turn of the +old time-worn stage-road, where the venerable, picturesque old +homestead of my sires burst thus suddenly into view, an opening in the +trees, whether by accident or design, revealed one of the very +merriest, maddest of musical water-falls, that went foaming and +tumbling its snow-white, sparkling waters over a bed of huge rocks, +and then, by a sudden wilful bend, that same loud-uttering brook was +lost to view. + +As the rattling stage neared my home, my heart leaped within me, and +every fibre of it trembled with emotion. I could have hugged and +kissed each familiar sturdy old tree, looking so grand and natural. My +soul warmed and yearned toward the well remembered scene; and as I +thought upon my fond, doting mother and my loving, lovely sisters, and +my ever-indulgent father, I could have wept in the intensity of my +joy at finding myself so near them, and breathing the same free, pure, +health-giving air that had nurtured my childhood. But was there not +sitting directly opposite to me one of the most exquisitely beautiful +of God's lovely women; and did not her saucy, demure eyes seem to read +my very soul? I therefore restrained a display of my feelings, for it +would not have appeared in the least dignified or proper in a +fine-looking young man (such as I imagined myself to be) of +four-and-twenty, to be seen with eyes streaming like a young girl. + +More than once, during our short stage-coach ride had our eyes met; +and hers had revealed to me a living well of spiritual beauty; and +although they were withdrawn as soon as they encountered mine--not +coquettishly, but with true feminine modesty--still they were not +turned away until our mutual eyes had flashed one electrical spark of +mutual understanding and mutual sympathy, that whole volumes of dull +words could never express either as vividly or as truly. What a +heaven-born mystery is contained in the glance of an eye: it can kill +and can make alive; it can fill the heart with a sudden and delicious +ecstasy, and it can plunge it into the deepest, darkest despair. + +I gave her one last look as the stage stopped before my father's door, +and if it expressed one tithe of what I felt, it told her of my warm +admiration of her glorious beauty, and of my sorrow at leaving her, +perhaps forever, without knowing more of her. + +For the time the matchless image of my stage-coach companion was lost +in the loving embraces and tender greetings of my family. I felt it +truly refreshing, after six years of exile from my own kith and kin, +to be caressed and made much of; to be told by three deliciously +beautiful, exquisitely graceful sisters, hanging around one, and +kissing one every other word, to be told how much the few last years +had improved one, how handsome, &c. one was grown; was it not enough +to somewhat turn one's brain, and make one a little vain and +considerably happy. + +In the still hush of the night, after finding myself once more in my +own room--_my_ room, with its cabinets of shells and mosses, that I +had collected when a boy in my various trips to the seashore, all +religiously left arranged as I had left them, its guns, fishing-rods, +stuffed rabbits and birds, its preserved rattle-snakes and cases of +insects, all of which had stood for so long a time in their respective +places that they had become a part of the room--in the still hush of +the night the divine image of my most beautiful stage-coach companion +arose before me. The evening was warm and soft, and gleaming in the +gorgeous moonlight lay that wild, weird ravine, and the ever downward, +foaming water-fall. Its musical utterings, the delicious moonlight, +and my own newly awakened and hitherto invulnerable heart, all +conspired to make me poetical and inspired, or at least to imagine +myself to be so; and pardon me if I gave utterance in verse to some of +my feelings. But do not in the least imagine that you are going by any +means to be presented with a fatiguing copy of my passionate numbers; +in the first place I am very diffident, and in the next--but never +mind the next, I will tell you in plain prose that I felt convinced in +my heart, I felt a rapturous presentiment that the unutterably lovely +being I had that day beheld would ere long be my own dear little wife, +forever and forever. An indistinct dream of having somewhere, at some +time before, known her haunted me and tormented me, but I racked my +brains in vain to recollect the spot or time, and finally came to the +conclusion that it had been in another state of existence we had met. + +I had been home but a few days when business letters came, demanding +the presence of my father or myself in Philadelphia. My father +expressed a desire that I should go, and a certain internal prompting +urged me to comply with his request. The next morning bright and early +found me seated in the same stage-coach in which I had met her. The +due progress of steamboat and cars deposited me safely the day after +in the goodly city of Squareruledom. + +The first leisure moment at my command, I paid my respects to the +family of my father's brother. I found my good uncle and aunt at home; +but my little pet Emily--their only child--whom I had last seen a rosy +romping little imp of twelve--was unfortunately out. My uncle urged me +very hard to make his house my home during my stay in Philadelphia; +but I had taken up my abode in the family of an old college chum of +mine, who had lately commenced the practice of the art of healing, and +who I knew would be none the worse from a little of my help in a +pecuniary way. I therefore declined my kind uncle's request, with a +promise to come and see them often. + +Judge of my inexpressible joy when, turning a corner of a street, +after leaving my uncle's, who should I chance upon but the very being +of whom my brain and heart were full! Yes, there was the identical +she, and bless her dear little heart! she gave me a bright half smile +of recognition, which I returned with as profound a bow as ever +courtier bowed to queen, or devotee to Pope's sublime imperial toe. + +An omnibus came rolling by, which she, with a motion of her neat +little gloved hand, bid stop. She stepped lightly into it, while I, +with my usual impetuosity, without knowing exactly what I was doing, +sprang after her. I consoled myself for my apparent rudeness by +throwing the entire blame upon the elective affinities. + +On we went, and from time to time as I stole a glance at her sweet +face, I thought I detected a sly, mischievous little devil playing +around the corners of her small dimpled mouth, and about the pure lids +of her downcast long-fringed eyes. She never vouchsafed me a look, +however; and as we went on, and as I still watched her lovely face, a +dread vision arose up before me of a six-foot and well proportioned +youth, with fierce whiskers and a moustache of undisputable cut and +style, that I remembered to have seen with the young lady during our +stage-coach ride together--that I remembered, with a terrible +heart-sinking, was impressively attentive to her. I inwardly resolved +to let nature have her way, and let all the hair grow on my face that +would; what if it did grow a little reddish or so--why I should +resemble the rising sun, with my glory like a halo around me. +Seriously, I have long been of the opinion that a shaved face is as +much of a disgrace, and ought to be so considered, as a shaved head +fresh from prison. Why do we not finish the half completed work and +actually shave off the hair of our heads, our eye-brows and lashes, as +well as our beards, and thus go cool and comfortable through the +world? There would be this advantage in it, the disciples of Spurzheim +would have no trouble of making a map of our bumps at sight; and then +think what an immense saving it would be in combs and brushes, to say +nothing of pomatum, which some so freely use. I rejoice sincerely to +see the sudden rise in crops of hair, and most truly hope they will +not have as rapid a fall. Shaving is artificial and injurious, +exposing parts to cold that Nature never meant should be exposed. +Black, white or red--hair is a protection and ornament that no manly +face or head should be without. Rejoice ye, therefore, over every +repentant sinner who tarrieth in Jericho and letteth his beard to +grow. + +But to return to my little omnibus companion, who by this time was +gracefully moving over the smooth gravel-walks of Fairmount--for there +we had stopped--and exceedingly refreshing were its cool shades and +splashing fountains on that sultry June day. I kept as near her as I +could without appearing rude, especially as I had received one or two +half glances from her bright eyes, that nearly annihilated me, such an +unearthly fluttering and bumping in the region of my heart did they +create. Mercy upon me! what would a whole glance do? And for a whole +glance I courageously resolved to strive, let the consequences be what +they might. + +Now do you not expect an earthquake, or a roaring bull, or at least a +rabid dog? It was nothing more however than a refreshing shower of +rain--truly refreshing to my thirsty soul, for it gave me that coveted +_whole_ glance. Heavens! I actually staggered, and would undoubtedly +have fallen had it not been for a friendly sappling--you will sneer at +witless I--that grew near me. But just try the effect upon yourself--a +shock of electricity is nothing in comparison to a shock from a pair +of bright eyes--such eyes as hers. The truth of the case was here, of +a sudden, apparently from out the clear sky, came down, with not a +moment's warning, a perfect avalanche of rain-drops--all expressly got +up, or down, for my benefit, else why did I happen to have an umbrella +in my hand? "A Wise man--" you remember the rest. My beautiful +incognito was away up those long stairs, and walking leisurely around +the immense basin, when the rain came down. I was not very far from +her, and in less than an instant my umbrella was over her pretty +little blue bonnet, with-- + +"Be kind enough to accept my umbrella, Miss"--in the most insinuating +manner of which I was master. + +"Thank you! but I will not deprive you of its shelter," with that +whole glance of which I spoke. So on we went together, and somehow +after we found ourselves under shelter, it was the easiest and most +natural thing in the world to fall into a pleasant conversation. After +talking about the scenery, weather, &c., we had mutually enjoyed +during our short stage ride, I spoke of the beauty around us, and +asked her if she often visited this lovely spot. + +"Not very often," replied she. "It is very beautiful though, in spite +of all they have done to spoil it." + +"To spoil it!" + +"Yes, by making it as much like a chess-board as possible, all +straight lines and stiffness. That is Philadelphia however." + +"Then you are not a Philadelphian, or it is not a favorite city with +you?" + +"There you are mistaken. It is my native place, and a city I love +dearly--with all its formalities and inhospitalities toward strangers. +Philadelphia is a prim matron, with a warm heart but a most frigid, +repulsive exterior, until you become acquainted with her--one of her +particular children." + +"I have been told that there is a finer collection of works of art +here than in any other city in the Union." + +"I believe you have been told correctly. We have more time in our +quiet way to look after and admire the productions of the great +masters. Our taste has wonderfully improved within a few years." + +"I have not been in town long enough to visit any of your show places +yet." + +"How I _should_ like to see that lovely water-fall and the whole of +that beautiful scene on canvas. Do you know I almost envied you a home +in that beautiful house with all its picturesque surroundings." + +"I am truly thankful you had the kind grace to think of me at all." + +"How could I help it? I had a feeling the first moment I saw you that +you and I were destined to be friends. Is there not a certain +mysterious something--call it magnetism or instinct--that either draws +us toward or repels us from every person we meet in either a greater +or less degree? With me this instinct is very strong, and I obey it +implicitly, never in one instance having found it to fail. I know at +once who to trust and who to love. And would know, by the same +unerring law of my nature, who to hate if ever I felt the least +inclination to hate. The only feeling of hate I ever experienced is a +strong desire to avoid all persons or things that are disagreeable to +me. I love harmony the most perfect, and discord is a thing for me to +flee from. I felt toward you a most decided drawing, and I felt a +conviction then, as I do now, that we are to be very near and dear +friends." + +The little angel! I could have hugged and kissed her on the spot; but +I hugged her in my soul, and inwardly vowed to consecrate my life to +her, if the "drawing" she felt for me could be rendered sufficiently +strong to admit of such a thing. On a sudden I bethought me of the +whiskered incognito, her stage attendant. I mustered courage to ask +her in a half laughing way, if that fine-looking fellow she had called +Charles were her brother. + +Instantly her manner changed from that of sweet and almost tender +seriousness to an arch, quizzical one that puzzled me. + +"Oh no, not my brother," said she. + +"_Not_ her brother--a sharp pang of pain shot through me--I was +getting dreadfully jealous--I looked all manner of curiosity and all +manner of questions; she took pity on me and said--a smile still +lurking in the corner of her eye-- + +"He is no more nor less than the intended future husband of the one +you see before you." + +"The future devil! I sincerely beg your pardon, but--you take me by +surprise--I regret--but really I do not feel that it can be so." + +"And why not?" + +"Truly, why not!" + +"He is very handsome." + +"That is as one thinks." + +"And very accomplished." + +"In flattery, most like." + +"And a most profound scholar." + +"In the art of making love, it would seem." + +"But I do not love him." + +"Not love him!" + +"No, nor never can." + +"Then why, my dearest young lady, do you marry him?" + +"You may well ask; why indeed?" + +"You seemed very friendly with him the day I saw you together, and +happier than I could have wished you." + +"That was before I knew I was to be his wife. It has only been decided +upon a few days." + +"And now?" + +"It is a long story, that I may tell you if we should meet again. I +never can love him, though I greatly esteem him, and--" + +"_Esteem!_" + +"A sad substitute for love; but what is love without esteem?" + +"What is esteem without love?" + +"Very true. It was not my own doing, although I reluctantly gave my +consent. If I can with honor release myself from this unfortunate +engagement--I have thought more and more every day since, that love, +true heart-love, is the only tie that should sanction the union of two +beings--but why should I talk in this way to you, a stranger? I cannot +feel, however that you are a stranger; we have surely met before in +some other state of being. I am a firm believer in the beautiful faith +of the transmigration of souls--of pre-existence. What is it that +brings two congenial souls together, uniting them in one hour in more +perfect harmony than whole years could effect among ordinary +acquaintances?" + +"Something unexplainable," I answered, "as it is mysterious. We can +call it elective affinity, and can talk very learnedly upon the +singular attraction of the magnet, as applied to the poles as well as +souls, and we can make vast and wise experiments, and in the end be as +far from the real cause as we were before the Solomonic experiments +were made. The school-boy's reasoning was more to the point-- + + "I do not like you, Dr. Fell, + The reason why I cannot tell." + +I love you dearly, Dr. Fell, the reason why, &c., would be just as +conclusive. We are so accustomed to seeing drops of water drawing near +to meet each other, and mingling in a loving embrace of perfect unity, +that we cease to wonder at the occurrence, as we do also at the fact +that oil and water will not mingle." + +"Just as my soul will _not_ mingle with the souls of some. There is an +antagonism more or less decided between my inner self and many persons +I know; people, too, that I am compelled to be friendly with, and wish +to be friendly with, many of them my cousins and aunts. Then again +toward some am I as irresistibly attracted." + +Her beautiful eyes sought mine frequently during our conversation, and +her glorious soul looked through them--earnest, simple and pure. + +"Just so," resumed she, after a pause, during which her sweet, soft +eyes had been gazing on the dreamy waters. "Just so have I felt +attracted toward you. I could sit down beside you and tell my whole +soul to you as freely as though you were my own brother." + +The word _brother_ sent a disagreeable shiver through me that all her +sweet confidence could not banish. + +"But," exclaimed she, starting up, "what am I doing? The rain has +stopped, and the waning sun warns me that it is time to be at home. +And what _must_ you think of me? I hardly dare to ask the--" + +"That you are the most lovely, most glorious of all Heaven's glorious +creatures; that you--" + +"There, there! if you talk in that way, I shall truly repent having +said all I have to you." + +"Forgive me; though I spoke sincerely, I hope--" + +"I will forgive on condition of good behavior in future. But I must +not stay for another word. Promise me that you will not leave this +spot until ten minutes after the omnibus I shall be in is out of +sight." + +"I promise," said I, reluctantly. + +She gave me her little, soft, ungloved hand at parting; its gentle +pressure sent a thrill of ecstasy through me, and I looked all the +unutterable things that my full soul felt into her warm brown eyes. +And, by the way, I may as well say that my own eyes are--they are a +dark, deep blue, and strangely expressive, if I believe my sisters +and my friends, and--my own glass. + +For one week did I wander up and down the streets, and watch every +omnibus, and stare into the windows and doors of every house I passed. +I peered under every pretty bonnet I met, and was, on the eighth day, +giving full chase to a coquettish little blue one, in the earnest hope +of finding the sweet face of my beautiful incognita hidden under it, +when some one laid a strong grasp on my shoulder, and looking around, +I beheld the generous face of my good uncle. + +"Bless the boy! why, Led, what is your hurry? Your business must have +been _very_ urgent this last week. Why, in the name of all the saints, +have you kept away so studiously? There is poor little Emily actually +dying with anxiety to see you. Bless my soul! is this the way to treat +your friends? But now that I have fairly captured you, I do not intend +to let you go." + +And he did not, and would not; so I had to go with him. And what do +you think? The first object that met my bewildered gaze, as my uncle +led me into the drawing-room, was--herself! her very self! but so +altered, looking so cold and stately. My uncle introduced me to her as +"My daughter Emily, nephew Ledyard." "My daughter Emily" inclined her +beautiful head most graciously, and sweetly smiled, but not one +recognizing glance did she deign to bestow on poor "nephew Ledyard." +Lovely she was, and proud and majestic as a queen. What could it mean? +I made several well-planned alluions to omnibuses and stages, &c., not +one of which did she seem to comprehend. + +Her exceeding beauty still charmed me in spite of her coldness; and I +stayed to tea and then the evening. My cousin sung for me; her voice +was highly cultivated and exceedingly sweet, and full of feeling. Song +after song she poured forth into the listening air, and each song +entranced me more than the last. + +We conversed gayly on several topics, and she grew more and more +familiar with me, alluded playfully to our childish intimacy; still, +to the very close of the evening, did she refuse to remember by look +or word that we had met since children. She evidently wished to +forget, and wished me to forget the whole of that pleasant interview +that had afforded _me_, at least, such soul-felt delight; yet she +acted her part so well, was so careless and unconscious, and withal so +cold and full of queenly dignity, that I went home in a perfect +bewilderment of amazement. + +As I lay tossing on a sleepless bed, and in my heart bitterly railing +against the perversity and incomprehensibility of women, I found +myself incessantly repeating to myself, "Am I Giles, or am I not;" the +truth flashed upon me that I was the unhappy victim of an optical +illusion, that the Cousin Emily I had but a little before left was +simply my Cousin Emily, and not the beautiful being of whom my heart +and life were full--that incessant thinking of her, and seeking her, +had crazed my brain. I relighted my lamp and made my way into the +doctor's study. I read all I could find on the subject of optical +delusion and maniacal hallucination until I convinced myself that I +was laboring under a very alarming attack of one or both, and resolved +on seriously consulting my friend, the doctor, early the next morning. + +I went back to bed with the decided opinion that I was exceedingly to +be pitied--how would it appear in the papers? for I must undoubtedly +grow worse, and it must undoubtedly end in suicide. "Sad occurrence," +"nice young man," "brilliant prospects," "only son of--," and +"promising talents," "laboring under incipient insanity," "fatal cause +unknown," &c., &c. I sympathized with myself until near morning, then +fell into a sleep, which lasted until the bell rung for breakfast. I +dressed in a hurry, and got down before the muffins were quite cold. I +ate a hearty breakfast, read a newspaper or two, and determining on +seeing my cousin again before I made up my mind to ask advice, I soon +found myself at her door. The fresh morning air and the walk had so +invigorated me, that I laughed at my last night's fears, especially as +my lovely cousin came into the drawing-room to receive me, radiant +with health and beauty. I found her just the same as she was the night +before, gay, witty and charming, and as cold as marble. Still I could +not be mistaken; for, with all her feigned coldness--for some good +reason of her own undoubtedly--there was no doubting her identity with +that of my glorious Fairmount vision. + +The day was a lovely one, soft and mild as a June morning could make +it. After conversing on indifferent subjects for a time, I asked her, +remarking on the deliciousness of the morning, if she would not like +to go out with me to Fairmount. She assented with a quiet smile, as +innocently as though she had never in her life before heard of such a +place as Fairmount. + +"The little-deceiver!" thought I. "Which way shall we go?" said I, +aloud, and very significantly, "shall we take the omnibus?" + +"I will order the carriage," replied she, with a slight shrug; "I +never ride in those omnibusses, one meets with such odd people." + +"_Never?_" asked I, emphatically. + +"Certainly, never!" answered she, with much apparent surprise. + +My drive was a delightful one. How could it be otherwise, with a +glorious day surrounding me, and a gloriously beautiful cousin sitting +beside me, with whom I could not exactly make up my mind whether to +fall desperately _in_ love, or desperately _out_ of love. I, too, such +an enthusiastic lover of beauty. But she chose to be so different from +what she was at our first meeting--so reserved, that I could not +decide whether I most loved or was most indifferent to her. + +We rode all the morning, and I left her, promising to call again in +the evening. I walked the streets until dark, the whole affair vexed +me so much--I, such a hater of all mysteries, the most impatient of +all breathing mortals. I determined to come at once to an +understanding with my perverse little cousin, and to decide at once +the puzzling question whether to love or not to love. + +In the evening I found myself alone with my little tormentor. + +"Now, sweet Cousin Emily," said I, playfully, "you have been teazing +me long enough with your pretty affectation of ignorance and +innocence--not but that you are as ignorant as the rest of your sweet +sex, and as innocent too--but, I beseech you, lay by this +masquerading, you have played possum long enough. I humbly implore of +you to be the same to me that you were in our first visit to +Fairmount--the earnest, simple-hearted Cousin Emily you then were." + +"Mr. Lincoln speaks in enigmas; I must confess I do not understand his +meaning, nor his elegant allusion to 'playing possum.'" + +This she said with so much haughtiness, that I was taken all aback. +Rallying, however, in a moment I determined not to give up the point. + +"I beseech of you to pardon the inelegance of my expression, and also +my pertinacity in insisting upon some explanation of your manner +toward me. It will all do very well for the stage," continued I, +bitterly, "but in real life, among cousins, and two that have met so +frankly, and in such sincerity, I feel that our acquaintanceship must +at once end, pleasant as it has been, as it might be to me, unless you +lay aside this assumed coldness. It harasses me more than I can +express. Emily, after seeing you in the stage-coach, I thought I had +never met with one half so lovely, and I could think of nothing but +you. After remaining at home but one week, business called me to +Philadelphia. Judge of my delight when almost the first object that +met my view was your beautiful, unforgotten little self. You were just +stepping into one of those very omnibusses you have since seen fit to +decry. What followed you must remember as distinctly as I--no _not_ as +distinctly, for the whole of that delicious interview is engraven on +my heart--one of the sun-bright scenes of my life that I can never +forget. And now, after that beautiful interchange of thought and soul +that promised--every thing, do I find you cold, impassive. If you +repent the trust you so freely reposed in me, in all frankness, say +so; but for the sweet love of heaven, do not pretend to such--" + +"For the sweet love of heaven what is the man raving about? Are you +mad, dear cousin, insane? Poor Cousin Ledyard! Or is it--?" her whole +manner changed, her brilliant eyes lighted up with intense fire. How +beautiful she looked! I could have knelt and worshiped her, though, +strange to say, my restless, ardent love for her had entirely abated. +"Yes!" exclaimed she, "it must be so;" and with that she clasped her +small white hands, and throwing back her fine head, laughed with all +her heart, and strength, and soul. + +This was very pleasant for me; still I had to join her laugh, it was +so genuine and infectious. + +"Forgive me, dear cousin, forgive me for my rude laughter; forgive me +also for my folly in attempting to deceive you. You will hereafter +find me the same you found me in our first pleasant interview. Here is +my hand--I will not explain one other word to-night; I hear voices on +the stairs. Come here to-morrow evening at eight, and you shall know +all--all my reasons." + +"And why not to-morrow morning, cruel cousin?" + +"I am engaged all of the day to-morrow. I go with mamma and papa out +of town, ten miles or so, to dine; a stupid affair, but mamma wishes +it." + +"But before you go--just after breakfast." + +"No, no--come in the evening." + +By this time the voices heard on the stairs had entered the room in +the shape of a merry half-dozen of my cousin's young friends. Feeling +too agitated for society, I withdrew. + +And now another night and a whole day more of suspense--that pale +horror, that come in what shape it will, even in the shape of a +beautiful cousin, always torments the very life from my heart. + +All the clocks in town were striking eight as I rung my uncle's bell. +I found the drawing-room full of company, at which I felt vexed and +disappointed. + +My lovely cousin came up to me and placed her arm within mine, and led +me through the next room into the conservatory, and there, seated amid +the rare eastern flowers, herself the queen of them, was, gracious +heaven! I dared scarcely breathe, so great was my fear of dispelling +the beautiful illusion. It was she! none other; my stage-coach +companion--my Fairmount goddess. The musical, measured voice of my +statue-like Cousin Emily brought me to myself. + +"Allow me. Cousin Ledyard, to introduce you to _my_ Cousin Emily." + +There they both stood, one Cousin Emily, calm, stately, serene; the +other trembling and in blushes. + +I looked from one to the other in the most ludicrous bewilderment, yet +each glance showed me more and more what a wonderful fool I had been +making of myself for the last few days. Still they were strangely +alike; their own kindred could not at times distinguish one from the +other. My heart could feel the difference. _My_ Emily was a child of +nature, the other bred in a more conventional school. My Emily was a +shade less tall, less stately, less Grecian, and exquisitely more +lovely, and loving. + +But that double wedding _was_ a grand one. By what means my Emily +contrived to disentangle herself from that handsome-whiskered +"Charles," and to entangle him fast in the chains of the other Emily, +any one who wishes to know, and will take the trouble, can have all +due information on the subject, and can also learn how I wooed my +peerless Emily and won her, by coming to our lovely picturesque +dwelling, situate in one of the most romantic spots in the country. I +write you all to come, one by one, and spend a month with me, and you +shall know all the particulars. You will find my little Emily a +pattern housekeeper; you will also find a ready welcome. Bless her +sweet face! There she sits, at the moment that I am writing this to +you, with her willow arms twined around the exquisite form of her +little lily-bud boy, and bending low her graceful form over him, +hushing to sleep the very bravest, noblest, merriest little specimen +of babyhood--the exact image of his enraptured father. + + + + +THE DEFORMED ARTIST. + +BY MRS. E. N. HORSFORD. + + + The twilight o'er Italia's sky + Had wove a shadowy veil, + And one by one the solemn stars + Looked forth serene and pale; + As quickly the waning light + Through a high casement stole, + And fell on one with silver hair, + Who shrived a passing soul. + + No costly pomp and luxury + Relieved that chamber's gloom, + But glowing forms, by limner's art + Created, thronged the room: + And as the low winds echoed far + The bell for evening prayer, + The dying painter's earnest tones + Fell on the languid air. + + "The spectral form of Death is nigh, + The thread of Life is spun, + Ave Maria! I have looked + Upon my latest sun. + And yet 'tis not with pale disease + This frame is worn away, + Nor yet--nor yet with length of years-- + A child but yesterday" + + "I found within my father's hall + No fervent love to claim-- + The curse that marked me from my birth + Devoted me to shame. + I saw upon my brother's brow + Angelic beauty lay, + The mirror gave me back a form + That thrilled me with dismay." + + "And soon I learned to shrink from all, + The lowly and the high; + To see but scorn on every lip, + Contempt in every eye. + And for a time e'en Nature's smile + A bitter mockery wore, + For beauty stamped each living thing + The wide creation o'er;" + + "And I alone was cursed and loathed; + 'Twas in a garden bower + I knelt one eve, and scalding tears + Fell fast on many a flower; + And as I rose I marked with awe + And agonizing grief, + A frail mimosa at my feet + Fold close each fragile leaf." + + "Alas! how dark my lot if thus + A plant could shrink from me; + But when I looked again I marked + That from the honey-bee, + The falling leaf, the bird's gay wing, + It shrunk with pain and fear, + A kindred presence I had found, + Life waxed sublimely clear." + + "I climbed the lofty mountain height + And communed with the skies, + And felt within my grateful heart + Strange aspirations rise. + Oh! what was this humanity + When every beaming star + Was filled with lucid intellect, + Congenial, though afar." + + "I mused beneath the avalanche, + And traced the sparkling stream, + Till Nature's face became to me + A passion and a dream:" + Then thirsting for a higher lore + I left my childhood's home, + And stayed not till I gazed upon + The hills of fallen Rome. + + "I stood amid the forms of light, + Seraphic and divine, + The painter's wand had summoned from + The dim Ideal's shrine; + And felt within my fevered soul + Ambition's wasting fire, + And seized the pencil with a vague + And passionate desire" + + "To shadow forth, with lineaments + Of earth, the phantom throng + That swept before my sight in thought, + And lived in storied song. + Vain, vain the dream--as well might I + Aspire to build a star, + Or pile the gorgeous sunset clouds + That glitter from afar." + + "The threads of life have worn away, + Discordantly they thrill, + But soon the sounding chords will be + Forever mute and still. + And in the spirit-land that lies + Beyond, so calm and gray, + I shall aspire with truer aim-- + Ave Maria! pray!" + + + + +A FAREWELL TO A HAPPY DAY. + +BY FRANCES S. OSGOOD. + + + Good-bye--good-bye, thou gracious, golden day: + Through luminous tears, thou smilest, far away + In the blue heaven, thy sweet farewell to me, + And I, through _my_ tears, gaze and smile with thee. + + I see the last faint, glowing, amber gleam + Of thy rich pinion, like a lovely dream, + Whose floating glory melts within the sky, + And now thou'rt passed forever from mine eye! + + Were we not friends--_best_ friends--my cherished day? + Did I not treasure every eloquent ray + Of golden light and love thou gavest me? + And have I not been true--most true to thee? + + And _thou_--thou earnest like a joyous bird, + Whose sacred wings by heaven's own air were stirred. + And lowly sang me all the happy time + Dear, soothing stories of that blissful clime! + + And more, oh! more than this, there came with thee, + From Heaven, a stranger, rare and bright to me, + A new, sweet joy--a smiling angel-guest, + That softly asked a home within my breast. + + For talking sadly with my soul alone, + I heard far off and faint a music-tone, + It seemed a spirit's call--so soft it stole + On fairy wings into my waiting soul. + + I _knew_ it summoned me to something sweet, + And so I followed it with faltering feet; + And found--what I had prayed for with wild tears-- + A rest, that soothed the lingering grief of years! + + So for that deep, perpetual joy, my day! + And for all lovely things that came to play + In thy glad smile--the pure and pleading flowers + That crowned with their frail bloom thy flying hours-- + + The sunlit clouds--the pleasant air that played + Its low lute-music 'mid the leafy shade-- + And, dearer far, the tenderness that taught + My soul a new and richer thrill of thought-- + + For these--for all--bear thou to Heaven for me + The grateful thanks with which I mission thee! + Then should thy sisters, wasted, wronged, upbraid, + Speak _thou_ for me--for thou wert not betrayed! + + 'Twas little--true--I could to thee impart-- + I, with my simple, frail and wayward heart; + But that I strove the diamond sands to light, + In Life's rich hour-glass, with _Love's_ rainbow flight; + + And that one generous spirit owed to me + A moment of exulting ecstasy; + And that I won o'er wrong a queenly sway-- + For this, thou'lt smile for me in Heaven, my Day! + + + + +SAM NEEDY. + +A TALE OF THE PENITENTIARY. + +BY LOUIS FITZGERALD TASISTRO. + + +Several years ago, a man of the name of Samuel Needy, a poor artisan, +was living in London. He had with him a wife, and a child by this +wife. This artisan was skillful, quick, intelligent, very ill-treated +by education, very well-treated by nature--able to think, but not to +read. One winter his work failed him--there was neither fire nor food +in his garret; the man, the woman, and the child were cold and hungry; +he committed a theft; it is unnecessary to state what he stole, or +whence he stole it. Suffice it to know, that the consequences of this +theft were three days' food and fire to the wife and child, and five +years of imprisonment to the man. + +Sam Needy, lately an honest man, now and henceforth a thief, was +dignified and grave in appearance; his high forehead was already +wrinkled, though he was still young; some gray lines lurked among the +black and bushy tufts of his hair; his eye was soft, and buried deep +beneath his lofty and well-turned eye-brow; his nostrils were open, +his chin advancing, his lip scornful; it was a fine head--let us see +what society made of it. + +He was a man of few words--more frequent gestures--somewhat imperious +in his whole manner, and one to make himself obeyed; of a melancholy +air--rather serious than suffering; for all that he had suffered +enough. + +In the place where he was confined there was a director of the +work-rooms--a kind of functionary peculiar to prisons, who combined in +himself the offices of turnkey and tradesman, who would at the same +time issue an order to the workman and threaten the prisoner--put +tools in his hand and irons on his feet. This man was a variety of his +own species--a man peremptory, tyrannical, governed by his fancies, +holding tight the reins of his authority, and yet, on occasion, a boon +companion, jovial and condescending to a joke--rather hard than +firm--reasoning with no one--not even himself--a good father, and +doubtless a good husband--(a duty, by the way, and not a virtue;) in +short, evil but not bad. The principal, the diagonal line of this +man's character was obstinacy; he was proud of it, and therein +compared himself to Napoleon, when he had once fixed what he called +_his will_ upon an absurdity, he went to its furthest length, holding +his head high, and despising all obstacles. Such violence of purpose +without reason, is only folly tied to the tail of brute force, and +serving to lengthen it. For the most part, whenever a catastrophe, +whether public or private, happens amongst men, if we look beneath the +rubbish with which it strews the earth, to find in what manner the +fallen fabric had been propped, we shall, with rare exceptions, +discover it to have been blindly put together by a weak and obstinate +man, trusting and admiring himself implicitly. Many of the smaller of +these strange fatalities pass in the world for providences. Such was +he who was the director of the work-rooms in the House of Correction +where poor Sam Needy was sent to undergo his sentence. Such was the +stone with which society daily struck its prisoners to draw sparks +from them. The sparks which such stones draw from such flints often +kindle conflagrations. + +In a short time Sam found the prison air natural to him, and appeared +to have forgotten every thing; a certain severe serenity, which +belonged to his character, had resumed its mastery. + +In about the same time he had acquired a singular ascendency over all +his companions, as if by a sort of silent agreement, and without any +one knowing wherefore, not even himself. All these men consulted him, +listened to him, admired and imitated him, (the last point to which +admiration can mount.) It was no slight glory to be obeyed by all +these lawless natures; the empire had come to him without his own +seeking--it was a consequence of the respect with which they beheld +him. The eye of a man is a window, through which may be seen the +thoughts which enter into and issue from his heart. + +Place an individual who possesses ideas among those who do not, at the +end of a given time, and by a law of irresistible attraction, all +their misty minds shall draw together with humility and reverence +round his illuminated one. There are men who are iron, and there are +men who are loadstone. Sam Needy was loadstone. In less than three +months he had become the soul, the law, the order of the work-room; he +was the dial, concentrating all rays; he must even himself have +sometimes doubted whether he were king or prisoner--it was the +captivity of a pope among his cardinals. + +By as natural a reaction, accomplished step by step, as he was loved +by the prisoners, so was he detested by the jailers. It is always +thus, popularity cannot exist without disfavor--the love of the slaves +is always exceeded one degree by the hate of their masters. + +Sam Needy was, by his particular organization, a great eater; his +stomach was so formed, that food enough for two common men would +hardly have sufficed for his nourishment. Lord Slickborough had one of +these large appetites, and laughed at it; but that which is a cause of +gayety for a British peer, with a rent-roll of fifty-thousand pounds +a year, is a heavy charge to an artisan, and a misfortune to a +prisoner. + +Sam Needy, free in his own loft, worked all day, earned his four +pounds of bread, and ate it; Sam Needy, in prison, worked all day, +and, for his pains, received invariably one pound and a half of bread, +and four ounces of meat; the ration admits of no change. Sam was +therefore constantly hungry whilst in the House of Correction; he was +hungry, and no more--he did not speak of it because it was not his +nature so to do. + +One day Sam, after devouring his scanty pittance, had returned to his +work, thinking to cheat his hunger by it--the rest of the prisoners +were eating cheerily. A young man, pale, fair, and feeble-looking, +came and placed himself near him; he held in his hand his ration, as +yet untouched, and a knife; he remained in that situation, with the +air of one who would speak, and dares not. The sight of the man, and +his bread and meat annoyed Sam. + +"What do you want?" said he, rudely. + +"That you would do me a service," said the young man, timidly. + +"What?" replied Sam. + +"That you would help me to eat this--it is too much for me." + +A tear stood in the proud eye of Sam; he took the knife, divided the +young man's ration into two equal parts, took one of them, and began +eating. + +"Thank you," said the young man; "if you like, we will share together +every day." + +"What is your name?" said Sam. + +"Heartall." + +"Wherefore are you here?" + +"I have committed a theft." + +"And I too," said Sam. + +Henceforth they did thus share together every day. Sam Needy was +little more than thirty years old, but at times he appeared fifty, so +stern were his thoughts usually. Heartall was twenty--he might have +been taken for seventeen, so much innocence was there in his +appearance. A strict friendship was knit up between the two, rather of +father to son than brother to brother, Heartall being still almost a +child, Sam already nearly an old man. They wrought in the same +work-room--they slept under the same vault--they walked in the same +airing-ground--they ate of the same bread. Each of these two friends +was the universe to the other--it would seem that they were happy. + +Mention has already been made of the director of the work-rooms. This +man, who was abhorred by the prisoners, was often obliged, in order to +enforce obedience, to have recourse to Sam Needy, who was beloved by +them. On more than one occasion, when the question was, how to put +down a rebellion or a tumult, the authority without title of Sam Needy +had given powerful aid to the official authority of the director; in +short, to restrain the prisoners, ten words from him were as good as +ten turnkeys. Sam had many times rendered this service to the +director, wherefore the latter detested him cordially. He was jealous +of him; there was at the bottom of his heart a secret, envious, +implacable hatred against Sam--the hate of a titular for a real +sovereign--of a temporal against a spiritual power; these are the +worst of all hatreds. + +Sam loved Heartall greatly, and did not trouble himself about the +director. One morning when the turnkeys were leading the prisoners, +two by two, from their dormitory to the work-room, one of them called +Heartall, who was by the side of Sam, and informed him that the +director wished to see him. + +"What does he want with you?" said Sam. + +"I do not know," replied the other. + +The turnkey took Heartall away. + +The morning past; Heartall did not return to the work-room. When the +dinner hour arrived, Sam expected that he should rejoin Heartall in +the airing-ground--but no Heartall was there. He returned into the +work-room, still Heartall did not make his appearance. So passed the +day. At night, when the prisoners were removed to their dormitory, Sam +looked out for Heartall, but could not see him. It would seem that he +must have suffered much at that moment, for he addressed the +turnkey--a thing which he had never done before. + +"Is Heartall sick?" was his question. + +"No," replied the turnkey. + +"Why is it, then, that he has not again made his appearance to-day?" + +"Ah," replied the turnkey, carelessly, "they have put him in another +ward." + +The witnesses who deposed to these facts at a later period, remarked, +that at this answer, Sam's hand, in which was a lighted candle, +trembled a little. He again asked, calmly, + +"Whose order was this?" + +The turnkey said "Mr. Flint's." + +The name of the director of the work-rooms was Flint. + +The next day went by like the last, but no news of Heartall. + +That evening, when the day's work ended, Mr. Flint came to make his +usual round of inspection. As soon as Sam Needy saw him, he took off +his cap of coarse wool, buttoned his gray vest, sad livery of the +work-house, (it is a principle in prisons, that a vest, respectfully +buttoned, bespeaks the favor of the superior officers,) and placed +himself at the end of his bench, waiting till the director came by. He +passed. + +"Sir," said Sam. + +The director stopped and turned half round. + +"Sir," said Sam, "is it true that Heartall's ward has been changed?" + +"Yes," returned the director. + +"Sir," continued Sam, "I cannot live without Heartall; you know that +with the ration of the house I have not enough to eat, and that +Heartall shared his bread with me." + +"That was his business," replied the director. + +"Sir, is there no means of getting Heartall replaced in the same ward +as myself?" + +"Impossible! it is so decided." + +"By whom?" + +"By myself." + +"Mr. Flint," persisted Sam, "the question is my life or death, and it +depends upon you." + +"I never revoke my decisions." + +"Sir, is it because I have given you offence?" + +"None." + +"In that case," said Sam, "why do you separate me from Heartall?" + +"_It is my will_" said the director. + +With this explanation he went away. + +Sam Needy stooped his head and made no answer. Poor caged lion, from +whom they had taken his dog! + +The grief of this separation in no way changed the prisoner's almost +disease of voracity. Nor was he, in other respects, obviously altered. +He did not speak of Heartall to any of his comrades. He walked alone +in the airing-ground, in the hours of recreation, and suffered +hunger--nothing more. + +Nevertheless, those who knew him well, remarked something of a +sinister and sombre expression which daily overspread his countenance +more and more. In other respects he was gentler than ever. Many wished +to share their ration with him, but he refused with a smile. + +Every evening, after the explanation which the director had given him, +he committed a sort of folly, which, in so grave a man, was +astonishing. At the moment when the director, in the progress of his +habitual duty, passed by Sam Needy's working-frame, he would raise his +eyes, gaze steadily upon him, and then address to him, in a tone full +of distress and anger, combining at once menace and supplication, +these two words only--"_remember Heartall_!" the director would either +appear not to hear, or pass on, shrugging his shoulders. + +He was wrong. It became evident to all the lookers on of these strange +scenes, that Sam Needy was inwardly determined on some step. All the +prison awaited with anxiety the result of this strife between +obstinacy and resolution. + +It has been proved, that once Sam said to the director, "Listen, sir, +give me back my comrade; you will do well to do it, I assure you. Take +notice that I tell you this." + +Another time, one Sunday, when he had remained in the airing-ground +for many hours in the same attitude, seated on a stone, his elbows on +his knees, and his forehead buried in his hands, one of his +fellow-convicts approached him, and cried out, laughing, + +"What are you about here, Sam?" + +Sam raised his stern head slowly, and said, "_I am sitting in +judgment!_" + +At last, on the evening of the 1st of November, 1833, at the moment +when the director was making his round, Sam Needy crushed under his +foot a watch-glass, which he had that morning found in the corridor. +The director inquired whence that noise proceeded. + +"It is nothing," said Sam. "It is I, Mr. Flint--give me back my +comrade." + +"Impossible!" said his master. + +"It must be done though," said Sam, in a low and steady voice, and +looking the director full in the face, added, "reflect, this is the +first of November, I give you till the 10th." + +A turnkey made the remark to Mr. Flint that Sam Needy threatened him, +and that it was a case for solitary confinement. + +"No, nothing of the kind," said the director, with a disdainful smile, +"we must be gentle with these sort of people." + +On the morrow, another convict approached Sam Needy, who walked by +himself, melancholy, leaving the other prisoners to bask in a patch of +sunshine at the further corner of the court. + +"What now, Sam--what are you thinking of? You seem sad." + +"_I am afraid_," said Sam, "_that some misfortune will happen soon to +this gentle Mr. Flint_." + +There are nine full days from the 1st to the 10th of November. Sam +Needy did not let one pass without gravely warning the director of the +state, more and more miserable, in which the disappearance of Heartall +placed him. The director, worn out, sentenced him to four-and-twenty +hours of solitary confinement, because his prayer was too like a +demand. This was all that Sam Needy obtained. + +The 10th of November arrived. On this day Sam arose with such a serene +countenance as he had not worn since the day when _the decision_ of +Mr. Flint had separated him from his friend. When risen, he searched +in a white wooden box, which stood at the foot of his bed, and +contained his few possessions. He drew thence a pair of sempstress's +scissors. These, with an odd volume of Cowper's poems, were all that +remained to him of the woman he had loved--of the mother of his +child--of his happy little home of other days. Two articles, totally +useless to Sam; the scissors could only be of service to a woman--the +book to a lettered person. Sam could neither sew nor read. + +At the time when he was traversing the old hall, which serves as the +winter walk for the prisoners, he approached a convict of the name of +Dawson, who was looking with attention at the enormous bars of a +window. Sam was holding the little pair of scissors in his hands; he +showed them to Dawson, saying, "To-night I will divide those bars with +these scissors." + +Dawson began to laugh incredulously. Sam joined him. + +That morning he worked with more zeal than usual--faster and better +than ever before. A little past noon he went down on some pretext or +other to the joiner's workshop, on the ground-floor, under the story +in which was his own. Sam was beloved there as every where else; but +he entered it seldom. Thus it was--"Stop, here's Sam!" They got round +him; it was a perfect holyday. He cast a quick glance around the room. +Not one of the overlookers was there. + +"Who has a hatchet to lend me?" said he. + +"What to do?" was the inquiry. + +"Kill the director of the work-rooms." + +They offered him many to choose from. He took the smallest of those +which were very sharp, hid it in his trowsers, and went out. There +were twenty-seven prisoners in that room. He had not desired them to +keep his secret; they all kept it. They did not even talk of it among +themselves. Every one separately awaited the result. The thing was +straight-forward--terribly simple. Sam could neither be counseled nor +denounced. + +An hour afterward he approached a convict sixteen years old, who was +lounging in the place of exercise, and advised him to learn to read. +The rest of the day was as usual. At 7 o'clock at night the prisoners +were shut up, each division in the work-room to which they belonged, +and the overseers went out, as it appears was the custom, not to +return till after the director's visit. Sam was locked in with his +companions like the rest. + +Then there passed in this work-room an extraordinary scene, one not +without majesty and awe, the only one of the kind which is to be told +in this story. There were there (according to the judiciary deposition +afterward made) four-and-twenty prisoners, including Sam Needy. As +soon as the overseers had left them alone, Sam stood up upon a bench, +and announced to all the room that he had something to say. There was +silence. + +Then Sam raised his voice, and said, "You all know that Heartall was +my brother. Here they do not give me enough to eat; even with the +bread which I can buy with the little I earn, it is not sufficient. +Heartall shared his ration with me. I loved him at first because he +fed me, then because he loved me. The director, Mr. Flint, separated +us; our being together could be nothing to him--but he is a +bad-hearted man, who enjoys tormenting others. I have asked him for +Heartall back again. You have heard me. He will not do it. I gave him +till the 10th, which is to-day, to restore Heartall to me. He ordered +me into solitary confinement for telling him so. I, during this time, +have sat in judgment upon him, and condemned him to death. In two +hours he will come to make his round. I warn you that I am about to +kill him. Have you any thing to say on the matter?" All continued +silent. + +He went on; he spoke (so it appears) with a peculiar eloquence, which +was natural to him. He declared that he knew he was about to do a +violent deed, but could not think it wrong. He appealed to the +conscience of his four-and-twenty listeners. He was placed in a cruel +extremity; the necessity of doing justice to himself was a strait into +which every man found himself driven at one time or other; he could +not, in truth, take the director's life without giving his own for it; +but it was right to give his life for a just end. He had thought +deeply on the matter, and that alone, for two months; he believed he +was not carried away by passion, but if it were so, he trusted they +would warn him. He honestly submitted his reasons to the just men whom +he addressed. He was about to kill Mr. Flint; but if any one had any +objection to make, he was ready to hear it. + +One voice alone was raised to say, that before killing the director, +Sam ought to make one last attempt to soften him. + +"It is fair," said Sam. "I will do so." + +The great clock struck the hour--it was eight. The director would make +his appearance at nine. + +No sooner had this extraordinary court of appeal ratified the sentence +he had submitted to it, than Sam resumed his former serenity. He +placed upon the table all the linen and garments he possessed--the +scanty property of a prisoner--and calling to him, one after the +other, those of his companions whom he loved best after Heartall, he +divided all amongst them. He only kept the little pair of scissors. +Then he embraced them all. Some of them wept--upon these he smiled. + +There were moments in this last hour, when he chatted with so much +tranquillity, and even gayety, that many of his comrades inwardly +hoped, as they afterward declared, that he might perhaps abandon his +resolution. + +He perceived a young convict who was pale, who was gazing upon him +with fixed eyes, and trembling doubtless from expectation of what he +was about to witness. "Come, courage, young man," said Sam to him, +softly, "it will be only the work of a moment." + +When he had distributed all his goods, made all his adieux, pressed +all their hands, he interrupted the restless whisperings which were +heard here and there in the dim corners of the work-room, and +commanded that they should return to their labor. All obeyed him in +silence. + +The apartment in which this passed was an oblong hall, a +parallelogram, lighted with windows on its two longer sides, and with +two doors opposite each other at the two ends of the room. The +working-frames were ranged on each side near the windows, the benches +touching the wall at right angles, and the space left free between the +two rows of frames formed a sort of avenue, which went straight from +one door to the other, crossing the hall entirely. It was this which +the director traversed in making his inspection; he was to enter at +the south door, and go out by the north, after having looked at the +workmen on the right and left. Commonly he passed through quickly and +without stopping. + +Sam Needy had reseated himself on his bench, and had betaken himself +to his work. All were in expectation--the moment approached; on a +sudden they heard the clock strike. Sam said, "It is the last +quarter." Then he rose, crossed gravely a part of the hall, and placed +himself, leaning on his elbow, on the first frame on the left hand +side, close to the door of entrance; his countenance was perfectly +calm and benign. + +Nine o'clock struck--the door opened--the director came in. + +At that moment the silence of the work-room was as of a chamber full +of statues. + +The director was alone as usual; he entered with his jovial, +self-satisfied, and stubborn air, without noticing Sam, who was +standing at the left side of the door, his right hand hidden in his +trowsers, and passed rapidly by the first frames, tossing his head, +mumbling his words, and casting his glance, which was law, here and +there, not perceiving that the eyes of all who surrounded him were +fixed upon him as upon a fearful phantom. On a sudden he turned +sharply round, surprised to hear a step behind him. + +It was Sam Needy, who for some instants followed him in silence. + +"What are you about there?" said the director. "Why are you not in +your place?" + +Sam Needy answered respectfully, "Because I have something to say to +you, Mr. Flint." + +"What about?" + +"Concerning Heartall." + +"Still Heartall!" exclaimed the director. + +"Always," replied Sam. + +"Be quiet," said the director, walking on again. "You are not content, +then, with your four-and-twenty hours of solitary confinement?" + +Sam followed him--"Mr. Flint, give me back my comrade." + +"Impossible!" + +"Sir," said Sam, in a tone which might have softened the heart of a +fiend, "I entreat you, restore Heartall to me. You shall see how well +I will work. To you who are free, it is no matter--you do not know +what the worth of a friend is; but I have only the four walls of my +prison. You can come and go, I have nothing but Heartall--give him +back to me. Heartall fed me--you know it well. It will only cost you +the trouble of saying yes. What can it be to you that there should be +in the same room one man called Sam Needy, another called +Heartall?--for the thing is simply that, Mr. Flint; good Mr. Flint, I +beseech you earnestly, for Heaven's sake!" + +Sam had probably never before said so much at one time to a jailer; +exhausted with the effort, he paused. The director replied, with an +impatient gesture, + +"Impossible--I have said it; speak to me no more about it, you wear me +out." + +Then, as if in a hurry, he stepped on more quickly, Sam following. +Thus speaking, they had reached the door of exit; the prisoners looked +after them, and listened breathlessly. + +Sam gently touched the director's arm. "At least let me know why I am +condemned to death--tell me why you have separated him from me?" + +"I have told you," answered the director; "_it is my will_." + +He turned his back upon Sam, and was about to take hold of the latch +of the door. + +On this answer Sam had retreated a step; the assembled statues who +were there saw him bring out his right hand, and the hatchet with it; +it was raised, and ere the victim could utter one cry, three blows, +one upon the other, had cleft his skull. At the moment, when he fell +back, a fourth blow laid his face open; then, as if his frenzy, once +let loose, _could not stop_, Sam struck a fifth blow; it was +useless--he was dead. + +"Now for the other!" cried the murderer, and threw away the hatchet. +That other was himself. They saw him draw from his bosom the small +pair of scissors, and before any one could attempt to hinder him, bury +them in his breast. The blade was too short to penetrate. He struck +them in again and again, so many as twenty times. "Accursed heart! +cannot I then reach you?" and finally fell in a dead swoon, bathed in +his blood. + +Which of these men was the victim of the other? + +When Sam returned to consciousness, he was in bed, well attended, his +wounds carefully bandaged; a humane nurse was about his pillow, and +more than one magistrate, who asked him, with the appearance of great +interest, "Are you better?" + +He had lost a great quantity of blood, but the scissors with which he +had wounded himself, had done their duty ill--none of the wounds were +dangerous. + +The examinations commenced. They asked him if it were he who had +killed the director of the work-rooms. He replied, "It was." They +asked him why he had done it. He answered--_it was his will._ + +After this the wounds festered. He was seized with a severe fever, of +which he only did not die. November, December, January, and February, +went over in recovering him and preparing for his trial; physicians +and judges alike made him the object of their care--the former healed +his wounds, the latter made ready his scaffold. To be brief, on the +5th of April, 1834, he appeared, being perfectly cured, before the +Court of Sessions. + +Sam made a good appearance before the court; he had been carefully +shaved, his head was bare; he was dressed in the sad prison livery of +two shades of gray. + +When the trial was entered upon, a singular difficulty presented +itself. Not any of the witnesses of the events of the 10th of +November, would make a deposition against Sam. The presiding judge +threatened them with his discretionary power in vain. Sam then +commanded them to give evidence. All their tongues were loosed. They +related what they had seen. + +Sam Needy listened with profound attention. When one of them, out of +forgetfulness, or affection for him, omitted some of the circumstances +chargeable upon the accused, Sam supplied them. By this means the +chain of facts which has been related was unfolded before the court. + +There was one moment when some of the females present wept. The clerk +of the court summoned the convict, Heartall. It was his turn to come +forward. He entered, staggering with emotion--he wept. The police +could not prevent his falling into the arms of Sam. Sam raised him, +and said with a smile to the attorney-general, "Here is a villain who +shares his bread with those who are hungry." Then he kissed Heartall's +hand. + +The list of witnesses having been gone through, the attorney-general +rose and spoke in these words: "Gentlemen of the jury, society would +be shaken to its foundation if public vengeance did not overtake such +great criminals as this man, who, etc., etc." + +After this memorable discourse, Sam's advocate spoke. The pleader +against, and the pleader for, made each in due order, the evolutions +which they are accustomed to make in the arena which is called a +criminal court. + +Sam did not think that all was said that might be said. He arose in +his turn. He spoke in a manner which must have amazed all the +intelligent persons present on the occasion. It appeared as if there +were more of the orator than the murderer in this poor artisan. He +spoke in an upright attitude, with a penetrating and well-managed +voice; with an open, sincere, and steadfast gaze, with a gesture +almost always the same, but full of command. There were moments in +which his genuine, lofty eloquence stirred the crowd to a murmur, +during which Sam took breath, casting a bold gaze upon the bystanders. +Then again, this man, who could not read, was as gentle, polished, +select in his language, as a well-informed person--at other moments +modest, measured, attentive, going step by step over the irritating +parts of the argument, courteous to his judges. Once only he gave way +to a burst of passion. The attorney-general had proved in his speech +that Sam Needy had assassinated the director without any violence on +his part, and consequently _without provocation_. + +"What!" exclaimed Sam Needy, "I have not been provoked! Ay--it is very +true--I understand you. A drunken man strikes me with his dagger--I +kill him, I have been provoked; you show mercy to me, you send me to +Botany Bay. But a man who is not drunk, who has the perfect use of his +reason, wrings my heart for four years, humbles me for four years, +pierces me with a weapon every day, every hour, every minute, in some +unexpected point for four years. I had a wife, for whose sake I became +a thief--he tortures me through that wife; a child for whom I +stole--he tortures me through that child. I have not bread enough to +eat--a friend gives it me; he takes away my friend and my food. I ask +for my friend back--he condemns me to solitary confinement. I speak to +him--him, the spy--respectfully; he answers me in dog's language. I +tell him I am suffering--he tells me I wear him out. What would you, +then, that I should do? I kill him. It is well--I am a monster; I have +murdered this man; I have not been provoked. You take my life for +it--be it so." + +The debates being closed, the presiding judge made his impartial and +luminous summing up. The results were these: a wicked life--a wretch +in purpose. Sam Needy had begun by stealing--he then murdered. All +this was true. + +When the jury were about being conducted to their apartment, the judge +asked the accused if he had any thing to say upon the questions before +them. + +"Little," replied Sam, "only this; I am a thief and an assassin. I +have stolen, and have slain a man. But why have I stolen? Why have I +murdered? Add these two questions to the rest, gentleman of the jury." + +After a quarter of an hour's deliberation on the part of the twelve +individuals whom he had addressed as _gentlemen of the jury_, Sam +Needy was condemned to death. + +Their decision was read to Sam, who contented himself with saying, "It +is well--but why has this man stolen? Why has this man murdered? These +are questions to which they make no answer." + +He was carried back to prison--he supped almost gayly. + +He had no wish to make an appeal against his sentence. The old woman +who had nursed him entreated him with tears to do so. He complied out +of kindness to her. It would appear as if he had resisted till the +very last moment, for when he signed his petition in the register, the +legal delay of three days had expired some minutes before. The +benevolent old nurse gave him a crown. He accepted the money and +thanked her. + +While his appeal was pending, offers of escape were made him. There +was thrown, one after the other, in his dungeon, through its air-hole, +a nail, a bit of iron file, and the handle of a bucket. Any of these +three tools would have been sufficient to so skillful a man as Sam +Needy to cut through his irons. He gave up the nail, the file, and the +handle to the turnkey. + +On the 10th of June, 1834, seven months after the deed, its expiation +arrived. That day, at seven o'clock in the morning, the recorder of +the tribunal entered Sam Needy's dungeon, and announced to him that he +had not more than an hour to live. His petition was rejected. + +"Come," said Sam, coldly, "I have this night slept well, without +troubling myself that I should sleep still better the next." + +It would appear as if the words of strong men always receive a certain +dignity from approaching death. + +The chaplain arrived--then the executioner. He was humble to the one, +gentle to the other. + +He maintained a perfect ease of spirit. He listened to the chaplain +with extreme attention, accusing himself of many things, and +regretting that he had not been instructed in religion. + +At his request they had given him back the scissors with which he had +wounded himself. One blade, which had been broken in his breast, was +wanting. He entreated the jailor to have these scissors taken to +Heartall as from himself. + +He besought those who bound his hands to place in his right hand the +crown-piece which the good nurse had given him--the only thing which +was now remaining to him. + +At a quarter to eight he was led out of his prison, with the customary +mournful procession which attends the condemned. He was pale; his eyes +were fixed on the chaplain--but he walked with a firm step. + +He ascended the scaffold gravely. He shook hands with the chaplain +first, then the executioner, thanking the one, forgiving the other. +The executioner _pushed him back gently_, says one account. At the +moment when the assistant put the hideous rope round his neck, he made +a sign to the chaplain to take the crown-piece which he had in his +right hand, and said to him, "_For the poor_." At that moment the +clock was striking eight, the sound from the steeple drowned his +voice, and the chaplain answered that he could not hear him. Sam +waited for an interval between two of the strokes, and repeated with +gentleness, "_For the poor_." + +The eighth stroke had scarcely sounded when this noble and intelligent +criminal was launched into eternity. + + + + +THE ANGEL OF THE SOUL. + +BY J. BAYARD TAYLOR. + + + Una stella, una notte, ed una croce. _Antonio Bisazza._ + + + Silence hath conquered thee, imperial Night! + Thou sit'st alone within her void, cold halls, + Thy solemn brow uplifted, and thy soul + Paining the space with dumb and mighty thought. + The dreary wind ebbs, voiceless, round thy form, + Following the stealthy hours, that wake no stir + In the hushed velvet of thy mantle's fold. + Thy thoughts take being: down the dusky aisles + Go shapes of good, and beckoning ghosts of crime, + And dreams of maddening beauty--hopes, that shine + To darken, and in cloudy height sublime, + The spectral march of some approaching Doom! + Nor these alone, oh! Mother of the world, + People thy chambers, echoless and vast; + Their dewy freshness like ambrosial cools + Life's fever-thirst, and to the fainting soul + Their porphyry walls are touched with light, and gleams + Of shining wonder dazzle through the void, + Like those bright marvels which the travele'rs torch + Wakes from the darkness of three thousand years, + In rock-hewn sepulchres of Theban kings. + Prophets, whose brows of pale, unearthly glow + Reflect the twilight of celestial dawns, + And bards, transfigured in immortal song, + Like eager children, kneeling at thy feet, + Unclasp the awful volume of thy lore. + + My soul goes down thy far, untrodden paths, + To the dim verge of being. There its step + Touches the threshold of sublimer life, + And through the boundless empyrean leaps + Its prayer, borne like a faint, expiring cry, + To angel-warders, listening as they pace + The crystal walls of Heaven. Down the blue fields + Of the untraveled Infinite, they come: + Beneath their wings one sweet, dilating wave + Thrills the pure deep, and bears my soul aloft, + To walk amid their shining groups, and call + Its guardian spirit, as an orphan calls + His vanished brother, taken in childhood home: + + "White through my cradled dreams thy pinions waved, + Lost Angel of the Soul! thy presence led + The babe's faint gropings through the glimmering dark + And into Being's conscious dawn. Thy hand + Held mine in childhood, and thy beaming cheek + Lay close, like some fond playmate's, to mine own. + Up to that boundary, whence the heart leaps forth + To life, like some wild torrent, when the rains + Pour dark and full upon the cloudy hills, + Thy gentle footsteps wandered near to mine. + Be with me now! Oh, in the starry hush + Of the deep night, that holds the earthly down + In all my nature, bring to me again + The early purity, which kept thy hand + From the entrancing harp it held in Heaven! + Through the warm starting of my hoarded tears, + Let me behold thine eyes divine, as stars + Gleam through the twilight vapors of the sea! + + "Not yet hast thou forsaken me. The prayer + Whose crowning fervor lifts my nature up + Midway to God, may still evoke thy form. + Thou hast been with me, when the midnight dew + Clung damp upon my brow, and the broad fields + Stretched far and dim beneath the ghostly moon; + When the dark, awful woods were silent near, + And with imploring hands toward the stars + Clasped in mute yearning, I have questioned Heaven + For the lost language of the book of Life. + Oh, then thy face was glorious, and thy hair + On the white moonbeam floating, veiled thy brow, + But in the holy sadness of thine eye + Which held my spirit, tremblingly I saw, + Through rushing tears, the sign of angel-grief + O'er the false promise of diviner years. + From the far glide of some descending strain + Of tenderest music I have heard thy voice; + And thou hast called amid the stormy rush + Of grand orchestral triumph, with a sound + Resistless in its power. I feel the light, + Which is thine atmosphere, around my soul, + When a great sorrow gulfs it from the world. + + "Come back! come back! my heart grows faint, to know + How thy withdrawing radiance leaves more dim + The twilight borders of the night of Earth. + Now when the bitter truth is learned; when all + That seemed so high and good but mocks its seeming-- + When the warm dreams of youth come shivering back, + In the cold chambers of the heart to die-- + When, with the wrestling years, familiar grows + The merciless hand of pain, desert me not! + Come with the true heart of the faithful Night, + When I have cast away the masquing garb + Of hollow Day, and lain my soul to rest + On her consoling bosom! From the founts + Of thine exhaustless light, make clear the road + Through toil and darkness, into God's repose!" + + + + +SCOUTING NEAR VERA CRUZ. + +A SKETCH OF THE LATE CAMPAIGN. + +BY ECOLIER. + + +Hours before day, Lieutenant Rolfe and his party were threading the +mazes of the chapparal. The moon glistened upon their bayonets and +bright barrels. Their path lay in a southwesterly direction, near the +old road to Orizava. Here it passed through a glade or opening, where +the moonbeams fell upon a profusion of flowers, there it reentered +dark alleys among the clustering trees, where the "trail arms" was +given in a half whisper. The boughs met and locked overhead, and the +thick foliage hid the moon from sight. Now a bright beam escaping +through some chance opening in the leaves, quivered along the path, +and scared the wolf in his midnight wanderings. Out again upon the +open track through the soft grass, and winding around the wild maguey, +or under the claw-shaped thorns of the musquit. A deer sprung from his +lair among the soft flowers--looked back for a moment at the strange +intruders, and frightened at the gleaming steel, dashed off into the +thicket. The woods are not silent by night, as in the colder regions +of the north. The southern forest has its voices, moonlit or dark. All +through the livelong night sings the mock-bird--screams the "loreto." +From dark till dawn, you hear the hoarse baying of the "coyote," and +the dismal howl of the gaunt gray wolf. The cicada fills the air with +its monotonous and melancholy notes. In all these sounds there is a +breathing, a wild voluptuousness that tells you you are wandering in +the clime of the sun--amidst scenes like those rendered classical by +the pen of St. Pierre. They who have read the sweet French romance, +will recognize his faithful painting of tropical pictures. The sunny +glades--and shady arbors--the broad green and yellow leaves--the tall +palm-trees, with their long, lazy feathers and clustering fruits +waving to the slightest breeze, and looking the same as in that sea +island where they flung their changing shadows over the loves of Paul +and Virginia. Scouting at night, and to strangers (as were Rolfe and +his men) in the land, was not without its perils. Objects of alarm +were near and around. The nopal rose before you like the picket of an +enemy. Its dark column gleaming under the false light of the moon is +certainly some sentinel on the outpost. A halt is the consequence, and +silent and cat-like one of the party, on his hands and knees, steals +nearer and nearer, through the thorny brambles, until the true nature +of the apparition betrays itself, in the shape of a huge column of +prickly pear. He then returns to his comrades, and the obstacle is +passed, some one as he passes, with a muttered curse, slashing his +sabre through the soft trunk of the harmless vegetable. + +The wild maguey grasps you by the leg, as though some hideous monster +had sprung from the bushes. You start and rush forward, only to be +dragged back among the elastic leaves. It is useless to struggle. You +must either return and unwind yourself by gentle means, or leave the +better part of your cloth inexpressibles in the ruthless fangs of the +plant. The ranchero fences his limbs with leather, or with leggings of +tiger-skin. It is not fancy or choice to wear leather breeches in +Mexico. Necessity has something to say in fixing the fashion of your +small clothes. + +When day broke, Rolfe and his party were ten miles from camp--ten +miles from the nearest American picket, and with only thirty men! They +were concealed in a thicket of aloes and musquit. This thicket crowned +the only eminence for miles in any direction. It commanded a view of +the whole country southward to the Alvarado. + +As the sun rose the forest echoed with sounds and song. The leaves +moved with life, as a thousand bright-plumed birds flashed from tree +to tree. The green parrot screamed after his mate, uttering his wild +notes of endearment. They are seen in pairs flying high up in the +heavens. The troupiale flashed through the dark foliage like a ray of +yellow light. Birds seemed to vie with each other in their songs of +love. Amidst these sounds of the forest, the ear of Rolfe caught the +frequent crowing of cocks, the barking of dogs, and the other +well-known sounds of the settlement. These were heard upon all sides. +It was plain that the country was thickly settled, though not a house +was visible above the tree-tops. The thin column of blue smoke as it +rose above the green foliage proved the existence of dwellings. + +At some distance, westward, an open plain lay like an emerald lake. +The woods that bordered it were of a darker hue than the meadow-grass +upon its bosom. In this plain were horses feeding, and Rolfe saw at a +glance that they were picketed. Some of them had dragged their +laryettes and were straying from the group. There appeared to be in +all about an hundred horses. It was plain that their owners were not +far off. A thin blue smoke that hung over the trees on one side of the +meadow gave evidence of a camp. The baying of dogs came from this +direction, mingled with the sounds of human voices. It was evidently a +camp of the "Jarochos," (guerilleros.) + +Suddenly a bugle sounded, wild and clear above the voices of the +singing-birds, a few notes somewhat resembling the dragoon +stable-call. The horses flung up their heads and neighed fiercely, +looking toward the encampment. Presently a crowd of men were seen +running from the woods, each carrying a saddle. The few strays that +had drawn their pickets during the night, came running in at the +well-known voices of their masters. The saddles were flung on and +tightly girthed--the bits adjusted and the laryettes coiled and hung +to the saddle-horns, in less time than an ordinary horseman would have +put on a bridle. Another flourish of the bugle, and the troop were in +their saddles and galloping away over the greensward of the meadow in +a southerly direction. The whole transaction did not occupy five +minutes, and it seemed to Rolfe and his party, who witnessed it, more +like a dream than a reality. The Jarochos were just out of musket +range. A long shot might have reached them, but even had Rolfe +ventured this, it would have been with doubtful propriety. Rumor had +fixed the existence of a large force of the enemy in this +neighborhood. It was supposed that at least a thousand men were on the +Alvarado road, with the intention of penetrating our lines, with +beeves for the besieged Veracruzanos. + +"They got off in good time, sergeant," muttered Rolfe, "had they but +waited half an hour longer--Oh! for a score of Harney's horses!" + +"Lieutenant, may I offer an opinion?" asked the sergeant, who had +raised himself and stood peering through the leafy branches of a +cacuchou-tree. + +"Certainly, Heiss, any suggestion--" + +"Wal, then--thar's a town," the sergeant lifted one of the leafy +boughs and pointed toward the south-east--a spire and cross--a white +wall and the roofs of some cottages were seen over the trees. "Raoul +here, who's French, and knows the place, says it's Madalin--he's been +to it--and there's no good road for horses direct from here--but the +road from Vera Cruz crosses that meadow far up--now, lieutenant, it's +my opinion them thieving Mexicans is bound for that 'ere place--Raoul +says it's a good sweep round--if we could git acrosst this yere strip +we'd head 'em sure." + +The backwoodsman swept his broad hand toward the south, to indicate +the strip of woods that he desired to cross. The plan seemed feasible +enough. The town, although seemingly near, was over five miles +distant. The road by which the guerrilleros had to reach it was much +farther. Could Rolfe and his party meet them on this road, by an +ambuscade, they would gain an easy victory, although with inferior +numbers, and Rolfe wished to carry back to camp a Mexican prisoner. +This was the object of the scout, to gain information of the force +supposed to be in the rear of our lines. The men, too, were eager for +the wild excitement of a fight. For what came they there? + +"Raoul," said Rolfe, "is there any path through these woods?" + +"Zar is, von road I have believe--oui--Monsieur Lieutenant." + +Raoul was a dapper little Frenchman, who had joined the army at Vera +Cruz, where we found him. He had been a sort of market-gardener for +the plaza, and knew the back country perfectly. He had fallen into bad +odor with the rancheros of the _Tierra Caliente_, and owed them no +good-will. The coming of the American army had been a perfect godsend +to Raoul, who was now an American volunteer, and, as circumstances +afterward proved, worthy of the title. + +"Close teecket, monsieur," continued the Frenchman, "but there be von +road, I make ver sure, by that tree, vot you call him, big tree." + +Raoul pointed to some live-oaks that formed a dark belt across the +woods. + +"Take the lead, Raoul." + +The little Frenchman sprung out in front and commenced descending into +the dark woods beneath. The party was soon winding through the shadowy +aisles of a live-oak forest. The woods were at first open and easy. +After a short march they came to a small stream, bright and silvery. +But what was the surprise of Rolfe to find that the path here gave +out, and on the opposite bank of the rivulet the trees grew closer +together, and the woods were almost woven into a solid mass, by the +lianas and other creeping plants. These were covered with blossoms. In +some places a wall of snow-white flowers rose up before you. Pyramidal +forms of foliage, green and yellow, over which hung myriads of +vine-blossoms, like a scarlet mantle. Still there was no path--at +least to be trodden by human foot. Birds flew around, scared in their +solitary haunts. The armadilla and the wolf stood at a distance with +glaring eyes. The fearful-looking guana scampered off upon the +decaying limbs of the live-oak, or the still more fearful cobra di +capella glided almost noiselessly over the dry leaves and brambles. + +Raoul confessed that he had been deceived. He had never traveled this +belt of timber. The path was lost. + +This was strange. A path had conducted them thus far, but on reaching +the stream had suddenly stopped. Soldiers went up and down the +water-course, and peeped through the trellis of vines, but to no +purpose. In all directions they were met by an impenetrable chapparal. + +Chafing with disappointment, the young officer was about to retrace +his way, when an exclamation from Heiss recalled him. The backwoodsman +had found a clew to the labyrinth. An opening led into the thicket. +This had been concealed by a perfect curtain of closely woven vines, +covered with thick foliage and flowers. It appeared at first to be a +natural door to the avenue which led from this spot, but a slight +examination showed that these vines had been trained by human hands, +and that the path itself had been kept open by the same agency. +Branches were here and there lopped off and cast aside, and the ground +had the marks of human footsteps. The track was clear and beaten, and +Rolfe ordering his men to follow noiselessly, in Indian file, took the +lead. For at least two miles they traced the windings of this forest +road, through dark woods, occasionally opening out into green flowery +glades. The bright sky began to gleam through the trees. Farther on +and the breaks became larger and more frequent. An extensive clearing +was near at hand. They reached it, but to their astonishment, instead +of a cultivated farm, which they had been expecting to see, the +clearing had more the appearance of a vast flower-garden. The roofs +and turrets of a house were visible near its centre. The house itself +appeared of a strange oriental style, and was buried amidst groves of +the brightest foliage. Several huge old trees spread their branches +over the roof, and their leaves hung around the fantastic turrets. + +What should have been fields were like a succession of huge +flower-beds--and large shrubs, covered with sheets of pink and white +blossoms that resembled wild roses. This shrubbery was high enough to +conceal the approach of Rolfe and his party as they followed the +path--apparently the only one which led to the house. + +On nearing this, the officer halted his men in a little glade, and +taking with him Heiss and the boy Gerry, (who might return for the men +in case of a surprise,) proceeded to reconnoitre the strange-looking +habitation. + +A wall of ivy, or some perennial vine, lay between him and the house. +A curtain of green leaves covered the entrance through this wall. This +appeared to have grown up by neglect. As Rolfe lifted this festoon, to +pass through, the sound of female voices greeted him. These voices +reached his ear in tones of the lightest mirth. At intervals came a +clear ringing laugh from some throat of silver, and then a plunging, +splashing sound of water. Rolfe conjectured that some females were in +the act of bathing, and not wishing to intrude upon them sat down for +a moment outside the wall. The sounds of merriment were still heard, +and among the soft tones the officer imagined that he could +distinguish the coarser voice of a man. Curiosity now prompted him to +enter. Moreover, he reflected that if there were men there already +there could not be much impropriety in his taking a share in the +amusement. + +Drawing aside the curtain of leaves he looked in. The interior was a +garden, but evidently in a neglected state. It appeared the ruin of a +once noble garden and shrubbery. Broken fountains and statues +crumbling among weeds, and untrained rose-trees, met the eye. The +voices were more distinct, but those who uttered them were hidden by +a hedge of jessamines. Rolfe stepped silently up to this hedge and +peeped through an opening. The picture presented was indeed an +enchanting one. + +A large fountain lay between him and the house filled with crystal +water. In this fountain two young girls were plunging and diving about +in the wildest abandon of mirth. The water was not more than waist +deep, and the arms and bosoms of the young girls appeared above its +surface. They were strikingly alike, in all except color. In this +there was a marked contrast. The neck, arms and bosom of one seemed +carved from snow-white marble, while the other's complexion was almost +as dark as mahogany. There was the same cast of features, the same +expression in both countenances, and their forms, just emerging from +the slender figure of girlhood, were exactly alike. Their long hair +trailed after them, black and luxuriant, on the surface of the water, +as they plunged and swam from one side of the basin to the other. A +huge negress sat upon the edge of the fountain, seemingly enjoying the +bath as much as those who partook of it. It was the voice of this +negress that Rolfe had mistaken for that of a man. + +The young officer did not hesitate a moment, but stole gently back and +regained his comrades. + +Then striking through the flowery fields that stretched away toward +the wood in the rear, he commenced searching for the path that led +from the woods in a direction opposite to that whence he had come, +without disturbing the inmates of this peaceful mansion. Finding this +path on the other side, the party entered and hastily kept on, in +order to intercept the guerilleros, whom they still hoped to fall in +with. In these hopes they were not disappointed, for emerging from the +woods near Medellin they came upon the guerilleros, with whom they had +a sharp skirmish. Rolfe and his party were successful, killing two of +the guerrilla and taking the same number prisoners. + +The young girls continued their pleasant pastime, little dreaming how +near to them had been these strange and warlike visiters. + + + + +I WANT TO GO HOME + +BY RICHARD COE, JR. + + + "I want to go home!" saith a weary child, + That hath lost its way in straying; + Ye may try in vain to calm its fears, + Or wipe from its eyes the blinding tears, + It looks in your face, still saying-- + "I want to go home!" + + "I want to go home!" saith a fair young bride, + In anguish of spirit praying; + Her chosen hath broken the silver cord-- + Hath spoken a harsh and cruel word, + And she now, alas! is saying-- + "I want to go home!" + + "I want to go home!" saith the weary soul, + Ever earnest thus 'tis praying; + It weepeth a tear--heaveth a sigh-- + And upward glanceth with streaming eye + To its promised rest, still saying-- + "I want to go home!" + + + + +THE HUMBLING OF A FAIRY. + +BY G. G. FOSTER. + + +The Princess Dewbell was confessed to be the queen of the ball, +notwithstanding that the beauty and grace and wit of the whole realm +were there, for it was the birth-night festival of the fairy princess, +and her royal father, with all a parent's fond pride, had exhausted +invention, and impoverished extravagance, to give _eclat_ to the +occasion. The walls of his ancestral palace were sparkled all over +with dew-drops, which a troop of early bees had spent all the summer +mornings in collecting and preserving in the royal patent +dew-preserver, invented by one of the native geniuses of the realm. +These brilliant mirrors, flashing in the light of ten thousand +fire-flies of the royal household, whose whole lives had been expended +in learning how to carry their dainty lamps about so as to produce the +finest effects, reflected the forms of the ladies and the dazzling +military trappings of the handsome cavaliers, (there was war at that +time between the glorious empire of Fairydom and the weak and +infatuated republic of Elfland on its southern borders, and the +epaulette and spurs were the only pass to the hearts of the fair,) +imbuing them with an infinitude of prismatic hues, all softened into a +kind of timed starlight, exquisite as the dying voice of music. In +this gorgeous saloon, at the head of which sat, well pleased, the +benevolent old King Paterflor and his modest and still lovely queen +Sweetbine, all were noble and accomplished and beautiful and gay; but +the charms of the Princess Dewbell, just bursting into the richness of +full-grown fairyhood, were so surpassing that none had ever been found +to question, even in their own hearts, her supremacy. This, perhaps, +may appear strange to many of my pretty readers, but they must +remember that mine is a faithful chronicle of fairies--not of women. +The princess was standing lightly touching--it could not be said that +she leaned against--the slender stalk of a garden lily, that rose like +an emerald column of classic mould above her lovely form, and expanded +into a graceful dome of transparent and crimson-veined cornelian above +her head. Her eyes were cast pensively (at the Musical Fund Hall it +would have been called coquettishly) upon the ground, and ever and +anon she tossed her proud head with an imperious gesture, until the +streaming curls waved and parted around her cheek and neck, like +vine-leaves about a marble column as the south wind creeps among them +soliciting for kisses. The lady Dewbell, amid all this scene of +enchantment, which spread out before and around her, as if her own +loveliness had breathed it into existence, still was discontented; +sad, perhaps, at the total absence of care in her bosom, and sighing +for a sorrow. Unhappy lady Dewbell! She had so many hundred times been +told, what she herself believed full well, that she was absolutely +the most beautiful creature in existence, that the tale had lost its +interest. The champagne of flattery, its creaming foam long ago melted +into the brain, stood untasted before her, dull and flat as the +subsided fountain poured by the last rain-shower into the tulip's cup. +And so the fairy princess stood listless and apart from the joyous +revel, her little form swaying lightly to and fro, with the +undulations of the lily-stem against which she more perceptibly +rested. It is well for Root and Collins and Plumbe that the royal +daguerreotyper was laid up in a cowslip, with a broken skylight which +he had received in a rough-and-tumble with a gnat, about the ownership +of a particular ray of light, at last sunsetting. + +But if the lady Dewbell were queen of the ball, the noble knight Sir +Timothy Lawn was as undisputedly worthy of the post of honor among her +gallant train of admirers. Indeed, it was universally known, of course +as a profound secret among the gossips of the palace, that Sir Timothy +was the declared lover of the proud Dewbell, and it was even whispered +that she had actually been seen hanging around his neck one bright +June morning, in a sweet clover-nook by the brook-side, while he bent +tenderly over her, his eyes filled with tears of rapture. But as this +story could only be traced to a rough beetleherd, who said he saw the +lovers thus as he was driving his herd of black cattle to water, it +was not generally believed. At any rate, all the ladies were decidedly +of opinion that Sir Timothy was in every way a match for the haughty +beauty, and that if she did not accept him while he was in the humor +she would be very likely to go farther and fare worse. In fact, +several old maids and bluestockings, over their dishes of scandal and +marsh-fog, (both of which they made uncommonly strong,) openly avowed +it as their opinion, that he was a great deal too good for her, and +that, if the truth must be told, the princess was an impertinent, +saucy and irreverent creature, who hadn't the slightest respect for +her superiors. "As to her beauty," said one of these crones, whose +little face was very much of the size and complexion of a dried +camomile-flower, and who was shrewdly suspected of qualifying her +marsh-fog with pale pink-brandy--"As for her beauty, that is all in my +eye. I have seen plenty of your plump, smooth-skinned pieces of paint +and affectation fade in my time, little as I have yet seen of life. +Mark my words--before we have reached our prime, my great lady +princess will be as ugly as--" + +"As ugly as yourself, granny! Ha, ha, ha! ho, ho, ho! haw, haw, haw!" +shouted a mirthful voice, while an indescribably comic face, half cat +and half baby, appeared for a single glimpse above the burdock leaf +behind which the spinsters were holding their _conversazione_. + +"There's that imp Puck again, as sure as I am a woman!" exclaimed the +gentle Mrs. Mullenstalk, rising hastily and spilling a dish of fog all +over the front of her new green and yellow striped grass dress, as she +ran toward the spot whence the voice had proceeded. "I'll to the +palace this very night, and lay my complaint against that wretch. +We'll see whether virtuous ladies are to be insulted in this manner, +and their helplessness trampled under foot!" + +The intruder had already disappeared; but as the amiable Mrs. +Mullenstock got her spectacles adjusted, she just caught sight of him +throwing a somerset into a pumpkin-flower; while his laugh still +sounded faintly upon the air, mingled with snatches of a wild refrain, +of which she could only distinguish these lines: + + "Oh ho, Granny Mullenstock, how envious you be; + I'll plague you to death, or the hornets catch me!" + +The spinster shook her fist and grinned horribly at the broad-mouthed, +innocent yellow flower, down whose throat the varlet had leaped--but +chancing at that moment to catch a glimpse of her own face in a little +bit of mica, which served her for a toilet-mirror, she uttered the +least bit of a little shriek in the world and fainted--her companions, +who had by this time gathered round her, exchanging sly winks and +malicious looks of gratification as she went off. + +But we must return to the ball-room, where the fire-flies have got +sleepy, and many of them had already put out their lamps and retired, +and the brilliant company of dancers and promenaders has dwindled down +to a few sets, composed of those ladies who had not been asked to +dance in the height of the evening, and some sour-looking gentlemen in +very tight coats and pants, who had "got the mitten" from their +sweethearts at the door, and were desperately trying to do the amiable +out of sheer revenge. At length even these disappeared; the saloons +were entirely deserted, save by the beautiful mother moonbeam, who +slept upon the fragrant turf, her babe, the silver starlight, folded +lovingly within her bosom. + +Yet no, the scene is not quite solitary. Carefully bending aside the +tall, slender spears of diamond-tipped grass that perpetually guarded +the sacred domain of the imperial palace, a cavalier in full armor +appears, making way for a lady, whose long veil of the finest spider's +web completely conceals her head and form, making her seem like an +exhalation, taking, as its highest gift of grace, the shape of woman. +The two advance slowly and cautiously to the centre of the saloon, and +then the cavalier, throwing himself on his knees, (that's the way +fairies invariably make love,) beseeches his companion to have pity +upon him. The lady throws back her veil with a motion of indescribable +grace, and looking down into the upturned face of her lover, seriously +a moment, then lightly, utters a low laugh, and replies, + +"Very well, Sir Timothy Lawn, upon my word! Quite prettily done, +indeed! You must have been taking lessons of Signor Sweetbriar, the +royal parson. Now do run and bring me a glass of geranium-dew--I +protest I have drank scarcely a drop all the evening." + +"Not one word, then, for your poor lover and true knight," sighed Sir +Timothy, in a tone of the deepest despondence. + +"I did not come here to listen to school-boy nonsense," said the lady +Dewbell, with a haughty and impatient motion of the head. "I came to +get a glass of geranium-water. But, as you decline obliging me to that +extent, I suppose I must e'en get it for myself. Good-night to you, +Sir Timothy! Pleasant dreams!" and she disappeared. + +The knight was for a moment confounded; then rising slowly, he pointed +to a bright star that shone directly above him, winking and winking +with all its might, as much as to say, "what a green-horn you are!" +and swore an oath that no fairy should ever henceforth have power over +his heart, till she who had so wantonly scorned and insulted him +should beg to be forgiven. As he was turning sadly away, to seek his +solitary chamber in the upper branch of a bachelor's button, on the +other side of the brook, the elf-clown Puck stood before him, looking +as demure as puss herself. + +"Well, fool," said the knight, somewhat impatiently, "how long hast +thou been listening here?" + +"As long as my ears, your worship," replied the urchin, undauntedly, +"and they were long enough to hear that your worship's valiancy is a +very much over-praised commodity--since a maiden's dainty veil of +knitted night-air has proved too strong for him. + + The knight he sued, and the knight he sighed, + But he went away without supper or bride." + +"Silence, imp! or I 'll make thine ears, of which thou hast had such +pestilent service, shorter by a span." + +"No, I thank your valiancy! my ears do very well as they are. And I +came to do you a good turn by offering you the use of them. But as +your worship is so high and dry in Dundrum Bay, as we say at sea, I'll +e'en get back to my nap in the hazle copse again." + +"Nay, good Puck, I meant thee no harm, as thou knowest well enough. +Since thou knowest my innermost grief, let me hear thy fool's advice +in the matter." + +"If I gave thee advice, I were in truth a fool. But I'll very +willingly forgive thee this time, and tell thee what I overheard +to-night at the palace." + +"Ah, that's a good Puck!" + +"That depends on circumstances, your valiancy. I am somewhat like a +dish of toasted gallinippers--whether it is palatable or not depending +very much in the way it is served. But this is what I heard his +majesty say to her majesty. 'Sweetbine, my dear,' said he, 'don't you +think Dewbell has a fancy for our brave and noble knight, Sir Timothy +Lawn?' 'Why, my love,' replied her majesty, 'I have long been almost +certain that she loved him. But she is such a confirmed flirt I am +afraid she can never be brought to say so. I haven't the least idea +that she would not reject Sir Timothy, were he to propose.' 'We must +cure her of this fatal pride and folly,' replied his majesty, 'and I +think that, with a little of your assistance, I can manage it +capitally.' And then the dear old people passed into the royal +bed-chamber, in the japonica wing, and I heard no more." + +"I'll to the king." + +"And I'll to a better friend than he; if you permit me, your worship, +I take my _bough_ and _leave_." + +"Avaunt, vile punning Puck! Thou hast been to Philadelphia, where all +the streets rhyme, and every corner is a pun upon the next. May the +fiend unquip thee! Away!' + +"If thou I kest not jokes, thou hadst best stick to thy +bachelor's-buttonhood. I tell thee, marriage is a capital joke." + +"What knowest thou of marriage?" + +"I am one of its fruits." + +"A bitter jest, indeed, and plucked ere half ripened. St. Bulwer! but +thou wilt be a mother's blessing when thou art fully grown!" + +"Better save thy wits, sir knight! Thou wilt have a plentiful lack of +them ere the honeymoon be out of the comb. A pleasant roost in thy +bachelor's hall, and many of them!" and the vagabond sprung upon the +back of a green lizard creeping silently through the grass, and +sticking his heels into his astonished charger, dragoon-fashion, +disappeared down the bank of the brook. + +The old king and his good wife, Sweetbine, were very much grieved at +the foolish trifling of their daughter, Dewbell--for they were well +assured that Dewbell loved the noble knight, Sir Timothy, and that it +was only a spirit of mere wantonness that led her to vex and torment +him. Long into the night did the royal couple converse, striving to +devise some means of bringing their wayward daughter to her senses. +They at last hit upon a plan, which they fondly hoped might be the +means of securing the happiness of their child, and settling her +comfortably in life. + +The next morning his majesty sent for the dwarf, Puck, to his private +cabinet, and received him with an unusually grave and troubled aspect. + +"Venerable sire," said Puck, making a mock reverence, and scarcely +able to suppress a chuckle at the solemn looks of his master, "what +facetious dream hath been playing its mad pranks about thy sacred +pillow? Never saw I kingly face so mirthfully beprankt." + +"Come hither, good Puck," said the king, patiently, "and when thou +hast made thy breakfast of fun upon thy poor master, listen to him +seriously." + +"Dear prince", said the dwarf, suddenly running up to the king and +casting himself weeping at his feet, "art thou, then, really troubled? +Forgive thy poor slave!" and he began blubbering in the most pitiable +manner, while he looked up into the face of the king with such a look +of wo-begone and ludicrous despair, that Paterflor himself could +scarce refrain from bursting into laughter. + +"Thou hast done nothing wrong, good Puck--handsome Puck," said the +king, chucking his favorite under the chin. "I have need of thee. +Here is my signet-ring. Bring me straight hither a young and handsome +peasant, one who has never been seen by the court, nor any inhabitant +of the palace. He must be intelligent, conscientious, and trustworthy. +Dost thou know of such a one?" + +"Yes, your majesty, I think I do. My friend, young Paudeen O'Rafferty, +the son of the old forest-keeper, has just returned from Ireland, +where he was carried by the fairies at his christening, and has been +kept ever since until now, trying to get through the rent made by Mr. +O'Connell in the pockets of his relatives. He's as tight an Irish lad +as your majesty ever saw; and as for his honesty, I'll endorse it with +both hands. The O'Raffertys are constitutionally honest." + +"Well, bring him hither at once. I shall be ready to receive him." + +Puck, with his funny face entirely restored to good humor, left the +palace by a private gate, and running across a beautiful meadow, +disappeared in the dark green forest. Idle lingerer as he was, he felt +a strong inclination, at every hazel-copse he passed, to stop and have +a chat with the rabbits he knew were hid beneath it; and more than +once he was on the point of running up to a friendly deer and kissing +his cold, black nose, just for auld lang syne. But, for a wonder, he +was constant to his errand, and ran straight on--not stopping even to +throw stones at a squirrel by the way--till he came to the forester's +hut. + +He found the old forester and his wife alone. They received him +kindly, for, notwithstanding his mad pranks, Puck was a favorite every +where, and especially among the poor and humble, who were always safe +from his mischievous propensities. The young Paudeen was out a little +bit in the forest, but would return directly. + +"And what brings good Master Puck from among the great lords and +beautiful ladies of the coort to our poor little shieling, not bigger +nor betther than the mud cabins of ould Ireland itself?" inquired the +old woman, who had grown, with age and toil, wrinkled deaf and sour. + +"I'll explain all that as soon as Paudeen comes home," replied the +grave and mysterious Puck; "but, in the meantime, how do you get on +Mr. O'Rafferty, and what is the news in the forest?" + +"We get on but poorly," said the old forester, "and the news is, that +the people at the other side of the forest, where the potatoes have +all rotted, and the land is wore down to its bare bones, for want of +rest like, are very bad. Some of the women and childhers have already +starved, and the men have for the most part took to dhrinken and +fighten, till things is in a mighty bad way." + +"Yes," chimed in the old woman, who seemed to have caught by instinct +the subject of conversation, "and the poor stharven people say, too, +that there is plenty of money squandhered upon extravagance by the +king and his coort to give them all bread; and that the forests that +is kept for the deers and craythurs to be killed for the spoort of the +big folks, would give every man a bit of fresh land, and that the +potatoes would grow well enough then." + +"Auch, Peggy, will ye have us hung for parjery, out and out!" +exclaimed the terrified husband, casting a deprecating look at Puck. +"Poor craythur, she doesn't know what she is saying." + +At this juncture the young Paudeen made his appearance, and put a stop +to a conversation that was becoming decidedly stupid. He made his +respects cordially to Puck; and when he heard his errand, seemed +amazed and delighted. After a good deal of difficulty, the old lady +was made to understand what was the desire of the king. + +"Hooh!" exclaimed the old crone, leaping from her seat and dancing +about the room, "the dhrame's come true at last! Och, hullybaloo! +didn't I know that the pretty Paudeen wasn't born for the pig-stye! +Bedad, but he'll ruffle the gentles! Wont you, darlint?" and the old +woman fell upon her son's neck, smothering him with kisses, while the +poor youth could hardly keep his legs under the vigor of her maternal +caresses. + + +PART II. + +In a few days after the interview of Puck and Paudeen in the hut of +the forester, there was great excitement at the court of Fairyland. +The fashionable milliners and dress-makers never had seen such a +time--orders from the aristocracy poured in upon them by scores, and +their doors were beset by fashionable carriages, and little fairy +footmen caparisoned in long coats with many capes, and broad, red +bands fastened with shining buckles round their hats. The great +_artistes_ who were at the head of these establishments saw themselves +amassing fortunes from the sudden influx of fashionable custom. But +the poor little fairy seamstresses, who sat up all night, sometimes +without time to eat or sleep, from sunset to sunset, so that all these +splendid dresses might be finished in time--they did not fare so well. +They grew pale and sick, and sat swaying and swinging about as they +worked, until one might have thought them the ghosts of fairy workers, +come back for a ghostly midnight frolic in their old haunts. It was +melancholy enough, truly; but then nobody knew any thing about it. The +rich ladies, when their splendid robes came home, did not stop to +think that good, earnest, faithful fairy hearts had embroidered the +roses that adorned the skirts from their own cheeks, and spangled them +with the broken fragments of their youth's faded dreams. If they had-- + +Well, and if they had? + +That is not at all to the purport of my story; and so I will proceed +to let the reader into the secret of all this flutter and fluster. A +great prince had made his appearance at the court of Paterflor, and +had created almost as great an excitement in Fairyland as a new prima +donna with bright eyes and a _sfogato_ voice among mere mortals. +Nobody knew exactly who he was, but he came from a great way off, and +had a name as long as a province, and, beside being incalculably +wealthy, it was universally voted (ladies vote in Fairyland) that he +was the very handsomest love of a fairy knight that ever jingled +spurs, or sighed at the feet of beauty. He had come to court evidently +with the "highest recommendations" to the king, such as would have +procured him immediate access into the first "circles," even in +Philadelphia, where society lives behind barred doors, and goes about +armed cap-a-pie against encroachment or intrusion. He had been at once +received at the royal table, and a splendid suite of apartments had +been assigned him in the palace itself. Such extraordinary attentions +from the imperial family, of course, made the stranger a favorite and +a welcome guest wherever he appeared; and there was not a lady at +court who would not have given her eyes--if it would not have spoiled +her beauty--for a smile from his magnificent mouth. + +It was discovered, however, at a very early stage of the proceedings, +that the chief object of the prince's admiration was the lady Dewbell, +who, proud as she was, could not help feeling flattered by the evident +and special devotion of one for whom the whole of her sex were dying. +Sir Timothy Lawn, who, from pique or melancholy, or from some unknown +cause, had left the court the very day after the arrival of the new +prince, was not entirely forgotten, but was laid away carefully on a +back shelf of her heart; and the lady Dewbell never had been so +beautiful, so fascinating, so joyous and irresistible. Courts are as +fickle as coquettes; and before the month had passed, in a series of +brilliant _fetes_ and entertainments, at all of which the prince and +princess were the reigning toast, it was regarded as a settled thing +that there would, ere the maple leaves grew red in the dying gaze of +the year, be a royal marriage in Fairyland. + +But while to all around the beautiful Dewbell was ever the same +careless, saucy and happy creature as ever, in her heart she nursed a +bitter sorrow. After many and severe struggles, she was forced at last +to make to herself the humiliating acknowledgment that she deeply and +truly loved Sir Timothy Lawn, that noble and chivalric spirit, whom +her unworthy trifling had driven--so her frightened heart interpreted +it--in disgust from her. Compelled in common courtesy to receive the +devoted attentions of the stranger prince, and to hear every day and +every hour repeated the earnest solicitations of her father that she +should school herself to regard the stranger as her future husband, +her little fairy heart was quite broken with its ceaseless struggles. +Her pride and self-will were entirely vanquished, and she felt herself +truly the most miserable of fairy maidens. Suicide is of course a +thing strictly prohibited among immortals; but had it been otherwise, +I sadly fear that one of the lady Dewbell's spider-web silk hose would +some morning have been found without a garter, and she herself hanging +like a beauteous exhalation among the elm-leaves in the morning +sunshine. Oh, had Sir Timothy been there then, he would have found, +instead of his imperious and tantalizing coquette, the tenderest and +truest of disconsolate maidens, ready to melt into his arms between +the delicious pause of a sigh and a kiss. "Naughty, cruel Sir Timothy! +Horrid creature! to take all my nonsense for real earnest, and to go +away and leave me to be persecuted to death!" exclaimed the lady +Dewbell, with an uncontrollable burst of tears, as she threw herself, +her toilet half finished, and her hair all strewn over her face and +shoulders, upon her little praying cushion. "What will become of poor +Bell!" + +"What ails my daughter?" said the sweet, soft voice of the queen +mother, as she knelt tenderly over her child, and pressed her head to +her bosom. "Tell your sorrows to your mother." + +"Oh, mother, _I_ am the most wretched fairy that ever existed. I don't +want to marry that odious, red-haired stranger; and my father has made +me promise that the wedding shall take place on Halloween--and I--I +have consented. But I love Sir Timothy; and I wont marry any body but +him," sobbed the poor creature, convulsively, as she cast herself upon +the floor, and looked up to her mother, terrified and half frantic. + +"But, dearest, you know you laughed at poor Sir Timothy's vows--and he +is so sensitive." + +"Oh, yes, I know I did, but I'll never do so any more. _If_ Sir +Timothy will only come back and forgive me, and marry me, just this +once, I will never, never offend him again as long as I live--never, +never, never! Do, mamma, do make him come back!" + +"Poor child! I will certainly do all I can. But you have promised to +be married on Halloween." + +"Oh, yes, but that is a good fortnight off, and you can bring Sir +Timothy back before then, you know, and he can kill this horrid +stranger, and then every body will be _so_ happy!" and the face of the +volatile creature began already to re-clothe itself in smiles. + +"I fear you are mistaken, love," said her mother, solemnly, and +shaking her head in an impressive manner, she added, "do not deceive +yourself with such fallacies, my daughter; your princely word is +passed, your father's royal honor is pledged, and you must be married +on Halloween." + +The lady Dewbell, sobbing hysterically, again looked up. She was +alone; at the same moment the cat-and-baby face of Puck glanced by the +window, and a wild, mischievous laugh melted away into a song, of +which the lady only caught the two last lines: + + "He rideth fast, and he rideth well, + But his heart still clings to the pretty Bell." + +"Oh, bless thee, dear Puck!" sighed the haply wondering lady, rising +and leaning from the window. "May thy sweet prophecy come true!" + + +PART III. + +'T is Halloween midnight. Through the tall windows of the venerable +church streamed in the broad moonlight, in bright silver floods, that +lost themselves in the profound recesses of the distant aisles, or +fell like many-colored snow-flakes upon the marble floor. Entering +without sound, came up the middle aisle the royal wedding-procession. +First walked the father, the royal Paterflor, looking stern and +determined, yet, it must be confessed, a little roguish about the +crowsfeet. Upon his arm leaned his pale and stricken daughter, the +once proud, joyous and imperious Princess Dewbell. She was pale as a +lily's cup, and drooping as its stem. She never raised her head from +her bosom, and her eyes, once sparkling like fountains of light, were +hidden beneath their willowy lids. Next comes the "red-haired prince," +as the lady Dewbell had scornfully denominated him, (his head _was_ a +little inclined to flame, dear reader, between you and me,) +respectfully conducting the ever sweet and placid Queen Woodbine; and +after them a troop of merry and gayly-dressed fairies, both ladies and +gentlemen, but very demure and solemn; while Puck, in the united +capacity of Hymen and Grand Usher, was dodging about with his flaming +torch, now in front, now in rear, now here, now there, and every where +imparting an air of grotesqueness to the whole affair. + +At the altar the party stopped, and ranging themselves in the approved +order for such occasions, the priest--a grave and reverend bullfrog, +whose surplice was scrupulously neat and tidy--proceeded with the +ceremony. When he came to the question, "dost thou, my daughter, +freely and voluntarily bestow thy hand and thy affections upon this +man, Paudeen O'Rafferty, commonly called Pat?" + +The pale and shrinking lady raised her head and opened her great +ox-like eyes; the bridegroom looked sheepish and hung his head; King +Paterflor seemed suddenly troubled with a severe fit of coughing, and +the priest could scarcely forbear a chuckle. + +"Father, dear father, what is the meaning of this cruel joke?" +exclaimed the poor lady Dewbell, running to her father and catching +hold of his arm. But the old king's cough was still very troublesome. +She then appealed to the priest, but he seemed deaf, and only made a +grum kind of noise in his throat, that sounded a good deal like "Pat +O'Rafferty." + +"Who, then, are you, sir?" demanded she, at last, of the groom, +turning suddenly and imperiously upon him her piercing gaze. + +"So plaze yer ladyship, I am Paudeen O'Rafferty, the son of the +forester--at yer ladyship's sarvice." + +The fairy princess was about to faint, in the most approved manner, +and had already selected a convenient cushion upon which to fall, when +a tall and noble form crossed the moon-ray, and Sir Timothy Lawn stood +before her. + +"Beloved princess," said he, kneeling, and respectfully taking her +hand, "I hope my presence is not disagreeable to the queen of my +heart, for whose love I have so long pined. Speak to me frankly, sweet +lady Dewbell, tell me, can you love me? Will you permit me to call you +mine forever?" + +The lady Dewbell changed her intention respecting the cushion upon +which she had intended to faint, and, somehow, found herself before +she was half conscious of it, in her lover's arms. An explanation +ensued; the prince Paudeen gave up his post of honor to Sir Timothy; +the ceremony was concluded on the spot; and as the gay and joyous +party left the church, Puck was seen sitting at the organ accompanying +himself in a sort of wild yet sweet chant, of which the lady Dewbell +easily distinguished-- + + "Oh, a merry tale will the gossips tell, + Of the happy mishap of the proud lady Bell." + + + + +A NIGHT THOUGHT. + +BY THOMAS BUCHANAN READ. + + + Long have I gazed upon all lovely things, + Until my soul was melted into song, + Melted with love till from its thousand springs + The stream of adoration, swift and strong, + Swept in its ardor, drowning brain and tongue, + Till what I most would say was borne away unsung. + + The brook is silent when it mirrors most + Whate'er is grand or beautiful above; + The billow which would woo the flowery coast + Dies in the first expression of its love; + And could the bard consign to living breath + Feelings too deep for thought, the utterance were death! + + The starless heavens at noon are a delight; + The clouds a wonder in their varying play, + And beautiful when from their mountainous height + The lightning's hand illumes the wall of day:-- + The noisy storm bursts down--and passing brings + The rainbow poised in air on unsubstantial wings. + + But most I love the melancholy night-- + When with fixed gaze I single out a star + A feeling floods me with a tender light-- + A sense of an existence from afar, + A life in other spheres of love and bliss, + Communion of true souls--a loneliness in this! + + There is a sadness in the midnight sky-- + An answering fullness in the heart and brain, + Which tells the spirit's vain attempt to fly + And occupy those distant worlds again. + At such an hour Death's were a loving trust, + If life could then depart in its contempt of dust. + + It may be that this deep and longing sense + Is but the prophecy of life to come; + It may be that the soul in going hence + May find in some bright star its promised home; + And that the Eden lost forever here + Smiles welcome to me now from yon suspended sphere. + + There is a wisdom in the light of stars, + A wordless lore which summons me away-- + This ignorance belongs to earth which bars + The spirit in these darkened walls of clay, + And stifles all the soul's aspiring breath;-- + True knowledge only dawns within the gales of Death. + + Imprisoned thus, why fear we then to meet + The angel who shall ope the dungeon-door, + And break these galling fetters from our feet, + To lead us up from Time's benighted shore? + Is it for love of this dark cell of dust, + Which, tenantless, awakes but horror and disgust? + + Long have I mused upon all lovely things; + But thou, oh Death! art lovelier than all; + Thou sheddest from thy recompensing wings + A glory which is hidden by the pall-- + The excess of radiance falling from thy plume + Throws from the gates of Time a shadow on the tomb. + + + + +THE BARD. + +BY S. ANNA LEWIS. + + + Why should my anxious heart repine + That Wealth and Power can ne'er be mine, + And Love has flown-- + That Friendship changes as the breeze? + Mine is a joy unknown to these; + In Song's bright zone, + To sit by Helicon serene, + And hear the waves of Hippocrene + Lave Phoebus' throne. + + Here deathless lyres the strains prolong, + That gush from living founts of song, + Without a cross; + Here spirits never feel the weight + Of Wrong, or Envy, or of Hate, + Or earthly loss; + The pomp of Pelf--the pride of Birth-- + The gilded trappings of this earth + Return to dross. + + Oh, ye! who would forget the ills + Of earth, and all the bosom fills + With agony! + Come dwell with me in Fancy's dream, + Beside this lovely fabled stream + Of minstrelsy; + And let its draughts celestial roll + Into the deep wells of thy soul + Eternally. + + God always sets along the way + Of weary souls some beacon ray + Of light divine; + And only when my spirit's wings + Are weary in the quest of springs + Of Song, I pine; + If I could always heavenward fly, + And never earthward turn mine eye, + Bliss would be mine. + + + + +THE WILL. + +BY MISS E. A. DUPUY + + +PART I. + + There is peace in the Night of the Early Dead-- + It will yield to a glorious morrow! _Clarke_. + +Amid all the brightness and bloom which the imagination conjures up, +when we think of the sunny islands lying within the tropics, many +mournful associations arise and cast a sadness over the picture. Very +few have not had within the circle of their relatives, or friends, +some cherished one, who has vainly sought the balmy breezes of those +favored spots, with the feverish hope that amid their loveliness Death +would forget to launch his arrows for them. + +Alas! to die among strangers is usually the fate of those who are thus +lured from their homes by a deceitful hope. There, where Nature wears +a perpetual verdure--where the fervid sun brings forth a luxuriance of +vegetation unknown in more northern regions, the wearied spirit sinks +to repose, soothed, or saddened, by the glow of existence around. + +A spacious apartment on the southern side of a highly ornamented +villa, opened into a magnificent garden, filled with orange-trees, +oleanders, and many other gorgeous flowers peculiar to the climate of +Cuba; while in the distance the sunlight gleamed upon a row of +towering palms, whose stately columns, crowned by their verdant +coronal, resembled the pillars of some mighty temple, which found a +fitting canopy in the blue arch of heaven, glowing with the gorgeous +hues of a tropical sunset. + +The floor of this room was inlaid with marble of different colors, and +the couch and windows were draped with snowy lace, lightly embroidered +at the edges, and looped with cords of blue and silver--tables with +marble tops, supporting porcelain vases filled with flowers, were +placed between the windows, for these ephemeral children of sunshine +were dear to the heart of the dying one. Beside one of these stood a +large cushioned chair, in which reclined a young man of delicate +features and wasted form. He appeared in the last stages of his fell +disease, and the friends who had received him beneath their roof to +die, wondered that he should have been deluded with the hope that +health could ever again reanimate his bowed and shrunken form. There +was an expression of care upon his sharpened features--a feverish +restlessness in his manner, which betrayed the spirit's unrest. + +At his feet sat a young girl, whose brilliant complexion and +pale-brown hair betrayed her Saxon origin; the finely rounded figure, +the delicately formed feet and hands, and the gracefully turned head +and bust, were all evidences of the grade of life to which she +belonged. She held the burning hand of the invalid between her own +soft, cool palms, and sung in a sweet low voice an old ballad which +told of the ancient greatness of the Saxon race. At a short distance +from them sat an elderly lady, clad in deep mourning, and her saddened +countenance corresponded well with her weeds. + +The young man made an impatient movement, and said--"Sing not to me +England's former prowess, dear Edith. What to the dying can such +themes be but a bitter mockery? Take your guitar, my sister, and throw +your soul into its vibrating strings, while you sing me such a lay as +I can fancy the angels of Heaven to be pouring forth around the throne +of God." + +"Shall I sing the chants of our church, dearest Edgar?" said Edith in +a subdued voice. + +"Yes--yes--they breathe peace and resignation into my restless soul. +When I am dying, my sister, stifle your own feelings as you love me, +and pour into my failing senses those magnificent strains. If God sees +fit to tear me from you before I can legally provide for you and my +beloved mother, I shall be enabled to forget the bitter truth in +listening to your sweet voice. You promise me this, Edith?" + +"I do--Heaven will sustain me even then, my darling brother, and give +me power to forget my own anguish in soothing your last moments." + +Edith Euston pressed his hand to her lips, and raising from the floor +a guitar which lay beside her, she poured forth a strain of melody +which seemed to soothe the senses of the invalid to rest. His eyes +closed, and an expression of repose rested on his worn features. + +Twilight deepened over the earth--a single ray of light, from the +reddened sky, fell through the open window upon the figure of the +young girl, and the mother, who sat silent and abstracted, thought as +she glanced upon her that even in a higher world her beloved Edith +could wear no lovelier outward semblance than was now hers. There was +an expression of elevated feeling, of pure tenderness in her upturned +face which revealed the high and noble soul within. One fitted to +suffer and conquer in the dark struggle which she felt awaited her. + +Hers were not the only eyes which contemplated that lovely picture of +sisterly devotion upon that twilight eve. Another stood without, +beneath the shadow of a high hedge, and gazed upon the unconscious +musician with even deeper admiration; and his dark, expressive +features lighted up with an emotion almost of reverence. The stars +came forth in the translucent depths of ether; the young moon cast her +tremulous light over the garden, yet still the intruder lingered in +his place of concealment. Twice he put the boughs aside, as if to +approach the room and announce his presence, but again receded, as if +irresolute and uncertain as to the effect his presence might produce. + +At length all became silent. The tones of the instrument died slowly +away, and the voice of the singer ceased to pour forth its song. The +windows were still unclosed, for the invalid had reached that +distressing stage in his malady, when his oppressed breathing required +a constant circulation of free air. A lamp burning beneath an +alabaster shade was swung from the centre of the ceiling, and its +mellow lustre diffused a faint moonlight radiance throughout the +apartment. + +With suppressed breathing the two ladies watched the sleep of the sick +youth, and he who had so earnestly observed every movement of Edith, +ventured to approach so near the open window that the heavy and +interrupted respiration of young Euston was distinctly audible to him; +while his eagle eye sought to penetrate the shadow in which his +features reposed, that he might read upon them the ravages made by +approaching dissolution. + +As he stood thus, the moonlight revealed a tall, well proportioned +figure, clad in a suit of black, well fitted to his form. His +prominent features and flashing black eyes were half concealed by a +large straw hat, which was carelessly placed upon his head. As he +gazed upon the sleeping form, his lips curled, and a strange +expression of exultation came to his face; his eye wandered +triumphantly to the fair brow of Edith. + +"Twice rejected," he muttered half audibly--"twice rejected, and with +scorn, by yon dainty girl; now methinks my vengeance is almost within +my grasp. I hold her future destiny in my power; for this boy _cannot_ +drag out his existence another week. Yes, Edith--to labor you have not +been bred--to beg you will be ashamed, and he who vainly hopes that +time will be granted him to deprive me of my inheritance, will perish +from my path, just as he believes himself on the verge of consummating +his hatred to me." + +Edith softly arose, and making a sign to her mother, glided +noiselessly from the room by a distant window, which opened to the +floor. The intruder hesitated a moment, and then followed her with +light and rapid steps. The flutter of her white dress guided him to +the retreat she had chosen, and she had scarcely thrown herself upon a +rustic seat beneath the shelter of some orange-boughs, and given vent +to her painfully repressed emotion, by a burst of tears, when the dark +stranger stood before her. She started up and would have fled, but he +spoke, and the sound of his voice seemed to bind her to the spot as by +a spell. + +"Why would you fly from me, Edith?" he asked. "I come in the spirit of +good-will to you and yours." + +A struggle seemed to be passing in the mind of the young girl. She +wiped her tears away, and after a pause answered in a tone which +faltered at first, but grew firm, and even haughty as she proceeded, + +"What has brought you hither, Mr. Barclay? Yet why do I ask? To exult +in the fate of your unfortunate victim; to watch each painful breath +which brings him nearer to his grave, with the certainty that the +very eagerness with which he desires a few more days of existence, +that he may fulfill a sacred duty, is fast wearing away the faint +thread that yet binds him to life. Oh false, unfeeling man! depart, I +pray you, if one human instinct yet remains within your callous heart, +and leave my unhappy brother to die in peace." + +She turned to depart, but Barclay stepped forward and placed his hand +on her arm, as if to detain her. She shrunk from his touch with an +expression of loathing, which called the crimson to his cheek, but he +suppressed his emotion, and said calmly-- + +"I knew that you would soon need a protector, Miss Euston, and I came +hither with the faint hope that I might be able to overcome your cruel +prejudices against me--that I might become to you a friend at least, +if no dearer title were allowed me." + +"You a friend to _me_!" exclaimed Edith impetuously. "You, who lured +my brother from his home, to wreck his existence in the life of +dissipation to which you tempted him. Ever feeble from his boyhood, +you knew that little was needed to destroy his frail constitution--yet, +because he stood between you and the possession of wealth, his life +was offered as the sacrifice to your criminal cupidity. And now you +come hither to watch the last fluttering throes of existence, fearful +that Death may delay his arrows until he shall have passed that hour +which entitles him to dispose of his property--and disappoint your +hopes, by bequeathing his wealth to those who are dearest to him." + +"You are excited, Edith. You judge me too severely. Edgar's own +headlong passions destroyed him. I merely urged him to do as others of +his years and station, without foreseeing such fatal results. My love +for you would have prompted me to save your brother." + +"Speak not to me of love--dare not approach the sister of your victim +with proffers of affection. The death of Edgar may leave me +penniless--nearly friendless--I have been tenderly nurtured, but I +would sooner embrace a life of sternest self-denial, of utter poverty, +than link myself with infamy in your person. Leave me--and dare not +approach the room of my brother, to imbitter his last hours by your +presence." + +"And your mother, my fair heroine?" said Barclay, in a tone of sarcasm +bordering on contempt. "What will become of her if you persist in the +rejection of the only person in the wide world on whom you have any +claim? She is old, feeble, broken in health and spirit. Ah! will not +your proud heart faint when you behold her sharing this life of +poverty and self-denial, which seems to you so much more attractive +than the home and protection I offer you?" + +Edith stifled the tears that sprung anew to her eyes, and after a +brief struggle said with composure-- + +"My mother is too honorable--she has too bitter a disdain of meanness +ever to wish her child to sacrifice the truth and integrity of her +soul, by accepting the hand of one for whom she has no respect." + +"By Heaven!" said Barclay passionately, "you force me to throw away +the scabbard and declare war to the knife. Be it so, then. Yonder weak +boy cannot survive five of the ten days yet required to complete his +majority. Then comes to me--yes to _me_--all his wealth; and only as +_my_ wife shall one ray of my prosperity shine upon you. The gray +hairs of your only parent may be brought to the grave by want and +sorrow, and unless you relent toward me my heart shall be steeled to +her sufferings." + +At this picture, which was only too likely to be realized, the courage +of the unhappy Edith forsook her, and she exclaimed in faltering +tones-- + +"My dear, dear mother! for her sake any other sacrifice might be +borne--but not this--not this. My brother yet lives, and Heaven may in +pity prolong his existence beyond the hour he so anxiously prays to +see. Then we escape your power." + +Barclay laughed mockingly. + +"This is the fifteenth, and he is not of age until the twenty-fifth, +exactly at the second hour of the morning. One moment only before that +time should Death claim his victim the estate is mine, and you +dependent on my bounty. Think you that the frail and wasted ghost of a +man who struggles for breath in yonder room can live through another +week? Hope--yes, hope for the best, for despair will come soon enough. +I feel as secure of my inheritance as though it were already mine." + +Edith proudly motioned him from her path, and fled toward the house, +with his mocking words still ringing in her ears. Her brother yet +slept, and as she gazed upon his sunken features it seemed to her as +if death were already stamped upon them, and she bent her head above +his still face, to convince herself that he yet breathed. + +Barclay and Euston were distantly related, and had both been educated +by an eccentric kinsman, with the belief among their connections that +he designed dividing his ample fortune between them. To the surprise +and chagrin of Barclay, he found on the death of Colonel Euston that +the whole of his estate was bequeathed to his young cousin, encumbered +with an annuity to himself, which appeared to one of his expensive +tastes, and lavish prodigality, as absolute poverty. + +Edgar Euston was then but seventeen years of age, and of a delicate +bodily organization, which did not promise length of days. A clause in +Colonel Euston's will offered a temptation to Barclay, which he had +not sufficient principle to resist. If Euston died before attaining +his majority the estate was to pass into the hands of his kinsman, and +no mention was made of the mother or sister of the young heir. Barclay +reflected that if he could remove Euston from his path, before he +attained his twenty-first year, the coveted wealth would yet be his. + +From that hour he made every effort to win the confidence and +affection of young Euston. He was his senior by nearly ten years, and +possessed a knowledge of the world, and a fascination of manner which +was extremely attractive to a youth who had passed the greater portion +of his life, at a country residence, in the society of his mother and +sister. Euston entered one of our Northern colleges, and under the +auspices of his kinsman he soon achieved a reputation which was far +more applauded by the wild students than agreeable to the professors. +He blindly followed wherever Barclay led, and before he entered his +twenty-first year he returned to his early home, with a constitution +completely broken by the reckless life he had led, and the symptoms of +early decay in his flushed cheek and hollow cough. Vain had been the +entreaties and remonstrances of his mother and sister; under the +influence of his tempter, they were utterly disregarded--until the +hand of disease was laid upon him, and he felt that the only atonement +he could offer for all the suffering he had inflicted upon them would +probably be denied to him. + +He earnestly desired to live, that he might reach that age which would +entitle him to make a legal transfer of his property to those who were +deservedly dear to him, for in the event of his death without a will, +his mother and sister would be left entirely dependent on the tender +mercies of his successor. An unfortunate lawsuit had deprived his +mother of the property which had become hers on the death of his +father, and his own reckless extravagance had dissipated more than the +annual revenue of his own property since it came into his possession. + +Too late he discovered the baseness of Barclay's motives, and +renounced all intercourse with him--but he would not thus be cast off. +He had seen and loved the noble-hearted Edith, and he forced his +hypocritical offers of service upon the afflicted family, until Edith +distinctly assured him that he need never hope for a return to his +passion. + +Euston had long since abandoned all hope of recovery, but he sought +the mild climate of Cuba, trusting that the fatal day might be +deferred until he had secured independence to his family, but his +physician feared that the very eagerness of his wishes would +eventually defeat them. It was mournful, and deeply touching, to +witness that clinging to existence in one so young, not from love of +life itself, but from a desire to perform an act of justice. That +completed, his mission on earth was ended, and Death might claim him +without a murmur. + +The hours dragged heavily on toward the desired day, and each one as +it passed appeared to hurry the poor invalid with rapid strides toward +the grave, that seemed eager to claim its prey. Barclay had not again +ventured to intrude on Edith, but he nightly hovered around the room +of the dying youth, and gloated on the wasted and death-like form +which held his earthly fortunes in his hands. + +A skillful physician had accompanied Euston from his native land, and +his unremitting attention, aided by the tender nursing of his +affectionate sister, seemed as if they would eventually reap their +reward in the preservation of life beyond the hour of his majority. + +In pain and weariness time slowly waned, but it still left him life +and an unclouded mind; and the bold, bad heart, that nightly watched +him, feared that the wealth he so ardently coveted, might yet elude +his grasp. + +The evening of the twenty-fifth at last arrived. Euston reclined in +his chair as we first beheld him, wrapped in a brocade dressing-gown, +whose brilliant colors made his extreme pallor the more remarkable; a +table was drawn close beside him, and on it, at his own desire, was +placed his repeater, from which his eyes scarcely wandered. His breath +came slowly and gaspingly, and at brief intervals his physician +moistened his parched lips with a restorative cordial, and murmured +words of encouragement in his ear. + +As before, Edith sat at his feet, with her guitar, ready to stifle her +deep emotion, and fulfill her promise to sing to him while his parting +soul was struggling for release from its earthly tenement. His mother +leaned over his chair, and bathed his cold brow with her burning +tears; in the back-ground sat a clergyman, gazing on the scene with +absorbing interest. + +Each one in that hushed room felt the approach of the stern tyrant, +and all prayed fervently that his dart might be stayed yet a few +hours. + +"My sister, sing to me. Soothe me into quietness by the loved tones of +your voice. It is my _only_ hope for life beyond the desired hour," +murmured the dying youth. + +With tremulous fingers Edith touched the chords, and poured forth the +solemn strains to which he loved to listen, and he sunk back and +closed his eyes. At first her voice faltered, but she gradually +regained her self-command, and never had those clear, rich tones +uttered a sweeter strain, than that which floated around the +fluttering spirit, which struggled to release itself from the +attenuated form of the early doomed. + +Barclay stood without, watching the scene with breathless interest, +and a terrible struggle was passing in his dark and stormy soul. +Euston might live beyond the hour of two, and he would then be a +beggar. His eye wandered toward Edith, so nobly devoted, so purely +beautiful; and the tempter whispered, + +"She might save you--ennoble you; the love, the sweet influence of +such a woman are all powerful. Once yours, you could surround her with +such an atmosphere of care and tenderness, that her heart must be won +to love you--to forget the past. Without her, you are doomed--doomed. +What matters a few more moments of existence to one like him, when the +eternal welfare of a human being hangs trembling in the balance? +Deprived of the means of living, Edith will have no choice--she must +marry you, or debase her pride of soul before the iron sway of +poverty. Her mother is old--infirm; and for her sake, the daughter +will listen to your proffers of love. Take your destiny into your own +hands. Cowardly soul! why falter now? It is but completing your own +work. He is _your_ victim--you know it, and feel it in every pulse of +your throbbing heart. Years of usefulness might have been his, but for +you; then complete the sacrifice without hesitation. What avails it +to have accomplished so much, if the reward escapes you at the last +moment?" + +Such were the wild thoughts that oppressed his soul during those +terrible hours. He saw that the parchment which disinherited him was +placed beside Euston, and the pen stood in the inkstand, ready to do +its service, so soon as the hand of the watch pointed to the hour of +two; and he ground his teeth in impotent rage, as the moments flitted +by, and Euston yet continued to breathe. + +Terrible is the watch of love beside the flitting soul which parts in +peace; but how much more awful was that vigil, in which the anguish of +bereavement was doubly embittered by the fear of future want to those +who had been reared amid all the refinements of luxury. The mother +looked upon her remaining child, and felt that she was not formed to +struggle with poverty and neglect, and the daughter bent her earful +eyes on that venerable form, and in the depths of her soul, prayed +that her old age might be spared the grinding cares of want. + +The watch struck the half hour--then the quarter--and a feeble motion +of Euston stopped the hand of Edith as she swept it over the strings +of her instrument. She arose and stood beside him; a breathless +silence reigned throughout the apartment, only broken by the +monotonous ticking of the watch, which struck upon the excited nerves +of those around with a sound as distinct as the reverberations of +thunder. + +Not a word was uttered until the hand pointed to the hour, then, as if +endued with sudden energy, the dying man stretched forth his hand, and +grasping the pen, said in a firm, distinct voice, + +"Now let me sign my name, and yield up my spirit to the angel that has +been beckoning me away for hours. My mother--my sister, God has +vouchsafed to me a mercy I did not deserve. Thank Heaven! your +interests are safe. You are free from _his_ power." + +At that instant a strange cry was heard; a bird flew into the room, +and, dazzled by the light, flapped his wings against the shade of the +lamp, overturned it, and left the apartment in utter darkness. In the +confusion of the moment, a figure glided through the open window, and +stood beside the chair of Euston. He noiselessly placed his firm grasp +upon his laboring breast, and held it there a single instant. A faint +rattling sound was heard, and Edith wildly called for lights. + +Noiselessly as he had entered glided that dark form from the side of +his victim, and buried itself in the shadows of the trees without. +Many lights flashed into the room--they glared coldly on the face of +the dead, and the mother sunk senseless in the arms of her daughter. + + +PART II. + +Several months have passed away, and Mrs. Euston and her daughter have +returned to their native land. A single room in an obscure +boarding-house in the heart of a southern city was occupied by both. +The expenses of their voyage to New Orleans, and a few months sojourn +in their present abode, humble as it was, had nearly exhausted their +slender resources. Edith had made many efforts to procure a few +scholars to instruct in music and drawing, but the departure of the +greater portion of the wealthy, during the unhealthy season, had +deprived her of those she had been able to obtain. She thought of +going out as a daily governess, but the feeble health and deep +dejection of her mother, offered an insuperable objection to such an +arrangement. When she left her alone even for an hour, she usually +found her in such a state of nervous excitement on her return, as was +painful to behold. + +Edith is seated near the only window of their sordid apartment in the +afternoon of a sultry summer day; the sun is shining without with +overpowering splendor; a heated vapor rises from the paved streets and +seems to shimmer in the breathless atmosphere. Edith had lost all the +freshness and roundness of youth; her cheek was deadly white, and her +emaciated form seemed to indicate the approach of the terrible disease +of which her brother had died. She was sewing industriously, and her +air of weariness and lassitude betrayed the strong mastery of the +spirit over the body, in the continuance of her employment. + +Mrs. Euston was lying on the bed; and twenty years seemed to have +passed over her since the night of her son's death. The oppressive +heat had induced her to remove her cap, and her long hair, white as +the snows of winter, lay around her wasted and furrowed features. From +infancy the respect and observance due to one of high station had been +bestowed upon her, and the reverse in their fortunes was more than she +could bear. At first, her high-toned feelings had shrunk from +obligations to the new heir, and she approved of Edith's rejection; +but as time passed, amid privations to which she had never been +accustomed, her very soul revolted against their miserable mode of +living. + +To a woman of refined feelings and vivid imagination, the coarse and +sordid realities around her were sufficiently heart-sickening, without +having the terrible fear forced upon her that her only child was +hurrying to the grave through her exertions to keep them literally +from starvation. Her daughter now thought she slept, but her mind was +far too busily occupied to permit the sweet influences of slumber to +soothe her into a momentary forgetfulness of her bitter grief. +Suddenly she unclosed her eyes, and spoke. + +"Edith, my child, lay aside that work--such constant employment is +destroying you. Is it not time that we heard from Robert Barclay? +Surely he will not be relentless, when he hears that your health is +failing. After all, Edith, you need not be so averse to receiving +assistance from him; the property he holds is rightfully ours." + +"Mother," replied Edith, a faint flush mounting to her cheek, "for +your sake I have submitted to humiliate myself before our ruthless +kinsman, but I fear it will be in vain. Only as his wife will my +claims on his humanity and justice be acknowledged. Would you not +shrink, dearest mother, from condemning your child to such a doom? +Could you not better bear to stand above my grave, and know me at +peace within it, than to behold me wedded to this unprincipled man, to +whose pernicious example my brother owed his early doom?" + +"Speak not of dying, my daughter," said the poor mother, hysterically, +"I cannot bear it; I am haunted by the fear that I shall at last be +left on earth alone. I daily behold you fading before my eyes without +the power to avert the fate I see written upon your pale cheek and +wasted form. As Robert's wife you would have a luxurious home, the +means of gratifying refined tastes, and of contributing to the +happiness of others. He may atone to me, by the preservation of one +child, for the destruction of the other." + +"Mother, your fears for me blind you to the truth. Are not mental +griefs far more difficult to bear than the privations of poverty, +galling as they are? As Mr. Barclay's wife, I should loathe myself for +the hypocrisy I should be compelled to practice toward him; and the +wealth for which I had sold myself, would allow me leisure to brood +over my own unworthiness, until madness might be the result. No, no, +mother--come what may, I never can be so untrue to myself as to become +the wife of Robert Barclay." + +"God help us, then!" said Mrs. Euston, despondingly. + +A carriage drove to the door, and a gentleman alighted from it. Edith +heard the bustle, but she did not look out to see what occasioned it, +and she was startled from her painful reverie by a knock on the door. +She opened it, and started back with a faint cry as she recognized +Barclay. + +"The landlady told me to come up," he said, as he glanced around the +wretched apartment, and a slight twinge of remorse touched his heart +as he remarked the changed appearance of Edith. She motioned him to +enter, while Mrs. Euston arose from the bed, and offered him a seat. + +"I concluded it would be best to reply to your communication in +person," said he to Mrs. Euston, as he took the offered chair. "I come +with the most liberal intentions, provided Miss Euston will listen to +reason. I am grieved to see you in a place so unsuited to your former +station as this wretched apartment." + +"And yet," said Edith, "I have passed some pleasant hours in this +room, comfortless as it looks. So long as I had the hope of being able +to provide for our wants by my own exertions, I found contentment in +its humble shelter." + +"Your happiness must then be truly independent of outward +circumstances," replied Barclay, with a touch of his old sarcasm. "I +supposed, from the tenor of your mother's petition, that you had begun +to repent of your high-toned language to me in our last interview, and +would now accede to terms you once spurned, as the price of my +assistance to you and yours." + +Edith curbed her high spirit, and calmly replied, "You misunderstood +my mother's words. As the mother of the late heir, she justly +considers herself entitled to a pittance from your estate, and she +claimed from your humanity, what she was hopeless of obtaining from +your sense of justice. For myself, I hoped for nothing from either, +but I acquiesced in her application. I am sorry that you have founded +on it expectations which must prove fallacious." + +"Then, madam, I need remain no longer," said Barclay, addressing Mrs. +Euston. "Your daughter remembers our interview previous to, and after, +the death of her brother; the only terms on which I would assist you +were then explicitly expressed." + +Mrs. Euston caught his hand, and bowed her venerable head upon it. + +"Have mercy, Robert, upon my gray hairs--my daughter; look at her--she +is dying by inches--she is stifling in this wretched spot. The money +that was my son's should surely buy a shelter for us. Leave us not +helpless, hopeless. My God! my God! give me eloquence to plead for my +child!" and she threw herself upon the floor, and raised her clasped +hands to heaven. + +"Madam," said Barclay, "it only rests with your daughter to have mercy +upon you and herself. Where, I ask you, is her filial piety, when she +beholds you suffer thus, and relents not toward one who offers her a +love that has survived coldness, contempt, contumely." + +Edith approached her mother, and assisted her to rise. + +"My dearest mother, calm yourself. Humble not yourself thus before our +oppressor. God is just--is merciful. He will not forget the widow and +the orphan in their extremity. Leave us, Mr. Barclay; had my wishes +alone been consulted, you never would have been called on thus to +witness our misfortunes." + +Barclay bowed, and haughtily strode from the room. + +"Another month of privation," he muttered, "and she will surely be +mine or Death's. It does not much matter to which she belongs. Ah, if +she only knew all!" and he sprung into his cabriolet, and dashed off +toward the more aristocratic portion of the city. + +In the hope that Edith would be forced to relent, Barclay had remained +in New Orleans thus late in the season, and he resolved to linger yet +a little longer, until want and suffering should leave her no choice. +His passion for her was one of those insanities to which men of his +violent character are often liable. He desired her as the one great +gift, which was to purify, to exalt him in the scale of humanity. The +delicate beauty of her person, the sensibility of her soul, the grace +of her manner, rendered her irresistibly attractive to him; but so +selfish was his love, that he would sooner have seen her perish at his +feet, than have rendered her assistance, except at the price proposed. + +Another month passed by, and still there was no news of Edith or her +mother. He grasped the daily paper, almost with a sensation of fear, +and glanced at the column of deaths, which at that season usually +contains a goodly array. Their names were not yet among them, or +perchance in their poverty and obscurity they would not find +admittance even among the daily list of mortality. + +The yellow fever had commenced its annual ravages, and Barclay +retreated to a country-house in the vicinity, owned by a friend, and +dispatched a confidential servant to inquire concerning Mrs. Euston +and her daughter. They were still in the same place, but the mother +had been ill, and was still confined to her bed. + +One morning, about two weeks afterward, Barclay was seated in a +delightful little saloon, over a late breakfast. The room was +furnished with every appliance of modern luxury, and the morning air +stirred the branches of noble trees without, whose verdant shade +completely shut out the glare of the sun. A servant entered, and +presented to him a letter which had just been left. The irregular hand +with which it was directed, prevented him from recognizing the writing +of Edith, and when he opened the missive, which had evidently been +blotted with her bitter tears, a flush of triumph mounted to his +cheek, and he exclaimed with an oath, + +"Mine at last!--I knew it must end thus!" + +The letter contained the following words: + + "After a night of such suffering as casts all I have + previously endured into the shade, I address you. My + mother now lies before me in that heavy and death-like + sleep which follows utter exhaustion. Her state of + health for the last month has demanded my constant + care, and the precarious remuneration I have been able + to obtain for sewing, I have thus been compelled to + give up. We have parted with every souvenir of our + better days--even our clothing has been sacrificed, + until we have but a change of garments left; and now + our landlady insists on being paid the small sum we owe + her, or we must leave her house to-day. She came into + our room last evening, and the scene which ensued threw + my mother into such a state of nervous excitement, that + she has not yet recovered from it. + + "I cannot disguise from myself that she is very ill. If + she awakes to a renewal of the same anguish, I dare not + contemplate the consequences. You know that I do not + love you, Mr. Barclay. I make no pretension to a change + in my feelings; repugnant as it must be to a heart of + sensibility, I must view this transaction as a matter + of bargain and sale. I will accept your late offer, to + save my mother from further suffering, and to gain a + home for her declining years. + + "For myself, I will endeavor to be to you--but why + should I promise any thing for myself. God alone can + give me strength to live after the sacrifice is + completed. + + "EDITH." + +There was much in this letter that was wounding to his vanity, and +bitter to his feelings; but he had triumphed! The stately pride of +this girl was humbled before him--her spirit bowed in the dust before +the gaunt spectre she had thought herself capable of braving. She +would be his--the fair, the pure in heart, would link herself to vice, +infamy and crime, for money. Money! the world's god! See the countless +millions groveling upon the earth before the great idol--the golden +calf, which so often brings with it as bitter a curse as was denounced +against the people of old, when they forsook the living and true God +for its worship. + +Can it not buy every thing--even woman's love, or the semblance of it, +which would serve him just as well? He, the murderer of the brother, +would purchase the compliance of the sister with this magical agent; +but--and his heart quailed at the thought--could it buy self-respect? +Could it enable him to look into the clear eye of that woman he would +call his wife, and say, "My soul is worthy to be linked with thine in +the realms of eternity." + +No--he felt that the sacrilegious union must be unblessed on earth, +and severed in heaven, yet he shrunk not from his purpose. + +He lost no time in seeking Edith; Mrs. Euston was yet buried in the +leaden slumber produced by a powerful narcotic. The unhappy girl +received him alone, and he remarked that his words of impassioned love +brought no color to her marble cheek--no emotion to her soul; she +seemed to have steeled herself for the interview, and it was not until +he pressed the kiss of betrothal upon her pallid lips, that she +betrayed any sensibility--then a thrill, a shudder pervaded her whole +frame, and he supported her nearly insensible form several moments +before she regained power to sustain herself. Could he have looked +into that breaking heart, and have read there all the bitter loathing, +the agonized struggles for self-control, would he have persisted in +his suit? Yes--for this was a part of his vengeance for the slights +she had put upon him; and in the future, if she did not play the part +he thus forced upon her, with all the devotion he should exact, had he +not bitter words at his command to taunt her with the scene of that +morning? + +A physician was called in, who advised the removal of Mrs. Euston +while she slept; and arrangements were soon made to accomplish it. The +family to whom Barclay's present retreat belonged, were spending the +summer at the north, and their house had been left at his disposal. He +determined to remove Mrs. Euston and her daughter thither, while he +took up his own abode, until the day of his marriage, with a bachelor +friend in the neighborhood. + +Edith demanded an interval of a week before their union took place, +which he reluctantly granted. Naturally prodigal, he employed the time +in ordering the most elegant _trousseau_ for his bride. She who so +lately was struggling with bitter want, was now surrounded by servants +eager to anticipate every wish, while Barclay played the devoted +lover. Edith prayed earnestly for power to regard him with such +feelings as alone could hallow the union they were about to form. Vain +were her lonely struggles--her tearful supplications; a spectral form +seemed to rise ever between them, and reproach her that she had been +so untrue to herself, even for the preservation of a mother. + +The only thing that consoled her for her great sacrifice, was that her +beloved mother seemed to revive to some sense of enjoyment, when she +again found herself surrounded by that comfort to which she had been +accustomed. Weakened in mind as in body, Mrs. Euston fondly flattered +herself that her daughter might yet be happy amid the splendors of +wealth; and the poor mother welcomed the arbiter of their future fate +with smiles and courteous words, to which he listened with politeness, +and scorned as the hollow offspring of necessity. + +The dreaded day at length arrived, and with the calmness of exhausted +emotion, Edith prepared herself for the ceremony which was to consign +her to the protection of Barclay. She believed her earthly fate +sealed, and resignation was all she could command. + +Amid all her suffering, there was one thought which arose perpetually +before her; there was one human being on earth who would have risked +his life to serve or save her, and she knew that a heart worthy of her +love would hear the history of her enforced marriage with bitter +disappointment and anguish. + +Near the home of her infancy dwelt a family of sons and daughters with +whom she had been reared in habits of intimacy. Between herself and +the eldest son a strong attachment had grown up; it had never been +expressed in words, yet each felt as well assured of the affection of +the other, as if a thousand protestations had been uttered. About the +time that Mrs. Euston and her daughter left their own home to travel +with their beloved invalid, Walter Atwood bade adieu to his paternal +home, on a tour to Europe, where he was to complete his professional +education as a medical man. + +Mrs. Euston's place passed into the hands of strangers, and after a +few months all intercourse by letter ceased between their former +friends and themselves. After the death of her son, the bereaved +mother would not consent to return to their former neighborhood, and +thus all trace of them was lost to the Atwoods; but Edith knew in her +deep heart that Walter would return--would seek her; and it was this +conviction which gave her firmness to resist so long the overtures of +Barclay. + +Now all was at an end; another hour and the right even to think of him +would no longer be hers. Her mother entered her room, folded her to +her breast, and whispered, + +"The hour has arrived, my child. Robert is here with the clergyman. Do +not keep them waiting." + +"I am quite ready, mother," said Edith, calmly, and she advanced +without hesitation toward the door, for she heard an impatient step +without, which she well knew. Barclay awaited her in the hall--he +impetuously seized her hand and drew it beneath his arm. + +At that moment the door-bell was violently pulled, and both turned +impulsively to see who made so imperious a demand for admittance. + +At the open door stood two figures, one of a young man, who appeared +deeply agitated, for his features, beneath the light of the lamps, +seemed white and rigid, as if cut from marble. Over his shoulder +appeared a swarthy face, with a pair of bright, keen eyes, gleaming +from beneath overhanging brows. + +Edith and Barclay both uttered an exclamation--but they were very +different in their character. In the impulse of the moment, the former +drew her hand forcibly from him who sought to retain it, and with one +bound, was in the arms of the foremost stranger, as she exclaimed, + +"Walter--my saviour--my preserver! you have come at last!" + +The face of Atwood lost its unnatural rigidity as he pressed her to +his heart, and said, + +"Thank Heaven! I am not then too late!" + +Barclay advanced threateningly, + +"What does this mean, sir? Are you aware that such conduct in my house +is not to be tolerated--that you shall answer for it to me with your +life?" + +"It means, Mr. Barclay, that I come with authority to prevent the +unholy alliance you were about to force upon this helpless and +unprotected girl, to place the seal upon your crimes, by clasping in +wedlock the hand of the sister with that which is red with the +brother's blood." + +"'T is false--the boy killed himself, as Edith herself knows full +well. Am I to be held accountable for the dissipation of a young fool, +who, when once the curb was removed, went headlong to destruction +without the necessity of any prompting from me." + +"We will waive that part of the question, if you please, Mr. Barclay. +I have brought with me one who can prove much more than that. Come +forward, Antoine." + +The Frenchman advanced, and Barclay grew pale as he recognized him. + +"Let us retire to a private room," continued Atwood, in a lower +tone--"I would not have Mrs. Euston and her daughter hear too +suddenly the developments I am prepared to make." + +Then turning to Edith he said-- + +"You are saved, my dear Edith. Retire with your mother, while I settle +with Mr. Barclay." + +Mechanically Barclay led the way into an adjoining room. When there, +he turned haughtily and said-- + +"Now, sir, explain yourself--tell me why my privacy is thus invaded, +and--" + +Atwood interrupted him. + +"It is useless to attempt bravado with me, sir. Your whole career is +too intimately known to me to render it of any avail. You know that +from my boyhood I have loved Miss Euston, for you may remember a +conversation which took place between us several years since, when you +were received as a visiter at her mother's house. Jealousy enabled you +to penetrate what had been carefully veiled from others, and you taxed +me with what I would not deny. Do you remember the words you used to +the boy you then spoke to? That you would move heaven and earth to win +Edith Euston." + +"To what does all this tend?" asked Barclay, in an irritated tone. + +"Patience, and you will see. I returned from Europe and found that +Mrs. Euston's family had left for Havanna. Her lawsuit had gone +against her, and she had lost her home. Nothing more was known of her. +I lost no time in following her. I reached Cuba, and after many +inquiries, traced her to the house of the family which had received +her beneath their roof. There I heard the history of her son's unhappy +death, at the moment he was about to confer independence upon his +mother and sister. _You_ were mentioned as a visiter after his death; +your _generous_ offer to share with Miss Euston as your wife the +wealth which should have been hers was dwelt on. All this aroused a +vague suspicion in my mind. I made minute inquiries, and traced you +through all the orgies of your dissipation. One night I was following +up the inquiry, and I entered a tavern much frequented by foreigners. +A man sat apart in gloomy silence. One of his comrades said-- + +"'Antoine grieves over the loss of his bird. All the money the +American paid him does not make him forget that he sold his best +friend!' + +"By an electric chain of thought, the incident which attended poor +Euston's last moments, occurred to me. I approached the man, and +addressed him in French, for I saw that he was a native of that +country. I spoke of his bird. He shook his head and said-- + +"'It is not the loss of the bird, monsieur, but the use that was made +of him, that troubles my conscience.' + +"In short, to condense a long story, I learned from Antoine, that he +remained in your lodgings several days, until the mackaw he sold to +you became sufficiently accustomed to you to be caressed without +biting. During that time you had a room darkened, and required him to +train the bird to fly at a light and overturn it. When he was +dismissed, his curiosity was excited, and he watched your movements. +He nightly dogged your steps, and traced you to the garden of the +villa. He stood within a few feet of you on the night of Euston's +death, and beheld the use to which you put his bird. His eyes, +accustomed to the gloom without, beheld your dark form glide to the +side of your victim. He saw your murderous hand pressed upon the +breast of the dying youth." + +"'T is false--false. I defy him to prove it." + +"It is true, sir--the evidence is such as would condemn you in any +court; and now listen to me. I offer you lenient terms, in +consideration of the ties of relationship which bind you to those you +have so cruelly oppressed. One third of the fortune for which you have +paid so fearful a price shall be yours, if you will sign a paper I +have with me, which will restore the remainder to Mrs. Euston. If you +refuse, I have in my pocket a writ of arrest, and the officers are in +the shrubbery awaiting my orders to execute it. Comply with my terms +and I suffer you to escape." + +Thus confronted by imminent danger, Barclay seemed to lose his courage +and presence of mind. He measured the floor with rapid steps a few +moments, and then turning to Atwood motioned for the paper, to which +he affixed his signature without uttering a word. + +"There is yet another condition," said Atwood. + +"Leave this country within forty-eight hours. If, after that time, I +am made aware of your presence within the jurisdiction of the United +States, I will have you arrested as a murderer. The peace of mind of +those I have rescued from your power shall not be periled by your +presence within the same land they inhabit." Barclay ground his teeth +with rage. + +"I _shall_ leave it, be assured, but not to escape from this absurd +charge." + +"Go then. I care not from what motive." + +Another instant, and Barclay had passed from the room. Edith and her +mother traveled to their former home in the beautiful land of Florida, +under the protection of Atwood, and there, amid rejoicing friends, +surrounded by all the happy associations of her bright youth, she gave +her hand to her faithful lover. + +Barclay perished in a street brawl, in a foreign land, and the whole +of her brother's estate finally devolved upon her. + + + + +A VOICE FOR POLAND. + +BY WM. H. C. HOSMER. + + + Up, for encounter stern + While unsheathed weapons gleam; + The beacon-fires of Freedom burn, + Her banners wildly stream; + Awake! and drink at purple springs-- + Lo! the "White Eagle" flaps his wings + With a rejoicing scream, + That sends an old, heroic thrill + Through hearts that are unconquered still. + + Leap to your saddles, leap! + Tried wielders of the lance, + And charge as when ye broke the sleep + Of Europe, at the call of France: + The knightly deeds of other years + Eclipse, ye matchless cavaliers! + While plume and penon dance-- + That prince, upon his phantom steed, + In Ellster lost your ranks shall lead. + + Flock round the altar, flock! + And swear ye will be free; + Then rush to brave the battle shock + Like surges of a maddened sea; + Death, with a red and shattered brand + Yet clinging to the rigid hand, + A blissful fate would be, + Contrasted with that darker doom + A branded brow--a living tomb. + + Speed to the combat, speed! + And beat oppression down, + Or win, by martrydom, the meed + Of high and shadowless renown; + Ye weary exiles, from afar + Came back! and make the savage Czar + In terror clutch his crown; + While wronged and vengeful millions pour + Defiance at his palace-door. + + Throng forth with souls to dare, + From huts and ruined halls! + On the deep midnight of despair + A beam of ancient glory falls: + The knout, the chain and dungeon cave + To frenzy have aroused the brave; + Dismembered Poland calls, + And through a land opprest, betrayed, + Stalks Kosciusko's frowning shade. + + + + +TO HER WHO CAN UNDERSTAND IT. + +BY MAYNE REID. + + + They tell me, lady, that thy heart is changed-- + That on thy lip there is another name; + I'll not believe it--though for life estranged-- + I know thy love's lone worship is the same. + The bee that wanders on the summer breath, + May wanton safely among leaves and flowers, + But by the honied jar it clings till death-- + There is no change for hearts that loved like ours. + + You may not mock me--'tis an idle game-- + The lip may lie, the eye with bright beguiling + May, from the world, conceal a suffering flame, + But 'tis the eye and not the heart is smiling; + And I, too, have that power of deceiving, + By the strong pride of an unfeeling will, + The cold and cunning world in its believing-- + What boots it all? The heart will suffer still. + + Comes there not o'er thy spirit, when 'tis dreaming + In the lone hours of the voiceless night, + When the sweet past like a new present seeming, + Brings back those rosy hours of love and light? + Comes there not o'er thy dreaming spirit then + Delicious joy--although 'tis but a vision-- + That we have met, caressed and kissed again, + And revel still among those sweets Elysian? + + Comes there not o'er thy spirit when it wakes, + And finds, with sleep, the vision too hath parted + A lone depression, till thy proud heart aches, + And from thy burning orb the tear hath started? + And with sad memories through thy bosom thronging, + Within thy heart's most secret deep recesses + Feel'st thou not then an agony of longing + To dream again of those divine caresses? + + To dream them o'er and o'er, or deem them real, + While penitence is speaking in thy sighs-- + For this, unlike thy dream, is not ideal-- + It brings the pallid cheek, the moistened eyes: + Then, lady, mock not love so deeply hearted, + With that light seeming which deceit can give-- + The love I promised thee, when last we parted, + Shall never be another's while _you_ live. + + +[Illustration: Engraved by W. E. Tu +A PIC NIC ON OLDEN TIME. +Engraved Expressly for Graham's magazine] + + + + +A PIC-NIC IN OLDEN TIME. + +BY QUEVEDO. + +[SEE ENGRAVING.] + + +Joy is as old as the universe, yet as young as a June rose: and a +pic-nic has of all places been its delight, since the little quiet +family _fetes champetres_ of Adam and Eve in the garden of Eden. So it +is of no especial consequence in what reign of what kingdom our clever +artist has laid his scene--and sooth to say, from the diversified and +pleasantly incongruous costume and accessories of the picture, it +might puzzle an uninitiated to tell. But we, who are in the secrets of +Maga, and to whom the very brain-workings of her poets and painters +are as palpable as the crystal curdling of the lake beneath the filmy +breath of the Frost King, of course know all about it, and will +whisper in your ear the key to the pretty harmonies of wood and sky +and happy faces which he has spread out in a sort of visible cavatina, +or dear little love-song, beneath your eye. + +It was a gay time at Sweetbriar Lodge--for the fair Alice Hawthorn had +just been married to the Squire of Deerdale, and the happy pair +(new-married people were even in those times happy, although they were +not so set down in the newspapers,) had determined to spend the +honeymoon quietly at home, like sensible people, instead of posting +off to Bath or Brighton; or mewing themselves up in some outlandish +corner of the country, where they could see and hear nothing but +themselves, until they were ready to commence the married life by +being cloyed with each other's society. The season was mid-summer, and +the weather so balmy and beautiful that after wandering about in the +woods and fields all day, and watching the moon creep stealthily up +the sky to view herself in the fountain, one felt a longing to make +his bed on the fresh turf under the katydid's bower, and sleep there. +Of course I don't mean the young and happy bridegroom. He never +dreamed of being absent from his Alice; and he even felt quite jealous +of her little sister Emma, who used sometimes to come and put her +laughing, roguish face and curly head between the lovers, as they were +sitting on the sofa or reclining on the green turf by the little +fountain. + +But Alice had another sister, older than herself, and who had already +refused several excellent offers of marriage--declaring that she +intended to live and die single, unless she should fall in love with +some wandering minstrel or prince in disguise, like Lalla Rookh. Her +name was Hortensia; but on account of her proud indifference to the +attentions and compliments which were every where offered to her +wonderful beauty, she was usually called Haughty Hawthorn--a name +which seemed to please her better than all the flatteries of which she +was the object. She was already twenty-two, and ripening into the full +magnificence of glorious womanhood--her heart yet untouched by the +electric dart of love, and her fancy free as the birds of air. + +Now it was quite natural that the gentle Alice, whom love had made so +happy, should willingly enter into a conspiracy with her husband and a +parcel of the young people of the neighborhood against the peace and +comfort of her haughty sister--deeming of course--as I myself am also +of opinion--that a young lady out of love ought to be supremely +miserable, whatever she herself may think about it. + +Keeping in view the peculiar requisites required by Haughty in a +lover, the plan was to get up an old-fashioned pic-nic, at which a +young friend of Squire Deerdale, who was studying for an artist, and +had just returned from Italy, where he had picked up a little music as +well as painting, should be introduced after a mysterious fashion, +which would be sure to inflame the imagination of the loveless lady. +The artist, according to the squire, was handsome as a prince and +eloquent as a minstrel, and his extensive practice in Rome had made +him perfect master of the fine arts, the art of making love included. +So the pic-nic was proposed that very evening, to take place the next +day. Hortensia, who was fond of frolick and fun as the best of them, +albeit not yet in love, fell at once into the snare; and the squire +carelessly led the conversation to turn upon the sudden and unexpected +arrival of the young Duke of St. James upon his magnificent estate +adjoining Sweetbriar Lodge, which he said had taken place that very +day. + +"The duke," said the squire, "is, as you all have heard, one of the +most romantic and sentimental youths in the world, and quite out of +the way of our ordinary extravagant, matter-of-fact young nobility. I +had the pleasure of meeting him when I was in Rome, and could not help +being charmed with him. He read and wrote poetry divinely, played the +mandolin like St. Cecilia, and sung like an improvisatore. I met him +to-day, as he was approaching home in his carriage, and found him, as +well as I could judge from a five minutes' conversation, the same as +ever. I say nothing--but should a fresh-looking, golden-haired, +dreamy-eyed youth be seen at our pic-nic to-morrow, I hope he will be +greeted with the courtesy and welcome due not only to a neighbor but a +man of genius." + +This adroitly concocted speech was drank in like wine by the +unsuspicious Hortensia. A duke! a poet! a romantic man of genius! What +was it made her heart beat so rapidly?--_her_ heart, that had never +beat out of time save over the page of the poet or the novelist--or +may be in the trance of some beautiful midnight dream, such as love to +hover around the pillows of fair maidens, and who can blame them? + +The next morning, as Willis says of one of his fine days, was astray +from Paradise; and bright and early our pic-nickers, comprising a +goodly company of young people, married and single, with several +beautiful children, including of course the roguish Emma, were on the +field selected for the day's campaign. It was a lovely spot. Under a +noble oak whose limbs, rounded into a leafy dome, shed a palpitating +shadow around a sweet little fountain, guarded by a marble naiad, +gathered the merry company upon the green velvet ottoman, +daisy-spangled, that ran around this splendid natural saloon, bower +and drawing-room combined. The day had fulfilled the golden promise of +the early morning; the air, impregnated with a sparkling, effervescing +sunshine, was as bewitching as the breath of champagne foam, and our +adventurers were in the liveliest and gayest spirits. + +Noon was culminating, and the less excitable and more worldly portion +of the company began to be thinking seriously of the bountiful +refection which had been provided for the grand occasion. Hortensia, +it was observed by Squire Deerdale and his wife, and the others who +were in the secret, had seemed absent and thoughtful, all the morning, +and little Emma had teased her sufficiently for not playing with her +as usual. At this moment a young man was seen coming down the broad +sloping glade at the foot of which the party were seated. The squire +immediately rose and welcomed the stranger, introducing him to his +bride and sister-in-law, and expressing his pleasure that he had come. +"We almost began to fear," he added, "that you had forgotten our +humble festival." + +"A _fete_ thus embellished," replied the stranger, bowing with +peculiar grace to the ladies, and glancing admiringly at Hortensia, +"is not an affair to be so easily forgotten by a wanderer who comes, +after years of exile, to revive beneath the blue skies and bluer eyes +of his native land." + +"But your mandolin, Signor Foreigner; I hope you have not forgotten +that?" + +"Oh no indeed," returned the stranger with a musical laugh, "I never +forget my little friend, whose harmonies have often been my only +company. Here it comes," pointing to a lad who just then came up, +bearing a handsome though outlandish-looking guitar gingerly across +his arm. + +Another of the party had also brought his guitar, and the two were +soon tinkling away at different parts of the grounds--the latter +surrounded by half a dozen young men and women, and several beautiful +children; while the stranger, throwing himself on the grass at the +feet of Hortensia, upon whose lap nestled the little Emma, began a +simple ballad of the olden time--while the squire and his bride stood +against the old oak behind Hortensia. At length the strain of the +young musician changed, subsiding into low and plaintive undulations. + +"It is time for us to go," whispered Alice to her husband; "we are +evidently _de trop_ here"--and the wedded pair glided noiselessly off, +casting mischievous glances at the haughty Hortensia, who sat +absorbed in the music, and tears of sympathy and rapture ready to fall +from her eyes. It was a clear case of love at first sight. + +From this pleasant reverie both musician and listener were suddenly +roused by little Emma, who, raising her head and shaking back the long +ringlets from her face, exclaimed, + +"Oh, sister, hear that! There goes the champagne, and I am so hungry. +Come, let us go to dinner." + +"Excuse me, madam," exclaimed the stranger, ceasing to play and +springing to his feet, "your beautiful little monitor is right. I was +already forgetting myself and venturing to dream as of old;" and he +offered his arm to Hortensia, with that polite freedom not only +permitted, but enjoined, by the etiquette of the pic-nic. + +"And do you call it forgetfulness to dream?" inquired Hortensia. + +"With so fair a reality before me, yes; but at other times to dream is +to live." + +"Oh, yes, it _is_ nice to dream!" broke in the little Emma. "Almost as +nice as a wedding. Now last night I dreamt that you were married, +Haughty, like sister Alice." + +A lambent rosy flame seemed to envelop for an instant the beautiful +Hortensia, disappearing instantly, yet leaving its scarlet traces on +cheek and brow. + +"What say you, my pretty one," said the stranger, patting the lovely +child upon the head, "what say you to a sandwich and a glass of wine +with me, here on the greensward? (They had now approached the +_table_--if a snow-white damask spread upon the velvet grass, and +loaded with tempting viands could be called so.) Is not that better +than dreams?" + +"I love wine, sir, but mamma and sister say I shouldn't drink it, +because it makes my eyes red. Now _your_ eyes are as bright as stars. +Do you drink wine?" + +It was the stranger's turn to blush. And this little childish prattle +seemed to have removed the barrier of strangership from between the +two young people, who exchanged glances of a sort of merry vexation, +and seemed to understand each other as if they were old friends. + +That was a merry meal, "all under the greenwood tree," and on the +margin of that sweet little fountain, whose waters came up to the very +lip of the turf, which it refreshed with a sparkling coolness that +ever renewed the brightness of the flowers upon its bosom. After the +dinner was over, a dance was proposed, and the services of the +handsome stranger, as musician, were cheerfully offered and promptly +accepted. It was observed, however, that Hortensia, usually crazy for +dancing, strolled pensively about with little Emma at her side, and at +length seated herself on a little grassy bank, remote from the +dancers, yet where she could overlook the scene. + +There was a little pause in the dance, and Squire Deerdale approached +the stranger and whispered, + +"Do you like her?" + +"She's as beautiful as Juno, but I dare not hope that she would ever +love a poor vagabond like me. She deserves a prince of the blood, at +the very least." + +"Never mind!--_Vedremo_, as we say in Italy;" and with a laugh the +young man bounded again into the dance, while the stranger redoubled +his attention to his guitar. + +The day began to wane, and the shadows of a neighboring mountain to +creep slowly across the lea; and yet, so absorbed was that gay company +in the merry pleasures of the day, that hours glided by unnoticed; and +it was not until the round, yellow moon rose over the eastern hills, +as if peeping out to see the sun set, that they thought of breaking up +a scene of little less than enchantment. + +The stranger scarcely left the side of Hortensia, who seemed +completely subdued and fascinated by the serious eloquence, the +inexhaustible brilliancy of his conversation, as well as enthralled by +the classic beauty of his face, and the respectful yet tender glances +which he from time to time cast upon her face. It may also be supposed +that the hints casually dropped by the squire the night before, +respecting his distinguished acquaintance, the young Duke of St. +James, had not been without their effect. Sooth to say, however, that +the hitherto cold and impassive Hortensia was really in love, and that +she had too much self-respect to make any conditions in the bestowal +of her admiration. She was haughty, proud and ambitious--yet at the +same time high-minded and generous where her feelings were really +interested. + +Much may be accomplished in an afternoon between two congenial hearts +that meet for the first time; and it is not at all surprising that on +their way home the stranger and Hortensia should have lingered a +little behind the rest of the party, engaged in deep and earnest talk. + +"Beautiful being," whispered the stranger, "I have at length found my +heart's idol, whom in dreams I have ever worshiped. What need of long +acquaintanceship between hearts made for each other? Lady, I love +you!" + +"Sir, sir, I beg you to pause. You know not what you are saying--you +cannot mean that--" + +"But I tell you he does mean it, though," exclaimed a merry voice +close at the lady's elbow; and turning round, she saw her mischievous +brother-in-law, who had been demurely following their tardy footsteps. + +"Brother! you here! I--really--am quite astonished!" + +"And," interrupted the stranger, while a dark flush came over his +face, "allow me to say, Squire Deerdale, that I also am astonished at +this violation of the rights of a friendship even so old and sincere +as ours." + +"Well, well, I beg your pardon, fair lady; and as for you, sir, after +you have heard my explanation, I shall be prepared to give you any +satisfaction you may require. You must know, then, my dear old friend, +that from a few careless words I dropped last evening, by way of joke, +this young lady has imbibed the idea that you are the young Duke of +St. James in disguise; and for the purpose of preventing any +misunderstandings for the future, it is requisite that my sister and +my friend Walter Willie, the artist, should comprehend one another's +position fully." + +"Good heavens! madam, you cannot believe that I was accessory to this +mad prank of your brother's? Do not believe it for the world." + +"No, no, I acquit you and every body but myself. I am sure I intended +no harm by my thoughtless joke. Come, come, make up the matter at +once, so that I may hasten back to Alice, who will begin to grow +jealous, directly." + +"Madam, dear madam, (Hortensia turned away her head with an imperious +gesture,) I have only to beg your pardon for having too long intruded +upon your attention, and to take my leave. The poor artist must still +worship his ideal at a distance. For him there is but the world of +imagination. No such bright reality as being beloved rests in his +gloomy future. Farewell!" and the young man, bowing for a moment over +the hand of Hortensia, withdrew. + +"Brother, brother, what have you done!" passionately exclaimed the +beauty, in a voice choked by sobs. "For a foolish joke you have driven +away the only being who has ever interested my lonely heart. And now I +can never, never be happy again." + +"But, dear Hortensia, would you stoop to love a mere artist?" + +"Stoop, sir,--stoop! I know not what you mean. Think you so meanly of +me as to believe I would sell myself for wealth and a title? Proud I +may be--but not, I thank God, mercenary nor mean. And what a lofty, +noble spirit is that of your friend! What lord or duke could match the +height of his intellect or the gorgeousness of his imagination. Oh, +too soon my beautiful dream is broken!" and the young lady, all power +of her usual self-restraint being lost, wept like a child upon the +shoulder of her brother. + +"Nay, nay, sister dear, weep not," at length said the squire, tenderly +raising her head and leading her homeward. "All is not lost that is in +danger. And so that you really _have_ lost your hard little heart to +my noble, glorious friend, I'll take care that it is soon +recovered--or at any rate another one quite as good. Come, come, cheer +up! All will go well." + +The squire, although not usually rated as a prophet, predicted rightly +for once; for the very next day saw young Walter Willie at Sweetbriar +Lodge, with a face as handsome and happy as the morning. Hortensia was +ill, and must not be disturbed; and at this information his features +suddenly became overcast, as you may have seen a spring sky by a thick +cloud, springing up from nobody knows where. However, the squire +entered directly after, and whispered a few words to his guest, which +seemed to restore in a measure the brightness of his look. + +"And you really think, then, that I may hope?" + +"Nay, my friend, you may do as you like about that. All men may hope, +you know Shakspeare says. But I tell you that Hortensia has fallen in +love with your foolish face--it's just like her!--and that's all about +it. Come in and take some breakfast. Oh, I forgot--you've no appetite. +Of course not. Well, you'll find some nice fresh dew in those +morning-glories yonder, and I will rejoin you in a minute. We 'll make +a day of it." + +That evening the moon shone a million times brighter, the sky was a +million times bluer, and the nightingale sung a million times sweeter +than ever before. At least so thought the beautiful Hortensia and her +artist-lover, as they strolled, arm-in-arm, through the woody lawn +that skirted the garden of Sweetbriar Lodge, and held sweet converse +of immortal things by gazing into each other's eyes. And so ends our +veracious history of the Pic-Nic in Olden Time. + + + + +TO THE VIOLET. + +BY H. T. TUCKERMAN. + + + Sweet trophy of life's morning, fresh and calm, + Dropped from the gleanings of relentless time, + How from thy dainty chalice steals the balm + That hung like incense o'er its dewy prime! + + The lily's stateliness thou dost not own, + Nor glow voluptuous of the damask rose, + Thou canst not emulate the laurel's crown, + Nor, like the Cereus, watch while all repose. + + And these gay rivals of parterre and field + May freely drink the sunshine and the dew, + But only unto thee does heaven yield + The pure reflection of her cloudless blue. + + Thy tint will sometimes darken till it wear + A purple such as decked the eastern kings, + And yet, like innocence, all unaware + Its tribute to the wind thy blossom flings. + + Symbol of what is cherished and untold, + Thy fragrance oft reveals thee to the sight, + Peering in beauty from the common mould, + As casual blessings the forlorn requite. + + Thy image upon Laura's robe was wrought, + O'er which her poet with devotion mused, + And gentle souls, I ween, have ever caught + From thee a solace that the world refused. + + The Tuscan flower-girls delight to cheer + Each pensive exile with thy scented leaves, + Fit largess of a clime to fancy dear, + Which a new blandishment from thee receives. + + Grief's frenzy, when it melts, of thee will rave, + As of a thing too winsome to decay, + And thus Laertes at his sister's grave + Bids violets spring from her unsullied clay. + + Lowly incentive to celestial thought! + We ne'er with listless step can pass thee by, + For thou with tender embassies art fraught, + Like the fond beaming of a northern eye. + + Hence thou art sacred to our human needs; + Laid on the maiden's white and throbbing breast + Thy delicate odor for the absent pleads, + And mourners strew thee where their idols rest. + + In those wild hours when feeling chafed its bound, + And deepened more that utterance was denied, + In thee persuasive messengers I found + That reached the haven of love's wayward tide. + + And I have borne thee to the couch of death + When naught remained to do but wait and pray, + And marked the sudden flush and quickened breath + That proved thee dear though all had passed away! + + + + +THEY MAY TELL OF A CLIME. + +TO ---- ----. + +BY CHARLES E. TRAIL. + + + They may tell of a clime more delightful than this, + The land of the orange, the myrtle and vine; + Where the roses blush red beneath Zephyr's warm kiss, + And the bright beams of summer unceasingly shine. + But I know a sweet valley, a beautiful spot, + Where the turf is so green, and the breezes are bland; + And methinks, if you'll share there my ivy-crowned cot, + There'll be no place on earth like my own native land. + + A palace 'neath Italy's star-covered sky, + Unblest by thy presence would desolate be; + But cheered by the light of thy soft beaming eye, + Ah! sweet were a tent in the desert with thee. + For 'tis love--O! 'tis love which thus hallows the ground, + And brightens the gloom of the anchorite's cell; + And the Eden of earth--wheresoe'er it be found-- + Is the spot where the heart's cherished idol doth dwell. + + Then come to my cottage--though cool be the shade, + And verdant the sod 'neath the wide-spreading bough-- + Where the wood-dove its nest 'mid the foliage hath made, + Yet lone is that cottage, and desolate now. + For as the green forest, bereft of the dove, + No more with sweet echoes would musical be-- + Even so is the rose-mantled bower of love, + Unblest and uncheered, if not gladdened by thee. + + + + +A DREAM WITHIN A DREAM + +BY C. A. WASHBURN. + + +I dreamed that for a long time I courted Charlotte--what need of +dreaming? It was true. Nevertheless I dreamed that for a long time I +courted Charlotte, and at last, which was not true, married her. And I +thought that Charlotte and I lived very happily together. + +She loved me better than she ever thought she could before we were +married, for I loved her exceedingly, and was very kind to her. + +I remember how long it was that I wooed her. Always hoping, though +sometimes fearing that she would never love me so as to marry me; how, +when at last we were married, and I carried her home to my pretty +cottage, I could hardly contain myself for joy; and when I saw her +seated in our own parlor on the wedding eve, I could not keep a tear +from trickling down my cheek; and how she kissed away the tear, and +when she knew the cause, how she burst into a flood of tears, and said +she would love me the better for my having loved her so; and how that +we were from that time wholly united in heart and sympathy. + +Then, in the course of time, we had two darling children, which we +both loved--and I thought my cup of happiness completed. I had been an +ambitious man in my youth, and had experienced much of the +disappointment incident to a life for fame. But when God had given us +two such lovely children, I thought it was abusing his mercy to +neglect them for the applause of the world--and so devoted myself +entirely to their welfare. If I worked hard and was inclined to feel +peevish and cross, I thought how that I was laboring to make happy, +and good, and great, the dear boys, and I forgot every thing else. If +I became tired of the turmoil of life, I was the more happy when I got +home, for the children were always waiting and glad to see me, and +their presence immediately banished all anxiety and care. They seemed +so happy when I came--for Charlotte used to teach them to prize my +presence by dating their pleasures by my arrival; that I thought it +joy enough for one mortal to have looked upon the impersonation of +innocence and joy in his own children. + +Then, when the boys were asleep, how we used to talk about them; how +anxious we were when either of them was restless or unquiet! How we +used to reckon on the joy they would give us in age, and how in the +happiness of our lot we shed tears of happines and joy! With what +fervor did we unite in prayer for their health and preservation, and +wish all the world as happy as we were. We became selfish in our joy, +and felt to care little for any thing but home, and in our enjoyment +of the gift we had like to have forgotten the Giver. + +But at length Charlie, the younger boy, was sick, and we feared he +would die. We then remembered in whose hands his life was, and, I +believe, ever after regarded our treasures as trusts committed to our +keeping. Charlie suffered great pain, but he complained not. His very +submission smote our hearts, and though we could not think he was to +die, yet we thought he was too good to live. Benny could no longer +smile upon us, but watched by his brother's bed without speaking or +moving, unless to do him some service. We felt anxious about Charles, +yet forbore to speak of our anxiety, though when he was asleep we +could no longer conceal our sorrow and fears. And when one day the +physician imprudently said in his hearing that he feared Charles would +die, he looked at him in surprise, as if he had not thought of that; +and kissing the fevered brow of his sick brother, he came and stood by +his mother's side, and looking in her face as much as to say you wont +let brother die, he saw a tear in the clear blue eye of his mother, +and he sobbed aloud; and Charlotte could contain herself no longer, +but dropped hot tears on his face faster than she could kiss them +away. Then I feared if Charlie should die lest Benny should die too; +and then I knew that Charlotte could not bear all this, and I prayed +in my heart to God for Charles. And the next day, when the good +physician said the danger was past, we felt to thank God that he had +so chastened our affections, and ever loved him the more. + +So we lived in love and happiness for many years, and all that time +not a shade of discord passed between us; and I often thought what a +dreary world this had been to me if Charlotte had never been mine. I +used to pity my bachelor neighbor, and, as I thought, I could see the +tear of disappointment in his eye when he witnessed my happy lot. I +saw it was a vision, and only the figure of Margaret, my once loved +and pretty sister, who existed then but in the land of spirits, was +before me. + +And I told Margaret of the vision, and could not repress a sigh that +it was not reality; and musing long on what I was, and what I might +have been had nature dealt with me more kindly, until the vision +returned. Again I lived the life of youth's fancy. + +But the boys now began to mingle a little with the world, and we +feared we were not equal to the task of educating them. We trembled +when we thought of the dangers before them, though we could not +believe it possible that they should ever do wrong. Alas! what trouble +was before us! + +I had carried home a box of strawberries, and set them in the pantry, +and setting myself down in the library, waited for Charlotte to come +home from shopping. I saw Charlie come from the pantry, but thought +nothing at the time, and when Benny came in, bade him bring them to me +that I might divide them between them--they were gone; Charles must +have taken them, for no one else had been in the pantry. I called him +to me, and asked if he had taken them. I asked without concern, for I +knew if he had, he did it supposing it to be right. He said, "No, +sir." "Ah," said I, "you did." He then inquired what ones I meant, and +I told him, and told him he must confess it, or I must punish him. But +when I talked so seriously of punishment, he seemed confounded. He +turned pale, and only said, "I did not do it." That was a trying +moment; and when Charlotte came in, we considered long and anxiously +what we ought to do. Should we let the theft go unpunished, and the +falsehood to be repeated. Again we urged him to confess. The answer +was still the same. There was no alternative but a resort to what I +had prayed Heaven might spare me. I punished him severely, but he +confessed not. I wished I had not begun, but now I must go on. I still +increased the castigation, and it was only when I told him that I +would stop when he owned the theft, and not before, that he confessed +he had taken the berries. + +After this cruel punishment he went out and found Benny, who had been +crying piteously all the time, and then my two boys went and hid +themselves. I would have suffered the rack to have recalled that hour. +It was too late. On going into the kitchen shortly after, I found a +poor woman of the neighborhood with the box, which she said her +thievish son had confessed he stole from the pantry. Perhaps some +parents imagine the feelings of Charlotte and myself when we made this +discovery. But they are few. The boys both shunned us, and we dreaded +to see them. But at last we sent for them to come in, and they dared +not refuse to obey. I took Charles in my arms. I asked him to forgive +me; I told him who took the berries; I shed tears without measure; I +begged him to forgive me--to kiss me as he was wont. He could not do +it. It was cold and mechanical. His little heart seemed broke. Had he +died I thought I could have borne it, but I could not endure this. +When he slept he was fitful and troubled; ah! his troubles could not +be greater than mine. I slept not that night; no, nor for many nights +after that; but I watched him in his sleep, and many a hot tear did I +drop on his cheek, which he wiped off as poison; and for many weeks I +would rise several times every night, and go and gaze on his yet +pretty face, on which was stamped the curse for my own cruel haste. + +In the midst of these sore trials, the lovely face of Margaret again +appeared before me, and again the vision vanished into nothing. And I +told her this part of the dream, and even then could not suppress a +tear that it was a dream, and that the children of W---- could never +have an existence or a name. + +Then the kind Margaret spoke words of comfort to me, and made me +repress the half-formed feeling of discontent. + +"Have you not," said she, "said you would be satisfied for only one +hour of the love of Charlotte?" + +"True," I replied, "and that dream was worth more than all my life +before." + +"Have you not known in that the joys of a parent, and have you not +seen what sorrows and trials might have been yours, from which you +have now escaped? And do you now complain of your lot, W----? You know +not the designs of Providence. Will not Charlotte be yours in the +world to come?" + +"God grant it!" said I; "but where will be Benny and Charles? They can +never be, and I shall die, and the flame of parental love will burn in +me, and never can it have an object." + +"Hush you!" said Margaret, "cannot God give you in the other world +those spirits of fancy? Did you not enjoy them in the dream, and +cannot the same power make you enjoy them in Elysium? Is it nothing +that God has done for you in showing you what might have been, and +what can be _there_? Are you still ungrateful, and do you still +distrust his goodness? Is it nothing that he has kept you from +temptation, and that you have so clear a conscience? Will you not be +worthy of Charlotte in heaven; and have you no gratitude for all this? +Have you not dear friends still; and will not Margaret be a +guardian-angel to you so long as you sojourn in this valley of tears?" + +"Ah!" said I, "I am blest beyond my deserts, and I will no more +complain, but thank my heavenly Father for the dream-children he hath +given me." + +I felt reproved by the words of Margaret, for I felt I had often +indulged in useless repinings; and I determined I would do so no more, +but patiently await my time to enjoy the loved ones, both real and +ideal, in heaven. I again turned to speak to Margaret--but Margaret +had vanished to the land of spirits, and I was alone, the solitary man +I had long been. It was but a dream within a dream. + + + + +PASSED AWAY. + +BY W. WALLACE SHAW. + + + With wearied step, and heavy heart, + O'erburdened with life's woes-- + My soul bowed down with grief and care + The orphan only knows-- + I strayed along old ocean's shore, + Where I had wandered oft before, + My grief to hide from men; + + I listened--something seemed to say-- + The joys that once did fill thy breast + Where, oh! where are they? + A voice that mingled with the roar + Of dashing waves against the shore, + In hollow tone, replied-- + "They _bloomed_; and _died_!" + + + + +AN EVENING SONG, + +BY PROFESSOR WM. CAMPBELL. + +[AN EXTRACT.] + + + Lyre of my soul, awake--thy chords are few, + Feeble their tones and low, + Wet with the morning and the evening dew + Of ceaseless wo. + The time hath been to me and thee, my lyre, + When soul of fire + Was ours, and notes and aspirations bold + Of higher hopes and prouder promise told-- + Those days have flown-- + Now we are old, + Old and alone! + + Old in our youth--for sorrow maketh old, + And disappointment withereth the frame, + And harsh neglect will smother up the flame, + That else had proudly burned--and the cold + Offcasting of affection will repel + The warm life-current back upon the heart, + And choke it nigh to bursting--yet 't is well, + And wise-intended, that the venomed dart + Shall bear its sure and speedy remedy. + Why should the wretched wish to live? to be + One in this cold wide world--ever to feel + That others feel not--wounds that will not heal-- + A bruised, though yet unbroken spirit's strife-- + A waning and a wasting out of life-- + A longing after loving--and the curse + To know + One's self unknown-- + In secrecy a hopeless hope to nurse-- + Down to the grave to go + Unloved--alone! + + Yet not alone! Pardon, thou gentle breeze, + That comest o'er the waters with the tread + Of beauty stealing to the sufferer's bed, + To cool the burning brow, and whisper peace. + Pardon, ye sweet wild flow'rets, that each morn + Woo us to brush the dew-drop from the lid + Of tearful innocence, and meekly warn + Of worth in garb of lowliest texture hid. + Beings of gentlest life, ye murmuring streams, + Lull of our waking, music of our dreams, + Ye things of artless merriment, that throw + Around you gladness, wheresoe'er ye flow-- + And ye dark mountains, down whose changeful sides + The mystic guardian, giant shadow strides, + Whose kindly frown, howe'er the storms prevail, + Peace and repose ensureth to the vale-- + Ye tall proud forests, that forever sway + In kingly fury, or in graceful play-- + Ye bright blue waters whose untiring drip + Against this island shore doth lightly break, + Gentle and noiseless as the parting lip + Of dreaming infant on its mother's cheek, + Pardon my rash averment--pardon, ye + Flow'rets and streamlets, mountains, woods and waves, + That pour into the soul a melody, + Like to the far down music of the caves + Of ocean, heard not, felt not, save within, + Seeking to joy the darker depths to win-- + Oh! while your sweet and sacred voices steal + Into my spirit, as the joyous fall + Of the warm sunbeam on the frozen rill, + To wake the voice that slumbereth, and call + To bear you company + In your glad hymnings, let the wretched own + He cannot be + Alone! + + Never alone!--awake, my soul--on high + The glorious sun his thousand rays has flung + Athwart the vaulted sky-- + Lo! there the heavens their mighty harp have strung, + The gold, the silver and the crimson chord, + To hymn their evening hymn unto the Lord. + Hark! heard ye not that glorious burst of song, + Which, touched by hands unseen, those chords sent forth, + Bidding the attuned spheres the notes prolong + Deeper and louder, till the trembling earth + Catcheth the thrilling strain-- + Echoeth back again-- + From the bosom of ocean a voice + Pealeth forth, and the mountains rejoice + And the plains and the woods and the valleys rebound, + And the Universe all is a creature of sound, + That runneth his race + Through the infinite regions of infinite space, + Till arrived at the throne + Of HIM who alone + Is worthy of honor and glory and praise. + + And it is ever thus--morn, noon and eve, + And in the still midnight, undying + Choirs of creation's minstrels weave + Sweet symphony of incense, vying + In wrapt intricacy of endless songs. + Ever, oh ever thus they sing, + But to our soul's dull ear belongs + Seldom the trancing sense + To list the universal worshiping, + Thrill with the glorious theme, and drink its eloquence. + + Mocking all our soul's desiring, + Distant now the notes are stealing, + And the minstrels high reining, + Drapery blue their forms concealing. + + + + +THE OCEAN-BURIED. + +COMPOSED, AND DEDICATED TO MISSES HARRIET AND MARY HALSEY, + +Of Blooming Grove, O. C., N. Y., + +BY MISS AGNES H. JONES. + + +=Andantino Soave=. + + +[Illustration: music] + + "Bury me not in the deep, deep sea." The words came faint and mournfully, + From the pallid lips of a youth who lay On the cabin couch where, + +[Illustration: music] + + day by day, He had wasted and pined, till o'er his brow The death shade + had slowly pass'd, and now, When the land and his fond loved home were + nigh, They had gath'rd around to see him die. + + + Let my death-slumber be where a mother's prayer + And sister's tears can be blended there. + Oh, it will be sweet ere the heart's throb is o'er, + To know, when its fountain shall gush no more, + That those it so fondly has yearn'd for will come, + To plant the first wild-flower of spring on my tomb. + Let me lie where lov'd ones can weep over me-- + Bury me not in the deep, deep sea! + + And there is another, her tears would be shed + For him who lays far in an ocean bed; + In hours that it pains me to think of now, + She has twin'd these locks and kiss'd this brow-- + In this hair she has wreathed shall the sea-snake hiss? + The brow she has press'd shall the cold wave kiss? + For the sake of that bright one that wails for me, + Bury me not in the deep, deep sea! + + "She hath been in my dreams"--his voice failed short, + They gave no heed to his dying prayer.-- + They have lowered him o'er the vessel's side-- + Above him hath closed the solemn tide. + Where to dip her wing the wild fowl rests-- + Where the blue waves dance with their foamy crests-- + Where the billows bound and the winds sport free, + They have buried him there, in the deep, deep sea. + + + + +REVIEW OF NEW BOOKS. + + + _Calaynos: A Tragedy. By George H. Boker, E. H. Butler + & Co. Philadelphia, pp. 218._ + +The spirit of English poetry has been for years eminently lyric; the +few attempts at the epic or dramatic having been laid aside, if not +permanently, at least for a time. The age has been too busy in working +out, with machinery and steam, its own great epic thought, to find +leisure to listen to any thing longer than a single bugle-blast +encouraging its advancement. We cannot but believe, however, if we may +be allowed an analogical inference, that the age is fast approaching +the climax of its utilitarian inventions, and that man, instead of +chasing through unknown regions every will-o-wisp of his brain, in the +hope of bringing it a captive to the Patent-office, will sit modestly +down to apply to their various uses the discoveries already made. Then +will the healthy feast of literature once more begin, and the public +cease to be surfeited by the watery hash which has been daily set +steaming before them. In the volume under consideration we think we +can discern the promise of the return of the good old spirit of +English poetry--of solid honest thought expressed in straight forward +Saxon. The story, which is one of the chivalrous days of Spain, while +it is devoid of trick is full of thrilling interest, and its style, +while it is eminently poetical, neither swells into bombast nor +descends to the foppery so common among the verse-makers of our day. +There is a stately, old-fashioned tread in the diction, as of a man in +armor, who, should he attempt to gather flowers of mere prettiness, +would crush them at the first touch of his iron gauntlet, and who, if +he seems to move ungracefully at times, owes his motion to his weight +of mail. Calaynos, the hero, is in every respect a nobleman, not only +in blood, but what is better, in mind. He is a scholar, one who, in +the words of Dona Alda his wife, + + --uses time as usurers do their gold, + Making each moment pay him double interest. + +He is a philosopher-- + + Things nigh impossible are plain to him; + His trenchant will, like a fine-tempered blade, + With unturned edge, cleaves through the baser iron. + +He is generous and has + + --a predetermined trust in man; + +and holds that + + He who hates man must scorn the Source of man, + And challenge as unwise his awful Maker. + +The character of Dona Alda is noble and womanly--her chief trait being +her great pride and jealous care of her honor. She conceives that no +one will brave the + + --peril, such as he must brook, + Who dares to love the wife of great Calaynos. + +Her maid, Martina, tells her that + + --Queens of Spain + Have had their paramours-- + +and she replies, + + --So might it be, + _Yet never hap to bride of a Calaynos_! + +Don Luis, the villain of the plot, thus paints his own picture: + + --I was not formed for good: + To what Fate orders I must needs submit: + The sin not mine, but His who made me thus-- + Not in my will but in my nature lodged. + + * * * * * + + I will grasp the stable goods of life, + Nor care how foul the hand that does the deed. + +Martina is admirably drawn; her wit is excellent, and as exhaustless +as it is keen. She says of Calaynos-- + + He looks on pleasure as a kind of sin, + Calls pastime waste-time---- + + * * * * * + + I heard a man, who spent a mortal life + In hoarding up all kinds of stones and ores, + Call one, who spitted flies upon a pin, + A fool to pass his precious lifetime thus. + +She says of Oliver, Calayno's secretary, + + Yes, there he goes-- + Backward and forward, like a weaver's shuttle, + Spinning some web of wisdom most divine. + +She addresses him thus-- + + Our clay, the preachers say, was warmed to life; + But yours, your dull, cold mud, was froze to being. + _I would not be the oyster that you are + For all the pearls of wisdom in your shell!_ + +All the persons of the play are vivid and life-like. With the +beginning of the third act the interest becomes intense, and nothing +could be more vigorous and touching than the action and depth of +pathos toward the close of the piece. Every page teems with fine +thoughts and images, which lead us to believe that the mine from which +this book is a specimen, contains a golden vein of poetry which will +go far to enrich our native literature. + + + _Literary Sketches and Letters: Being the Final + Memorials of Charles Lamb, Never before Published. By + Thomas Noon Talfourd. New York: D. Appleton & Co. 1 + vol. 12mo._ + +The present work is important in more respects than one. It was needed +to clear up the obscurity which rested on several points of Lamb's +life, and it was needed to account for some of the peculiarities of +his character. The volume proves that this most genial and kindly of +humorists was tried by as severe a calamity as ever broke down the +energies of a great spirit, and the frailties commonly associated with +his name seem almost as nothing compared with the stern duties he +performed from his early manhood to his death. The present volume is +calculated to increase that personal sympathy and love for him, which +has ever distinguished the readers of Lamb from the readers of other +authors, and also to add a sentiment of profound respect for his +virtues and his fortitude. The truth is that Lamb's intellect was one +of the largest and strongest, as well as one of the finest, among the +great contemporary authors of his time, and it was altogether owing to +circumstances, and those of a peculiarly calamitous character, that +this ample mind left but inadequate testimonials of its power and +fertility. He is, and probably will be, chiefly known as an original +and somewhat whimsical essayist, but his essays, inimitable of their +kind, were but the playthings of his intellect. + +Talfourd has performed his editorial duties with his usual taste and +judgment, and with all that sweetness and grace of expression which +ever distinguishes the author of Ion. His sketches of Lamb's +companions are additions to the literary history of the present +century. Lamb's own letters, which constitute the peculiar charm of +the book, are admirable--the serious ones being vivid transcripts of +his moods of mind, and some of them almost painful in their direct +expression of agony, and the semi-serious rioting in mirth, mischief +and whim, full of wit and meaning, and full also of character and +kindliness. One of his early letters he closes, as being from his +correspondent's "afflicted, headachey, sore-throatey, humble servant." +In another he calls Hoole's translation of Tasso "more vapid than +smallest small beer, 'sun-vinegared.'" In speaking of Hazlitt's +intention to print a political pamphlet at his own expense, he comes +out with a general maxim, which has found many disciples: "The first +duty of an author, I take it, is never to pay any thing." When Hannah +More's Coelebs in Search of a Wife appeared, it was lent to him by a +precise lady to read. He thought it among the poorest of common +novels, and returned it with this stanza written in the beginning: + + If ever I marry a wife + I'd marry a landlord's daughter, + For then I may sit in the bar, + And drink cold brandy-and-water. + +In speaking of his troubles toward the close of his life, he has a +strange, humorous imagination, in every way worthy of his peculiar +genius: "My bedfellows are cough and cramp; _we sleep three in a +bed_." + +The present volume is elegantly printed, and will doubtless have a +run. It is full of matter, and that of the most interesting kind. No +reader of Lamb, especially, will be without it. + + + + _Modern French Literature. By L. Raymond de Vericour. + Edited by W. S. Chase, A. M. Boston: Gould, Kendall & + Lincoln. 1 vol. 12mo._ + +This work is the English production of a native Frenchman, and was +written for one of Chambers's series of books for the people. It is +edited, with notes alluding particularly to writers prominent in the +late French Revolution, by a young American scholar, who has recently +resided in France. The book, though deficient and sometimes incorrect +in details, deserves much praise for its general correctness and +accuracy. The author, though by no means a critic of the first class, +is altogether above the herd of Grub street hacks who commonly +undertake the popularizing of literary history. He is no Winstansley +and no Cibber. The range of his reading appears to be extensive. His +judgments are somewhat those of a school-master, but one of the +highest grade. There are several amusing errors relating to the +position of English authors, to some of which we cannot help alluding, +as they seem to have escaped the vigilant eye of the editor. Speaking +of Guizot and Sismondi as the leaders of the school of French +philosophical historians, he remarks that "the English language +possesses some good specimens of this class of history; the most +remarkable are Gibbon's Decline and Fall and the works of Mr. Millar." +This is as if the author had said that England possessed some good +specimens of the Romantic Drama, the most remarkable being +Shakspeare's Macbeth and the works of Mr. Colman. + +Again, in speaking of the novels of Paul de Kock, and protesting +against those English critics who call him the first writer of his +time and country, he says that it is as ridiculous as it would be in +Frenchmen to exalt the novels of Charles Dickens above Ivanhoe, +_Philip Augustus_ and Eugene Aram, The idea of a Frenchman thinking it +a paradox to rank Dickens above James, or even Bulwer, shows how +difficult it is for a foreigner, especially a Frenchman, to pass +beyond the external form of English literature. + +The author deserves the praise of being a sensible man, in the English +meaning of the phrase. There is one sentence in his introductory +which proves that his mind has escaped one besetting sin of the French +intellect, which has prevented its successful cultivation of politics +as a practical science. In speaking of the histories of Thiers and +Mignet, he says that they "have hatched a swarm of _Jeunes Prances_, +vociferating in their wild aberrations, emphatic eulogies on Marat, +Coulhon and Robespierre, and breathing a love of blood and +destruction, which they call the progressive march of events." + + + _Rise and Fall of Louis Philippe, Ex-King of the + French, Giving a History of the French Revolution from, + its Commencement in 1789. By Benj. Perley Poore, + Boston: Wm. D. Ticknor & Co. 1 vol. 12mo._ + +Of all the publications we have seen relating to Louis Philippe this +is the most complete and the most agreeable. The author, from his long +residence in Paris, and from his position as Historical Agent of the +State of Massachusetts, was enabled to collect a large mass of matter +relating to French history, and also to learn a great deal respecting +the Orleans dynasty, which would not naturally find its way into +print. The present volume, though it has little in relation to the +first French Revolution not generally known by students, embodies a +large number of important facts respecting Louis Philippe, which we +believe are now published for the first time. The biography itself has +the interest of a romance, for few heroes of novels ever were, in +imagination, subjected to the changes of fortune which Louis +encountered in reality. Mr. Poore's view of his character is not more +flattering than that which commonly obtains--on both sides of the +Atlantic. To sustain this disparaging opinion of his subject, however, +he is compelled to suppose policy and hypocrisy as the springs of many +actions which a reasonable charity would pronounce virtuous and +humane. It must be conceded that the conduct of the king during the +last few days of his reign was feeble, if not cowardly, but his +uniform character in other periods of his life was that of a man +possessing singular readiness and coolness in times of peril, and +encountering obstacles with a courage as serene as it was adventurous. + + + _The Tenant of Wildfield Hall. By Acton Bell, Author of + Wurthuring Heights.. New York: Harper & Brothers. 1 + vol. 12mo._ + +The appearance of this novel, so soon after the publication of +Wurthuring Heights, is an indication of Mr. Bell's intention to be a +frequent visiter, or visitation, of the public. We are afraid that the +personages he introduces to his readers will consist chiefly of one +class of mankind, and this class not the most pleasing. He is a +monomaniac on the subject of man's rascality and brutality, and crowds +his page with forcible delineations of offensive characters and +disgusting events. The power he displays is of a high but limited +order, and is exercised chiefly to make his readers uncomfortable. To +be sure the present novel is not so bad as Wurthuring Heights in the +matter of animal ferocity and impish diabolism; but still most of the +characters, to use a quaint illustration of an eccentric divine, "are +engaged in laying up for themselves considerable grants of land in the +bottomless pit," and brutality, blasphemy and cruelty constitute their +stock in trade. The author is not so much a delineator of human life +as of inhuman life. There are doubtless many scenes in The Tenant of +Wildfield Hall drawn with great force and pictorial truth, and which +freeze the blood and "shiver along the arteries;" but we think that +the author's process in conceiving character is rather logical than +imaginative, and consequently that he deals too much in unmixed +malignity and selfishness. The present novel, with all its peculiar +merits, lacks all those elements of interest which come from the +generous and gentle affections. His champagne enlivens, but there is +arsenic in it. + + + _Brothers and Sisters. By Frederika Bremer. Translated + by Mary Howitt. New York: Harper & Brothers._ + +This is by no means one of Miss Bremer's best productions, but it is +not on that account a commonplace production. The pathos, the +cheerfulness, the elevation, the sweet humane home-feeling of the +Swedish novelist, are here in much of their old power, with the +addition of universal philanthropy and the rights of labor. But we +fear that the original vein of our authoress is exhausted, and that +she is now repealing herself. It is a great mistake to suppose that a +new story, new names of characters, additional sentiments nicely +packed in new sentences, make a new novel, when the whole tone and +spirit of the production continually reminds the reader of the +authors previous efforts. It is no depreciation of Miss Bremer's +really fine powers to assert, that she lacks the creative energy of +Scott, or the ever active fancy and various observation of Dickens. + + + _Grantley Manor. By Lady Georgiana Fullerton. New York: + D. Appleton & Co. 1 vol. 12mo._ + +This is altogether one of the finest novels which have appeared for +many years. It is written with much beauty of style; evinces a +creative as well as cultivated mind, and contains a variety of +characters which are not only interesting in themselves, but have a +necessary connection with the plot and purpose. The mind of the author +has that combination of shrewdness and romantic fervor, of sense and +passion, so necessary to every novelist who desires to idealize +without contradicting the experience of common life. + + +EDITOR'S TABLE. + +To the readers of "Graham."--A series of misfortunes having bereft me +of any proprietory interest in this Magazine, the present publishers +have made a liberal arrangement with me, and for the future, the +editorial and pictorial departments of Graham's Magazine will be under +the charge of Joseph R. Chandler, Esq., J. Bayard Taylor, Esq., and +myself. + +It is due to the subscribers to "Graham" from me, to state, that from +the first hour I took charge of it, the warmest support and +encouragement were given me, and from two not very profitable +magazines "Graham" sprung at once into boundless popularity and +circulation. Money, as every subscriber knows, was freely expended +upon it, and an energy untiring and sleepless was devoted to its +business management, and had I not, in an evil hour, forgotten my own +true interests, and devoted that capital and industry to another +business which should have been confined exclusively to the magazine, +I should to-day have been under no necessity--not even of writing this +notice. + +I come back to my first love with an ardor undiminished, and an energy +not enervated, with high hopes and very bold purposes. What can be +done in the next three years, time, that great solver of doubts, must +tell. What a daring enterprize in business can do, I have already +shown in Graham's Magazine and the North American--and, alas! I have +also shown what folly can do, when business is forgotten--but I can +yet show the world that he who started life a poor boy, with but eight +dollars in his pocket, and has run such a career as mine, is hard to +be put down by the calumnies or ingratitude of any. Feeling, +therefore, that having lost one battle, "there is time enough to win +another," I enter upon the work of the "redemption of Graham," with +the very confident purposes of a man who never doubted his ability to +succeed, and who asks no odds in a fair encounter. + + GEO. R. GRAHAM. + + +An Acquisition.--Our readers will share in the pleasure with which it +is announced, that JOSEPH R. CHANDLER, Esq., the accomplished writer, +and former editor of "_The United States Gazette_," will hereafter be +"_one of us_" in the editorial management of Graham's Magazine. There +are few writers in the language who equal, and none excel Mr. Chandler +in graceful and pathetic composition. His sketches live in the hearts +of readers, while they are heart-histories recognized by thousands in +every part of the laud. An article from Mr. Chandler's pen may be +looked for in every number, and this will cause each number to be +looked for anxiously. + + +Editors Looking Up.--It is expected that an early number of "Graham" +will be graced with a portrait of our distinguished rival of the +"Lady's Book," that gentleman having "in the handsomest manner," as +they say in theatricals, sat for a picture of his goodly countenance +and proportions. At our command this has been transferred to steel, to +be handed over to the readers of "Graham," by Armstrong, an artist +whose ability is a fair warrant for a fine picture. Now if any of our +fair readers fall in love with Godey, we shall take it as a formal +slight, and shall insist upon having our face _run_ through an edition +of a magazine, to be gazed at and loved by thousands of as fine +looking people as can be crowded upon a subscription book. + + +W. E. TUCKER, ESQ.--We are very much gratified to be able to state, +that an arrangement has been made by the proprietors of "Graham" with +Mr. W. E. Tucker, whose exquisite title-pages and other gems in the +way of engraving are familiar to our readers, and that _for the year +1849, he engraves exclusively for Graham's Magazine_. + +This is but the beginning of arrangements proposed to revive the +original splendor of the pictorial department of this magazine, while +the literary arrangements are in the same style of liberality which +has ever distinguished "Graham." "There is a good time a-coming boys" +in 1849. + + +Sketches From Europe.--In the present absorbing state of affairs +abroad, it will please our readers to know, that we have engaged an +accomplished writer to furnish sketches of European manners, events +and society, such as escape the daily journals, for the pages of the +magazine. These sketches will occasionally be illustrated with +engravings of scenery and persons taken on the spot, and cannot fail +to add to the value of "Graham." + + +Gems From Late Readings.--We shall introduce into the next number of +Graham a department which we think cannot fail to be of interest, by +selections from authors which it is not possible for all the readers +of Graham to have seen. Culling such passages as may strike us in our +reading as worthy of wide circulation and preservation. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Graham's Magazine Vol XXXIII No. 4 +October 1848, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GRAHAM'S MAGAZINE, OCTOBER 1848 *** + +***** This file should be named 30116.txt or 30116.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/0/1/1/30116/ + +Produced by David T. Jones, Juliet Sutherland and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Canada Team at +http://www.pgdpcanada.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7e54234 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #30116 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/30116) diff --git a/old/30116-8.txt b/old/30116-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..15fc1dc --- /dev/null +++ b/old/30116-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7166 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Graham's Magazine Vol XXXIII No. 4 October +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 XXXIII No. 4 October 1848 + +Author: Various + +Editor: George R. Graham + Robert T. Conrad + +Release Date: September 28, 2009 [EBook #30116] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GRAHAM'S MAGAZINE, OCTOBER 1848 *** + + + + +Produced by David T. Jones, Juliet Sutherland and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Canada Team at +http://www.pgdpcanada.net + + + + + + + +[Illustration: Sir W. C. Rofs, R.A. A.B. Ross +THE UNMARRIED BELLE +Engraved Expressly for Graham's Magazine] + + +GRAHAM'S MAGAZINE. + +VOL. XXXIII. PHILADELPHIA, OCTOBER, 1848. No. 4. + + + + +THE UNMARRIED BELLE. + +BY ENNA DUVAL. + +[SEE ENGRAVING.] + + + Talk not of wasted affection, affection never was wasted; + If it enrich not the heart of another, its waters returning + Back to their springs, like the rain, shall fill them full of refreshment; + That which the fountain sends forth returns again to the fountain. + Patience; accomplish thy labor; accomplish thy work of affection! + Sorrow and silence are strong, and patient endurance is godlike; + Therefore accomplish thy labor of love, till the heart is made godlike, + Purified, strengthened, perfected, and rendered more worthy of heaven! + LONGFELLOW'S EVANGELINE. + + +I was loitering beside my mother's chair, in her drawing-room, one day +on my return from school, listening to the conversation between her +and some morning visiters; they were discussing most earnestly the +merits of a reigning belle. + +"She is, indeed, perfectly beautiful," exclaimed my mother. "I looked +at her the other evening, when I saw her at the last concert, and +thought a more lovely creature could not exist. The music excited her, +and her cheek was delicately flushed, which heightened the brilliancy +of her eyes; her lovely lips were just half apart and trembling with +feeling. Then she understands so well the art and mystery of dressing. +While other young ladies around her were in the full pride of +brilliant _costume_, the eye felt freshened and relieved when looking +at her--there was such a repose in her _demi-toilette_. The simple +white dress was so pure and chaste in its effect, displaying only her +lovely throat, and her beautiful chestnut-brown hair was gathered up +carelessly but neatly, while over one tiny ear fell a rich cluster of +ringlets; then, with all her beauty and exquisite taste, she is so +unconscious, so unstudied. That the world should call Mary Lee a +beauty, I do not wonder; but that society should pronounce her a +belle, is, indeed, a surprise to me--she is so unassuming, so free +from art and _affectation_." + +"So unlike her mother," exclaimed a lady, eagerly. "I think Mary's +success in society is as gratifying as unexpected to Mrs. Lee. She +delayed her _entrée_ into society as long as she could, and used to +lament most piteously to me the trouble she expected to have with her, +from her total want of animation and spirit. But now she seems to have +entirely forgotten her former misgivings, for she takes many airs on +herself about Mary's popularity, talking all the while as though +scarcely any one was good enough for the husband of the daughter she +pronounced one year ago a stupid, inanimate creature." + +"Ah!" said a gentleman, laughing, "the tie now is between young Morton +and Langley, I believe. As Langley is the more _distingué_ of the two, +I suppose the mother will favor him; but if one can judge from +appearances, the daughter prefers Harry Morton." + +"I can assure you," interrupted Mr. Foster, an intimate friend of our +family, "the daughter has quite as much admiration for the rich Mr. +Langley as the mother. There is a little incident connected with that +same concert Mrs. Duval speaks of, that convinces me of the daughter's +powers of management." + +"Shame on you, Philip Foster!" said my mother, "you should not talk +thus of any lady, much less of Mary Lee." + +"What was the incident, Mr. Foster?" eagerly inquired the other +ladies. + +"Yes, do tell us, Phil," urged his gentleman friend. + +My mother looked reproachfully at Mr. Foster, but he shook his head +laughingly at her, as he said, + +"Hear me first, dear Mrs. Duval, before you judge. I was at Mrs. Lee's +two or three mornings since. Several visitors were in the +drawing-rooms, among them Harry Morton, as usual. I was looking at a +new and costly collection of engravings on the _commode_ table, when I +overheard Harry Morton ask Miss Lee if he should join their party at +the concert the next evening. She replied that she regretted they +were not going, for she had already promised her mother to dine and +spend the evening quietly with an old friend. The next evening at the +concert the whole Lee party were there, and our belle, Miss Mary, was +brought in by young Langley, just newly arrived from Europe. The +unconscious _demi-toilette_ Mrs. Duval speaks so admiringly of, had +the desired effect. Langley's taste has been chastened by a voyage +over the Atlantic; the noisy over-dressing of his countrywomen would, +of course, annoy his delicate sense--therefore was the simple home +costume adopted in preference, and the "_available_" Mr. Langley +secured as an admirer." + +"I do not believe any such thing, Philip!" exclaimed my mother, +indignantly. "I will answer for it, there was some mistake. Mary Lee +would scorn a falsehood, and is entirely above all artifice or design. +Mrs. Lee is said to be maneuvering and worldly; if she is, her +daughter is entirely free from such influences." + +"How did Morton take it, Phil?" asked the other friend, laughingly. + +"He was with me," replied Mr. Foster, evidently enjoying with some +little malice my kind mother's annoyance, "we had dropped into the +concert by chance together. He looked thunderstruck, but said nothing, +and did not approach her during the whole evening. She knew he was +there, however, for I saw her return his cold bow in a painfully +embarrassed manner." + +The entrance of some other visiters, connected with the Lees, put an +end to the conversation. That night, when my nurse was undressing me +for bed, I said, + +"What's a belle, Katy?" + +"A very rich and beautiful young lady," replied my nurse, "who has +plenty of lovers, and gets married very soon." + +"Will I ever be a belle?" I innocently inquired, as she gathered up my +rebellious hair under my cap. + +"No," she replied, in impatient tones, "your hair is too straight, and +your skin too yellow; but you must do as you're told to, or else +nobody will even love you; so go to sleep right away." + +I was silenced, and thus obedience was obtained by appealing to my +love of approbation. Many years passed, bringing me to womanhood, when +I discovered the truth of Nurse Katy's reason why I should not be a +belle. Other people decided that my "hair was too straight, and my +skin too yellow," to use Katy's homely, rough words; but her _brusque_ +admonition, that made me go to sleep so quickly when a child, acted +upon me as a woman. My approbativeness once roused, I managed, despite +my want of personal attractions, to secure a host of friends; and the +lesson I then learned, to please others rather than myself for the +sake of gaining their love, has caused my life thus far to be very +sunny and happy, even more so than if I had been the belle my childish +fancy desired. + +One of Nurse Katy's principal attributes of a belle, however, Mary Lee +was deficient in. She did not get married at all--and Mary Lee she +remained all her life. But she was one of the loveliest old maids in +the world, and quite as popular in our circle as she had been in her +own. She had been confined many years with an invalid mother and +paralytic father, but after their death some time, she re-entered +society; and her house was the favorite resort of the new set of young +people, as it had been in her young days. She gave the most delightful +parties, planned the most pleasant enjoyments for us, and although +acknowledging herself to be an old maid, she still retained her +youthful feelings unimpaired. + +Her mind remained in a fresh, healthy state, and her disposition was +still sweet and joyous. How we all loved her; she was our confidante, +adviser and friend. She was still pretty, and might have proved a very +formidable rival had she chosen to enter society as a young lady; but +she preferred being regarded by us as an elder friend. The young +ladies grouped around her as younger sisters; and one half the young +gentlemen would have married her _instanter_, notwithstanding she was +ten or fifteen years their senior. Old maid as she was, strange to +tell, she was a promoter of marriages. The ill-natured called Mary Lee +a match-maker. She certainly did interest herself very much with +lovers, fathoming all the little mysteries of their love-quarrels, and +setting every thing quite straight, even when they seemed in +inextricable confusion. + +Miss Lee had been very fond of my mother, and extended to me the same +regard, therefore I was, notwithstanding the difference in our ages, +on a more intimate footing with her than her other young friends. One +day, as we were discussing the merits of an approaching wedding, the +conversation assumed a confidential tone. + +"Indeed, Enna," she exclaimed, laughingly, "there is nothing more +interesting to me than a couple of lovers full of romance, poetry, and +perfectly blind and uncaring as to the future. I love to watch them in +courtship, lend them a helping hand in the quicksands of that +dangerous but delicious season; and then it makes me so happy to +congratulate them after their troubles are all over, and they are +happily married." + +"Ah! if they only could be sure of happiness," I replied. + +"Shame on you for that old maid's croak!" she said, with a bright +look; "those who are not happy in married life, would never be happy +in any situation. There should be no old maids or old bachelors, Enna; +we would all be happier married; we fail in fulfilling our missions +when we remain single. Hunt up a lover, Enna; let me watch your +courtship, and rejoice over your wedding. As a clever friend of mine +once said, we think poetry as lovers, but in married life we act true +poetry." + +I opened my eyes with astonishment, and innocently asked, "Why is it, +then, you have never married?" + +A shadow crossed over her face, and I felt a desire to recall the +question, for I feared I had called up disagreeable reminiscences, but +the next instant her countenance was as beaming and calm as before. + +"I will tell you, Enna," she said, as she caressingly rested her head +on my shoulder, "why I have never married; but to do that I must +relate the history of my rather uneventful life. My story has but +little interest, but it will gratify the curiosity of one who loves +me. My childhood was spent with an old aunt. She took me when I was a +delicate wee thing, and I remained with her until her death, which +took place when I was nearly grown. She was a dear, good old lady, and +with her my life passed most happily; my short visits home gave me +little pleasure, for my mother was a very worldly, ambitious woman, +and displayed but little tenderness for me, which, when contrasted +with my aunt's fondness and indulgence, made me feel quite as a +stranger in my family; and when Aunt Mary died, I wept as bitterly, +and felt as lonely and bereft of friends, as though I did not possess +a mother, father, and sisters. The two years after my aunt's death +were spent in close attention to those accomplishments which had been +neglected in my education as unnecessary, and which my mother deemed +so essential; and not a day passed without my poor mother's +exclamations of despair over me. + +"'One comfort there is, however,' she would say, 'your aunt's little +fortune of a few thousands will be exaggerated in society, and people +will forget your _mauvaise honte_ in giving you credit for being an +heiress.' + +"But the report of my being an heiress was not needed, for when I +entered society, to my mother's amazement, I created quite a +sensation. I had been looked upon as a pretty girl always; but my +mother had so often declared that I was so inanimate and innocent, she +never would be able to do any thing with me, and my pretty face would +be of no service to me, that I looked upon myself as quite an ordinary +person, and was as much surprised at my belle-hood as my family. I +wonder my little head was not turned with the attentions I received, +so unused as I had been to admiration; it might have been, however, +had not a disappointment--a bitter, heart-aching disappointment, +wearied me of all this adulation and attention. + +"Soon after my entrance into society, I became acquainted with a Mr. +Morton--agreeable, good-looking, and attentive he was, of +course--quite an acquisition to me in my circle of admirers. His +worldly qualifications were not of so brilliant a nature as to attract +my prudent mother's fancy, for he was only a young lawyer of slender +means and moderate practice. I do not think she ever dreamed of the +interest he excited in me, but looked upon him as one of the crowd of +attendants necessarily surrounding a belle. But how differently I +regarded him. The piles of costly bouquets I received daily, gained +but little attention from me, unless I discerned among them the tiny +bunch of sweet-violets, tea-roses, and mignonette, which he once in a +great while sent me. In my ball-tablets my eyes sought the dances +marked down for him; and when he was my partner, the dance, generally +so wearisome, was only too short, too delightful; the reminiscence of +that happy time makes a silly girl of me again. My mother never +imagined he aspired to my hand--she would have looked aghast at the +bare mention of such a probability; but she regarded him as a friend, +and he was a great favorite with her. She used to say young men like +Harry Morton, that knew their places, were invaluable acquaintances +for a belle; thus were we thrown a great deal together. She was so +blind to his real position with me, quick-sighted as she generally was +in other things, I was permitted to have him for my partner in +dancing, even for several quadrilles during an evening; he was my +constant attendant in my daily rides on horseback, and my mother never +hesitated to call upon him if we were at any time in need of an escort +to a ball or opera. He was upon the footing of a brother or cousin in +the family; but, ah! how dear was he to me. Without any actual +explanation, I felt sure of Harry Morton's love. I never had any +doubts or jealousies--we seemed to perfectly understand each other. I +never looked forward to our future--I was too quietly happy in the +present. I only dated from one meeting to another--from the dinner to +the party, when he would be ready to hand us from our carriage, to +take me off my father's arm in compliance with my mother's constant +inquiry and request of, 'Where's Harry Morton? Here, Harry, do take +charge of Mary,' a request which he always seemed delighted to obey. +Then, after the happy good-night, I would lie my head on the pillow to +dream of him and the morning ride we would take together. Why he never +spoke to me of his love I cannot tell. It might have been that +feelings of delicacy restrained him; my father was rich, while he was +but a poor young lawyer; then report had made me an heiress in my own +right, as well as a belle, to my worldly mother's great content. That +he loved me I am sure, though he never told me with his lips. + +"One morning my mother said to me, 'Do not make any engagement for +to-morrow, Mary; we must dine _en famille_ with dear old Mrs. Langley; +we have not been there for a month.' + +"Now this Mrs. Langley was a person of great consideration in my +mother's eyes. She was very wealthy, and, moreover, had been at the +head of the fashionable world for many years. Since my entrance into +society, she had been quite an invalid, and rarely appeared in public, +but it gratified her exceedingly to have her friends around her, for +she dreaded yielding up her command in the world. My mother was an +especial favorite of hers; and after I had taken such a prominent +situation in society, she expressed great regard for me. Once in a +month or so we spent a day with her. She lived in great style--a +stately dinner, and a stupid, grand, heavy evening was the amount of +the visit. How I used to dread the coming of the day; it was the only +time I was separated from Harry, for Mrs. Langley being very +exclusive, and making no new acquaintances, he had no _entrée_ there. +I used to sing for her, arrange her worsteds, tell her of the parties +and different entertainments, and read to her her son's last letter. +She had only one son, and he had been in Europe for two or three +years. He was her idol, and she never tired talking of him. Dear old +lady, my conscience smote me many times for the feelings of impatient +weariness and _ennui_ I would give way to during one of her tedious +dinner parties. + +"The following morning after my mother had announced the visit of +penance, Harry Morton made his appearance in our drawing-rooms, as +usual, with the other morning visiters. Every one was talking of a new +singer who was to make her _debût_ on that evening. + +"'May I join your party at the concert this evening?' Harry asked me, +in a low voice. + +"'I regret exceedingly,' I replied, 'that we are not going to the +concert. I have already promised mamma to spend a quiet day and +evening with an old friend of hers. You must listen attentively to +this new _donna_, and tell me all about her voice if you go.' + +"'I do not think I shall go,' he replied, in low, earnest tones, 'for +I could not enjoy the concert if not with you.' A turn in the general +conversation drew us more into notice, and some ladies and gentlemen +entering, put an end to all further intercourse between us; how long I +remembered and cherished those last words of his. When I made my +appearance in my mother's room at 5 o'clock, shawl and hood in hand, +she regarded me from head to foot smilingly. + +"'What new caprice to-day?' she said, 'and yet I must confess it is +very becoming to you.' + +"I had felt too languid to dress much, and as the weather was warm, +spring being quite far advanced, I had chosen a simple white mull robe +for the visit to our old friend, knowing that we should meet with but +few visiters there. This I explained apologetically to my mother, who +tapped me with her fan good-naturedly, saying that beauties were +cunning creatures, they liked to show once in a while they could defy +the aid of ornament. The first few months of my entrance into society +my mother superintended, with great attention, all my _toilettes_; but +near the close of the season she fell into the general opinion, that +what ever I did was exactly right; and poor little me, that one short +half-year before had no right to express an opinion upon so grave a +subject as dress, was now constantly appealed to; and whatever style I +adopted was perfect in her eyes. Society had placed its stamp upon me, +I could pass current as a coin of high value to her. + +"When I reached Mrs. Langley's, I found the old lady attended by but +one gentleman, who, beside ourselves, was her only visiter. What was +my surprise to hear her introduce him as her son, Templeton Langley. +The dinner passed more pleasantly than usual, for Mr. Langley made +himself very agreeable. After dinner he proposed we should go to the +concert, as he felt an interest in the new _primadonna_, having heard +her at her _debût_ in Europe. I made an objection, which was overruled +by Mrs. Langley's expressing a desire--strange for her--to go +likewise; and we went. I had not been ten minutes in the room when, on +lifting my eyes, the first person I saw was Harry Morton looking +sternly at me. Foolishly, I grew embarrassed, my face burned, and my +whole frame trembled with nervous agitation. He did not approach me, +but gave me only a cold bow. 'He thinks me guilty of falsehood,' I +said to myself. How wretchedly passed the evening, and yet I have no +doubt I was an object of envy to many of my young lady friends. The +rich _distingué_, Templeton Langley showed himself my devoted admirer, +while his mother, the acknowledged leader of _ton_, sat beside us +smiling approvingly. My indifferent, cold manner, my simple costume, +and my beautiful face, completed that evening the conquest of the +fastidious, fashionable young man. You cannot imagine the delight of +my mother, when day after day found Templeton Langley constantly +beside me, she could scarcely restrain her exultation; while I, poor +child, listened with aching, throbbing senses for the approach of one +who never came near me. Two or three weeks passed in a whirl of +gayety. It was the close of the season, and one or two brides in our +circle made the parties very constant. Mrs. Langley proposed that our +family should join her son and herself in their summer visit to the +Lakes; accordingly we did so, and we spent more than three months +traveling. Ere the close of those three months, Templeton Langley +offered himself to me. I could not describe to you the scene that +ensued between my mother and myself when I rejected him. She was a +worldly woman, and my conduct seemed perfectly wild to her. She +remonstrated, persuaded, then reproached me in impatient, angry tones. +My father was a quiet, amiable man, and rarely interfered with my +mother in her management, but he fortunately shook off enough of his +lethargy to come to my rescue at this time. + +"'If Mary does not love Mr. Langley,' he said, 'why urge her to marry +him? Do not scold the poor child,' and he drew me toward him tenderly. + +"Templeton Langley was rather an indifferent person in every way. His +wealth, combined with his situation in the fashionable world, placed +him in a fictitious light; but he had little intelligence, no +originality, and only a passable personal appearance. I was constantly +drawing the comparison between him and Harry Morton. Harry was so +handsome, so brilliant in conversation--and this thought rendered poor +Mr. Langley, with all his fastidious, elegant manners, quite +unbearable to me. To think of being tied to such a man for life was +perfect martyrdom for me; and although hitherto so yielding, I showed +myself on this occasion obstinate. Floods of tears I shed, and my +mother fancied at first she could overcome my 'ridiculous +sentimentality,' as she called it, but in vain; and finding a friend +in my father, I remained firm. I felt more sorry for old Mrs. Langley, +who was, indeed, terribly distressed, but she treated me very kindly, +and exonerated me from all blame. She was, however, really very fond +of me, and had set her heart upon having me for a daughter. Mr. +Langley returned to Europe, and for many months our circle of friends +were quite at a loss to know whether he had offered, been accepted, +or refused, or whether he had only flirted with me. My mother felt too +disappointed to boast of the rejection; and, moreover, she was so +occupied in bringing out my sister, Emma, as to have little time to +think of me or my affairs. My sister was but seventeen, three years +younger than I, but much nearer my age in appearance. I found myself +now of but secondary consideration in my mother's eyes. I fear she +really disliked me then. She was an ambitious woman, and had set her +heart upon my making a brilliant match; this favorite hope of hers I +had blighted, and feeling little interest in society, I became of less +consequence, for my sad, absent manner made me, of course, +uninteresting; therefore, as my reign as a belle was over, my poor +mother now sought to dismiss me from her mind and occupy herself with +other objects. + +"Harry Morton had gone to the Southwest ere we returned from our +summer's journey, and we never met again. A year or so afterward I +heard of his marriage with a dashing southern belle, and he is now a +distinguished man at the South. After these perplexing, unfortunate +misunderstandings, my health failed, and for a long while I was an +invalid, rarely appearing in society. My two sisters, Emma and Alice, +were more lucky than I, for they married happily, and with my mother's +gratified approbation--for they each made the 'best match of their +season.' Neither one was so pretty as I had been, and as my mother +used to ejaculate, + +"'Thank Heaven! neither Emma nor Alice are belles; they at least will +not trouble me with their exaggerated notions about love and all that +nonsense.' + +"I passed a miserable, wretched existence for a year or more after +Harry and I were separated. How earnestly I prayed for death, so +completely prostrated was my spirit by my disappointment. I felt as +lonely as I had at the time of dear Aunt Mary's death. In time, +however, I aroused myself from my morbid feelings, and in reading and +study found at first occupation, then strength and content. + +"The week after my youngest sister was married my father was stricken +down with paralysis. I was the only one at home with my parents, for +my bride sister had sailed for Europe the day after her wedding, and +Emma was far distant in her Southern home, having married a wealthy +South Carolinian two years before. Faithfully I devoted myself to my +father, and when my mother, a year afterward, was seized with a +painful, lingering disease, I made myself so necessary to her comfort, +that she at last acknowledged, that what had appeared to be her +greatest trouble had proved her greatest blessing. She altered very +much before her death, and lost entirely all those worldly feelings +which had actuated her during her early life. She suffered for many +years at times agonizing pain, and during this time I was sole +companion and nurse to my parents. Often I thanked Providence for +having denied to me my early love, granting to me in lieu an +opportunity of fulfilling the most holy of duties. See, Enna, to what +an unromantic and yet enviable state of mind I at last attained. +Believe me, dearest, we never should grieve over unavoidable troubles, +for many times they are but the rough husk of that sweet kernel--a +hidden blessing." + + + + +ZENOBIA. + +BY MYRON L. MASON. + + + 'Twas holyday in Rome. Her sevenfold hills + Were trembling with the tread of multitudes + Who thronged her streets. Hushed was the busy hum + Of labor. Silent in the shops reposed + The implements of toil. A common love + Of country, and a zeal for her renown, + Had warmed all hearts, and mingled for a day + Plebian ardor with patrician pride. + The sire, the son, the matron and the maid, + Joined in bestowing on their emperor + The joyous benedictions of the state. + Alas! about that day's magnificence + Was spread a web of _shame_! The victor's sword + Was stained with cowardice--his dazzling fame + Tarnished by insult to a fallen woman. + Returning from his conquests in the East, + Aurelian led in his triumphant train + Palmyra's beauteous queen, Zenobia, + Whose only crime had been the love she bore + To her own country and her household gods. + + Long had the Orient owned the sovereign sway + Of Rome imperial, and in forced submission + Had bowed the neck to the oppressor's yoke. + The corn of Syria, her fruits and wares, + The pearls of India, Araby's perfumes, + The golden treasures of the mountains, all + Profusely poured in her luxurious lap, + Crowned to the full her proud magnificence. + Rome regal, throned on her eternal hills, + With power supreme and wide-extended hand, + Plundered the prostrate nations without stint + Of all she coveted, and, chiefly thou, + O Liberty, the birthright boon of Heaven. + But Rome had passed her noon; her despotism + Was overgrown; an earthquake was at work + At her foundations; and new dynasties, + Striking their roots in ripening revolutions, + Were soon to sway the destinies of realms. + + The East was in revolt. The myriad seeds + Of dark rebellion, sown by tyranny, + And watered by the blood of patriots slain, + Were springing into life on every hand. + Success was alternating in this strife + 'Twixt power and _right_, and anxious Victory, + With balance poised, the doubtful issue feared. + Amid the fierce contention, 'mid the din + Of war's sublime encounter, and the crash + Of falling systems old, Palmyra's queen + Followed her valiant lord, Palmyra's king. + Ever beside him in the hour of peril, + She warded from his breast the battle's rage; + And in the councils of the cabinet + Her prudent wisdom was her husband's guide. + + Domestic treason, with insidious stab, + Snatched from Zenobia's side her gallant lord, + And threw into her hand the exigencies + Of an unstable and capricious throne. + Yet was her genius not inadequate. + The precepts of experience, intertwined + With intellectual power of lofty grade, + Combined to raise Palmyra's beauteous queen + High in the golden scale of moral greatness. + Under the teachings of the good Longinus + The streams of science flowed into her mind; + And, like the fountain-fostered mountain lake, + Her soul was pure as its ethereal food. + The patronage bestowed on learned men + Declared her love for letters. The rewards, + Rich and unnumbered, she conferred on merit + Her own refined, exalted taste betrayed. + Her graceful and majestic figure, crowned + With beauty such as few but angels wear, + Like the rich casing that surrounds the gem, + Heightened the splendor of her brilliant genius. + Equally daring on the battle-field + And in the chase, her prudence and her courage, + Displayed in many a hot emergency, + Had twined victorious laurel round her brow. + Under her rule Palmyra's fortunes rose + To an unequalled altitude, and wealth + Flowed in upon her like a golden sea, + Her wide dominion, stretching from the Nile + To the far Euxine and Euphrates' flood-- + Her active commerce, whose expanded range + Monopolized the trade of all the East-- + Her stately capital, whose towers and domes + Vied with proud Rome in architectural grace-- + Her own aspiring aims and high renown-- + All breathed around the Asiatic queen + An atmosphere of greatness, and betrayed + Her bold ambition, and her rivalry + With the imperial mistress of the world. + + But 't is the gaudiest flower is soonest plucked; + The sturdiest oak first feels the builder's axe. + Palmyra's rising greatness had awaked + The jealousy of Rome, and Fortune looked + On her prosperity with envious eye. + Under the golden eagles of the empire, + Aurelian's soldiers swept the thirsty sands, + And poured into Palmyra's palmy plains, + A mighty host hot for the battle-field. + Borne on her gallant steed, the warrior queen + The conflict sought, and led her eager troops + Into the stern encounter. Like the storm + Of their own desert plain, innumerable, + They rushed upon the foe, and courted danger. + Amid the serried ranks, whose steel array + Glowed in the noonday sun, and threw a flood + Of wavy sheen into the fragrant air, + Zenobia rode; and, like an angry spirit, + Commissioned from above to chastise men, + Where'er she moved was death. There was a flash + Of scorn that lighted up her fiery eye, + A glance of wrath upon her countenance-- + There was a terror in her frenzied arm + That struck dismay into the boldest heart. + Alas for her, Fortune was unpropitious! + Her fearless valor found an overmatch + In the experienced prudence of Aurelian; + And scarcely could the desert's hardy sons + Cope with the practiced legions of the empire. + The battle gained, Palmyra taken, sacked-- + Its queen a captive, hurled from off a throne, + Stripped of her wide possessions, forced to sue + In humblest attitude for even life-- + The haughty victor led his weary legions + Back to Italia's shores, and in his train + His fallen rival, loaded with chains of gold, + Forged from the bullion of her treasury. + + 'T was holyday in Rome. The morning sun, + Emerging from the palace-crested hills + Of the Campagna, poured a flood of light + Upon the slumbering city, summoning + Its teeming thousands to the festival. + A playful breeze, rich-laden with perfume + From groves of orange, gently stirred the leaves, + And curled the ripples on the Tiber's breast, + Bearing to seaward o'er the flowery plain + The rising peans' joyful melodies. + Flung to the wind, high from the swelling dome + That crowned the Capitol, the imperial banner, + Broidered with gold and glittering with gems, + Unfurled its azure field; and, as it caught + The sunbeams and flashed down upon the throng + That filled the forum, there arose a shout + Deep as the murmur of the cataract. + In that spontaneous outburst of applause + _Rome spoke_; and as the echo smote the hills + It woke the slumbering memory of a time + When Rome was _free_. + + A trumpet from the walls + Proclaimed the day's festivities begun. + Preceded by musicians and sweet singers, + A long procession passed the city-gate, + And, traversing the winding maze of streets, + Climbed to the Capitol. Choice victims, dressed + With pictured ornaments and wreaths of flowers, + An offering to the tutelary gods, + Led the advance. Then followed spoils immense, + Baskets of jewels, vases of wrought gold, + Paintings and statuary, cloths and wares, + Of costliest manufacture, close succeeded + By the rich symbols of Palmyra's glory, + Torn from her temples and her palaces, + To grace a triumph in the streets of Rome. + With toilsome step next walked the captive queen; + And then the victor, in his car of state, + With milk-white horses of Thessalian breed, + And in his retinue a splendid train + Of Rome's nobility. In one long line + The army last appeared in bright array, + With banners high displayed, filling the air + With songs of victory. The pageant proud + Quickened remembrance of departed days, + And warmed the bosoms of the multitude + With deep devotion to the commonwealth. + + High in his gilded chariot, decked in robes + Of broidered purple, and with laurel crowned, + Rode the triumphant conqueror, in his hand + The emblems of his power. The capital + Of his wide empire was inflamed with zeal + To do him honor and exalt his praise. + The world was at his feet; his sovereign will + None dared to question, and his haughty word + Was law to nations. Yet his heart was troubled. + In the dim distance he discerned the flight + Of Freedom, on swift pinions heralding + Enfranchisement to the oppressed of earth. + He knew the feeble tenure of dominion + Based on allegiance with reluctance paid; + And read the future overthrow of Rome + In the unyielding spirit of his victim. + Uncovered in the sun, weary and faint, + Bowed to the earth with chains of ravished gold, + With feet unsandaled, walked Zenobia, + Slave to the craven tyrant's cruelty. + Neither her peerless beauty, nor her sex, + Nor yet her grievous sufferings could melt + The despot's stony heart. She, who surpassed + Her conqueror in all the qualities + Of head or heart which crown humanity + With nobleness and high preëminence-- + She, whose _misfortunes_ in a glorious cause, + And not her _errors_, had achieved her ruin-- + Burdened with ignominy and disgrace + For her resplendent _virtues_, not her _crimes_-- + She who had graced a palace, and dispensed + Pardon to penitence, reward to worth, + And tempered justice with benevolence-- + Wickedly torn from her exalted station, + Now walked a captive in the streets of Rome, + E'en at the feet of the oppressors steeds. + Yet was her spirit all untamed. Disdain + Still sat upon her countenance, and breathed + Unmeasured scorn upon her persecutors. + The blush of innocence upon her cheek, + The burning pride that flashed within her eye, + The majesty enthroned upon her brow, + Told, in a language which the tyrant _felt_, + That her unconquered spirit soared sublime + In a pure orbit whither _his_ sordid soul + Could ne'er attain. Had he a captive led + Some odious wretch, whose sanguinary crimes, + Long perpetrated under sanction of a strength + No arm could reach, had spread a pall of mourning + Over a people's desolated homes, + He then had _right_ to triumph o'er his victim. + But 't was not thus. Insatiable ambition + Had led him to unsheath his victor sword + Against a monarch whose distinctive sway + Ravished from Rome no tittle of her _right_; + And, to augment the aggregate of wrong, + _That monarch was a woman_, whose renown, + Compared with his, was gold compared with brass. + As o'er the stony street the captive paced + Her weary way before the victor's steeds, + And marked the multitudes insatiate gaze, + The look of calm defiance on her face + Told that she bowed not to her degradation. + Her thoughts were not at Rome. Unheeded all, + The billows of the mad excitement dashed + About her, and broke harmless at her feet. + Dim reminiscences of former days + Burst like a deluge on her errant mind; + Leading her backward to the buried past, + When in the artless buoyancy of youth + She sat beneath Palmyra's fragrant shades + And gleaned the pages of historic story, + Red with Rome's bloody catalogue of wrong. + Little she dreamed Palmyra's palaces + Should e'er be scenes of Roman violence; + Little she dreamed that _hers_ should be the lot + (A captive princess led in chains) to crown + The splendor of a Roman holyday. + Alas! the blow she thought not of had fallen. + A bloody struggle, like a dreadful dream, + Had briefly raged, and all to her was lost, + Save the poor grace of a degraded life. + Her sun of glory was gone down in blood-- + The glittering fabric of her power despoiled + To swell the triumph of her conqueror. + But in the wreck of her magnificence, + With eye prophetic, she foresaw the ruin + Of the proud capital of all the world. + She saw the quickening symptoms of rebellion + Among the nations, and she caught their cry + For _freedom_ and for _vengeance_! + + * * * * * + + Hark! the Goth + Is thundering at the gate, His reckless sword + Leaps from the scabbard, eager to vindicate + The cause of the oppressed. A thousand years + The sun has witnessed in his daily course + The tyranny of Rome, now crushed _forever_. + The mighty mass of her usurped dominion, + By its own magnitude at last dissevered, + Is crumbling into fragments; and the shades + Of long-forgotten generations shriek + With fiendish glee over the yawning gulf + Of her perdition. + + + + +TEMPER LIFE'S EXTREMES. + +BY GEORGE S. BURLEIGH. + + + 'Tis wise, in summer-warmth, to look before, + To the keen-nipping winter; it is good, + In lifeful hours, to lay aside some store + Of thought, to leaven the spirit's duller mood; + To mould the sodded dyke, in sunny hour, + Against the coming of the wasteful flood; + Still tempering Life's extremes, that Wo no more + May start abrupt in Joy's sweet neighborhood. + If Day burst sudden from the bars of Night, + Or with one plunge leaped down the sheer abyss, + Painful alike were darkness and the light, + Bearing fixed war through shifting victories; + But sweet their bond, where peaceful twilight lingers, + Weaving the rosy with the sable fingers. + + + + +THE CRUISE OF THE RAKER. + +A TALE OF THE WAR OF 1812-15. + +BY HENRY A. CLARK. + +(_Continued from page 136._) + +CHAPTER V. + +_The Revenge._ + + +The report of the pistol fired by Julia had also been heard upon the +pirate brig. To Florette it gave assurance of the safety of the fair +fugitive. The pirate sprang to his feet, forgetful of his wound, but +fell back helpless upon the companion-way, and soon relapsed into his +former thoughtful state, supposing the sound had come from the deck of +the Raker, though it had seemed much too near and distinct to appear +possible that such was the case. + +The escape of Julia was not discovered until the following morning. +The wrath of the pirate was fearfully vindictive. Even Florette became +alarmed when he fiercely accused her of some share in the +disappearance of the captive girl. This she tremblingly denied, +suggesting the opinion that Julia must have jumped overboard, in her +despair, induced by the threats of the pirate. The loss of the boat +was also noticed, but not connected with the escape of Julia, it being +supposed that it had been carelessly fastened. As a very natural +consequence of his anger, the pirate sought some person on whom he +could vent its fury. + +"Call aft the other woman," shouted he, "unless she, too, has jumped +overboard." + +A grim smile was interchanged between the men who heard this order. +John's true sex had not been long kept concealed after he had reached +the pirate brig, and he had nearly fallen a victim to the rage the +unpleasant discovery excited in the men, but his ludicrous and abject +expressions of terror, though they awoke no emotions of pity, yet +excited the merriment of his captors, and turned their anger into +laughter. A man's garments were thrown to him, in which he speedily +equipped himself, being indeed in no slight degree relieved by the +change. Since that time he had kept himself as much aloof as possible +from the crew, anxiously and fearfully expectant of some sudden +catastrophe, either that his brains would be blown out without +affording him an opportunity to expostulate, or that he would be +called upon to walk the plank. + +He was roused by a heavy hand laid upon his shoulder. + +"O dear, don't," cried John. + +"The captain has sent word for'ard arter you, and faith ye had betther +be in a hurry, for he's a savage when he's mad." + +"O! now I've got to do it." + +"Do what?" + +"Why walk the plank to be sure." + +"Arrah, jewel! don't be onaisy now." + +"Wont I's, don't you think?" + +"Not a bit of it, darling. I think he will be afther running you up to +the yard-arm." + +"But I can't run up it." + +"Ha! ha! but come along, honey." + +Half dragging John after him, the sailor led him to the quarter-deck. + +"Here's the lady, captain, an' faith she's a swate one." + +The truth of the case had already been explained to the pirate. + +"You cowardly fool," said he, "did you expect to escape by such a +subterfuge? Pat, run him up to the yard-arm." + +"Yes, captain, and that will be a relaif to him, for he was mighty +afraid he'd have to walk the plank." + +"He was? well then he shall." + +The vindictiveness of the pirate commander, who had only changed the +mode of John's death because he thought that by so doing he should +render it more fearful and bitter to the victim, was the means of +saving the poor cockney's life. So do revenge and malice often +overreach themselves. + +A long plank was laid out over the side of the brig and John commanded +to walk out on it. He showed a strong disinclination to obeying, but a +huge pistol placed against his forehead quickly influenced his +decision, and with a cry of anguish he stepped out upon it. As the +board tipped he turned to spring back to the brig, but slipping up, +fell upon the board, which he pulled after him into the water. + +"Fool," cried the captain to one of his men, "what did you let the +board loose for, he will float now till the chase picks him up--fire +into him." + +A dozen balls were fired at John, and it seems he was hit, for he let +go the board and sunk. + +"There, captain, he's done for." + +The brig by this time had reached a considerable distance from the +place where John had been committed to the deep, and when he rose to +the surface, as he soon did, he was out of danger from their shot. + +"O dear!" cried he, "I shan't ever get ashore; I never could swim +much." + +The waves threw him against the plank. + +"O! a shark! a shark!" shouted John, "now don't;" and he grasped hold +of the plank in a frenzy of fear. He soon discovered the friendly aid +it would afford him, and held on to it with the tenacity of despair. + +In less than half an hour the Raker came up. John was noticed from its +deck, and a brawny tar seizing a rope and taking two or three turns of +it round his left arm sprang overboard to rescue the half unconscious +cockney. + +As the sailor seized him, John, supposing it to be a shark, uttered a +loud cry and lost all sensation. In this condition he was hauled up to +the deck of the privateer, where, upon recovering his senses, he found +to his great surprise and joy, that instead of being in the belly of +some voracious fish, like Jonah of old, he was in safety, and +surrounded by the crew of his former vessel, the Betty Allen, +including his master. + +The poor fellow was severely wounded by a pistol shot, in the arm, but +regardless of this he was wild in his demonstrations of joy, +especially when told that his young mistress had also escaped. + +Captain Greene found that he had gained little, if any, upon the +pirate during the night, and became convinced that he must again +commence firing upon her, trusting to some lucky ball to carry away a +spar, or failing, to allow the villains to escape the punishment they +so richly deserved, not only for their inhuman treatment of the crew +of the Betsy Allen, but doubtless for numerous other crimes committed +upon the seas, as savage in their conception, and more successful in +their execution. + +The long gun was again uncovered, and a shot dispatched from its huge +portals after the pirate brig. The first ball fired fell short of the +brig, striking the water directly in its wake, and ricochetting again +threw up the water beyond it. + +A succeeding ball, however, did some execution, crashing through her +top-gallant forecastle, but without in any degree lessening her speed. +As every fire from the Raker lessened her speed, Capt. Greene became +exceedingly anxious that no balls should be thrown away, and commanded +Lieut. Morris to point the gun, having more confidence in his skill +than in that of the gunner. The young officer aimed the gun carefully, +and as it was fired three cheers arose from his crew, as they +perceived the pirate's mizzen-mast fall away. + +"She is ours," cried the lieutenant. + +"Stand by, men, to take in sail," shouted the captain. "We will draw +near enough," continued he to Morris, "to fire into her at our +leisure, a pirate is not entitled to a more honorable warfare, and he +seems also to greatly outnumber us in men." + +As the privateer approached the pirate they could not but admire the +singular beauty of her build. She rose and fell upon the waters as +gracefully as a free and wild ocean bird. The long red lines of her +port-holes swept with a gentle curve from stem to stern, and her stem +was so sharp that the bowsprit seemed rather to terminate than to join +it. Twelve carronades occupied a double row of port-holes, and the +deck seemed crowded with men, all armed with cutlases and pistols. + +"A formidable looking set," said Captain Greene, as he laid aside his +glass, "keep the gun lively." + +An ineffectual fire opened upon the privateer from the pirate, but +though they had a swivel of pretty heavy calibre, turning on its axis +amidship in such a manner as to menace at will each point of the +horizon, it was evident that its force was far less than the long gun +of the privateer. + +A well aimed shot brought down the pirate's fore topsail-yard, which +hung in the slings, and succeeding shots did much injury to her masts +and rigging, and at length the main-topmast fell over the side. + +The scene on board the pirate, during this unequal warfare, was one +approaching perplexity and disorder. Their commander stood by the +helm, gazing at the privateer, his brow clouded with angry thought, +and giving little heed to the movements of his crew. He was aroused +from his abstraction by the voice of one of his officers. + +"Captain, this is bad business, what is to be done?" + +The captain gazed at him in silence. + +"The crew are alarmed, and demand of you some relief from this +harassing state. Our guns will not reach the chase, and we cannot +leave her in this crippled state." + +At this moment a heavy ball from the privateer whizzed by them and +buried itself in the main-mast of the brig. + +The captain seemed fully aroused. His eyes flashed with their wonted +fire. He turned toward his crew, and saw at a glance the state of +depression which had fallen upon them all. He even overheard some +muttered words of complaint. + +"Pat," says one, "this seems to be playing a rough game, where nothing +is to be won on our side." + +"Faith, an' ye may say that, but we stand a chance to gain one thing." + +"What may that be, Pat?" + +"O, a two-inch rope, and a run up to the fore yard-arm." + +"The devil! That's not a pleasant thought, Pat." + +"No, but they say it's an aisy death." + +"Silence, men," was heard in the deep tones of the captain's voice. + +In a moment all was still, and every eye turned toward the +companion-way, on which the captain stood, resting one hand upon the +main-boom, as he was exceedingly weak from the wound inflicted by the +ball of Captain Horton. + +"My brave fellows," said their leader, "do not be alarmed, we shall +not be hanged this time. Is our situation any worse than it has been +in times heretofore? Trust in me. Have I ever deceived you--have I +ever failed yet? You know I have not. Where we cannot conquer by fair +battle, we must use stratagem. Be watchful and ready, and we will yet +not only escape yonder vessel, but stand upon her deck as masters." + +The confidence with which he spoke inspired his followers with like +feeling, and with countenances relighted by hope, they returned to +their several stations. Their reliance upon their commander was +unbounded. He had so often triumphed when even greater difficulties +opposed, that they already felt sure of ultimate delivery, now that he +had been restored to his former energy--they had mistaken the lethargy +into which pain and weakness had thrown him for the torpor of despair. +Again the joke and laugh went round, and already they began to compute +their respective shares of booty in the vessel so soon to be theirs, +they knew not how. + +"Haul down the ensign, in token that we surrender," cried the captain. + +A murmur of indignation and surprise arose from the crew. + +"What, men, do you doubt me? 'Tis but a feint. Haul down the flag and +take in sail." + +The men obeyed with alacrity, for they already clearly comprehended +the plan of their leader. It was his intention to entice the privateer +alongside, and, well aware of his own superiority in numbers, to make +a sudden onset upon her deck, and thus, contrary to all laws of +honorable warfare, seize by foul means what could not be obtained in +any other way. + +These pacific indications were viewed with some surprise on board the +privateer. + +"By Heaven!" cried Lieut. Morris, "she's tired of this game soon." + +"Well, she had no other way to do; as it was we should have sunk her +without receiving a shot." + +"It was a losing game for her, true enough." + +"Lay the brig alongside of her," shouted Captain Greene to his men. + +As his men with a cheer began to unfurl all sail, Captain Horton +approached the commander of the privateer. He had up to this period +ventured no interference, both from matter of delicacy, and because he +saw nothing to disapprove of in the course pursued by Captain Greene. + +"My dear sir," said he, as he laid his hand upon the arm of the +captain of the privateer, "allow me to say a word." + +"Certainly, sir," replied the courteous commander. "I ought sooner +than this to have asked your advice." + +"I would not place too great confidence in the pirate's signal of +surrender." + +"Do you apprehend foul play?" + +"Recollect the savage brutality which the fiend has already evinced, +and judge for yourself whether he is worthy of being trusted at all." + +"You are right, sir. Lieut. Morris," continued he, turning to his +young officer. + +"Ay, ay, sir." + +"Load the long gun with grape and canister, and wheel it abaft--load +the larboard guns the same way. Now, my men, don't run too near her. +She must send a boat aboard." + +The privateer approached within half a cable's length of the pirate. + +"Ship ahoy!" cried Captain Greene. + +No answer came from the pirate, but her head was rounded to, so as to +bear directly down on the Raker. + +"Answer me, or I'll fire into you." + +"Fire and be d--d," came from the deck of the pirate, and at the same +time a broadside was poured into the Raker, which killed two or three +men at the guns, and severely wounded Captain Greene. + +"Lieut. Morris," cried he, "take the command of the vessel," and +falling on the deck he was immediately carried below. + +The young officer was fully equal to the emergency of the occasion. At +a glance he perceived that the pirate in the confusion which ensued +from his unexpected broadside, had fallen foul of the privateer's +rigging, and the crowd of his crew in his bow and fore-rigging, all +with cutlases drawn, and ready to spring aboard the privateer, plainly +announced the intention to board. + +"All hands to repel boarders," shouted Morris, and drawing his cutlas +he sprang forward, followed by his men. + +A well contested struggle ensued, the American seamen, indignant at +the foul deceit which had been practiced upon them, fought like +tigers, and for a time kept the pirates at bay--they had indeed, +notwithstanding their superior numbers, nearly driven them from the +deck, when the form of their commander appeared among them. In +consequence of his wound he had, contrary to his custom, entrusted the +command of the boarders to his first lieutenant, and had remained upon +his own vessel watching the fight. He sprung among his crew, with a +sword drawn, and a tight sash bound around his waist, from which the +dark blood was slowly oozing, his wound having burst away from its +ligaments. + +"Cowards!" he shouted, "do ye yield--ye are two to their one." + +Leaping to their front, he struck down a sailor and plunged into the +thickest of the fight. Reanimated by the presence of their leader, who +had so often led them to victory, a new spirit seemed to light up the +fainting courage of the pirates, and with a fierce yell they rushed +forward. The American crew were compelled to fall back before the +fierce assault. At the head of his men Lieut. Morris several times +crossed swords with the pirate captain, but the swaying of the fight +separated them. Perceiving that his men were slowly yielding, though +in good order, Lieutenant Morris, cool and collected, cheered their +courage, and at this moment thought of the long gun which had been +drawn up, loaded to the muzzle with grape and canister, against the +companion-way, and a man with a lighted match stationed by it. + +"Fall back to the quarter-deck," cried the young officer. + +They retreated in close array, and uncovered the mouth of the huge +gun. At the sight of this a cry of dismay broke from the foremost of +the pirates, who broke the front rank, and many of them escaped for +the time by leaping into the sea. + +"Fire," cried Lieut. Morris. In a moment he was obeyed. Wild cries of +agony arose amid the gathering smoke, which, as it rolled away, +revealed a horrible sight. Not a living pirate stood upon the deck of +the privateer. A dense mass of bodies, writhing in pain, lay upon the +fore-deck, and many of the pirates who had jumped into the sea were +seen scrambling up the sides of their own vessel; the pirate chief +lay dead at the head of his followers, foremost in death, as he had +been in life. It was a terrible and revolting scene--the scuppers +literally ran with blood, the bulwarks were bespattered with brains +and pieces of scalps; several limbs were strewn about, and the entire +deck covered with the dead or dying. + +While the crew of the Raker stood for a time awe-struck at the +desolation they had themselves made, the pirates, ferocious to the +last, had regained their own ship and cut her adrift, and as they paid +off fired a broadside into the Raker, which injured several of her +men. Roused by this, the privateersmen rushed to their guns. The +larboard guns, in obedience to the order of Captain Greene, were +already loaded with grape; while with the starboard Morris commanded +his men to keep up a steady fire at the masts and rigging. + +A fortunate shot from the Raker struck the helms-man on board the +pirate, shattering at the same time the tiller. In a moment the brig +was up in the wind, and taken aback, throwing the pirates into +confusion. + +"Ready about," cried Morris, leaping from the carronade-slide on which +he had raised himself, and taking in at a glance the exposed position +of the enemy--"head her round, and stand ready to give the rascals a +taste from our larboard quarter." + +The Raker ranged across the bows of the pirate, and before he could +regain his headway, raked him with a tremendous broadside of the same +deadly missiles which had already destroyed so many of their comrades. +The wild cries of anguish which arose from the clouds of smoke told +with what destructive effect the death-bolts had been hurled. + +The pirate now paid off and returned an ineffectual broadside, but +rendered ungovernable by the loss of her head-sails and tiller, he +immediately broached-to again, and the privateer poured in another +terrible discharge of grape and canister, raking him fore and aft, +then heaving-to and taking up a position on his bow, she fired +broadside after broadside into him in rapid and deadly succession. The +main-mast now fell over the side, and the pirate at the same time fell +off before the wind, and drew out of the deep mantle of smoke which +had for some time covered both vessels. As the smoke slowly curled up +from the deep it was seen that not a living man was visible upon the +deck of the pirate. Several of her guns were dismounted, and her masts +so cut away that she lay upon the waters a helpless and disabled +wreck. Yet the red ensign of death, though rent into ribbons, still +fluttered from the peak, and the young lieutenant hesitated to board, +having learned caution from the treachery of the pirate. + +While the crew of the Raker were thus occupied in watching their +enemy, a light female form was seen to issue from the hatchway and +gaze around the deck of the pirate. She passed from body to body, but +seemed not to find what she sought. At length she turned her eyes, +streaming with tears, toward the Raker, and pointing to the flag above +her, as if to indicate that there was no one to lower it, she knelt +upon the deck, bowing her head upon her hands. Her long hair fell +over her forehead and trailed upon the blood-stained deck, as she +knelt in mute despair among the dying and the dead. It was a mournful +and singular picture of wo, and there were eyes long unused to tears +that filled to overflowing as they gazed upon her. + +A boat was immediately lowered, and Lieutenant Morris with a dozen of +his crew were soon in possession of the pirate's deck. Upon examining +the brig it was found that she was fast filling with water, and after +conveying to the Raker all that they could lay hands on of value, +including a large amount of precious metal, she was left to her fate. +Not one of her crew was found living, so destructive had been the +continual discharge of grape from the Raker. Florette accompanied them +on board, and wept bitterly as she saw the dead body of the pirate +commander lying in front of his slaughtered followers, but suffered +herself to be led below by Julia, who received her with kindness and +gratitude. + +All sail was now set upon the privateer, and she bore away from the +sinking craft of the pirate upon her former course. The latter vessel, +traversed in every direction by the Raker's terrible fire, was rapidly +settling into the ocean. Suddenly, with a sound like the gushing of an +immense water-spout, a huge chasm opened in the waves--the doomed brig +seemed struggling as if with conscious life, and then lashing the +waters with her shattered spars and broken masts, went down forever +beneath the deep waters, over whose bosom she had so long rode as a +scourge and a terror, with blood and desolation following in her wake. + +Among the effects of the pirate captain which had been conveyed on +board the Raker, a manuscript was found, which seemed to be an +autobiography of his life. For what purpose he had written it can +never be known--most probably from an impulsive desire to give vent on +paper to thoughts and feelings which he could not breathe to any +living person, and which he doubtless supposed would never be perused +by human eye--they show that, savage, and lawless, and blood-thirsty +as he had become, strong and terrible motives had driven him into his +unnatural pursuit, and perchance a tear of pity may fall for him, as +the gentle reader peruses the private records of the scourge of the +ocean. + + +CHAPTER VI. + +_The Pirate's Story._ + +I am the youngest son of a gentleman of the northern part of England. +My father's family is as good as any in the county, for without laying +claim to any title of nobility, our blood is as pure and our lineage +as ancient as the most boasted in England. I had but one brother, who +succeeded at our father's death to the broad lands and rich heritage +of our name. The accursed law of primogeniture, to which I owe all the +evil that has befallen me, of course debarred me from all share in the +family estate. I had refused to enter the army, the church or the +navy, though my inclinations were in favor of the latter profession; +yet a stronger claim than ambition or a roving life kept me on the +paternal estate. It was not that I envied my brother the possession of +the wide bounds over which he ruled, or that I found less happiness in +witnessing his, for I loved my brother, as God is my witness, here, in +my lonely cabin, with this great sea around me, and this broad sky +above me; here, though no eye may ever see these lines, I write, do I +repeat it, I loved my brother dearly and proudly. It was love that +kept me idle at home while other young men of England, belonging to +the same position in society as myself, and in the same unfortunate +category of younger sons, were carving out for themselves fame and +wealth in the service of their country. + +Helen Burnett was the loveliest girl I have ever seen, and I loved her +with all the passionate devotedness of a young and ardent heart; she +was to me the light of life, for all was dark when I was not with her. +She was the only daughter of our village curate, and resided near our +family mansion. We had sported together beneath the venerable trees of +the park from the earliest days of childhood. Until I left home for +college she had seemed to me as a sister, and I had loved her as such +until, on returning home from a long absence at college, I found a +blushing and beautiful young woman where I had expected, forgetting +the rapid work of time, to meet with the same playful and lovely child +I had kissed at parting. She was, indeed, beautiful; tall, graceful, +and even commanding in figure, while the mildness of an angel reposed +in the glance of her deep-blue eyes, and the sweet smile that so often +visited her lips, while her pleasantly modulated voice was music +itself. + + "A lyre of widest range, + Touched by all passion--did fall down and glance + From tone to tone, and glided through all change of liveliest + utterance." + +Her hair was of the darkest shade of brown, resting in soft wave-like +smoothness above her high, pale forehead. Alas! that she was _so_ +lovely! had she been less so, either I might not have loved her, or I +might have been permitted by fortune to have been happy with her. + +After leaving college, my time was all devoted to Helen. She loved me +no less than I loved her; and I looked forward to a quiet and happy +life, picturing the future with colorings of the brightest hope and +joyfulness. + +It was at this time that my brother returned from a long tour of the +Continent. He was one of the handsomest men of the day, and had been +distinguished by the appellation which had accompanied him from court +to court, of "the handsome Englishman." He was of a medium stature, +and faultlessly proportioned; his expansive and intellectual forehead +seemed the seat of lofty thought, and his dark flashing eye, intensely +expressive, seemed to penetrate to the heart of all who met its +glance. I see him now--not in his glorious beauty, but pale--pale, +touched by the cold fingers of death. + +I had too much of the pride of my race to live as a dependent on my +brother's bounty, yet I could not bear the thought of leaving Helen. I +was in no situation to marry, and in an undecided state of mind I +suffered the days to glide away. + +My brother had just come back from a day's angling in the trout-stream +that flowed through his lands. He met me at the park-gate. + +"Well, John," said I, "what luck to-day?" + +"O, William," said he, without heeding my question, "I have seen the +most charming girl--the loveliest one that breathes. She outvies all I +have seen in my travels; do you know her. She is the curate's +daughter." + +I felt a sickness at heart, like the bitterness of death--was it a +presentiment, a warning of evil to come. + +"Say, William?" + +"Yes--yes, she is lovely." + +"She is an angel." + +Sir John passed into the park, and I proceeded, with a strange +melancholy I could not dispel, to meet Helen. She was at her father's +door, and greeted me with her accustomed kindness of voice and manner. + +"Why are you so sad this lovely evening William?" + +"Sad!--am I sad?" + +"You look so." + +"Well, I will be so no longer, then;" and I endeavored to shake off my +depression, but not succeeding, I bade her farewell at an earlier hour +than was my custom. + +From that day my brother's angling excursions became more +frequent--but he seldom returned with a full basket. He often spoke to +me of Helen, but I always replied carelessly, and changed the topic of +conversation to something else, yet when alone, I was in continual +torment from my thoughts. I endeavored to console myself with the +reflection that Helen's love was plighted to me, and that she would +not change, yet my thoughts were continually recurring to my brother's +great advantages over me in every respect, not only in fortune but in +personal appearance; and I had already, in my suspicions, placed him +in the light of a rival for the hand of Helen. I knew his high-minded +and honorable disposition too well to fancy for a moment that he would +attempt her ruin; and I also knew that there was nothing in the +inferior station of Helen's family that would prevent him from seeking +her hand in marriage, if she had compelled his love. + +All that followed might perhaps have been prevented had I at first +told my brother frankly of my love for Helen; but a foolish desire to +prove her love for me, and a certain feeling of self-respect kept me +silent. + +It was not a long time before I either saw, or fancied I saw, a change +in the manner of Helen toward me--the thought was torture. I was for +days undecided how to act, but at length determined to learn the true +state of things. I knew my brother was often at the parsonage, and I +trembled for the result. + +"Helen," I asked her, "is not my brother a frequent visitor here?" + +It was twilight, but I thought I observed a heightened color in her +cheek. + +"Yes, he has been here several times since his return." + +"Dear Helen, answer me frankly, has he ever spoken to you of love?" + +She hesitated, but at length replied, + +"He has." + +"And did you not tell him your vows were plighted to another?" + +"My father entered the room before I made any reply at all." + +"Helen, do you love me now the same as ever you have done?" + +"You have my plighted word, William." Yet there was something +bordering on coldness even in the sweet accents with which she spoke; +the nice instinct of love detects each gradation of feeling with an +unerring certainty. I was not satisfied, and when I left her, I was +more unhappy than ever. I longed to speak to my brother on the +subject, yet some indescribable feeling prevented me; and I allowed +the days to glide away, growing more and more troubled in mind as they +passed by. + +I was now convinced that Helen's affection for me was not what it had +been; and after a short interview with her, in which she had again +repeated her love for me, but in such chilling tones that I felt it +was not from the heart she spoke, I sought the chamber of my brother +in a state almost bordering on madness. All of our race have been of +ungovernable passions, but none more so than myself. I paused at his +door to regain in some degree my self-command, then lifting the latch, +I entered. + +"Ah, brother!" said Sir John, in a cheerful tone. + +"Yes, your younger brother," replied I, bitterly. + +Sir John started with wonder. + +"Why, William, what mean you?" + +I paid no heed to the interruption, but continued growing, if +possible, still more enraged as I proceeded. + +"Are not all the broad lands of our family estate yours--its parks, +its meadows, its streams; this venerable mansion, where the _elder +son_ has rioted for so many generations, leaving the younger to make +his way in the world as best he may." + +"Brother, are you mad? My purse is yours--I have nothing that is not +yours." + +"You have every thing, and not content with that, you have sought to +win away the love of my affianced bride." + +"Who mean you, William?" + +"Helen Burnett." + +My brother turned pale, and gazing upon me for a moment with +astonishment, he heaved a deep sigh, and covered his face with his +hands. + +I folded my arms, and stood looking upon him scornfully, for my +passion had made me consider him in the light of one who had knowingly +stolen away my bride. + +Sir John at length uncovered his face and spoke. + +"I would to God, William, you had told me this sooner." + +"Is it then too late?" I inquired, bitterly. + +"Too late--too late for my happiness, but not too late for justice and +honor. She is yours, William, I resign all pretensions to her hand, +and will cease to visit the parsonage." + +I was touched by the generous spirit of my brother, and by the +mournful shadow which clouded his noble brow. I have ever acted from +impulse, and seizing him by the hand, I said, + +"Not so, John--not so! She is, as I have told you, my affianced bride; +her solemn and oft-repeated vows are mine, and I have thought that her +love was forever mine; but this very night I plainly perceived that a +change has been wrought in her feelings. She treated me with coldness +instead of warmth, and maddened by my interview with her, I rushed +into your presence, and have blamed you unjustly." + +"My dear brother--" + +"No, no, John, I was wrong to accuse you. I should have better known +your nobleness. Henceforth let us stand on equal ground; I do not want +an unwilling bride, and if you can win her love from me, take her, +though it drive me mad." + +A gleam of pleasure passed over Sir John's countenance as he replied, + +"Be it so, my brother, it is but honorable; yet will I at once resign +all hope, and leave the country if you but will it so." + +"Sir John, have you reason to think that Helen loves you?" + +"She has never said so, but I did not think she looked coldly upon +me." + +"She is 'false, false as hell!'" + +"My dear William, however this suite terminate, any thing in my power +shall be done for you. If the estates were not entailed, I would at +once give you a deed for half of them, and then I should have no +advantage over you in wealth or position. Here is an order for a +hundred thousand pounds." + +"Sir John I will accept nothing; if I lose Helen, I shall have no more +to live for, and I warn you, if I become mad from disappointment, do +not cross my path, or I know not the consequence." + +"You do not threaten me." + +I felt the turbulent passions of my nature rising within me, and +fearing that I should lose all self-command, I rushed from the room, +and entering the silent park, I wandered from grove to grove till the +cool air of the night had calmed my raging spirit, when I sought my +own chamber. + +I had never told the worthy curate of my love for his daughter, and +Helen had never been accustomed to depend on him for advice or +consolation. It was to her mother that she had always turned for both, +and that mother had died but a year before the return of my brother. +Mr. Burnett was a quiet student, passionately fond of his books, as +innocent of the world as a child, only fretful and peevish when any +thing occurred to disturb the quiet monotony of his existence, and +apparently unconscious that his little Helen had grown from a child +to a woman. His mind was wholly wrapped up in his studies, even at his +meals it was abstracted, and he retired hastily to his closet. Helen +had no inclination to disturb the serenity of his life, until it +became absolutely necessary that he should be made acquainted with her +engagement to me; and I had been too thoughtless of all but my own +happiness to intrude upon his privacy, confident that his sanction to +our marriage would not be refused whenever demanded. + +I had yet to learn the lesson, bitter and agonizing, that no woman is +proof against the captivating temptations of ambition, and the glare +of wealth. I know but little of the sex; they are called angels, and I +had thought Helen was an angel--alas! I found my mistake. I read my +doom in the averted coldness of her glance; I felt it in the unwilling +pressure of her hand whenever we met, and I knew it when I gazed upon +the countenance of my brother, on which was a quiet glow of happiness +his expressive features could not conceal, even when he knew my +searching glance was upon him. O! the agony of feeling which oppressed +me in those bitter days; I felt all the savage passions of my nature +rising within me; there were moments when I felt as if I could gladly +see my brother and Helen stretched dead at my feet. Day by day these +vindictive thoughts increased within me. It wanted but the finishing +stroke to make me completely mad--it came. Though I had long dreaded +to make the trial, on which all my happiness for this world rested, I +at length determined to put it off no longer. + +The shadows of twilight were settling over the earth as I slowly and +sadly approached the parsonage. My head was bowed upon my breast as I +walked with a noiseless step upon the little path that led to the +unpretending dwelling. I was not aware how near I had come, till a ray +of light from the window fell across the path, and recalled me to +myself. As I stopped, I heard the tones of my brother's voice in low +and earnest conversation. I drew nearer, and beheld a sight which +rooted me to the spot, even though I was not wholly unprepared for +such a scene. + +My brother and Helen were seated in the little arbor before the +parsonage, as she and myself had often before sat when I fancied our +love was lasting as life. In the dim light I could see that my +brother's arm was round her waist, and that her head rested upon his +shoulder. I could hear their conversation. + +"And you do love me, then, Helen?" + +I heard no answer, but the long curls moved slightly upon my brother's +shoulder, and as he bent his head and kissed her, I felt that he was +answered--I was answered--that he _was_ loved. + +My brain burned as if on fire--and I sunk to the earth with a low +groan. How long I remained unconscious I do not know; when I +recovered, Helen and Sir John stood beside me. I sprung to my feet, +and gazed upon them with the glare of a maniac. It was so--my brain +was crazed. + +"William," said Helen. + +Her soft voice fell upon my ears with a singular cadence. With a +fierce laugh I struck my brother to the earth, and rushed forth into +the forest. All that night I must have wandered through its depths. I +found myself at the break of day miles from our mansion, lying beneath +an aged oak. I did not seem to know myself. I cannot now describe the +feelings and thoughts which raged within me. The wild storm which is +now lashing the ocean without my cabin is not more wild and +fierce--the black sky above me is not more dark and gloomy. They +seemed at length to settle into one stern, unchanging emotion, and +that was hatred toward my brother, and a stern determination to +revenge upon him the cruel wrong which had driven me mad. + +My path led along the course of a mountain torrent, whose sudden +descent as it hurried toward the river, formed successive water-falls +not unmusical in their cadence. A few purple beech and drooping +willows with here and there a mountain ash, skirted the ravine that +formed its bed; their leaves had fallen before the blasts of autumn, +they seemed emblematic of myself; like me their glory had +departed--they were shorn of their loveliness by the rough storm, left +bare and verdureless in the chilling breath of autumn; the seasons in +their round would restore to them their beauty and their bloom, +clothing their branches again in all the freshness of youth; but what +should give back to me the freshness and youth of the heart? what +restore the desolation of of the soul? + +Weak and exhausted, I flung myself down in a rude grotto, which +commanded a view of the foaming stream as it washed the rocks below; +it was a scene fitted to my mood, for I turned in disgust from the +beautiful landscape an opening in the forest revealed--the beauty of +earth had forever passed away from me. That same opening, however, +unfolded to the sight the gray towers of my family mansion, and at +once I started to my feet and bent my course toward them. + +At length I reached my home--how hateful every thing about the +venerable building seemed. I stole to my chamber, and falling upon my +couch, slept from pure exhaustion. + +It was night when I awoke. I arose, but did not leave my room; seated +by the window with the cold wind of November blowing upon my burning +brow, I nursed my thoughts of vengeance. I forgot that he against whom +I harbored such thoughts was my only brother; I forgot my self-offered +trial of our powers with Helen; I forgot every thing--every thing but +the fiery feeling of revenge. Yes, I was mad. + +Day after day I wandered around the old castle, shunning every one. My +brother strove to converse with me, but glaring upon him like a maniac +as I was, I rushed past him. I felt the poison of hatred working +within me, and I knew the time was coming when my revengeful spirit +would find its vent. + +I often wandered toward the parsonage, but never sought an interview +with Helen. At times I caught a glimpse of her light form as it passed +by a window or before the open door that led into the hall. One +evening I saw my brother enter, and drawing near the window, I saw +through the slightly-parted curtain, such evidence of their mutual +affection, that, if possible, I became more than ever crazy in my +anguish and despair. I waited for him to come out long hours, hours to +me of bitterest sorrow, to him of most intense delight. It was an +exceedingly cold night. A slight snow had fallen during the day, and +the landscape around me glistening in the moonlight, seemed wrapped in +a robe of the purest white. Yet as I gazed all seemed to turn into the +deep hue of blood--wherever I gazed, every thing presented the same +fearful coloring. It was but the shadowy reflection of a coming deed +that should forever stain my soul with a deeper red, that the years of +eternity could never efface. + +At length my brother opened the door of the parsonage and came forth. +Leaning against the trunk of an old tree but a little distance from +them, I saw and heard the parting acts of endearment. At that terrible +moment the determination of my soul was made, and I heard the dark +devil within me whisper one of you must die. I shuddered at the +thought, but when scarcely out of sight of the parsonage, almost as +soon as the door had closed upon the form of Helen, I confronted my +brother. Sir John started back, surprised. + +"What, William, is it you?" + +I laughed scornfully. + +"My poor brother!" + +"Do you dare to pity me--ha! ha! ha! Sir John! one of us must die this +night--here, upon this spot; here are two pistols, take one of them, +and it will be soon seen which is the fated one." + +Sir John mechanically took the pistol; cocking my own, I retired a few +paces, and turning, exclaimed, + +"Are you ready?" + +My words recalled him to himself; flinging his pistol far into the +wood, he exclaimed, + +"I will not fire at my brother." + +"Coward!" + +"The name belongs not to our race; fire at me if you will, I will not +at you." + +Enraged beyond expression, yet even in my madness ashamed to fire at +an unarmed man, I hesitated. + +My brother spoke. + +"Come, William, let us go home." + +"Home!--ha! ha! ha! my home is the wood and the cave! Here, take my +good-night." + +Thus speaking I flung my pistol full at his face with all my strength; +it struck him lengthwise, and being cocked, went off in consequence of +the concussion. + +Sir John fell upon the cold snow. I rushed up to him, and beheld the +blood flowing in torrents from a ghastly wound; the ball had taken a +downward direction, and penetrated the abdomen. + +"William," he said, faintly, "you have murdered me. God forgive you!" + +It seemed as if my reason came back to me at that terrible moment as +suddenly as it had left me. At the report of my pistol, I had heard a +loud scream in the parsonage, and almost at the same time with myself +Helen rushed up to the side of my brother. + +"Oh!" she cried, in accents of agony, "who has done this?" + +"Who!" said I, bitterly, "do you ask? You have done it; but no, Helen, +I do not mean it--let us carry him into the parsonage." + +With difficulty we lifted the body of my brother, and bearing him into +the house, laid him upon a bed. Helen, who had up to this time been +sustained by the necessity of exertion, fainted beside the body. I +stood gazing upon them in stupid despair. The worthy pastor opened the +door of the room; he had heard an unusual noise, and left his books to +learn the cause. + +I stopped not to converse with him, I could not trust myself to speak, +but stooping to the lifeless form of Helen, I imprinted a last kiss +upon her pale lips, and burst from the chamber. I do not know the +result of that fatal night. It may be that my brother and Helen were +both restored to life and happiness. God grant that it was so. It may +be that the spirits of both had already passed to another world when I +broke from the room, leaving the pale and astonished pastor gazing +upon the lifeless bodies of his only daughter and the young lord of +the manor. Years have passed since then, and not a happy hour have +their long ages borne to me; yet methinks if I could but know that my +brother and Helen are living in happiness in the mansion of my +fathers, much that is dark and despairing in the remnant of life would +be taken from the future. + +That night I bade farewell to the haunts of boyhood, and the next day +I was out upon the broad ocean. I had jumped aboard of a little vessel +which was just weighing anchor, without asking its destination or +caring where it bore me. I made brief reply to all interrogatories, +merely showing a purse of gold, which was sufficient answer, inasmuch +as it showed I was not to be an unprofitable part of the cargo. + +Seated upon the companion-way, that evening I watched the receding +shores of my native isle, and as the sunlight went out on its white +cliffs, leaving them in sombre shade, I felt that so had the light of +my life gone out, leaving the darkness of despair forever. Reckless as +I was of the future, and dark as was the past, I was not yet dead to +all emotion, and I could not witness my native land fading from my +view without experiencing those melancholy feelings which the +endearing recollections of former years excite, embittered as they +were with me by the thought that even if I ever should return to the +home of my fathers, I should find no kindred to welcome me back. No +wonder, then, that I felt a chilling sickness of the heart as I caught +a last glimpse of the Wicklow Mountains gleaming in the warm colorings +of the evening sun, as they mingled their hoary summits with the "dewy +skies" of my native isle. + +The vessel on which I had chanced to take passage was bound for the +West Indies. It was a small merchantman, and fell an easy prey to the +first pirate that gave chase. We were boarded and all consigned to +death. When the command was given to the pirates to shoot us all +through the head, I stepped forward with a smile, and a heart +partaking more of gladness than it had felt for long months, a pistol +was at my temple, when the stern voice of the pirate captain commanded +his man to stay his hand. He stepped forward and gazed into my face. + +"My fine fellow, are you not afraid to die?" + +"I have nothing to live for--blow away, and I will thank you." + +"By heaven, you are just the man for us! Now take your choice, I have +no objection to shoot you, indeed it would be rather pleasant than +otherwise, but one of my lieutenants was killed yesterday, and you can +fill his place if you will. I give you five minutes to decide while we +are dispatching these dogs." I gazed upon the cruel work--it did not +shock me; I even smiled at their agony, and had determined to share +their fate, when a momentary thought of the unknown, mysterious +hereafter restrained my advancing step. Am I ready, thought I, to +plunge into its mysteries. I shuddered at the thought. It was not the +beautiful blue sky unrolled above me, nor the broad, playful sea +around that wooed me to life. No, it was that fear of the "something +after death." + +"Are you ready to answer?" + +"I am thine." + +"It is well, throw these carcasses into the sea, and set all sail for +the Bermudas. Well, lieutenant," continued he, as the ship fell off +before the wind, "give us your name, or it will be awkward work +hailing you." + +"William--" I stopped, the pride of my race arose within me. + +"Well?" + +"I will not give my name--call me William, I'll answer to that." + +"Very well--lieutenant William, my lads, your second lieutenant." + +The men seemed to like me from the first, and as I gazed upon them +with a proud, fearless eye, a hearty cheer arose that endorsed my +command. + +Since then my home has been the pirate's deck; my heart has grown +harder and harder with the lapse of time. I love the sight of blood +better than I love the flowing wine--the agonizing shriek of death +better than the sweetest music--like an emissary of evil I gloat over +the tortures of man. I have learned to hate the land of my birth, and +all who first drew breath upon her detested soil. I have been foremost +in every conflict, yet have I not met death--the only foe whom I +cannot conquer by my fierce will and dark heart. + +I could not long remain a subordinate in command. I had become the +idol of our lawless crew, and a single blow from my sword laid our +captain low in death upon his own deck; and I filled his place, +smiling with a fiendish pleasure, as I saw his body thrown into the +waves, and the hungry sharks severing the limbs yet throbbing with +life. I have no feeling for my kind--yet I was not meant for this. +Under happier auspices, I might have been a leader in the ranks of God +as I am now in those of Satan; my sword might have been drawn for my +native land with the purest and loftiest feelings of patriotism, +instead of being turned against her and her children. Even now, in the +midst of my crimes and desolation, my heart throbs when I think of the +great and good of earth, and I feel that, like them, I might have left +a name of boast and pride to mankind; now, I shall perish, unknown and +unwept; the annals of my house shall never record that one of its +scions led a pirate crew to deeds of bloody cruelty and death. Long +since I have buried my name in oblivion--I am dead to my kindred, dead +to the world; the caves of ocean are yawning for the body of the +pirate-chief, and there will he sleep with the howling ocean and the +shrieking storm to sing his requiem and his dirge. + + [_To be continued._ + + + + +DREAMS. + + + Yes, there were pleasant voices yesternight, + Humming within mine ear a tale of truth, + Reminding me of days ere the sad blight + Of care had dimmed the brightness of my youth: + Yes, they were pleasant voices; but, forsooth, + They threw a kind of melancholy charm + Around my heart; as if in vengeful ruth, + Our very dreams have knowledge of the harm + Ourselves do to ourselves, without the least alarm! + + I love such dreams, for at my couch there stood + One who, in other lands, with magic spell, + Had taught my untaught heart to love the good, + The pure, the holy, which in her did dwell. + It was a lovely image, and too well + I do remember me the fatal hour, + When that bright image--but I may not tell + How deep the thraldom, absolute the power-- + My very dreams decide it was her only dower. + + _Sandwich Islands._ + + What are our dreams? A sort of fancy sketches, + Limned on the mind's retina, with a grace + More subtle than the wakeful artist catches, + And tinted with a more ethereal trace. + Our dreams annihilate both time and space, + And waft us, with magnetic swiftness, back + O'er an oblivious decade to the place + Where youth's fond visions clustered o'er our track; + Of youth's fond hopes decayed, alas! there is no lack! + + I love such dreams, for they are more than real; + They have a passion in them in whose birth + The heart receives again its beau ideal-- + Its Platonized embodiment of worth. + Call ye them dreams! then what a mortal dearth + Throws its gaunt shadow o'er our little life! + Our very joy is mockery of mirth, + And our quiescence agony of strife: + If dreams are naught but dreams, what is our real life? + + E. O. H. + + + + +A LEAF IN THE LIFE OF LEDYARD LINCOLN. + +A SKETCH. + +BY MARY SPENCER PEASE. + +It was in the joyous leaf-giving, life-giving month of June, of 18--, +after an absence of six years, that I found myself once more among my +own dearly loved native hills. + +An intense worshiper of Nature, I had gratified to the utmost my +passion and curiosity by exploring all the accessible regions of the +old world. I had studied every scene that was in any way famous, or +_in_famous I might say with regard to some, if the necessity of +clambering down or up unclimbable precipices, or wading through +interminable swamps, could render them so. + +With all the fatigue and hardships I had undergone my reward was +great, and had more than repaid me for the perilous dangers I had +courted and conquered. I had gazed, and dreamed, and raved by turns. I +had been melted into tears of tenderness by the perfect harmony and +loveliness of some scenes, and had been frozen into awe by the +magnificent grandeur and terrible sublimity of others. And, after +those six years of travel in foreign lands, I had returned, my brain +one endless panorama of hills, valleys and cloud-capped mountains, +earth, skies, wood and water. Not one of those gorgeous scenes, +however, had moved me as I was moved when once again I beheld my +boyhood's home--the stately mansion of my fathers. Half hidden, it +rose majestically amid the noble elms that surrounded it; there lay +the velvet-green sloping lawn in front--down which, as a boy, I had +rolled in the summer and sledded in the winter--there the wild, +night-dark ravine in the rear--fit haunt for elves and gnomes--that +terminated amid jagged rocks and tangled trees, in a rushing, roaring +brook of no mean dimensions, almost as large as many of the so-called +rivers of the mother country. Just at this point, at the turn of the +old time-worn stage-road, where the venerable, picturesque old +homestead of my sires burst thus suddenly into view, an opening in the +trees, whether by accident or design, revealed one of the very +merriest, maddest of musical water-falls, that went foaming and +tumbling its snow-white, sparkling waters over a bed of huge rocks, +and then, by a sudden wilful bend, that same loud-uttering brook was +lost to view. + +As the rattling stage neared my home, my heart leaped within me, and +every fibre of it trembled with emotion. I could have hugged and +kissed each familiar sturdy old tree, looking so grand and natural. My +soul warmed and yearned toward the well remembered scene; and as I +thought upon my fond, doting mother and my loving, lovely sisters, and +my ever-indulgent father, I could have wept in the intensity of my +joy at finding myself so near them, and breathing the same free, pure, +health-giving air that had nurtured my childhood. But was there not +sitting directly opposite to me one of the most exquisitely beautiful +of God's lovely women; and did not her saucy, demure eyes seem to read +my very soul? I therefore restrained a display of my feelings, for it +would not have appeared in the least dignified or proper in a +fine-looking young man (such as I imagined myself to be) of +four-and-twenty, to be seen with eyes streaming like a young girl. + +More than once, during our short stage-coach ride had our eyes met; +and hers had revealed to me a living well of spiritual beauty; and +although they were withdrawn as soon as they encountered mine--not +coquettishly, but with true feminine modesty--still they were not +turned away until our mutual eyes had flashed one electrical spark of +mutual understanding and mutual sympathy, that whole volumes of dull +words could never express either as vividly or as truly. What a +heaven-born mystery is contained in the glance of an eye: it can kill +and can make alive; it can fill the heart with a sudden and delicious +ecstasy, and it can plunge it into the deepest, darkest despair. + +I gave her one last look as the stage stopped before my father's door, +and if it expressed one tithe of what I felt, it told her of my warm +admiration of her glorious beauty, and of my sorrow at leaving her, +perhaps forever, without knowing more of her. + +For the time the matchless image of my stage-coach companion was lost +in the loving embraces and tender greetings of my family. I felt it +truly refreshing, after six years of exile from my own kith and kin, +to be caressed and made much of; to be told by three deliciously +beautiful, exquisitely graceful sisters, hanging around one, and +kissing one every other word, to be told how much the few last years +had improved one, how handsome, &c. one was grown; was it not enough +to somewhat turn one's brain, and make one a little vain and +considerably happy. + +In the still hush of the night, after finding myself once more in my +own room--_my_ room, with its cabinets of shells and mosses, that I +had collected when a boy in my various trips to the seashore, all +religiously left arranged as I had left them, its guns, fishing-rods, +stuffed rabbits and birds, its preserved rattle-snakes and cases of +insects, all of which had stood for so long a time in their respective +places that they had become a part of the room--in the still hush of +the night the divine image of my most beautiful stage-coach companion +arose before me. The evening was warm and soft, and gleaming in the +gorgeous moonlight lay that wild, weird ravine, and the ever downward, +foaming water-fall. Its musical utterings, the delicious moonlight, +and my own newly awakened and hitherto invulnerable heart, all +conspired to make me poetical and inspired, or at least to imagine +myself to be so; and pardon me if I gave utterance in verse to some of +my feelings. But do not in the least imagine that you are going by any +means to be presented with a fatiguing copy of my passionate numbers; +in the first place I am very diffident, and in the next--but never +mind the next, I will tell you in plain prose that I felt convinced in +my heart, I felt a rapturous presentiment that the unutterably lovely +being I had that day beheld would ere long be my own dear little wife, +forever and forever. An indistinct dream of having somewhere, at some +time before, known her haunted me and tormented me, but I racked my +brains in vain to recollect the spot or time, and finally came to the +conclusion that it had been in another state of existence we had met. + +I had been home but a few days when business letters came, demanding +the presence of my father or myself in Philadelphia. My father +expressed a desire that I should go, and a certain internal prompting +urged me to comply with his request. The next morning bright and early +found me seated in the same stage-coach in which I had met her. The +due progress of steamboat and cars deposited me safely the day after +in the goodly city of Squareruledom. + +The first leisure moment at my command, I paid my respects to the +family of my father's brother. I found my good uncle and aunt at home; +but my little pet Emily--their only child--whom I had last seen a rosy +romping little imp of twelve--was unfortunately out. My uncle urged me +very hard to make his house my home during my stay in Philadelphia; +but I had taken up my abode in the family of an old college chum of +mine, who had lately commenced the practice of the art of healing, and +who I knew would be none the worse from a little of my help in a +pecuniary way. I therefore declined my kind uncle's request, with a +promise to come and see them often. + +Judge of my inexpressible joy when, turning a corner of a street, +after leaving my uncle's, who should I chance upon but the very being +of whom my brain and heart were full! Yes, there was the identical +she, and bless her dear little heart! she gave me a bright half smile +of recognition, which I returned with as profound a bow as ever +courtier bowed to queen, or devotee to Pope's sublime imperial toe. + +An omnibus came rolling by, which she, with a motion of her neat +little gloved hand, bid stop. She stepped lightly into it, while I, +with my usual impetuosity, without knowing exactly what I was doing, +sprang after her. I consoled myself for my apparent rudeness by +throwing the entire blame upon the elective affinities. + +On we went, and from time to time as I stole a glance at her sweet +face, I thought I detected a sly, mischievous little devil playing +around the corners of her small dimpled mouth, and about the pure lids +of her downcast long-fringed eyes. She never vouchsafed me a look, +however; and as we went on, and as I still watched her lovely face, a +dread vision arose up before me of a six-foot and well proportioned +youth, with fierce whiskers and a moustache of undisputable cut and +style, that I remembered to have seen with the young lady during our +stage-coach ride together--that I remembered, with a terrible +heart-sinking, was impressively attentive to her. I inwardly resolved +to let nature have her way, and let all the hair grow on my face that +would; what if it did grow a little reddish or so--why I should +resemble the rising sun, with my glory like a halo around me. +Seriously, I have long been of the opinion that a shaved face is as +much of a disgrace, and ought to be so considered, as a shaved head +fresh from prison. Why do we not finish the half completed work and +actually shave off the hair of our heads, our eye-brows and lashes, as +well as our beards, and thus go cool and comfortable through the +world? There would be this advantage in it, the disciples of Spurzheim +would have no trouble of making a map of our bumps at sight; and then +think what an immense saving it would be in combs and brushes, to say +nothing of pomatum, which some so freely use. I rejoice sincerely to +see the sudden rise in crops of hair, and most truly hope they will +not have as rapid a fall. Shaving is artificial and injurious, +exposing parts to cold that Nature never meant should be exposed. +Black, white or red--hair is a protection and ornament that no manly +face or head should be without. Rejoice ye, therefore, over every +repentant sinner who tarrieth in Jericho and letteth his beard to +grow. + +But to return to my little omnibus companion, who by this time was +gracefully moving over the smooth gravel-walks of Fairmount--for there +we had stopped--and exceedingly refreshing were its cool shades and +splashing fountains on that sultry June day. I kept as near her as I +could without appearing rude, especially as I had received one or two +half glances from her bright eyes, that nearly annihilated me, such an +unearthly fluttering and bumping in the region of my heart did they +create. Mercy upon me! what would a whole glance do? And for a whole +glance I courageously resolved to strive, let the consequences be what +they might. + +Now do you not expect an earthquake, or a roaring bull, or at least a +rabid dog? It was nothing more however than a refreshing shower of +rain--truly refreshing to my thirsty soul, for it gave me that coveted +_whole_ glance. Heavens! I actually staggered, and would undoubtedly +have fallen had it not been for a friendly sappling--you will sneer at +witless I--that grew near me. But just try the effect upon yourself--a +shock of electricity is nothing in comparison to a shock from a pair +of bright eyes--such eyes as hers. The truth of the case was here, of +a sudden, apparently from out the clear sky, came down, with not a +moment's warning, a perfect avalanche of rain-drops--all expressly got +up, or down, for my benefit, else why did I happen to have an umbrella +in my hand? "A Wise man--" you remember the rest. My beautiful +incognito was away up those long stairs, and walking leisurely around +the immense basin, when the rain came down. I was not very far from +her, and in less than an instant my umbrella was over her pretty +little blue bonnet, with-- + +"Be kind enough to accept my umbrella, Miss"--in the most insinuating +manner of which I was master. + +"Thank you! but I will not deprive you of its shelter," with that +whole glance of which I spoke. So on we went together, and somehow +after we found ourselves under shelter, it was the easiest and most +natural thing in the world to fall into a pleasant conversation. After +talking about the scenery, weather, &c., we had mutually enjoyed +during our short stage ride, I spoke of the beauty around us, and +asked her if she often visited this lovely spot. + +"Not very often," replied she. "It is very beautiful though, in spite +of all they have done to spoil it." + +"To spoil it!" + +"Yes, by making it as much like a chess-board as possible, all +straight lines and stiffness. That is Philadelphia however." + +"Then you are not a Philadelphian, or it is not a favorite city with +you?" + +"There you are mistaken. It is my native place, and a city I love +dearly--with all its formalities and inhospitalities toward strangers. +Philadelphia is a prim matron, with a warm heart but a most frigid, +repulsive exterior, until you become acquainted with her--one of her +particular children." + +"I have been told that there is a finer collection of works of art +here than in any other city in the Union." + +"I believe you have been told correctly. We have more time in our +quiet way to look after and admire the productions of the great +masters. Our taste has wonderfully improved within a few years." + +"I have not been in town long enough to visit any of your show places +yet." + +"How I _should_ like to see that lovely water-fall and the whole of +that beautiful scene on canvas. Do you know I almost envied you a home +in that beautiful house with all its picturesque surroundings." + +"I am truly thankful you had the kind grace to think of me at all." + +"How could I help it? I had a feeling the first moment I saw you that +you and I were destined to be friends. Is there not a certain +mysterious something--call it magnetism or instinct--that either draws +us toward or repels us from every person we meet in either a greater +or less degree? With me this instinct is very strong, and I obey it +implicitly, never in one instance having found it to fail. I know at +once who to trust and who to love. And would know, by the same +unerring law of my nature, who to hate if ever I felt the least +inclination to hate. The only feeling of hate I ever experienced is a +strong desire to avoid all persons or things that are disagreeable to +me. I love harmony the most perfect, and discord is a thing for me to +flee from. I felt toward you a most decided drawing, and I felt a +conviction then, as I do now, that we are to be very near and dear +friends." + +The little angel! I could have hugged and kissed her on the spot; but +I hugged her in my soul, and inwardly vowed to consecrate my life to +her, if the "drawing" she felt for me could be rendered sufficiently +strong to admit of such a thing. On a sudden I bethought me of the +whiskered incognito, her stage attendant. I mustered courage to ask +her in a half laughing way, if that fine-looking fellow she had called +Charles were her brother. + +Instantly her manner changed from that of sweet and almost tender +seriousness to an arch, quizzical one that puzzled me. + +"Oh no, not my brother," said she. + +"_Not_ her brother--a sharp pang of pain shot through me--I was +getting dreadfully jealous--I looked all manner of curiosity and all +manner of questions; she took pity on me and said--a smile still +lurking in the corner of her eye-- + +"He is no more nor less than the intended future husband of the one +you see before you." + +"The future devil! I sincerely beg your pardon, but--you take me by +surprise--I regret--but really I do not feel that it can be so." + +"And why not?" + +"Truly, why not!" + +"He is very handsome." + +"That is as one thinks." + +"And very accomplished." + +"In flattery, most like." + +"And a most profound scholar." + +"In the art of making love, it would seem." + +"But I do not love him." + +"Not love him!" + +"No, nor never can." + +"Then why, my dearest young lady, do you marry him?" + +"You may well ask; why indeed?" + +"You seemed very friendly with him the day I saw you together, and +happier than I could have wished you." + +"That was before I knew I was to be his wife. It has only been decided +upon a few days." + +"And now?" + +"It is a long story, that I may tell you if we should meet again. I +never can love him, though I greatly esteem him, and--" + +"_Esteem!_" + +"A sad substitute for love; but what is love without esteem?" + +"What is esteem without love?" + +"Very true. It was not my own doing, although I reluctantly gave my +consent. If I can with honor release myself from this unfortunate +engagement--I have thought more and more every day since, that love, +true heart-love, is the only tie that should sanction the union of two +beings--but why should I talk in this way to you, a stranger? I cannot +feel, however that you are a stranger; we have surely met before in +some other state of being. I am a firm believer in the beautiful faith +of the transmigration of souls--of pre-existence. What is it that +brings two congenial souls together, uniting them in one hour in more +perfect harmony than whole years could effect among ordinary +acquaintances?" + +"Something unexplainable," I answered, "as it is mysterious. We can +call it elective affinity, and can talk very learnedly upon the +singular attraction of the magnet, as applied to the poles as well as +souls, and we can make vast and wise experiments, and in the end be as +far from the real cause as we were before the Solomonic experiments +were made. The school-boy's reasoning was more to the point-- + + "I do not like you, Dr. Fell, + The reason why I cannot tell." + +I love you dearly, Dr. Fell, the reason why, &c., would be just as +conclusive. We are so accustomed to seeing drops of water drawing near +to meet each other, and mingling in a loving embrace of perfect unity, +that we cease to wonder at the occurrence, as we do also at the fact +that oil and water will not mingle." + +"Just as my soul will _not_ mingle with the souls of some. There is an +antagonism more or less decided between my inner self and many persons +I know; people, too, that I am compelled to be friendly with, and wish +to be friendly with, many of them my cousins and aunts. Then again +toward some am I as irresistibly attracted." + +Her beautiful eyes sought mine frequently during our conversation, and +her glorious soul looked through them--earnest, simple and pure. + +"Just so," resumed she, after a pause, during which her sweet, soft +eyes had been gazing on the dreamy waters. "Just so have I felt +attracted toward you. I could sit down beside you and tell my whole +soul to you as freely as though you were my own brother." + +The word _brother_ sent a disagreeable shiver through me that all her +sweet confidence could not banish. + +"But," exclaimed she, starting up, "what am I doing? The rain has +stopped, and the waning sun warns me that it is time to be at home. +And what _must_ you think of me? I hardly dare to ask the--" + +"That you are the most lovely, most glorious of all Heaven's glorious +creatures; that you--" + +"There, there! if you talk in that way, I shall truly repent having +said all I have to you." + +"Forgive me; though I spoke sincerely, I hope--" + +"I will forgive on condition of good behavior in future. But I must +not stay for another word. Promise me that you will not leave this +spot until ten minutes after the omnibus I shall be in is out of +sight." + +"I promise," said I, reluctantly. + +She gave me her little, soft, ungloved hand at parting; its gentle +pressure sent a thrill of ecstasy through me, and I looked all the +unutterable things that my full soul felt into her warm brown eyes. +And, by the way, I may as well say that my own eyes are--they are a +dark, deep blue, and strangely expressive, if I believe my sisters +and my friends, and--my own glass. + +For one week did I wander up and down the streets, and watch every +omnibus, and stare into the windows and doors of every house I passed. +I peered under every pretty bonnet I met, and was, on the eighth day, +giving full chase to a coquettish little blue one, in the earnest hope +of finding the sweet face of my beautiful incognita hidden under it, +when some one laid a strong grasp on my shoulder, and looking around, +I beheld the generous face of my good uncle. + +"Bless the boy! why, Led, what is your hurry? Your business must have +been _very_ urgent this last week. Why, in the name of all the saints, +have you kept away so studiously? There is poor little Emily actually +dying with anxiety to see you. Bless my soul! is this the way to treat +your friends? But now that I have fairly captured you, I do not intend +to let you go." + +And he did not, and would not; so I had to go with him. And what do +you think? The first object that met my bewildered gaze, as my uncle +led me into the drawing-room, was--herself! her very self! but so +altered, looking so cold and stately. My uncle introduced me to her as +"My daughter Emily, nephew Ledyard." "My daughter Emily" inclined her +beautiful head most graciously, and sweetly smiled, but not one +recognizing glance did she deign to bestow on poor "nephew Ledyard." +Lovely she was, and proud and majestic as a queen. What could it mean? +I made several well-planned alluions to omnibuses and stages, &c., not +one of which did she seem to comprehend. + +Her exceeding beauty still charmed me in spite of her coldness; and I +stayed to tea and then the evening. My cousin sung for me; her voice +was highly cultivated and exceedingly sweet, and full of feeling. Song +after song she poured forth into the listening air, and each song +entranced me more than the last. + +We conversed gayly on several topics, and she grew more and more +familiar with me, alluded playfully to our childish intimacy; still, +to the very close of the evening, did she refuse to remember by look +or word that we had met since children. She evidently wished to +forget, and wished me to forget the whole of that pleasant interview +that had afforded _me_, at least, such soul-felt delight; yet she +acted her part so well, was so careless and unconscious, and withal so +cold and full of queenly dignity, that I went home in a perfect +bewilderment of amazement. + +As I lay tossing on a sleepless bed, and in my heart bitterly railing +against the perversity and incomprehensibility of women, I found +myself incessantly repeating to myself, "Am I Giles, or am I not;" the +truth flashed upon me that I was the unhappy victim of an optical +illusion, that the Cousin Emily I had but a little before left was +simply my Cousin Emily, and not the beautiful being of whom my heart +and life were full--that incessant thinking of her, and seeking her, +had crazed my brain. I relighted my lamp and made my way into the +doctor's study. I read all I could find on the subject of optical +delusion and maniacal hallucination until I convinced myself that I +was laboring under a very alarming attack of one or both, and resolved +on seriously consulting my friend, the doctor, early the next morning. + +I went back to bed with the decided opinion that I was exceedingly to +be pitied--how would it appear in the papers? for I must undoubtedly +grow worse, and it must undoubtedly end in suicide. "Sad occurrence," +"nice young man," "brilliant prospects," "only son of--," and +"promising talents," "laboring under incipient insanity," "fatal cause +unknown," &c., &c. I sympathized with myself until near morning, then +fell into a sleep, which lasted until the bell rung for breakfast. I +dressed in a hurry, and got down before the muffins were quite cold. I +ate a hearty breakfast, read a newspaper or two, and determining on +seeing my cousin again before I made up my mind to ask advice, I soon +found myself at her door. The fresh morning air and the walk had so +invigorated me, that I laughed at my last night's fears, especially as +my lovely cousin came into the drawing-room to receive me, radiant +with health and beauty. I found her just the same as she was the night +before, gay, witty and charming, and as cold as marble. Still I could +not be mistaken; for, with all her feigned coldness--for some good +reason of her own undoubtedly--there was no doubting her identity with +that of my glorious Fairmount vision. + +The day was a lovely one, soft and mild as a June morning could make +it. After conversing on indifferent subjects for a time, I asked her, +remarking on the deliciousness of the morning, if she would not like +to go out with me to Fairmount. She assented with a quiet smile, as +innocently as though she had never in her life before heard of such a +place as Fairmount. + +"The little-deceiver!" thought I. "Which way shall we go?" said I, +aloud, and very significantly, "shall we take the omnibus?" + +"I will order the carriage," replied she, with a slight shrug; "I +never ride in those omnibusses, one meets with such odd people." + +"_Never?_" asked I, emphatically. + +"Certainly, never!" answered she, with much apparent surprise. + +My drive was a delightful one. How could it be otherwise, with a +glorious day surrounding me, and a gloriously beautiful cousin sitting +beside me, with whom I could not exactly make up my mind whether to +fall desperately _in_ love, or desperately _out_ of love. I, too, such +an enthusiastic lover of beauty. But she chose to be so different from +what she was at our first meeting--so reserved, that I could not +decide whether I most loved or was most indifferent to her. + +We rode all the morning, and I left her, promising to call again in +the evening. I walked the streets until dark, the whole affair vexed +me so much--I, such a hater of all mysteries, the most impatient of +all breathing mortals. I determined to come at once to an +understanding with my perverse little cousin, and to decide at once +the puzzling question whether to love or not to love. + +In the evening I found myself alone with my little tormentor. + +"Now, sweet Cousin Emily," said I, playfully, "you have been teazing +me long enough with your pretty affectation of ignorance and +innocence--not but that you are as ignorant as the rest of your sweet +sex, and as innocent too--but, I beseech you, lay by this +masquerading, you have played possum long enough. I humbly implore of +you to be the same to me that you were in our first visit to +Fairmount--the earnest, simple-hearted Cousin Emily you then were." + +"Mr. Lincoln speaks in enigmas; I must confess I do not understand his +meaning, nor his elegant allusion to 'playing possum.'" + +This she said with so much haughtiness, that I was taken all aback. +Rallying, however, in a moment I determined not to give up the point. + +"I beseech of you to pardon the inelegance of my expression, and also +my pertinacity in insisting upon some explanation of your manner +toward me. It will all do very well for the stage," continued I, +bitterly, "but in real life, among cousins, and two that have met so +frankly, and in such sincerity, I feel that our acquaintanceship must +at once end, pleasant as it has been, as it might be to me, unless you +lay aside this assumed coldness. It harasses me more than I can +express. Emily, after seeing you in the stage-coach, I thought I had +never met with one half so lovely, and I could think of nothing but +you. After remaining at home but one week, business called me to +Philadelphia. Judge of my delight when almost the first object that +met my view was your beautiful, unforgotten little self. You were just +stepping into one of those very omnibusses you have since seen fit to +decry. What followed you must remember as distinctly as I--no _not_ as +distinctly, for the whole of that delicious interview is engraven on +my heart--one of the sun-bright scenes of my life that I can never +forget. And now, after that beautiful interchange of thought and soul +that promised--every thing, do I find you cold, impassive. If you +repent the trust you so freely reposed in me, in all frankness, say +so; but for the sweet love of heaven, do not pretend to such--" + +"For the sweet love of heaven what is the man raving about? Are you +mad, dear cousin, insane? Poor Cousin Ledyard! Or is it--?" her whole +manner changed, her brilliant eyes lighted up with intense fire. How +beautiful she looked! I could have knelt and worshiped her, though, +strange to say, my restless, ardent love for her had entirely abated. +"Yes!" exclaimed she, "it must be so;" and with that she clasped her +small white hands, and throwing back her fine head, laughed with all +her heart, and strength, and soul. + +This was very pleasant for me; still I had to join her laugh, it was +so genuine and infectious. + +"Forgive me, dear cousin, forgive me for my rude laughter; forgive me +also for my folly in attempting to deceive you. You will hereafter +find me the same you found me in our first pleasant interview. Here is +my hand--I will not explain one other word to-night; I hear voices on +the stairs. Come here to-morrow evening at eight, and you shall know +all--all my reasons." + +"And why not to-morrow morning, cruel cousin?" + +"I am engaged all of the day to-morrow. I go with mamma and papa out +of town, ten miles or so, to dine; a stupid affair, but mamma wishes +it." + +"But before you go--just after breakfast." + +"No, no--come in the evening." + +By this time the voices heard on the stairs had entered the room in +the shape of a merry half-dozen of my cousin's young friends. Feeling +too agitated for society, I withdrew. + +And now another night and a whole day more of suspense--that pale +horror, that come in what shape it will, even in the shape of a +beautiful cousin, always torments the very life from my heart. + +All the clocks in town were striking eight as I rung my uncle's bell. +I found the drawing-room full of company, at which I felt vexed and +disappointed. + +My lovely cousin came up to me and placed her arm within mine, and led +me through the next room into the conservatory, and there, seated amid +the rare eastern flowers, herself the queen of them, was, gracious +heaven! I dared scarcely breathe, so great was my fear of dispelling +the beautiful illusion. It was she! none other; my stage-coach +companion--my Fairmount goddess. The musical, measured voice of my +statue-like Cousin Emily brought me to myself. + +"Allow me. Cousin Ledyard, to introduce you to _my_ Cousin Emily." + +There they both stood, one Cousin Emily, calm, stately, serene; the +other trembling and in blushes. + +I looked from one to the other in the most ludicrous bewilderment, yet +each glance showed me more and more what a wonderful fool I had been +making of myself for the last few days. Still they were strangely +alike; their own kindred could not at times distinguish one from the +other. My heart could feel the difference. _My_ Emily was a child of +nature, the other bred in a more conventional school. My Emily was a +shade less tall, less stately, less Grecian, and exquisitely more +lovely, and loving. + +But that double wedding _was_ a grand one. By what means my Emily +contrived to disentangle herself from that handsome-whiskered +"Charles," and to entangle him fast in the chains of the other Emily, +any one who wishes to know, and will take the trouble, can have all +due information on the subject, and can also learn how I wooed my +peerless Emily and won her, by coming to our lovely picturesque +dwelling, situate in one of the most romantic spots in the country. I +write you all to come, one by one, and spend a month with me, and you +shall know all the particulars. You will find my little Emily a +pattern housekeeper; you will also find a ready welcome. Bless her +sweet face! There she sits, at the moment that I am writing this to +you, with her willow arms twined around the exquisite form of her +little lily-bud boy, and bending low her graceful form over him, +hushing to sleep the very bravest, noblest, merriest little specimen +of babyhood--the exact image of his enraptured father. + + + + +THE DEFORMED ARTIST. + +BY MRS. E. N. HORSFORD. + + + The twilight o'er Italia's sky + Had wove a shadowy veil, + And one by one the solemn stars + Looked forth serene and pale; + As quickly the waning light + Through a high casement stole, + And fell on one with silver hair, + Who shrived a passing soul. + + No costly pomp and luxury + Relieved that chamber's gloom, + But glowing forms, by limner's art + Created, thronged the room: + And as the low winds echoed far + The bell for evening prayer, + The dying painter's earnest tones + Fell on the languid air. + + "The spectral form of Death is nigh, + The thread of Life is spun, + Ave Maria! I have looked + Upon my latest sun. + And yet 'tis not with pale disease + This frame is worn away, + Nor yet--nor yet with length of years-- + A child but yesterday" + + "I found within my father's hall + No fervent love to claim-- + The curse that marked me from my birth + Devoted me to shame. + I saw upon my brother's brow + Angelic beauty lay, + The mirror gave me back a form + That thrilled me with dismay." + + "And soon I learned to shrink from all, + The lowly and the high; + To see but scorn on every lip, + Contempt in every eye. + And for a time e'en Nature's smile + A bitter mockery wore, + For beauty stamped each living thing + The wide creation o'er;" + + "And I alone was cursed and loathed; + 'Twas in a garden bower + I knelt one eve, and scalding tears + Fell fast on many a flower; + And as I rose I marked with awe + And agonizing grief, + A frail mimosa at my feet + Fold close each fragile leaf." + + "Alas! how dark my lot if thus + A plant could shrink from me; + But when I looked again I marked + That from the honey-bee, + The falling leaf, the bird's gay wing, + It shrunk with pain and fear, + A kindred presence I had found, + Life waxed sublimely clear." + + "I climbed the lofty mountain height + And communed with the skies, + And felt within my grateful heart + Strange aspirations rise. + Oh! what was this humanity + When every beaming star + Was filled with lucid intellect, + Congenial, though afar." + + "I mused beneath the avalanche, + And traced the sparkling stream, + Till Nature's face became to me + A passion and a dream:" + Then thirsting for a higher lore + I left my childhood's home, + And stayed not till I gazed upon + The hills of fallen Rome. + + "I stood amid the forms of light, + Seraphic and divine, + The painter's wand had summoned from + The dim Ideal's shrine; + And felt within my fevered soul + Ambition's wasting fire, + And seized the pencil with a vague + And passionate desire" + + "To shadow forth, with lineaments + Of earth, the phantom throng + That swept before my sight in thought, + And lived in storied song. + Vain, vain the dream--as well might I + Aspire to build a star, + Or pile the gorgeous sunset clouds + That glitter from afar." + + "The threads of life have worn away, + Discordantly they thrill, + But soon the sounding chords will be + Forever mute and still. + And in the spirit-land that lies + Beyond, so calm and gray, + I shall aspire with truer aim-- + Ave Maria! pray!" + + + + +A FAREWELL TO A HAPPY DAY. + +BY FRANCES S. OSGOOD. + + + Good-bye--good-bye, thou gracious, golden day: + Through luminous tears, thou smilest, far away + In the blue heaven, thy sweet farewell to me, + And I, through _my_ tears, gaze and smile with thee. + + I see the last faint, glowing, amber gleam + Of thy rich pinion, like a lovely dream, + Whose floating glory melts within the sky, + And now thou'rt passed forever from mine eye! + + Were we not friends--_best_ friends--my cherished day? + Did I not treasure every eloquent ray + Of golden light and love thou gavest me? + And have I not been true--most true to thee? + + And _thou_--thou earnest like a joyous bird, + Whose sacred wings by heaven's own air were stirred. + And lowly sang me all the happy time + Dear, soothing stories of that blissful clime! + + And more, oh! more than this, there came with thee, + From Heaven, a stranger, rare and bright to me, + A new, sweet joy--a smiling angel-guest, + That softly asked a home within my breast. + + For talking sadly with my soul alone, + I heard far off and faint a music-tone, + It seemed a spirit's call--so soft it stole + On fairy wings into my waiting soul. + + I _knew_ it summoned me to something sweet, + And so I followed it with faltering feet; + And found--what I had prayed for with wild tears-- + A rest, that soothed the lingering grief of years! + + So for that deep, perpetual joy, my day! + And for all lovely things that came to play + In thy glad smile--the pure and pleading flowers + That crowned with their frail bloom thy flying hours-- + + The sunlit clouds--the pleasant air that played + Its low lute-music 'mid the leafy shade-- + And, dearer far, the tenderness that taught + My soul a new and richer thrill of thought-- + + For these--for all--bear thou to Heaven for me + The grateful thanks with which I mission thee! + Then should thy sisters, wasted, wronged, upbraid, + Speak _thou_ for me--for thou wert not betrayed! + + 'Twas little--true--I could to thee impart-- + I, with my simple, frail and wayward heart; + But that I strove the diamond sands to light, + In Life's rich hour-glass, with _Love's_ rainbow flight; + + And that one generous spirit owed to me + A moment of exulting ecstasy; + And that I won o'er wrong a queenly sway-- + For this, thou'lt smile for me in Heaven, my Day! + + + + +SAM NEEDY. + +A TALE OF THE PENITENTIARY. + +BY LOUIS FITZGERALD TASISTRO. + + +Several years ago, a man of the name of Samuel Needy, a poor artisan, +was living in London. He had with him a wife, and a child by this +wife. This artisan was skillful, quick, intelligent, very ill-treated +by education, very well-treated by nature--able to think, but not to +read. One winter his work failed him--there was neither fire nor food +in his garret; the man, the woman, and the child were cold and hungry; +he committed a theft; it is unnecessary to state what he stole, or +whence he stole it. Suffice it to know, that the consequences of this +theft were three days' food and fire to the wife and child, and five +years of imprisonment to the man. + +Sam Needy, lately an honest man, now and henceforth a thief, was +dignified and grave in appearance; his high forehead was already +wrinkled, though he was still young; some gray lines lurked among the +black and bushy tufts of his hair; his eye was soft, and buried deep +beneath his lofty and well-turned eye-brow; his nostrils were open, +his chin advancing, his lip scornful; it was a fine head--let us see +what society made of it. + +He was a man of few words--more frequent gestures--somewhat imperious +in his whole manner, and one to make himself obeyed; of a melancholy +air--rather serious than suffering; for all that he had suffered +enough. + +In the place where he was confined there was a director of the +work-rooms--a kind of functionary peculiar to prisons, who combined in +himself the offices of turnkey and tradesman, who would at the same +time issue an order to the workman and threaten the prisoner--put +tools in his hand and irons on his feet. This man was a variety of his +own species--a man peremptory, tyrannical, governed by his fancies, +holding tight the reins of his authority, and yet, on occasion, a boon +companion, jovial and condescending to a joke--rather hard than +firm--reasoning with no one--not even himself--a good father, and +doubtless a good husband--(a duty, by the way, and not a virtue;) in +short, evil but not bad. The principal, the diagonal line of this +man's character was obstinacy; he was proud of it, and therein +compared himself to Napoleon, when he had once fixed what he called +_his will_ upon an absurdity, he went to its furthest length, holding +his head high, and despising all obstacles. Such violence of purpose +without reason, is only folly tied to the tail of brute force, and +serving to lengthen it. For the most part, whenever a catastrophe, +whether public or private, happens amongst men, if we look beneath the +rubbish with which it strews the earth, to find in what manner the +fallen fabric had been propped, we shall, with rare exceptions, +discover it to have been blindly put together by a weak and obstinate +man, trusting and admiring himself implicitly. Many of the smaller of +these strange fatalities pass in the world for providences. Such was +he who was the director of the work-rooms in the House of Correction +where poor Sam Needy was sent to undergo his sentence. Such was the +stone with which society daily struck its prisoners to draw sparks +from them. The sparks which such stones draw from such flints often +kindle conflagrations. + +In a short time Sam found the prison air natural to him, and appeared +to have forgotten every thing; a certain severe serenity, which +belonged to his character, had resumed its mastery. + +In about the same time he had acquired a singular ascendency over all +his companions, as if by a sort of silent agreement, and without any +one knowing wherefore, not even himself. All these men consulted him, +listened to him, admired and imitated him, (the last point to which +admiration can mount.) It was no slight glory to be obeyed by all +these lawless natures; the empire had come to him without his own +seeking--it was a consequence of the respect with which they beheld +him. The eye of a man is a window, through which may be seen the +thoughts which enter into and issue from his heart. + +Place an individual who possesses ideas among those who do not, at the +end of a given time, and by a law of irresistible attraction, all +their misty minds shall draw together with humility and reverence +round his illuminated one. There are men who are iron, and there are +men who are loadstone. Sam Needy was loadstone. In less than three +months he had become the soul, the law, the order of the work-room; he +was the dial, concentrating all rays; he must even himself have +sometimes doubted whether he were king or prisoner--it was the +captivity of a pope among his cardinals. + +By as natural a reaction, accomplished step by step, as he was loved +by the prisoners, so was he detested by the jailers. It is always +thus, popularity cannot exist without disfavor--the love of the slaves +is always exceeded one degree by the hate of their masters. + +Sam Needy was, by his particular organization, a great eater; his +stomach was so formed, that food enough for two common men would +hardly have sufficed for his nourishment. Lord Slickborough had one of +these large appetites, and laughed at it; but that which is a cause of +gayety for a British peer, with a rent-roll of fifty-thousand pounds +a year, is a heavy charge to an artisan, and a misfortune to a +prisoner. + +Sam Needy, free in his own loft, worked all day, earned his four +pounds of bread, and ate it; Sam Needy, in prison, worked all day, +and, for his pains, received invariably one pound and a half of bread, +and four ounces of meat; the ration admits of no change. Sam was +therefore constantly hungry whilst in the House of Correction; he was +hungry, and no more--he did not speak of it because it was not his +nature so to do. + +One day Sam, after devouring his scanty pittance, had returned to his +work, thinking to cheat his hunger by it--the rest of the prisoners +were eating cheerily. A young man, pale, fair, and feeble-looking, +came and placed himself near him; he held in his hand his ration, as +yet untouched, and a knife; he remained in that situation, with the +air of one who would speak, and dares not. The sight of the man, and +his bread and meat annoyed Sam. + +"What do you want?" said he, rudely. + +"That you would do me a service," said the young man, timidly. + +"What?" replied Sam. + +"That you would help me to eat this--it is too much for me." + +A tear stood in the proud eye of Sam; he took the knife, divided the +young man's ration into two equal parts, took one of them, and began +eating. + +"Thank you," said the young man; "if you like, we will share together +every day." + +"What is your name?" said Sam. + +"Heartall." + +"Wherefore are you here?" + +"I have committed a theft." + +"And I too," said Sam. + +Henceforth they did thus share together every day. Sam Needy was +little more than thirty years old, but at times he appeared fifty, so +stern were his thoughts usually. Heartall was twenty--he might have +been taken for seventeen, so much innocence was there in his +appearance. A strict friendship was knit up between the two, rather of +father to son than brother to brother, Heartall being still almost a +child, Sam already nearly an old man. They wrought in the same +work-room--they slept under the same vault--they walked in the same +airing-ground--they ate of the same bread. Each of these two friends +was the universe to the other--it would seem that they were happy. + +Mention has already been made of the director of the work-rooms. This +man, who was abhorred by the prisoners, was often obliged, in order to +enforce obedience, to have recourse to Sam Needy, who was beloved by +them. On more than one occasion, when the question was, how to put +down a rebellion or a tumult, the authority without title of Sam Needy +had given powerful aid to the official authority of the director; in +short, to restrain the prisoners, ten words from him were as good as +ten turnkeys. Sam had many times rendered this service to the +director, wherefore the latter detested him cordially. He was jealous +of him; there was at the bottom of his heart a secret, envious, +implacable hatred against Sam--the hate of a titular for a real +sovereign--of a temporal against a spiritual power; these are the +worst of all hatreds. + +Sam loved Heartall greatly, and did not trouble himself about the +director. One morning when the turnkeys were leading the prisoners, +two by two, from their dormitory to the work-room, one of them called +Heartall, who was by the side of Sam, and informed him that the +director wished to see him. + +"What does he want with you?" said Sam. + +"I do not know," replied the other. + +The turnkey took Heartall away. + +The morning past; Heartall did not return to the work-room. When the +dinner hour arrived, Sam expected that he should rejoin Heartall in +the airing-ground--but no Heartall was there. He returned into the +work-room, still Heartall did not make his appearance. So passed the +day. At night, when the prisoners were removed to their dormitory, Sam +looked out for Heartall, but could not see him. It would seem that he +must have suffered much at that moment, for he addressed the +turnkey--a thing which he had never done before. + +"Is Heartall sick?" was his question. + +"No," replied the turnkey. + +"Why is it, then, that he has not again made his appearance to-day?" + +"Ah," replied the turnkey, carelessly, "they have put him in another +ward." + +The witnesses who deposed to these facts at a later period, remarked, +that at this answer, Sam's hand, in which was a lighted candle, +trembled a little. He again asked, calmly, + +"Whose order was this?" + +The turnkey said "Mr. Flint's." + +The name of the director of the work-rooms was Flint. + +The next day went by like the last, but no news of Heartall. + +That evening, when the day's work ended, Mr. Flint came to make his +usual round of inspection. As soon as Sam Needy saw him, he took off +his cap of coarse wool, buttoned his gray vest, sad livery of the +work-house, (it is a principle in prisons, that a vest, respectfully +buttoned, bespeaks the favor of the superior officers,) and placed +himself at the end of his bench, waiting till the director came by. He +passed. + +"Sir," said Sam. + +The director stopped and turned half round. + +"Sir," said Sam, "is it true that Heartall's ward has been changed?" + +"Yes," returned the director. + +"Sir," continued Sam, "I cannot live without Heartall; you know that +with the ration of the house I have not enough to eat, and that +Heartall shared his bread with me." + +"That was his business," replied the director. + +"Sir, is there no means of getting Heartall replaced in the same ward +as myself?" + +"Impossible! it is so decided." + +"By whom?" + +"By myself." + +"Mr. Flint," persisted Sam, "the question is my life or death, and it +depends upon you." + +"I never revoke my decisions." + +"Sir, is it because I have given you offence?" + +"None." + +"In that case," said Sam, "why do you separate me from Heartall?" + +"_It is my will_" said the director. + +With this explanation he went away. + +Sam Needy stooped his head and made no answer. Poor caged lion, from +whom they had taken his dog! + +The grief of this separation in no way changed the prisoner's almost +disease of voracity. Nor was he, in other respects, obviously altered. +He did not speak of Heartall to any of his comrades. He walked alone +in the airing-ground, in the hours of recreation, and suffered +hunger--nothing more. + +Nevertheless, those who knew him well, remarked something of a +sinister and sombre expression which daily overspread his countenance +more and more. In other respects he was gentler than ever. Many wished +to share their ration with him, but he refused with a smile. + +Every evening, after the explanation which the director had given him, +he committed a sort of folly, which, in so grave a man, was +astonishing. At the moment when the director, in the progress of his +habitual duty, passed by Sam Needy's working-frame, he would raise his +eyes, gaze steadily upon him, and then address to him, in a tone full +of distress and anger, combining at once menace and supplication, +these two words only--"_remember Heartall_!" the director would either +appear not to hear, or pass on, shrugging his shoulders. + +He was wrong. It became evident to all the lookers on of these strange +scenes, that Sam Needy was inwardly determined on some step. All the +prison awaited with anxiety the result of this strife between +obstinacy and resolution. + +It has been proved, that once Sam said to the director, "Listen, sir, +give me back my comrade; you will do well to do it, I assure you. Take +notice that I tell you this." + +Another time, one Sunday, when he had remained in the airing-ground +for many hours in the same attitude, seated on a stone, his elbows on +his knees, and his forehead buried in his hands, one of his +fellow-convicts approached him, and cried out, laughing, + +"What are you about here, Sam?" + +Sam raised his stern head slowly, and said, "_I am sitting in +judgment!_" + +At last, on the evening of the 1st of November, 1833, at the moment +when the director was making his round, Sam Needy crushed under his +foot a watch-glass, which he had that morning found in the corridor. +The director inquired whence that noise proceeded. + +"It is nothing," said Sam. "It is I, Mr. Flint--give me back my +comrade." + +"Impossible!" said his master. + +"It must be done though," said Sam, in a low and steady voice, and +looking the director full in the face, added, "reflect, this is the +first of November, I give you till the 10th." + +A turnkey made the remark to Mr. Flint that Sam Needy threatened him, +and that it was a case for solitary confinement. + +"No, nothing of the kind," said the director, with a disdainful smile, +"we must be gentle with these sort of people." + +On the morrow, another convict approached Sam Needy, who walked by +himself, melancholy, leaving the other prisoners to bask in a patch of +sunshine at the further corner of the court. + +"What now, Sam--what are you thinking of? You seem sad." + +"_I am afraid_," said Sam, "_that some misfortune will happen soon to +this gentle Mr. Flint_." + +There are nine full days from the 1st to the 10th of November. Sam +Needy did not let one pass without gravely warning the director of the +state, more and more miserable, in which the disappearance of Heartall +placed him. The director, worn out, sentenced him to four-and-twenty +hours of solitary confinement, because his prayer was too like a +demand. This was all that Sam Needy obtained. + +The 10th of November arrived. On this day Sam arose with such a serene +countenance as he had not worn since the day when _the decision_ of +Mr. Flint had separated him from his friend. When risen, he searched +in a white wooden box, which stood at the foot of his bed, and +contained his few possessions. He drew thence a pair of sempstress's +scissors. These, with an odd volume of Cowper's poems, were all that +remained to him of the woman he had loved--of the mother of his +child--of his happy little home of other days. Two articles, totally +useless to Sam; the scissors could only be of service to a woman--the +book to a lettered person. Sam could neither sew nor read. + +At the time when he was traversing the old hall, which serves as the +winter walk for the prisoners, he approached a convict of the name of +Dawson, who was looking with attention at the enormous bars of a +window. Sam was holding the little pair of scissors in his hands; he +showed them to Dawson, saying, "To-night I will divide those bars with +these scissors." + +Dawson began to laugh incredulously. Sam joined him. + +That morning he worked with more zeal than usual--faster and better +than ever before. A little past noon he went down on some pretext or +other to the joiner's workshop, on the ground-floor, under the story +in which was his own. Sam was beloved there as every where else; but +he entered it seldom. Thus it was--"Stop, here's Sam!" They got round +him; it was a perfect holyday. He cast a quick glance around the room. +Not one of the overlookers was there. + +"Who has a hatchet to lend me?" said he. + +"What to do?" was the inquiry. + +"Kill the director of the work-rooms." + +They offered him many to choose from. He took the smallest of those +which were very sharp, hid it in his trowsers, and went out. There +were twenty-seven prisoners in that room. He had not desired them to +keep his secret; they all kept it. They did not even talk of it among +themselves. Every one separately awaited the result. The thing was +straight-forward--terribly simple. Sam could neither be counseled nor +denounced. + +An hour afterward he approached a convict sixteen years old, who was +lounging in the place of exercise, and advised him to learn to read. +The rest of the day was as usual. At 7 o'clock at night the prisoners +were shut up, each division in the work-room to which they belonged, +and the overseers went out, as it appears was the custom, not to +return till after the director's visit. Sam was locked in with his +companions like the rest. + +Then there passed in this work-room an extraordinary scene, one not +without majesty and awe, the only one of the kind which is to be told +in this story. There were there (according to the judiciary deposition +afterward made) four-and-twenty prisoners, including Sam Needy. As +soon as the overseers had left them alone, Sam stood up upon a bench, +and announced to all the room that he had something to say. There was +silence. + +Then Sam raised his voice, and said, "You all know that Heartall was +my brother. Here they do not give me enough to eat; even with the +bread which I can buy with the little I earn, it is not sufficient. +Heartall shared his ration with me. I loved him at first because he +fed me, then because he loved me. The director, Mr. Flint, separated +us; our being together could be nothing to him--but he is a +bad-hearted man, who enjoys tormenting others. I have asked him for +Heartall back again. You have heard me. He will not do it. I gave him +till the 10th, which is to-day, to restore Heartall to me. He ordered +me into solitary confinement for telling him so. I, during this time, +have sat in judgment upon him, and condemned him to death. In two +hours he will come to make his round. I warn you that I am about to +kill him. Have you any thing to say on the matter?" All continued +silent. + +He went on; he spoke (so it appears) with a peculiar eloquence, which +was natural to him. He declared that he knew he was about to do a +violent deed, but could not think it wrong. He appealed to the +conscience of his four-and-twenty listeners. He was placed in a cruel +extremity; the necessity of doing justice to himself was a strait into +which every man found himself driven at one time or other; he could +not, in truth, take the director's life without giving his own for it; +but it was right to give his life for a just end. He had thought +deeply on the matter, and that alone, for two months; he believed he +was not carried away by passion, but if it were so, he trusted they +would warn him. He honestly submitted his reasons to the just men whom +he addressed. He was about to kill Mr. Flint; but if any one had any +objection to make, he was ready to hear it. + +One voice alone was raised to say, that before killing the director, +Sam ought to make one last attempt to soften him. + +"It is fair," said Sam. "I will do so." + +The great clock struck the hour--it was eight. The director would make +his appearance at nine. + +No sooner had this extraordinary court of appeal ratified the sentence +he had submitted to it, than Sam resumed his former serenity. He +placed upon the table all the linen and garments he possessed--the +scanty property of a prisoner--and calling to him, one after the +other, those of his companions whom he loved best after Heartall, he +divided all amongst them. He only kept the little pair of scissors. +Then he embraced them all. Some of them wept--upon these he smiled. + +There were moments in this last hour, when he chatted with so much +tranquillity, and even gayety, that many of his comrades inwardly +hoped, as they afterward declared, that he might perhaps abandon his +resolution. + +He perceived a young convict who was pale, who was gazing upon him +with fixed eyes, and trembling doubtless from expectation of what he +was about to witness. "Come, courage, young man," said Sam to him, +softly, "it will be only the work of a moment." + +When he had distributed all his goods, made all his adieux, pressed +all their hands, he interrupted the restless whisperings which were +heard here and there in the dim corners of the work-room, and +commanded that they should return to their labor. All obeyed him in +silence. + +The apartment in which this passed was an oblong hall, a +parallelogram, lighted with windows on its two longer sides, and with +two doors opposite each other at the two ends of the room. The +working-frames were ranged on each side near the windows, the benches +touching the wall at right angles, and the space left free between the +two rows of frames formed a sort of avenue, which went straight from +one door to the other, crossing the hall entirely. It was this which +the director traversed in making his inspection; he was to enter at +the south door, and go out by the north, after having looked at the +workmen on the right and left. Commonly he passed through quickly and +without stopping. + +Sam Needy had reseated himself on his bench, and had betaken himself +to his work. All were in expectation--the moment approached; on a +sudden they heard the clock strike. Sam said, "It is the last +quarter." Then he rose, crossed gravely a part of the hall, and placed +himself, leaning on his elbow, on the first frame on the left hand +side, close to the door of entrance; his countenance was perfectly +calm and benign. + +Nine o'clock struck--the door opened--the director came in. + +At that moment the silence of the work-room was as of a chamber full +of statues. + +The director was alone as usual; he entered with his jovial, +self-satisfied, and stubborn air, without noticing Sam, who was +standing at the left side of the door, his right hand hidden in his +trowsers, and passed rapidly by the first frames, tossing his head, +mumbling his words, and casting his glance, which was law, here and +there, not perceiving that the eyes of all who surrounded him were +fixed upon him as upon a fearful phantom. On a sudden he turned +sharply round, surprised to hear a step behind him. + +It was Sam Needy, who for some instants followed him in silence. + +"What are you about there?" said the director. "Why are you not in +your place?" + +Sam Needy answered respectfully, "Because I have something to say to +you, Mr. Flint." + +"What about?" + +"Concerning Heartall." + +"Still Heartall!" exclaimed the director. + +"Always," replied Sam. + +"Be quiet," said the director, walking on again. "You are not content, +then, with your four-and-twenty hours of solitary confinement?" + +Sam followed him--"Mr. Flint, give me back my comrade." + +"Impossible!" + +"Sir," said Sam, in a tone which might have softened the heart of a +fiend, "I entreat you, restore Heartall to me. You shall see how well +I will work. To you who are free, it is no matter--you do not know +what the worth of a friend is; but I have only the four walls of my +prison. You can come and go, I have nothing but Heartall--give him +back to me. Heartall fed me--you know it well. It will only cost you +the trouble of saying yes. What can it be to you that there should be +in the same room one man called Sam Needy, another called +Heartall?--for the thing is simply that, Mr. Flint; good Mr. Flint, I +beseech you earnestly, for Heaven's sake!" + +Sam had probably never before said so much at one time to a jailer; +exhausted with the effort, he paused. The director replied, with an +impatient gesture, + +"Impossible--I have said it; speak to me no more about it, you wear me +out." + +Then, as if in a hurry, he stepped on more quickly, Sam following. +Thus speaking, they had reached the door of exit; the prisoners looked +after them, and listened breathlessly. + +Sam gently touched the director's arm. "At least let me know why I am +condemned to death--tell me why you have separated him from me?" + +"I have told you," answered the director; "_it is my will_." + +He turned his back upon Sam, and was about to take hold of the latch +of the door. + +On this answer Sam had retreated a step; the assembled statues who +were there saw him bring out his right hand, and the hatchet with it; +it was raised, and ere the victim could utter one cry, three blows, +one upon the other, had cleft his skull. At the moment, when he fell +back, a fourth blow laid his face open; then, as if his frenzy, once +let loose, _could not stop_, Sam struck a fifth blow; it was +useless--he was dead. + +"Now for the other!" cried the murderer, and threw away the hatchet. +That other was himself. They saw him draw from his bosom the small +pair of scissors, and before any one could attempt to hinder him, bury +them in his breast. The blade was too short to penetrate. He struck +them in again and again, so many as twenty times. "Accursed heart! +cannot I then reach you?" and finally fell in a dead swoon, bathed in +his blood. + +Which of these men was the victim of the other? + +When Sam returned to consciousness, he was in bed, well attended, his +wounds carefully bandaged; a humane nurse was about his pillow, and +more than one magistrate, who asked him, with the appearance of great +interest, "Are you better?" + +He had lost a great quantity of blood, but the scissors with which he +had wounded himself, had done their duty ill--none of the wounds were +dangerous. + +The examinations commenced. They asked him if it were he who had +killed the director of the work-rooms. He replied, "It was." They +asked him why he had done it. He answered--_it was his will._ + +After this the wounds festered. He was seized with a severe fever, of +which he only did not die. November, December, January, and February, +went over in recovering him and preparing for his trial; physicians +and judges alike made him the object of their care--the former healed +his wounds, the latter made ready his scaffold. To be brief, on the +5th of April, 1834, he appeared, being perfectly cured, before the +Court of Sessions. + +Sam made a good appearance before the court; he had been carefully +shaved, his head was bare; he was dressed in the sad prison livery of +two shades of gray. + +When the trial was entered upon, a singular difficulty presented +itself. Not any of the witnesses of the events of the 10th of +November, would make a deposition against Sam. The presiding judge +threatened them with his discretionary power in vain. Sam then +commanded them to give evidence. All their tongues were loosed. They +related what they had seen. + +Sam Needy listened with profound attention. When one of them, out of +forgetfulness, or affection for him, omitted some of the circumstances +chargeable upon the accused, Sam supplied them. By this means the +chain of facts which has been related was unfolded before the court. + +There was one moment when some of the females present wept. The clerk +of the court summoned the convict, Heartall. It was his turn to come +forward. He entered, staggering with emotion--he wept. The police +could not prevent his falling into the arms of Sam. Sam raised him, +and said with a smile to the attorney-general, "Here is a villain who +shares his bread with those who are hungry." Then he kissed Heartall's +hand. + +The list of witnesses having been gone through, the attorney-general +rose and spoke in these words: "Gentlemen of the jury, society would +be shaken to its foundation if public vengeance did not overtake such +great criminals as this man, who, etc., etc." + +After this memorable discourse, Sam's advocate spoke. The pleader +against, and the pleader for, made each in due order, the evolutions +which they are accustomed to make in the arena which is called a +criminal court. + +Sam did not think that all was said that might be said. He arose in +his turn. He spoke in a manner which must have amazed all the +intelligent persons present on the occasion. It appeared as if there +were more of the orator than the murderer in this poor artisan. He +spoke in an upright attitude, with a penetrating and well-managed +voice; with an open, sincere, and steadfast gaze, with a gesture +almost always the same, but full of command. There were moments in +which his genuine, lofty eloquence stirred the crowd to a murmur, +during which Sam took breath, casting a bold gaze upon the bystanders. +Then again, this man, who could not read, was as gentle, polished, +select in his language, as a well-informed person--at other moments +modest, measured, attentive, going step by step over the irritating +parts of the argument, courteous to his judges. Once only he gave way +to a burst of passion. The attorney-general had proved in his speech +that Sam Needy had assassinated the director without any violence on +his part, and consequently _without provocation_. + +"What!" exclaimed Sam Needy, "I have not been provoked! Ay--it is very +true--I understand you. A drunken man strikes me with his dagger--I +kill him, I have been provoked; you show mercy to me, you send me to +Botany Bay. But a man who is not drunk, who has the perfect use of his +reason, wrings my heart for four years, humbles me for four years, +pierces me with a weapon every day, every hour, every minute, in some +unexpected point for four years. I had a wife, for whose sake I became +a thief--he tortures me through that wife; a child for whom I +stole--he tortures me through that child. I have not bread enough to +eat--a friend gives it me; he takes away my friend and my food. I ask +for my friend back--he condemns me to solitary confinement. I speak to +him--him, the spy--respectfully; he answers me in dog's language. I +tell him I am suffering--he tells me I wear him out. What would you, +then, that I should do? I kill him. It is well--I am a monster; I have +murdered this man; I have not been provoked. You take my life for +it--be it so." + +The debates being closed, the presiding judge made his impartial and +luminous summing up. The results were these: a wicked life--a wretch +in purpose. Sam Needy had begun by stealing--he then murdered. All +this was true. + +When the jury were about being conducted to their apartment, the judge +asked the accused if he had any thing to say upon the questions before +them. + +"Little," replied Sam, "only this; I am a thief and an assassin. I +have stolen, and have slain a man. But why have I stolen? Why have I +murdered? Add these two questions to the rest, gentleman of the jury." + +After a quarter of an hour's deliberation on the part of the twelve +individuals whom he had addressed as _gentlemen of the jury_, Sam +Needy was condemned to death. + +Their decision was read to Sam, who contented himself with saying, "It +is well--but why has this man stolen? Why has this man murdered? These +are questions to which they make no answer." + +He was carried back to prison--he supped almost gayly. + +He had no wish to make an appeal against his sentence. The old woman +who had nursed him entreated him with tears to do so. He complied out +of kindness to her. It would appear as if he had resisted till the +very last moment, for when he signed his petition in the register, the +legal delay of three days had expired some minutes before. The +benevolent old nurse gave him a crown. He accepted the money and +thanked her. + +While his appeal was pending, offers of escape were made him. There +was thrown, one after the other, in his dungeon, through its air-hole, +a nail, a bit of iron file, and the handle of a bucket. Any of these +three tools would have been sufficient to so skillful a man as Sam +Needy to cut through his irons. He gave up the nail, the file, and the +handle to the turnkey. + +On the 10th of June, 1834, seven months after the deed, its expiation +arrived. That day, at seven o'clock in the morning, the recorder of +the tribunal entered Sam Needy's dungeon, and announced to him that he +had not more than an hour to live. His petition was rejected. + +"Come," said Sam, coldly, "I have this night slept well, without +troubling myself that I should sleep still better the next." + +It would appear as if the words of strong men always receive a certain +dignity from approaching death. + +The chaplain arrived--then the executioner. He was humble to the one, +gentle to the other. + +He maintained a perfect ease of spirit. He listened to the chaplain +with extreme attention, accusing himself of many things, and +regretting that he had not been instructed in religion. + +At his request they had given him back the scissors with which he had +wounded himself. One blade, which had been broken in his breast, was +wanting. He entreated the jailor to have these scissors taken to +Heartall as from himself. + +He besought those who bound his hands to place in his right hand the +crown-piece which the good nurse had given him--the only thing which +was now remaining to him. + +At a quarter to eight he was led out of his prison, with the customary +mournful procession which attends the condemned. He was pale; his eyes +were fixed on the chaplain--but he walked with a firm step. + +He ascended the scaffold gravely. He shook hands with the chaplain +first, then the executioner, thanking the one, forgiving the other. +The executioner _pushed him back gently_, says one account. At the +moment when the assistant put the hideous rope round his neck, he made +a sign to the chaplain to take the crown-piece which he had in his +right hand, and said to him, "_For the poor_." At that moment the +clock was striking eight, the sound from the steeple drowned his +voice, and the chaplain answered that he could not hear him. Sam +waited for an interval between two of the strokes, and repeated with +gentleness, "_For the poor_." + +The eighth stroke had scarcely sounded when this noble and intelligent +criminal was launched into eternity. + + + + +THE ANGEL OF THE SOUL. + +BY J. BAYARD TAYLOR. + + + Una stella, una notte, ed una croce. _Antonio Bisazza._ + + + Silence hath conquered thee, imperial Night! + Thou sit'st alone within her void, cold halls, + Thy solemn brow uplifted, and thy soul + Paining the space with dumb and mighty thought. + The dreary wind ebbs, voiceless, round thy form, + Following the stealthy hours, that wake no stir + In the hushed velvet of thy mantle's fold. + Thy thoughts take being: down the dusky aisles + Go shapes of good, and beckoning ghosts of crime, + And dreams of maddening beauty--hopes, that shine + To darken, and in cloudy height sublime, + The spectral march of some approaching Doom! + Nor these alone, oh! Mother of the world, + People thy chambers, echoless and vast; + Their dewy freshness like ambrosial cools + Life's fever-thirst, and to the fainting soul + Their porphyry walls are touched with light, and gleams + Of shining wonder dazzle through the void, + Like those bright marvels which the travele'rs torch + Wakes from the darkness of three thousand years, + In rock-hewn sepulchres of Theban kings. + Prophets, whose brows of pale, unearthly glow + Reflect the twilight of celestial dawns, + And bards, transfigured in immortal song, + Like eager children, kneeling at thy feet, + Unclasp the awful volume of thy lore. + + My soul goes down thy far, untrodden paths, + To the dim verge of being. There its step + Touches the threshold of sublimer life, + And through the boundless empyrean leaps + Its prayer, borne like a faint, expiring cry, + To angel-warders, listening as they pace + The crystal walls of Heaven. Down the blue fields + Of the untraveled Infinite, they come: + Beneath their wings one sweet, dilating wave + Thrills the pure deep, and bears my soul aloft, + To walk amid their shining groups, and call + Its guardian spirit, as an orphan calls + His vanished brother, taken in childhood home: + + "White through my cradled dreams thy pinions waved, + Lost Angel of the Soul! thy presence led + The babe's faint gropings through the glimmering dark + And into Being's conscious dawn. Thy hand + Held mine in childhood, and thy beaming cheek + Lay close, like some fond playmate's, to mine own. + Up to that boundary, whence the heart leaps forth + To life, like some wild torrent, when the rains + Pour dark and full upon the cloudy hills, + Thy gentle footsteps wandered near to mine. + Be with me now! Oh, in the starry hush + Of the deep night, that holds the earthly down + In all my nature, bring to me again + The early purity, which kept thy hand + From the entrancing harp it held in Heaven! + Through the warm starting of my hoarded tears, + Let me behold thine eyes divine, as stars + Gleam through the twilight vapors of the sea! + + "Not yet hast thou forsaken me. The prayer + Whose crowning fervor lifts my nature up + Midway to God, may still evoke thy form. + Thou hast been with me, when the midnight dew + Clung damp upon my brow, and the broad fields + Stretched far and dim beneath the ghostly moon; + When the dark, awful woods were silent near, + And with imploring hands toward the stars + Clasped in mute yearning, I have questioned Heaven + For the lost language of the book of Life. + Oh, then thy face was glorious, and thy hair + On the white moonbeam floating, veiled thy brow, + But in the holy sadness of thine eye + Which held my spirit, tremblingly I saw, + Through rushing tears, the sign of angel-grief + O'er the false promise of diviner years. + From the far glide of some descending strain + Of tenderest music I have heard thy voice; + And thou hast called amid the stormy rush + Of grand orchestral triumph, with a sound + Resistless in its power. I feel the light, + Which is thine atmosphere, around my soul, + When a great sorrow gulfs it from the world. + + "Come back! come back! my heart grows faint, to know + How thy withdrawing radiance leaves more dim + The twilight borders of the night of Earth. + Now when the bitter truth is learned; when all + That seemed so high and good but mocks its seeming-- + When the warm dreams of youth come shivering back, + In the cold chambers of the heart to die-- + When, with the wrestling years, familiar grows + The merciless hand of pain, desert me not! + Come with the true heart of the faithful Night, + When I have cast away the masquing garb + Of hollow Day, and lain my soul to rest + On her consoling bosom! From the founts + Of thine exhaustless light, make clear the road + Through toil and darkness, into God's repose!" + + + + +SCOUTING NEAR VERA CRUZ. + +A SKETCH OF THE LATE CAMPAIGN. + +BY ECOLIER. + + +Hours before day, Lieutenant Rolfe and his party were threading the +mazes of the chapparal. The moon glistened upon their bayonets and +bright barrels. Their path lay in a southwesterly direction, near the +old road to Orizava. Here it passed through a glade or opening, where +the moonbeams fell upon a profusion of flowers, there it reëntered +dark alleys among the clustering trees, where the "trail arms" was +given in a half whisper. The boughs met and locked overhead, and the +thick foliage hid the moon from sight. Now a bright beam escaping +through some chance opening in the leaves, quivered along the path, +and scared the wolf in his midnight wanderings. Out again upon the +open track through the soft grass, and winding around the wild maguey, +or under the claw-shaped thorns of the musquit. A deer sprung from his +lair among the soft flowers--looked back for a moment at the strange +intruders, and frightened at the gleaming steel, dashed off into the +thicket. The woods are not silent by night, as in the colder regions +of the north. The southern forest has its voices, moonlit or dark. All +through the livelong night sings the mock-bird--screams the "loreto." +From dark till dawn, you hear the hoarse baying of the "coyote," and +the dismal howl of the gaunt gray wolf. The cicada fills the air with +its monotonous and melancholy notes. In all these sounds there is a +breathing, a wild voluptuousness that tells you you are wandering in +the clime of the sun--amidst scenes like those rendered classical by +the pen of St. Pierre. They who have read the sweet French romance, +will recognize his faithful painting of tropical pictures. The sunny +glades--and shady arbors--the broad green and yellow leaves--the tall +palm-trees, with their long, lazy feathers and clustering fruits +waving to the slightest breeze, and looking the same as in that sea +island where they flung their changing shadows over the loves of Paul +and Virginia. Scouting at night, and to strangers (as were Rolfe and +his men) in the land, was not without its perils. Objects of alarm +were near and around. The nopal rose before you like the picket of an +enemy. Its dark column gleaming under the false light of the moon is +certainly some sentinel on the outpost. A halt is the consequence, and +silent and cat-like one of the party, on his hands and knees, steals +nearer and nearer, through the thorny brambles, until the true nature +of the apparition betrays itself, in the shape of a huge column of +prickly pear. He then returns to his comrades, and the obstacle is +passed, some one as he passes, with a muttered curse, slashing his +sabre through the soft trunk of the harmless vegetable. + +The wild maguey grasps you by the leg, as though some hideous monster +had sprung from the bushes. You start and rush forward, only to be +dragged back among the elastic leaves. It is useless to struggle. You +must either return and unwind yourself by gentle means, or leave the +better part of your cloth inexpressibles in the ruthless fangs of the +plant. The ranchero fences his limbs with leather, or with leggings of +tiger-skin. It is not fancy or choice to wear leather breeches in +Mexico. Necessity has something to say in fixing the fashion of your +small clothes. + +When day broke, Rolfe and his party were ten miles from camp--ten +miles from the nearest American picket, and with only thirty men! They +were concealed in a thicket of aloes and musquit. This thicket crowned +the only eminence for miles in any direction. It commanded a view of +the whole country southward to the Alvarado. + +As the sun rose the forest echoed with sounds and song. The leaves +moved with life, as a thousand bright-plumed birds flashed from tree +to tree. The green parrot screamed after his mate, uttering his wild +notes of endearment. They are seen in pairs flying high up in the +heavens. The troupiale flashed through the dark foliage like a ray of +yellow light. Birds seemed to vie with each other in their songs of +love. Amidst these sounds of the forest, the ear of Rolfe caught the +frequent crowing of cocks, the barking of dogs, and the other +well-known sounds of the settlement. These were heard upon all sides. +It was plain that the country was thickly settled, though not a house +was visible above the tree-tops. The thin column of blue smoke as it +rose above the green foliage proved the existence of dwellings. + +At some distance, westward, an open plain lay like an emerald lake. +The woods that bordered it were of a darker hue than the meadow-grass +upon its bosom. In this plain were horses feeding, and Rolfe saw at a +glance that they were picketed. Some of them had dragged their +laryettes and were straying from the group. There appeared to be in +all about an hundred horses. It was plain that their owners were not +far off. A thin blue smoke that hung over the trees on one side of the +meadow gave evidence of a camp. The baying of dogs came from this +direction, mingled with the sounds of human voices. It was evidently a +camp of the "Jarochos," (guerilleros.) + +Suddenly a bugle sounded, wild and clear above the voices of the +singing-birds, a few notes somewhat resembling the dragoon +stable-call. The horses flung up their heads and neighed fiercely, +looking toward the encampment. Presently a crowd of men were seen +running from the woods, each carrying a saddle. The few strays that +had drawn their pickets during the night, came running in at the +well-known voices of their masters. The saddles were flung on and +tightly girthed--the bits adjusted and the laryettes coiled and hung +to the saddle-horns, in less time than an ordinary horseman would have +put on a bridle. Another flourish of the bugle, and the troop were in +their saddles and galloping away over the greensward of the meadow in +a southerly direction. The whole transaction did not occupy five +minutes, and it seemed to Rolfe and his party, who witnessed it, more +like a dream than a reality. The Jarochos were just out of musket +range. A long shot might have reached them, but even had Rolfe +ventured this, it would have been with doubtful propriety. Rumor had +fixed the existence of a large force of the enemy in this +neighborhood. It was supposed that at least a thousand men were on the +Alvarado road, with the intention of penetrating our lines, with +beeves for the besieged Veracruzanos. + +"They got off in good time, sergeant," muttered Rolfe, "had they but +waited half an hour longer--Oh! for a score of Harney's horses!" + +"Lieutenant, may I offer an opinion?" asked the sergeant, who had +raised himself and stood peering through the leafy branches of a +cacuchou-tree. + +"Certainly, Heiss, any suggestion--" + +"Wal, then--thar's a town," the sergeant lifted one of the leafy +boughs and pointed toward the south-east--a spire and cross--a white +wall and the roofs of some cottages were seen over the trees. "Raoul +here, who's French, and knows the place, says it's Madalin--he's been +to it--and there's no good road for horses direct from here--but the +road from Vera Cruz crosses that meadow far up--now, lieutenant, it's +my opinion them thieving Mexicans is bound for that 'ere place--Raoul +says it's a good sweep round--if we could git acrosst this yere strip +we'd head 'em sure." + +The backwoodsman swept his broad hand toward the south, to indicate +the strip of woods that he desired to cross. The plan seemed feasible +enough. The town, although seemingly near, was over five miles +distant. The road by which the guerrilleros had to reach it was much +farther. Could Rolfe and his party meet them on this road, by an +ambuscade, they would gain an easy victory, although with inferior +numbers, and Rolfe wished to carry back to camp a Mexican prisoner. +This was the object of the scout, to gain information of the force +supposed to be in the rear of our lines. The men, too, were eager for +the wild excitement of a fight. For what came they there? + +"Raoul," said Rolfe, "is there any path through these woods?" + +"Zar is, von road I have believe--oui--Monsieur Lieutenant." + +Raoul was a dapper little Frenchman, who had joined the army at Vera +Cruz, where we found him. He had been a sort of market-gardener for +the plaza, and knew the back country perfectly. He had fallen into bad +odor with the rancheros of the _Tierra Caliente_, and owed them no +good-will. The coming of the American army had been a perfect godsend +to Raoul, who was now an American volunteer, and, as circumstances +afterward proved, worthy of the title. + +"Close teecket, monsieur," continued the Frenchman, "but there be von +road, I make ver sure, by that tree, vot you call him, big tree." + +Raoul pointed to some live-oaks that formed a dark belt across the +woods. + +"Take the lead, Raoul." + +The little Frenchman sprung out in front and commenced descending into +the dark woods beneath. The party was soon winding through the shadowy +aisles of a live-oak forest. The woods were at first open and easy. +After a short march they came to a small stream, bright and silvery. +But what was the surprise of Rolfe to find that the path here gave +out, and on the opposite bank of the rivulet the trees grew closer +together, and the woods were almost woven into a solid mass, by the +lianas and other creeping plants. These were covered with blossoms. In +some places a wall of snow-white flowers rose up before you. Pyramidal +forms of foliage, green and yellow, over which hung myriads of +vine-blossoms, like a scarlet mantle. Still there was no path--at +least to be trodden by human foot. Birds flew around, scared in their +solitary haunts. The armadilla and the wolf stood at a distance with +glaring eyes. The fearful-looking guana scampered off upon the +decaying limbs of the live-oak, or the still more fearful cobra di +capella glided almost noiselessly over the dry leaves and brambles. + +Raoul confessed that he had been deceived. He had never traveled this +belt of timber. The path was lost. + +This was strange. A path had conducted them thus far, but on reaching +the stream had suddenly stopped. Soldiers went up and down the +water-course, and peeped through the trellis of vines, but to no +purpose. In all directions they were met by an impenetrable chapparal. + +Chafing with disappointment, the young officer was about to retrace +his way, when an exclamation from Heiss recalled him. The backwoodsman +had found a clew to the labyrinth. An opening led into the thicket. +This had been concealed by a perfect curtain of closely woven vines, +covered with thick foliage and flowers. It appeared at first to be a +natural door to the avenue which led from this spot, but a slight +examination showed that these vines had been trained by human hands, +and that the path itself had been kept open by the same agency. +Branches were here and there lopped off and cast aside, and the ground +had the marks of human footsteps. The track was clear and beaten, and +Rolfe ordering his men to follow noiselessly, in Indian file, took the +lead. For at least two miles they traced the windings of this forest +road, through dark woods, occasionally opening out into green flowery +glades. The bright sky began to gleam through the trees. Farther on +and the breaks became larger and more frequent. An extensive clearing +was near at hand. They reached it, but to their astonishment, instead +of a cultivated farm, which they had been expecting to see, the +clearing had more the appearance of a vast flower-garden. The roofs +and turrets of a house were visible near its centre. The house itself +appeared of a strange oriental style, and was buried amidst groves of +the brightest foliage. Several huge old trees spread their branches +over the roof, and their leaves hung around the fantastic turrets. + +What should have been fields were like a succession of huge +flower-beds--and large shrubs, covered with sheets of pink and white +blossoms that resembled wild roses. This shrubbery was high enough to +conceal the approach of Rolfe and his party as they followed the +path--apparently the only one which led to the house. + +On nearing this, the officer halted his men in a little glade, and +taking with him Heiss and the boy Gerry, (who might return for the men +in case of a surprise,) proceeded to reconnoitre the strange-looking +habitation. + +A wall of ivy, or some perennial vine, lay between him and the house. +A curtain of green leaves covered the entrance through this wall. This +appeared to have grown up by neglect. As Rolfe lifted this festoon, to +pass through, the sound of female voices greeted him. These voices +reached his ear in tones of the lightest mirth. At intervals came a +clear ringing laugh from some throat of silver, and then a plunging, +splashing sound of water. Rolfe conjectured that some females were in +the act of bathing, and not wishing to intrude upon them sat down for +a moment outside the wall. The sounds of merriment were still heard, +and among the soft tones the officer imagined that he could +distinguish the coarser voice of a man. Curiosity now prompted him to +enter. Moreover, he reflected that if there were men there already +there could not be much impropriety in his taking a share in the +amusement. + +Drawing aside the curtain of leaves he looked in. The interior was a +garden, but evidently in a neglected state. It appeared the ruin of a +once noble garden and shrubbery. Broken fountains and statues +crumbling among weeds, and untrained rose-trees, met the eye. The +voices were more distinct, but those who uttered them were hidden by +a hedge of jessamines. Rolfe stepped silently up to this hedge and +peeped through an opening. The picture presented was indeed an +enchanting one. + +A large fountain lay between him and the house filled with crystal +water. In this fountain two young girls were plunging and diving about +in the wildest abandon of mirth. The water was not more than waist +deep, and the arms and bosoms of the young girls appeared above its +surface. They were strikingly alike, in all except color. In this +there was a marked contrast. The neck, arms and bosom of one seemed +carved from snow-white marble, while the other's complexion was almost +as dark as mahogany. There was the same cast of features, the same +expression in both countenances, and their forms, just emerging from +the slender figure of girlhood, were exactly alike. Their long hair +trailed after them, black and luxuriant, on the surface of the water, +as they plunged and swam from one side of the basin to the other. A +huge negress sat upon the edge of the fountain, seemingly enjoying the +bath as much as those who partook of it. It was the voice of this +negress that Rolfe had mistaken for that of a man. + +The young officer did not hesitate a moment, but stole gently back and +regained his comrades. + +Then striking through the flowery fields that stretched away toward +the wood in the rear, he commenced searching for the path that led +from the woods in a direction opposite to that whence he had come, +without disturbing the inmates of this peaceful mansion. Finding this +path on the other side, the party entered and hastily kept on, in +order to intercept the guerilleros, whom they still hoped to fall in +with. In these hopes they were not disappointed, for emerging from the +woods near Medellin they came upon the guerilleros, with whom they had +a sharp skirmish. Rolfe and his party were successful, killing two of +the guerrilla and taking the same number prisoners. + +The young girls continued their pleasant pastime, little dreaming how +near to them had been these strange and warlike visiters. + + + + +I WANT TO GO HOME + +BY RICHARD COE, JR. + + + "I want to go home!" saith a weary child, + That hath lost its way in straying; + Ye may try in vain to calm its fears, + Or wipe from its eyes the blinding tears, + It looks in your face, still saying-- + "I want to go home!" + + "I want to go home!" saith a fair young bride, + In anguish of spirit praying; + Her chosen hath broken the silver cord-- + Hath spoken a harsh and cruel word, + And she now, alas! is saying-- + "I want to go home!" + + "I want to go home!" saith the weary soul, + Ever earnest thus 'tis praying; + It weepeth a tear--heaveth a sigh-- + And upward glanceth with streaming eye + To its promised rest, still saying-- + "I want to go home!" + + + + +THE HUMBLING OF A FAIRY. + +BY G. G. FOSTER. + + +The Princess Dewbell was confessed to be the queen of the ball, +notwithstanding that the beauty and grace and wit of the whole realm +were there, for it was the birth-night festival of the fairy princess, +and her royal father, with all a parent's fond pride, had exhausted +invention, and impoverished extravagance, to give _éclat_ to the +occasion. The walls of his ancestral palace were sparkled all over +with dew-drops, which a troop of early bees had spent all the summer +mornings in collecting and preserving in the royal patent +dew-preserver, invented by one of the native geniuses of the realm. +These brilliant mirrors, flashing in the light of ten thousand +fire-flies of the royal household, whose whole lives had been expended +in learning how to carry their dainty lamps about so as to produce the +finest effects, reflected the forms of the ladies and the dazzling +military trappings of the handsome cavaliers, (there was war at that +time between the glorious empire of Fairydom and the weak and +infatuated republic of Elfland on its southern borders, and the +epaulette and spurs were the only pass to the hearts of the fair,) +imbuing them with an infinitude of prismatic hues, all softened into a +kind of timed starlight, exquisite as the dying voice of music. In +this gorgeous saloon, at the head of which sat, well pleased, the +benevolent old King Paterflor and his modest and still lovely queen +Sweetbine, all were noble and accomplished and beautiful and gay; but +the charms of the Princess Dewbell, just bursting into the richness of +full-grown fairyhood, were so surpassing that none had ever been found +to question, even in their own hearts, her supremacy. This, perhaps, +may appear strange to many of my pretty readers, but they must +remember that mine is a faithful chronicle of fairies--not of women. +The princess was standing lightly touching--it could not be said that +she leaned against--the slender stalk of a garden lily, that rose like +an emerald column of classic mould above her lovely form, and expanded +into a graceful dome of transparent and crimson-veined cornelian above +her head. Her eyes were cast pensively (at the Musical Fund Hall it +would have been called coquettishly) upon the ground, and ever and +anon she tossed her proud head with an imperious gesture, until the +streaming curls waved and parted around her cheek and neck, like +vine-leaves about a marble column as the south wind creeps among them +soliciting for kisses. The lady Dewbell, amid all this scene of +enchantment, which spread out before and around her, as if her own +loveliness had breathed it into existence, still was discontented; +sad, perhaps, at the total absence of care in her bosom, and sighing +for a sorrow. Unhappy lady Dewbell! She had so many hundred times been +told, what she herself believed full well, that she was absolutely +the most beautiful creature in existence, that the tale had lost its +interest. The champagne of flattery, its creaming foam long ago melted +into the brain, stood untasted before her, dull and flat as the +subsided fountain poured by the last rain-shower into the tulip's cup. +And so the fairy princess stood listless and apart from the joyous +revel, her little form swaying lightly to and fro, with the +undulations of the lily-stem against which she more perceptibly +rested. It is well for Root and Collins and Plumbe that the royal +daguerreotyper was laid up in a cowslip, with a broken skylight which +he had received in a rough-and-tumble with a gnat, about the ownership +of a particular ray of light, at last sunsetting. + +But if the lady Dewbell were queen of the ball, the noble knight Sir +Timothy Lawn was as undisputedly worthy of the post of honor among her +gallant train of admirers. Indeed, it was universally known, of course +as a profound secret among the gossips of the palace, that Sir Timothy +was the declared lover of the proud Dewbell, and it was even whispered +that she had actually been seen hanging around his neck one bright +June morning, in a sweet clover-nook by the brook-side, while he bent +tenderly over her, his eyes filled with tears of rapture. But as this +story could only be traced to a rough beetleherd, who said he saw the +lovers thus as he was driving his herd of black cattle to water, it +was not generally believed. At any rate, all the ladies were decidedly +of opinion that Sir Timothy was in every way a match for the haughty +beauty, and that if she did not accept him while he was in the humor +she would be very likely to go farther and fare worse. In fact, +several old maids and bluestockings, over their dishes of scandal and +marsh-fog, (both of which they made uncommonly strong,) openly avowed +it as their opinion, that he was a great deal too good for her, and +that, if the truth must be told, the princess was an impertinent, +saucy and irreverent creature, who hadn't the slightest respect for +her superiors. "As to her beauty," said one of these crones, whose +little face was very much of the size and complexion of a dried +camomile-flower, and who was shrewdly suspected of qualifying her +marsh-fog with pale pink-brandy--"As for her beauty, that is all in my +eye. I have seen plenty of your plump, smooth-skinned pieces of paint +and affectation fade in my time, little as I have yet seen of life. +Mark my words--before we have reached our prime, my great lady +princess will be as ugly as--" + +"As ugly as yourself, granny! Ha, ha, ha! ho, ho, ho! haw, haw, haw!" +shouted a mirthful voice, while an indescribably comic face, half cat +and half baby, appeared for a single glimpse above the burdock leaf +behind which the spinsters were holding their _conversazione_. + +"There's that imp Puck again, as sure as I am a woman!" exclaimed the +gentle Mrs. Mullenstalk, rising hastily and spilling a dish of fog all +over the front of her new green and yellow striped grass dress, as she +ran toward the spot whence the voice had proceeded. "I'll to the +palace this very night, and lay my complaint against that wretch. +We'll see whether virtuous ladies are to be insulted in this manner, +and their helplessness trampled under foot!" + +The intruder had already disappeared; but as the amiable Mrs. +Mullenstock got her spectacles adjusted, she just caught sight of him +throwing a somerset into a pumpkin-flower; while his laugh still +sounded faintly upon the air, mingled with snatches of a wild refrain, +of which she could only distinguish these lines: + + "Oh ho, Granny Mullenstock, how envious you be; + I'll plague you to death, or the hornets catch me!" + +The spinster shook her fist and grinned horribly at the broad-mouthed, +innocent yellow flower, down whose throat the varlet had leaped--but +chancing at that moment to catch a glimpse of her own face in a little +bit of mica, which served her for a toilet-mirror, she uttered the +least bit of a little shriek in the world and fainted--her companions, +who had by this time gathered round her, exchanging sly winks and +malicious looks of gratification as she went off. + +But we must return to the ball-room, where the fire-flies have got +sleepy, and many of them had already put out their lamps and retired, +and the brilliant company of dancers and promenaders has dwindled down +to a few sets, composed of those ladies who had not been asked to +dance in the height of the evening, and some sour-looking gentlemen in +very tight coats and pants, who had "got the mitten" from their +sweethearts at the door, and were desperately trying to do the amiable +out of sheer revenge. At length even these disappeared; the saloons +were entirely deserted, save by the beautiful mother moonbeam, who +slept upon the fragrant turf, her babe, the silver starlight, folded +lovingly within her bosom. + +Yet no, the scene is not quite solitary. Carefully bending aside the +tall, slender spears of diamond-tipped grass that perpetually guarded +the sacred domain of the imperial palace, a cavalier in full armor +appears, making way for a lady, whose long veil of the finest spider's +web completely conceals her head and form, making her seem like an +exhalation, taking, as its highest gift of grace, the shape of woman. +The two advance slowly and cautiously to the centre of the saloon, and +then the cavalier, throwing himself on his knees, (that's the way +fairies invariably make love,) beseeches his companion to have pity +upon him. The lady throws back her veil with a motion of indescribable +grace, and looking down into the upturned face of her lover, seriously +a moment, then lightly, utters a low laugh, and replies, + +"Very well, Sir Timothy Lawn, upon my word! Quite prettily done, +indeed! You must have been taking lessons of Signor Sweetbriar, the +royal parson. Now do run and bring me a glass of geranium-dew--I +protest I have drank scarcely a drop all the evening." + +"Not one word, then, for your poor lover and true knight," sighed Sir +Timothy, in a tone of the deepest despondence. + +"I did not come here to listen to school-boy nonsense," said the lady +Dewbell, with a haughty and impatient motion of the head. "I came to +get a glass of geranium-water. But, as you decline obliging me to that +extent, I suppose I must e'en get it for myself. Good-night to you, +Sir Timothy! Pleasant dreams!" and she disappeared. + +The knight was for a moment confounded; then rising slowly, he pointed +to a bright star that shone directly above him, winking and winking +with all its might, as much as to say, "what a green-horn you are!" +and swore an oath that no fairy should ever henceforth have power over +his heart, till she who had so wantonly scorned and insulted him +should beg to be forgiven. As he was turning sadly away, to seek his +solitary chamber in the upper branch of a bachelor's button, on the +other side of the brook, the elf-clown Puck stood before him, looking +as demure as puss herself. + +"Well, fool," said the knight, somewhat impatiently, "how long hast +thou been listening here?" + +"As long as my ears, your worship," replied the urchin, undauntedly, +"and they were long enough to hear that your worship's valiancy is a +very much over-praised commodity--since a maiden's dainty veil of +knitted night-air has proved too strong for him. + + The knight he sued, and the knight he sighed, + But he went away without supper or bride." + +"Silence, imp! or I 'll make thine ears, of which thou hast had such +pestilent service, shorter by a span." + +"No, I thank your valiancy! my ears do very well as they are. And I +came to do you a good turn by offering you the use of them. But as +your worship is so high and dry in Dundrum Bay, as we say at sea, I'll +e'en get back to my nap in the hazle copse again." + +"Nay, good Puck, I meant thee no harm, as thou knowest well enough. +Since thou knowest my innermost grief, let me hear thy fool's advice +in the matter." + +"If I gave thee advice, I were in truth a fool. But I'll very +willingly forgive thee this time, and tell thee what I overheard +to-night at the palace." + +"Ah, that's a good Puck!" + +"That depends on circumstances, your valiancy. I am somewhat like a +dish of toasted gallinippers--whether it is palatable or not depending +very much in the way it is served. But this is what I heard his +majesty say to her majesty. 'Sweetbine, my dear,' said he, 'don't you +think Dewbell has a fancy for our brave and noble knight, Sir Timothy +Lawn?' 'Why, my love,' replied her majesty, 'I have long been almost +certain that she loved him. But she is such a confirmed flirt I am +afraid she can never be brought to say so. I haven't the least idea +that she would not reject Sir Timothy, were he to propose.' 'We must +cure her of this fatal pride and folly,' replied his majesty, 'and I +think that, with a little of your assistance, I can manage it +capitally.' And then the dear old people passed into the royal +bed-chamber, in the japonica wing, and I heard no more." + +"I'll to the king." + +"And I'll to a better friend than he; if you permit me, your worship, +I take my _bough_ and _leave_." + +"Avaunt, vile punning Puck! Thou hast been to Philadelphia, where all +the streets rhyme, and every corner is a pun upon the next. May the +fiend unquip thee! Away!' + +"If thou I kest not jokes, thou hadst best stick to thy +bachelor's-buttonhood. I tell thee, marriage is a capital joke." + +"What knowest thou of marriage?" + +"I am one of its fruits." + +"A bitter jest, indeed, and plucked ere half ripened. St. Bulwer! but +thou wilt be a mother's blessing when thou art fully grown!" + +"Better save thy wits, sir knight! Thou wilt have a plentiful lack of +them ere the honeymoon be out of the comb. A pleasant roost in thy +bachelor's hall, and many of them!" and the vagabond sprung upon the +back of a green lizard creeping silently through the grass, and +sticking his heels into his astonished charger, dragoon-fashion, +disappeared down the bank of the brook. + +The old king and his good wife, Sweetbine, were very much grieved at +the foolish trifling of their daughter, Dewbell--for they were well +assured that Dewbell loved the noble knight, Sir Timothy, and that it +was only a spirit of mere wantonness that led her to vex and torment +him. Long into the night did the royal couple converse, striving to +devise some means of bringing their wayward daughter to her senses. +They at last hit upon a plan, which they fondly hoped might be the +means of securing the happiness of their child, and settling her +comfortably in life. + +The next morning his majesty sent for the dwarf, Puck, to his private +cabinet, and received him with an unusually grave and troubled aspect. + +"Venerable sire," said Puck, making a mock reverence, and scarcely +able to suppress a chuckle at the solemn looks of his master, "what +facetious dream hath been playing its mad pranks about thy sacred +pillow? Never saw I kingly face so mirthfully beprankt." + +"Come hither, good Puck," said the king, patiently, "and when thou +hast made thy breakfast of fun upon thy poor master, listen to him +seriously." + +"Dear prince", said the dwarf, suddenly running up to the king and +casting himself weeping at his feet, "art thou, then, really troubled? +Forgive thy poor slave!" and he began blubbering in the most pitiable +manner, while he looked up into the face of the king with such a look +of wo-begone and ludicrous despair, that Paterflor himself could +scarce refrain from bursting into laughter. + +"Thou hast done nothing wrong, good Puck--handsome Puck," said the +king, chucking his favorite under the chin. "I have need of thee. +Here is my signet-ring. Bring me straight hither a young and handsome +peasant, one who has never been seen by the court, nor any inhabitant +of the palace. He must be intelligent, conscientious, and trustworthy. +Dost thou know of such a one?" + +"Yes, your majesty, I think I do. My friend, young Paudeen O'Rafferty, +the son of the old forest-keeper, has just returned from Ireland, +where he was carried by the fairies at his christening, and has been +kept ever since until now, trying to get through the rent made by Mr. +O'Connell in the pockets of his relatives. He's as tight an Irish lad +as your majesty ever saw; and as for his honesty, I'll endorse it with +both hands. The O'Raffertys are constitutionally honest." + +"Well, bring him hither at once. I shall be ready to receive him." + +Puck, with his funny face entirely restored to good humor, left the +palace by a private gate, and running across a beautiful meadow, +disappeared in the dark green forest. Idle lingerer as he was, he felt +a strong inclination, at every hazel-copse he passed, to stop and have +a chat with the rabbits he knew were hid beneath it; and more than +once he was on the point of running up to a friendly deer and kissing +his cold, black nose, just for auld lang syne. But, for a wonder, he +was constant to his errand, and ran straight on--not stopping even to +throw stones at a squirrel by the way--till he came to the forester's +hut. + +He found the old forester and his wife alone. They received him +kindly, for, notwithstanding his mad pranks, Puck was a favorite every +where, and especially among the poor and humble, who were always safe +from his mischievous propensities. The young Paudeen was out a little +bit in the forest, but would return directly. + +"And what brings good Master Puck from among the great lords and +beautiful ladies of the coort to our poor little shieling, not bigger +nor betther than the mud cabins of ould Ireland itself?" inquired the +old woman, who had grown, with age and toil, wrinkled deaf and sour. + +"I'll explain all that as soon as Paudeen comes home," replied the +grave and mysterious Puck; "but, in the meantime, how do you get on +Mr. O'Rafferty, and what is the news in the forest?" + +"We get on but poorly," said the old forester, "and the news is, that +the people at the other side of the forest, where the potatoes have +all rotted, and the land is wore down to its bare bones, for want of +rest like, are very bad. Some of the women and childhers have already +starved, and the men have for the most part took to dhrinken and +fighten, till things is in a mighty bad way." + +"Yes," chimed in the old woman, who seemed to have caught by instinct +the subject of conversation, "and the poor stharven people say, too, +that there is plenty of money squandhered upon extravagance by the +king and his coort to give them all bread; and that the forests that +is kept for the deers and craythurs to be killed for the spoort of the +big folks, would give every man a bit of fresh land, and that the +potatoes would grow well enough then." + +"Auch, Peggy, will ye have us hung for parjery, out and out!" +exclaimed the terrified husband, casting a deprecating look at Puck. +"Poor craythur, she doesn't know what she is saying." + +At this juncture the young Paudeen made his appearance, and put a stop +to a conversation that was becoming decidedly stupid. He made his +respects cordially to Puck; and when he heard his errand, seemed +amazed and delighted. After a good deal of difficulty, the old lady +was made to understand what was the desire of the king. + +"Hooh!" exclaimed the old crone, leaping from her seat and dancing +about the room, "the dhrame's come true at last! Och, hullybaloo! +didn't I know that the pretty Paudeen wasn't born for the pig-stye! +Bedad, but he'll ruffle the gentles! Wont you, darlint?" and the old +woman fell upon her son's neck, smothering him with kisses, while the +poor youth could hardly keep his legs under the vigor of her maternal +caresses. + + +PART II. + +In a few days after the interview of Puck and Paudeen in the hut of +the forester, there was great excitement at the court of Fairyland. +The fashionable milliners and dress-makers never had seen such a +time--orders from the aristocracy poured in upon them by scores, and +their doors were beset by fashionable carriages, and little fairy +footmen caparisoned in long coats with many capes, and broad, red +bands fastened with shining buckles round their hats. The great +_artistes_ who were at the head of these establishments saw themselves +amassing fortunes from the sudden influx of fashionable custom. But +the poor little fairy seamstresses, who sat up all night, sometimes +without time to eat or sleep, from sunset to sunset, so that all these +splendid dresses might be finished in time--they did not fare so well. +They grew pale and sick, and sat swaying and swinging about as they +worked, until one might have thought them the ghosts of fairy workers, +come back for a ghostly midnight frolic in their old haunts. It was +melancholy enough, truly; but then nobody knew any thing about it. The +rich ladies, when their splendid robes came home, did not stop to +think that good, earnest, faithful fairy hearts had embroidered the +roses that adorned the skirts from their own cheeks, and spangled them +with the broken fragments of their youth's faded dreams. If they had-- + +Well, and if they had? + +That is not at all to the purport of my story; and so I will proceed +to let the reader into the secret of all this flutter and fluster. A +great prince had made his appearance at the court of Paterflor, and +had created almost as great an excitement in Fairyland as a new prima +donna with bright eyes and a _sfogato_ voice among mere mortals. +Nobody knew exactly who he was, but he came from a great way off, and +had a name as long as a province, and, beside being incalculably +wealthy, it was universally voted (ladies vote in Fairyland) that he +was the very handsomest love of a fairy knight that ever jingled +spurs, or sighed at the feet of beauty. He had come to court evidently +with the "highest recommendations" to the king, such as would have +procured him immediate access into the first "circles," even in +Philadelphia, where society lives behind barred doors, and goes about +armed cap-a-pie against encroachment or intrusion. He had been at once +received at the royal table, and a splendid suite of apartments had +been assigned him in the palace itself. Such extraordinary attentions +from the imperial family, of course, made the stranger a favorite and +a welcome guest wherever he appeared; and there was not a lady at +court who would not have given her eyes--if it would not have spoiled +her beauty--for a smile from his magnificent mouth. + +It was discovered, however, at a very early stage of the proceedings, +that the chief object of the prince's admiration was the lady Dewbell, +who, proud as she was, could not help feeling flattered by the evident +and special devotion of one for whom the whole of her sex were dying. +Sir Timothy Lawn, who, from pique or melancholy, or from some unknown +cause, had left the court the very day after the arrival of the new +prince, was not entirely forgotten, but was laid away carefully on a +back shelf of her heart; and the lady Dewbell never had been so +beautiful, so fascinating, so joyous and irresistible. Courts are as +fickle as coquettes; and before the month had passed, in a series of +brilliant _fêtes_ and entertainments, at all of which the prince and +princess were the reigning toast, it was regarded as a settled thing +that there would, ere the maple leaves grew red in the dying gaze of +the year, be a royal marriage in Fairyland. + +But while to all around the beautiful Dewbell was ever the same +careless, saucy and happy creature as ever, in her heart she nursed a +bitter sorrow. After many and severe struggles, she was forced at last +to make to herself the humiliating acknowledgment that she deeply and +truly loved Sir Timothy Lawn, that noble and chivalric spirit, whom +her unworthy trifling had driven--so her frightened heart interpreted +it--in disgust from her. Compelled in common courtesy to receive the +devoted attentions of the stranger prince, and to hear every day and +every hour repeated the earnest solicitations of her father that she +should school herself to regard the stranger as her future husband, +her little fairy heart was quite broken with its ceaseless struggles. +Her pride and self-will were entirely vanquished, and she felt herself +truly the most miserable of fairy maidens. Suicide is of course a +thing strictly prohibited among immortals; but had it been otherwise, +I sadly fear that one of the lady Dewbell's spider-web silk hose would +some morning have been found without a garter, and she herself hanging +like a beauteous exhalation among the elm-leaves in the morning +sunshine. Oh, had Sir Timothy been there then, he would have found, +instead of his imperious and tantalizing coquette, the tenderest and +truest of disconsolate maidens, ready to melt into his arms between +the delicious pause of a sigh and a kiss. "Naughty, cruel Sir Timothy! +Horrid creature! to take all my nonsense for real earnest, and to go +away and leave me to be persecuted to death!" exclaimed the lady +Dewbell, with an uncontrollable burst of tears, as she threw herself, +her toilet half finished, and her hair all strewn over her face and +shoulders, upon her little praying cushion. "What will become of poor +Bell!" + +"What ails my daughter?" said the sweet, soft voice of the queen +mother, as she knelt tenderly over her child, and pressed her head to +her bosom. "Tell your sorrows to your mother." + +"Oh, mother, _I_ am the most wretched fairy that ever existed. I don't +want to marry that odious, red-haired stranger; and my father has made +me promise that the wedding shall take place on Halloween--and I--I +have consented. But I love Sir Timothy; and I wont marry any body but +him," sobbed the poor creature, convulsively, as she cast herself upon +the floor, and looked up to her mother, terrified and half frantic. + +"But, dearest, you know you laughed at poor Sir Timothy's vows--and he +is so sensitive." + +"Oh, yes, I know I did, but I'll never do so any more. _If_ Sir +Timothy will only come back and forgive me, and marry me, just this +once, I will never, never offend him again as long as I live--never, +never, never! Do, mamma, do make him come back!" + +"Poor child! I will certainly do all I can. But you have promised to +be married on Halloween." + +"Oh, yes, but that is a good fortnight off, and you can bring Sir +Timothy back before then, you know, and he can kill this horrid +stranger, and then every body will be _so_ happy!" and the face of the +volatile creature began already to re-clothe itself in smiles. + +"I fear you are mistaken, love," said her mother, solemnly, and +shaking her head in an impressive manner, she added, "do not deceive +yourself with such fallacies, my daughter; your princely word is +passed, your father's royal honor is pledged, and you must be married +on Halloween." + +The lady Dewbell, sobbing hysterically, again looked up. She was +alone; at the same moment the cat-and-baby face of Puck glanced by the +window, and a wild, mischievous laugh melted away into a song, of +which the lady only caught the two last lines: + + "He rideth fast, and he rideth well, + But his heart still clings to the pretty Bell." + +"Oh, bless thee, dear Puck!" sighed the haply wondering lady, rising +and leaning from the window. "May thy sweet prophecy come true!" + + +PART III. + +'T is Halloween midnight. Through the tall windows of the venerable +church streamed in the broad moonlight, in bright silver floods, that +lost themselves in the profound recesses of the distant aisles, or +fell like many-colored snow-flakes upon the marble floor. Entering +without sound, came up the middle aisle the royal wedding-procession. +First walked the father, the royal Paterflor, looking stern and +determined, yet, it must be confessed, a little roguish about the +crowsfeet. Upon his arm leaned his pale and stricken daughter, the +once proud, joyous and imperious Princess Dewbell. She was pale as a +lily's cup, and drooping as its stem. She never raised her head from +her bosom, and her eyes, once sparkling like fountains of light, were +hidden beneath their willowy lids. Next comes the "red-haired prince," +as the lady Dewbell had scornfully denominated him, (his head _was_ a +little inclined to flame, dear reader, between you and me,) +respectfully conducting the ever sweet and placid Queen Woodbine; and +after them a troop of merry and gayly-dressed fairies, both ladies and +gentlemen, but very demure and solemn; while Puck, in the united +capacity of Hymen and Grand Usher, was dodging about with his flaming +torch, now in front, now in rear, now here, now there, and every where +imparting an air of grotesqueness to the whole affair. + +At the altar the party stopped, and ranging themselves in the approved +order for such occasions, the priest--a grave and reverend bullfrog, +whose surplice was scrupulously neat and tidy--proceeded with the +ceremony. When he came to the question, "dost thou, my daughter, +freely and voluntarily bestow thy hand and thy affections upon this +man, Paudeen O'Rafferty, commonly called Pat?" + +The pale and shrinking lady raised her head and opened her great +ox-like eyes; the bridegroom looked sheepish and hung his head; King +Paterflor seemed suddenly troubled with a severe fit of coughing, and +the priest could scarcely forbear a chuckle. + +"Father, dear father, what is the meaning of this cruel joke?" +exclaimed the poor lady Dewbell, running to her father and catching +hold of his arm. But the old king's cough was still very troublesome. +She then appealed to the priest, but he seemed deaf, and only made a +grum kind of noise in his throat, that sounded a good deal like "Pat +O'Rafferty." + +"Who, then, are you, sir?" demanded she, at last, of the groom, +turning suddenly and imperiously upon him her piercing gaze. + +"So plaze yer ladyship, I am Paudeen O'Rafferty, the son of the +forester--at yer ladyship's sarvice." + +The fairy princess was about to faint, in the most approved manner, +and had already selected a convenient cushion upon which to fall, when +a tall and noble form crossed the moon-ray, and Sir Timothy Lawn stood +before her. + +"Beloved princess," said he, kneeling, and respectfully taking her +hand, "I hope my presence is not disagreeable to the queen of my +heart, for whose love I have so long pined. Speak to me frankly, sweet +lady Dewbell, tell me, can you love me? Will you permit me to call you +mine forever?" + +The lady Dewbell changed her intention respecting the cushion upon +which she had intended to faint, and, somehow, found herself before +she was half conscious of it, in her lover's arms. An explanation +ensued; the prince Paudeen gave up his post of honor to Sir Timothy; +the ceremony was concluded on the spot; and as the gay and joyous +party left the church, Puck was seen sitting at the organ accompanying +himself in a sort of wild yet sweet chant, of which the lady Dewbell +easily distinguished-- + + "Oh, a merry tale will the gossips tell, + Of the happy mishap of the proud lady Bell." + + + + +A NIGHT THOUGHT. + +BY THOMAS BUCHANAN READ. + + + Long have I gazed upon all lovely things, + Until my soul was melted into song, + Melted with love till from its thousand springs + The stream of adoration, swift and strong, + Swept in its ardor, drowning brain and tongue, + Till what I most would say was borne away unsung. + + The brook is silent when it mirrors most + Whate'er is grand or beautiful above; + The billow which would woo the flowery coast + Dies in the first expression of its love; + And could the bard consign to living breath + Feelings too deep for thought, the utterance were death! + + The starless heavens at noon are a delight; + The clouds a wonder in their varying play, + And beautiful when from their mountainous height + The lightning's hand illumes the wall of day:-- + The noisy storm bursts down--and passing brings + The rainbow poised in air on unsubstantial wings. + + But most I love the melancholy night-- + When with fixed gaze I single out a star + A feeling floods me with a tender light-- + A sense of an existence from afar, + A life in other spheres of love and bliss, + Communion of true souls--a loneliness in this! + + There is a sadness in the midnight sky-- + An answering fullness in the heart and brain, + Which tells the spirit's vain attempt to fly + And occupy those distant worlds again. + At such an hour Death's were a loving trust, + If life could then depart in its contempt of dust. + + It may be that this deep and longing sense + Is but the prophecy of life to come; + It may be that the soul in going hence + May find in some bright star its promised home; + And that the Eden lost forever here + Smiles welcome to me now from yon suspended sphere. + + There is a wisdom in the light of stars, + A wordless lore which summons me away-- + This ignorance belongs to earth which bars + The spirit in these darkened walls of clay, + And stifles all the soul's aspiring breath;-- + True knowledge only dawns within the gales of Death. + + Imprisoned thus, why fear we then to meet + The angel who shall ope the dungeon-door, + And break these galling fetters from our feet, + To lead us up from Time's benighted shore? + Is it for love of this dark cell of dust, + Which, tenantless, awakes but horror and disgust? + + Long have I mused upon all lovely things; + But thou, oh Death! art lovelier than all; + Thou sheddest from thy recompensing wings + A glory which is hidden by the pall-- + The excess of radiance falling from thy plume + Throws from the gates of Time a shadow on the tomb. + + + + +THE BARD. + +BY S. ANNA LEWIS. + + + Why should my anxious heart repine + That Wealth and Power can ne'er be mine, + And Love has flown-- + That Friendship changes as the breeze? + Mine is a joy unknown to these; + In Song's bright zone, + To sit by Helicon serene, + And hear the waves of Hippocrene + Lave Phoebus' throne. + + Here deathless lyres the strains prolong, + That gush from living founts of song, + Without a cross; + Here spirits never feel the weight + Of Wrong, or Envy, or of Hate, + Or earthly loss; + The pomp of Pelf--the pride of Birth-- + The gilded trappings of this earth + Return to dross. + + Oh, ye! who would forget the ills + Of earth, and all the bosom fills + With agony! + Come dwell with me in Fancy's dream, + Beside this lovely fabled stream + Of minstrelsy; + And let its draughts celestial roll + Into the deep wells of thy soul + Eternally. + + God always sets along the way + Of weary souls some beacon ray + Of light divine; + And only when my spirit's wings + Are weary in the quest of springs + Of Song, I pine; + If I could always heavenward fly, + And never earthward turn mine eye, + Bliss would be mine. + + + + +THE WILL. + +BY MISS E. A. DUPUY + + +PART I. + + There is peace in the Night of the Early Dead-- + It will yield to a glorious morrow! _Clarke_. + +Amid all the brightness and bloom which the imagination conjures up, +when we think of the sunny islands lying within the tropics, many +mournful associations arise and cast a sadness over the picture. Very +few have not had within the circle of their relatives, or friends, +some cherished one, who has vainly sought the balmy breezes of those +favored spots, with the feverish hope that amid their loveliness Death +would forget to launch his arrows for them. + +Alas! to die among strangers is usually the fate of those who are thus +lured from their homes by a deceitful hope. There, where Nature wears +a perpetual verdure--where the fervid sun brings forth a luxuriance of +vegetation unknown in more northern regions, the wearied spirit sinks +to repose, soothed, or saddened, by the glow of existence around. + +A spacious apartment on the southern side of a highly ornamented +villa, opened into a magnificent garden, filled with orange-trees, +oleanders, and many other gorgeous flowers peculiar to the climate of +Cuba; while in the distance the sunlight gleamed upon a row of +towering palms, whose stately columns, crowned by their verdant +coronal, resembled the pillars of some mighty temple, which found a +fitting canopy in the blue arch of heaven, glowing with the gorgeous +hues of a tropical sunset. + +The floor of this room was inlaid with marble of different colors, and +the couch and windows were draped with snowy lace, lightly embroidered +at the edges, and looped with cords of blue and silver--tables with +marble tops, supporting porcelain vases filled with flowers, were +placed between the windows, for these ephemeral children of sunshine +were dear to the heart of the dying one. Beside one of these stood a +large cushioned chair, in which reclined a young man of delicate +features and wasted form. He appeared in the last stages of his fell +disease, and the friends who had received him beneath their roof to +die, wondered that he should have been deluded with the hope that +health could ever again reanimate his bowed and shrunken form. There +was an expression of care upon his sharpened features--a feverish +restlessness in his manner, which betrayed the spirit's unrest. + +At his feet sat a young girl, whose brilliant complexion and +pale-brown hair betrayed her Saxon origin; the finely rounded figure, +the delicately formed feet and hands, and the gracefully turned head +and bust, were all evidences of the grade of life to which she +belonged. She held the burning hand of the invalid between her own +soft, cool palms, and sung in a sweet low voice an old ballad which +told of the ancient greatness of the Saxon race. At a short distance +from them sat an elderly lady, clad in deep mourning, and her saddened +countenance corresponded well with her weeds. + +The young man made an impatient movement, and said--"Sing not to me +England's former prowess, dear Edith. What to the dying can such +themes be but a bitter mockery? Take your guitar, my sister, and throw +your soul into its vibrating strings, while you sing me such a lay as +I can fancy the angels of Heaven to be pouring forth around the throne +of God." + +"Shall I sing the chants of our church, dearest Edgar?" said Edith in +a subdued voice. + +"Yes--yes--they breathe peace and resignation into my restless soul. +When I am dying, my sister, stifle your own feelings as you love me, +and pour into my failing senses those magnificent strains. If God sees +fit to tear me from you before I can legally provide for you and my +beloved mother, I shall be enabled to forget the bitter truth in +listening to your sweet voice. You promise me this, Edith?" + +"I do--Heaven will sustain me even then, my darling brother, and give +me power to forget my own anguish in soothing your last moments." + +Edith Euston pressed his hand to her lips, and raising from the floor +a guitar which lay beside her, she poured forth a strain of melody +which seemed to soothe the senses of the invalid to rest. His eyes +closed, and an expression of repose rested on his worn features. + +Twilight deepened over the earth--a single ray of light, from the +reddened sky, fell through the open window upon the figure of the +young girl, and the mother, who sat silent and abstracted, thought as +she glanced upon her that even in a higher world her beloved Edith +could wear no lovelier outward semblance than was now hers. There was +an expression of elevated feeling, of pure tenderness in her upturned +face which revealed the high and noble soul within. One fitted to +suffer and conquer in the dark struggle which she felt awaited her. + +Hers were not the only eyes which contemplated that lovely picture of +sisterly devotion upon that twilight eve. Another stood without, +beneath the shadow of a high hedge, and gazed upon the unconscious +musician with even deeper admiration; and his dark, expressive +features lighted up with an emotion almost of reverence. The stars +came forth in the translucent depths of ether; the young moon cast her +tremulous light over the garden, yet still the intruder lingered in +his place of concealment. Twice he put the boughs aside, as if to +approach the room and announce his presence, but again receded, as if +irresolute and uncertain as to the effect his presence might produce. + +At length all became silent. The tones of the instrument died slowly +away, and the voice of the singer ceased to pour forth its song. The +windows were still unclosed, for the invalid had reached that +distressing stage in his malady, when his oppressed breathing required +a constant circulation of free air. A lamp burning beneath an +alabaster shade was swung from the centre of the ceiling, and its +mellow lustre diffused a faint moonlight radiance throughout the +apartment. + +With suppressed breathing the two ladies watched the sleep of the sick +youth, and he who had so earnestly observed every movement of Edith, +ventured to approach so near the open window that the heavy and +interrupted respiration of young Euston was distinctly audible to him; +while his eagle eye sought to penetrate the shadow in which his +features reposed, that he might read upon them the ravages made by +approaching dissolution. + +As he stood thus, the moonlight revealed a tall, well proportioned +figure, clad in a suit of black, well fitted to his form. His +prominent features and flashing black eyes were half concealed by a +large straw hat, which was carelessly placed upon his head. As he +gazed upon the sleeping form, his lips curled, and a strange +expression of exultation came to his face; his eye wandered +triumphantly to the fair brow of Edith. + +"Twice rejected," he muttered half audibly--"twice rejected, and with +scorn, by yon dainty girl; now methinks my vengeance is almost within +my grasp. I hold her future destiny in my power; for this boy _cannot_ +drag out his existence another week. Yes, Edith--to labor you have not +been bred--to beg you will be ashamed, and he who vainly hopes that +time will be granted him to deprive me of my inheritance, will perish +from my path, just as he believes himself on the verge of consummating +his hatred to me." + +Edith softly arose, and making a sign to her mother, glided +noiselessly from the room by a distant window, which opened to the +floor. The intruder hesitated a moment, and then followed her with +light and rapid steps. The flutter of her white dress guided him to +the retreat she had chosen, and she had scarcely thrown herself upon a +rustic seat beneath the shelter of some orange-boughs, and given vent +to her painfully repressed emotion, by a burst of tears, when the dark +stranger stood before her. She started up and would have fled, but he +spoke, and the sound of his voice seemed to bind her to the spot as by +a spell. + +"Why would you fly from me, Edith?" he asked. "I come in the spirit of +good-will to you and yours." + +A struggle seemed to be passing in the mind of the young girl. She +wiped her tears away, and after a pause answered in a tone which +faltered at first, but grew firm, and even haughty as she proceeded, + +"What has brought you hither, Mr. Barclay? Yet why do I ask? To exult +in the fate of your unfortunate victim; to watch each painful breath +which brings him nearer to his grave, with the certainty that the +very eagerness with which he desires a few more days of existence, +that he may fulfill a sacred duty, is fast wearing away the faint +thread that yet binds him to life. Oh false, unfeeling man! depart, I +pray you, if one human instinct yet remains within your callous heart, +and leave my unhappy brother to die in peace." + +She turned to depart, but Barclay stepped forward and placed his hand +on her arm, as if to detain her. She shrunk from his touch with an +expression of loathing, which called the crimson to his cheek, but he +suppressed his emotion, and said calmly-- + +"I knew that you would soon need a protector, Miss Euston, and I came +hither with the faint hope that I might be able to overcome your cruel +prejudices against me--that I might become to you a friend at least, +if no dearer title were allowed me." + +"You a friend to _me_!" exclaimed Edith impetuously. "You, who lured +my brother from his home, to wreck his existence in the life of +dissipation to which you tempted him. Ever feeble from his boyhood, +you knew that little was needed to destroy his frail constitution--yet, +because he stood between you and the possession of wealth, his life +was offered as the sacrifice to your criminal cupidity. And now you +come hither to watch the last fluttering throes of existence, fearful +that Death may delay his arrows until he shall have passed that hour +which entitles him to dispose of his property--and disappoint your +hopes, by bequeathing his wealth to those who are dearest to him." + +"You are excited, Edith. You judge me too severely. Edgar's own +headlong passions destroyed him. I merely urged him to do as others of +his years and station, without foreseeing such fatal results. My love +for you would have prompted me to save your brother." + +"Speak not to me of love--dare not approach the sister of your victim +with proffers of affection. The death of Edgar may leave me +penniless--nearly friendless--I have been tenderly nurtured, but I +would sooner embrace a life of sternest self-denial, of utter poverty, +than link myself with infamy in your person. Leave me--and dare not +approach the room of my brother, to imbitter his last hours by your +presence." + +"And your mother, my fair heroine?" said Barclay, in a tone of sarcasm +bordering on contempt. "What will become of her if you persist in the +rejection of the only person in the wide world on whom you have any +claim? She is old, feeble, broken in health and spirit. Ah! will not +your proud heart faint when you behold her sharing this life of +poverty and self-denial, which seems to you so much more attractive +than the home and protection I offer you?" + +Edith stifled the tears that sprung anew to her eyes, and after a +brief struggle said with composure-- + +"My mother is too honorable--she has too bitter a disdain of meanness +ever to wish her child to sacrifice the truth and integrity of her +soul, by accepting the hand of one for whom she has no respect." + +"By Heaven!" said Barclay passionately, "you force me to throw away +the scabbard and declare war to the knife. Be it so, then. Yonder weak +boy cannot survive five of the ten days yet required to complete his +majority. Then comes to me--yes to _me_--all his wealth; and only as +_my_ wife shall one ray of my prosperity shine upon you. The gray +hairs of your only parent may be brought to the grave by want and +sorrow, and unless you relent toward me my heart shall be steeled to +her sufferings." + +At this picture, which was only too likely to be realized, the courage +of the unhappy Edith forsook her, and she exclaimed in faltering +tones-- + +"My dear, dear mother! for her sake any other sacrifice might be +borne--but not this--not this. My brother yet lives, and Heaven may in +pity prolong his existence beyond the hour he so anxiously prays to +see. Then we escape your power." + +Barclay laughed mockingly. + +"This is the fifteenth, and he is not of age until the twenty-fifth, +exactly at the second hour of the morning. One moment only before that +time should Death claim his victim the estate is mine, and you +dependent on my bounty. Think you that the frail and wasted ghost of a +man who struggles for breath in yonder room can live through another +week? Hope--yes, hope for the best, for despair will come soon enough. +I feel as secure of my inheritance as though it were already mine." + +Edith proudly motioned him from her path, and fled toward the house, +with his mocking words still ringing in her ears. Her brother yet +slept, and as she gazed upon his sunken features it seemed to her as +if death were already stamped upon them, and she bent her head above +his still face, to convince herself that he yet breathed. + +Barclay and Euston were distantly related, and had both been educated +by an eccentric kinsman, with the belief among their connections that +he designed dividing his ample fortune between them. To the surprise +and chagrin of Barclay, he found on the death of Colonel Euston that +the whole of his estate was bequeathed to his young cousin, encumbered +with an annuity to himself, which appeared to one of his expensive +tastes, and lavish prodigality, as absolute poverty. + +Edgar Euston was then but seventeen years of age, and of a delicate +bodily organization, which did not promise length of days. A clause in +Colonel Euston's will offered a temptation to Barclay, which he had +not sufficient principle to resist. If Euston died before attaining +his majority the estate was to pass into the hands of his kinsman, and +no mention was made of the mother or sister of the young heir. Barclay +reflected that if he could remove Euston from his path, before he +attained his twenty-first year, the coveted wealth would yet be his. + +From that hour he made every effort to win the confidence and +affection of young Euston. He was his senior by nearly ten years, and +possessed a knowledge of the world, and a fascination of manner which +was extremely attractive to a youth who had passed the greater portion +of his life, at a country residence, in the society of his mother and +sister. Euston entered one of our Northern colleges, and under the +auspices of his kinsman he soon achieved a reputation which was far +more applauded by the wild students than agreeable to the professors. +He blindly followed wherever Barclay led, and before he entered his +twenty-first year he returned to his early home, with a constitution +completely broken by the reckless life he had led, and the symptoms of +early decay in his flushed cheek and hollow cough. Vain had been the +entreaties and remonstrances of his mother and sister; under the +influence of his tempter, they were utterly disregarded--until the +hand of disease was laid upon him, and he felt that the only atonement +he could offer for all the suffering he had inflicted upon them would +probably be denied to him. + +He earnestly desired to live, that he might reach that age which would +entitle him to make a legal transfer of his property to those who were +deservedly dear to him, for in the event of his death without a will, +his mother and sister would be left entirely dependent on the tender +mercies of his successor. An unfortunate lawsuit had deprived his +mother of the property which had become hers on the death of his +father, and his own reckless extravagance had dissipated more than the +annual revenue of his own property since it came into his possession. + +Too late he discovered the baseness of Barclay's motives, and +renounced all intercourse with him--but he would not thus be cast off. +He had seen and loved the noble-hearted Edith, and he forced his +hypocritical offers of service upon the afflicted family, until Edith +distinctly assured him that he need never hope for a return to his +passion. + +Euston had long since abandoned all hope of recovery, but he sought +the mild climate of Cuba, trusting that the fatal day might be +deferred until he had secured independence to his family, but his +physician feared that the very eagerness of his wishes would +eventually defeat them. It was mournful, and deeply touching, to +witness that clinging to existence in one so young, not from love of +life itself, but from a desire to perform an act of justice. That +completed, his mission on earth was ended, and Death might claim him +without a murmur. + +The hours dragged heavily on toward the desired day, and each one as +it passed appeared to hurry the poor invalid with rapid strides toward +the grave, that seemed eager to claim its prey. Barclay had not again +ventured to intrude on Edith, but he nightly hovered around the room +of the dying youth, and gloated on the wasted and death-like form +which held his earthly fortunes in his hands. + +A skillful physician had accompanied Euston from his native land, and +his unremitting attention, aided by the tender nursing of his +affectionate sister, seemed as if they would eventually reap their +reward in the preservation of life beyond the hour of his majority. + +In pain and weariness time slowly waned, but it still left him life +and an unclouded mind; and the bold, bad heart, that nightly watched +him, feared that the wealth he so ardently coveted, might yet elude +his grasp. + +The evening of the twenty-fifth at last arrived. Euston reclined in +his chair as we first beheld him, wrapped in a brocade dressing-gown, +whose brilliant colors made his extreme pallor the more remarkable; a +table was drawn close beside him, and on it, at his own desire, was +placed his repeater, from which his eyes scarcely wandered. His breath +came slowly and gaspingly, and at brief intervals his physician +moistened his parched lips with a restorative cordial, and murmured +words of encouragement in his ear. + +As before, Edith sat at his feet, with her guitar, ready to stifle her +deep emotion, and fulfill her promise to sing to him while his parting +soul was struggling for release from its earthly tenement. His mother +leaned over his chair, and bathed his cold brow with her burning +tears; in the back-ground sat a clergyman, gazing on the scene with +absorbing interest. + +Each one in that hushed room felt the approach of the stern tyrant, +and all prayed fervently that his dart might be stayed yet a few +hours. + +"My sister, sing to me. Soothe me into quietness by the loved tones of +your voice. It is my _only_ hope for life beyond the desired hour," +murmured the dying youth. + +With tremulous fingers Edith touched the chords, and poured forth the +solemn strains to which he loved to listen, and he sunk back and +closed his eyes. At first her voice faltered, but she gradually +regained her self-command, and never had those clear, rich tones +uttered a sweeter strain, than that which floated around the +fluttering spirit, which struggled to release itself from the +attenuated form of the early doomed. + +Barclay stood without, watching the scene with breathless interest, +and a terrible struggle was passing in his dark and stormy soul. +Euston might live beyond the hour of two, and he would then be a +beggar. His eye wandered toward Edith, so nobly devoted, so purely +beautiful; and the tempter whispered, + +"She might save you--ennoble you; the love, the sweet influence of +such a woman are all powerful. Once yours, you could surround her with +such an atmosphere of care and tenderness, that her heart must be won +to love you--to forget the past. Without her, you are doomed--doomed. +What matters a few more moments of existence to one like him, when the +eternal welfare of a human being hangs trembling in the balance? +Deprived of the means of living, Edith will have no choice--she must +marry you, or debase her pride of soul before the iron sway of +poverty. Her mother is old--infirm; and for her sake, the daughter +will listen to your proffers of love. Take your destiny into your own +hands. Cowardly soul! why falter now? It is but completing your own +work. He is _your_ victim--you know it, and feel it in every pulse of +your throbbing heart. Years of usefulness might have been his, but for +you; then complete the sacrifice without hesitation. What avails it +to have accomplished so much, if the reward escapes you at the last +moment?" + +Such were the wild thoughts that oppressed his soul during those +terrible hours. He saw that the parchment which disinherited him was +placed beside Euston, and the pen stood in the inkstand, ready to do +its service, so soon as the hand of the watch pointed to the hour of +two; and he ground his teeth in impotent rage, as the moments flitted +by, and Euston yet continued to breathe. + +Terrible is the watch of love beside the flitting soul which parts in +peace; but how much more awful was that vigil, in which the anguish of +bereavement was doubly embittered by the fear of future want to those +who had been reared amid all the refinements of luxury. The mother +looked upon her remaining child, and felt that she was not formed to +struggle with poverty and neglect, and the daughter bent her earful +eyes on that venerable form, and in the depths of her soul, prayed +that her old age might be spared the grinding cares of want. + +The watch struck the half hour--then the quarter--and a feeble motion +of Euston stopped the hand of Edith as she swept it over the strings +of her instrument. She arose and stood beside him; a breathless +silence reigned throughout the apartment, only broken by the +monotonous ticking of the watch, which struck upon the excited nerves +of those around with a sound as distinct as the reverberations of +thunder. + +Not a word was uttered until the hand pointed to the hour, then, as if +endued with sudden energy, the dying man stretched forth his hand, and +grasping the pen, said in a firm, distinct voice, + +"Now let me sign my name, and yield up my spirit to the angel that has +been beckoning me away for hours. My mother--my sister, God has +vouchsafed to me a mercy I did not deserve. Thank Heaven! your +interests are safe. You are free from _his_ power." + +At that instant a strange cry was heard; a bird flew into the room, +and, dazzled by the light, flapped his wings against the shade of the +lamp, overturned it, and left the apartment in utter darkness. In the +confusion of the moment, a figure glided through the open window, and +stood beside the chair of Euston. He noiselessly placed his firm grasp +upon his laboring breast, and held it there a single instant. A faint +rattling sound was heard, and Edith wildly called for lights. + +Noiselessly as he had entered glided that dark form from the side of +his victim, and buried itself in the shadows of the trees without. +Many lights flashed into the room--they glared coldly on the face of +the dead, and the mother sunk senseless in the arms of her daughter. + + +PART II. + +Several months have passed away, and Mrs. Euston and her daughter have +returned to their native land. A single room in an obscure +boarding-house in the heart of a southern city was occupied by both. +The expenses of their voyage to New Orleans, and a few months sojourn +in their present abode, humble as it was, had nearly exhausted their +slender resources. Edith had made many efforts to procure a few +scholars to instruct in music and drawing, but the departure of the +greater portion of the wealthy, during the unhealthy season, had +deprived her of those she had been able to obtain. She thought of +going out as a daily governess, but the feeble health and deep +dejection of her mother, offered an insuperable objection to such an +arrangement. When she left her alone even for an hour, she usually +found her in such a state of nervous excitement on her return, as was +painful to behold. + +Edith is seated near the only window of their sordid apartment in the +afternoon of a sultry summer day; the sun is shining without with +overpowering splendor; a heated vapor rises from the paved streets and +seems to shimmer in the breathless atmosphere. Edith had lost all the +freshness and roundness of youth; her cheek was deadly white, and her +emaciated form seemed to indicate the approach of the terrible disease +of which her brother had died. She was sewing industriously, and her +air of weariness and lassitude betrayed the strong mastery of the +spirit over the body, in the continuance of her employment. + +Mrs. Euston was lying on the bed; and twenty years seemed to have +passed over her since the night of her son's death. The oppressive +heat had induced her to remove her cap, and her long hair, white as +the snows of winter, lay around her wasted and furrowed features. From +infancy the respect and observance due to one of high station had been +bestowed upon her, and the reverse in their fortunes was more than she +could bear. At first, her high-toned feelings had shrunk from +obligations to the new heir, and she approved of Edith's rejection; +but as time passed, amid privations to which she had never been +accustomed, her very soul revolted against their miserable mode of +living. + +To a woman of refined feelings and vivid imagination, the coarse and +sordid realities around her were sufficiently heart-sickening, without +having the terrible fear forced upon her that her only child was +hurrying to the grave through her exertions to keep them literally +from starvation. Her daughter now thought she slept, but her mind was +far too busily occupied to permit the sweet influences of slumber to +soothe her into a momentary forgetfulness of her bitter grief. +Suddenly she unclosed her eyes, and spoke. + +"Edith, my child, lay aside that work--such constant employment is +destroying you. Is it not time that we heard from Robert Barclay? +Surely he will not be relentless, when he hears that your health is +failing. After all, Edith, you need not be so averse to receiving +assistance from him; the property he holds is rightfully ours." + +"Mother," replied Edith, a faint flush mounting to her cheek, "for +your sake I have submitted to humiliate myself before our ruthless +kinsman, but I fear it will be in vain. Only as his wife will my +claims on his humanity and justice be acknowledged. Would you not +shrink, dearest mother, from condemning your child to such a doom? +Could you not better bear to stand above my grave, and know me at +peace within it, than to behold me wedded to this unprincipled man, to +whose pernicious example my brother owed his early doom?" + +"Speak not of dying, my daughter," said the poor mother, hysterically, +"I cannot bear it; I am haunted by the fear that I shall at last be +left on earth alone. I daily behold you fading before my eyes without +the power to avert the fate I see written upon your pale cheek and +wasted form. As Robert's wife you would have a luxurious home, the +means of gratifying refined tastes, and of contributing to the +happiness of others. He may atone to me, by the preservation of one +child, for the destruction of the other." + +"Mother, your fears for me blind you to the truth. Are not mental +griefs far more difficult to bear than the privations of poverty, +galling as they are? As Mr. Barclay's wife, I should loathe myself for +the hypocrisy I should be compelled to practice toward him; and the +wealth for which I had sold myself, would allow me leisure to brood +over my own unworthiness, until madness might be the result. No, no, +mother--come what may, I never can be so untrue to myself as to become +the wife of Robert Barclay." + +"God help us, then!" said Mrs. Euston, despondingly. + +A carriage drove to the door, and a gentleman alighted from it. Edith +heard the bustle, but she did not look out to see what occasioned it, +and she was startled from her painful reverie by a knock on the door. +She opened it, and started back with a faint cry as she recognized +Barclay. + +"The landlady told me to come up," he said, as he glanced around the +wretched apartment, and a slight twinge of remorse touched his heart +as he remarked the changed appearance of Edith. She motioned him to +enter, while Mrs. Euston arose from the bed, and offered him a seat. + +"I concluded it would be best to reply to your communication in +person," said he to Mrs. Euston, as he took the offered chair. "I come +with the most liberal intentions, provided Miss Euston will listen to +reason. I am grieved to see you in a place so unsuited to your former +station as this wretched apartment." + +"And yet," said Edith, "I have passed some pleasant hours in this +room, comfortless as it looks. So long as I had the hope of being able +to provide for our wants by my own exertions, I found contentment in +its humble shelter." + +"Your happiness must then be truly independent of outward +circumstances," replied Barclay, with a touch of his old sarcasm. "I +supposed, from the tenor of your mother's petition, that you had begun +to repent of your high-toned language to me in our last interview, and +would now accede to terms you once spurned, as the price of my +assistance to you and yours." + +Edith curbed her high spirit, and calmly replied, "You misunderstood +my mother's words. As the mother of the late heir, she justly +considers herself entitled to a pittance from your estate, and she +claimed from your humanity, what she was hopeless of obtaining from +your sense of justice. For myself, I hoped for nothing from either, +but I acquiesced in her application. I am sorry that you have founded +on it expectations which must prove fallacious." + +"Then, madam, I need remain no longer," said Barclay, addressing Mrs. +Euston. "Your daughter remembers our interview previous to, and after, +the death of her brother; the only terms on which I would assist you +were then explicitly expressed." + +Mrs. Euston caught his hand, and bowed her venerable head upon it. + +"Have mercy, Robert, upon my gray hairs--my daughter; look at her--she +is dying by inches--she is stifling in this wretched spot. The money +that was my son's should surely buy a shelter for us. Leave us not +helpless, hopeless. My God! my God! give me eloquence to plead for my +child!" and she threw herself upon the floor, and raised her clasped +hands to heaven. + +"Madam," said Barclay, "it only rests with your daughter to have mercy +upon you and herself. Where, I ask you, is her filial piety, when she +beholds you suffer thus, and relents not toward one who offers her a +love that has survived coldness, contempt, contumely." + +Edith approached her mother, and assisted her to rise. + +"My dearest mother, calm yourself. Humble not yourself thus before our +oppressor. God is just--is merciful. He will not forget the widow and +the orphan in their extremity. Leave us, Mr. Barclay; had my wishes +alone been consulted, you never would have been called on thus to +witness our misfortunes." + +Barclay bowed, and haughtily strode from the room. + +"Another month of privation," he muttered, "and she will surely be +mine or Death's. It does not much matter to which she belongs. Ah, if +she only knew all!" and he sprung into his cabriolet, and dashed off +toward the more aristocratic portion of the city. + +In the hope that Edith would be forced to relent, Barclay had remained +in New Orleans thus late in the season, and he resolved to linger yet +a little longer, until want and suffering should leave her no choice. +His passion for her was one of those insanities to which men of his +violent character are often liable. He desired her as the one great +gift, which was to purify, to exalt him in the scale of humanity. The +delicate beauty of her person, the sensibility of her soul, the grace +of her manner, rendered her irresistibly attractive to him; but so +selfish was his love, that he would sooner have seen her perish at his +feet, than have rendered her assistance, except at the price proposed. + +Another month passed by, and still there was no news of Edith or her +mother. He grasped the daily paper, almost with a sensation of fear, +and glanced at the column of deaths, which at that season usually +contains a goodly array. Their names were not yet among them, or +perchance in their poverty and obscurity they would not find +admittance even among the daily list of mortality. + +The yellow fever had commenced its annual ravages, and Barclay +retreated to a country-house in the vicinity, owned by a friend, and +dispatched a confidential servant to inquire concerning Mrs. Euston +and her daughter. They were still in the same place, but the mother +had been ill, and was still confined to her bed. + +One morning, about two weeks afterward, Barclay was seated in a +delightful little saloon, over a late breakfast. The room was +furnished with every appliance of modern luxury, and the morning air +stirred the branches of noble trees without, whose verdant shade +completely shut out the glare of the sun. A servant entered, and +presented to him a letter which had just been left. The irregular hand +with which it was directed, prevented him from recognizing the writing +of Edith, and when he opened the missive, which had evidently been +blotted with her bitter tears, a flush of triumph mounted to his +cheek, and he exclaimed with an oath, + +"Mine at last!--I knew it must end thus!" + +The letter contained the following words: + + "After a night of such suffering as casts all I have + previously endured into the shade, I address you. My + mother now lies before me in that heavy and death-like + sleep which follows utter exhaustion. Her state of + health for the last month has demanded my constant + care, and the precarious remuneration I have been able + to obtain for sewing, I have thus been compelled to + give up. We have parted with every souvenir of our + better days--even our clothing has been sacrificed, + until we have but a change of garments left; and now + our landlady insists on being paid the small sum we owe + her, or we must leave her house to-day. She came into + our room last evening, and the scene which ensued threw + my mother into such a state of nervous excitement, that + she has not yet recovered from it. + + "I cannot disguise from myself that she is very ill. If + she awakes to a renewal of the same anguish, I dare not + contemplate the consequences. You know that I do not + love you, Mr. Barclay. I make no pretension to a change + in my feelings; repugnant as it must be to a heart of + sensibility, I must view this transaction as a matter + of bargain and sale. I will accept your late offer, to + save my mother from further suffering, and to gain a + home for her declining years. + + "For myself, I will endeavor to be to you--but why + should I promise any thing for myself. God alone can + give me strength to live after the sacrifice is + completed. + + "EDITH." + +There was much in this letter that was wounding to his vanity, and +bitter to his feelings; but he had triumphed! The stately pride of +this girl was humbled before him--her spirit bowed in the dust before +the gaunt spectre she had thought herself capable of braving. She +would be his--the fair, the pure in heart, would link herself to vice, +infamy and crime, for money. Money! the world's god! See the countless +millions groveling upon the earth before the great idol--the golden +calf, which so often brings with it as bitter a curse as was denounced +against the people of old, when they forsook the living and true God +for its worship. + +Can it not buy every thing--even woman's love, or the semblance of it, +which would serve him just as well? He, the murderer of the brother, +would purchase the compliance of the sister with this magical agent; +but--and his heart quailed at the thought--could it buy self-respect? +Could it enable him to look into the clear eye of that woman he would +call his wife, and say, "My soul is worthy to be linked with thine in +the realms of eternity." + +No--he felt that the sacrilegious union must be unblessed on earth, +and severed in heaven, yet he shrunk not from his purpose. + +He lost no time in seeking Edith; Mrs. Euston was yet buried in the +leaden slumber produced by a powerful narcotic. The unhappy girl +received him alone, and he remarked that his words of impassioned love +brought no color to her marble cheek--no emotion to her soul; she +seemed to have steeled herself for the interview, and it was not until +he pressed the kiss of betrothal upon her pallid lips, that she +betrayed any sensibility--then a thrill, a shudder pervaded her whole +frame, and he supported her nearly insensible form several moments +before she regained power to sustain herself. Could he have looked +into that breaking heart, and have read there all the bitter loathing, +the agonized struggles for self-control, would he have persisted in +his suit? Yes--for this was a part of his vengeance for the slights +she had put upon him; and in the future, if she did not play the part +he thus forced upon her, with all the devotion he should exact, had he +not bitter words at his command to taunt her with the scene of that +morning? + +A physician was called in, who advised the removal of Mrs. Euston +while she slept; and arrangements were soon made to accomplish it. The +family to whom Barclay's present retreat belonged, were spending the +summer at the north, and their house had been left at his disposal. He +determined to remove Mrs. Euston and her daughter thither, while he +took up his own abode, until the day of his marriage, with a bachelor +friend in the neighborhood. + +Edith demanded an interval of a week before their union took place, +which he reluctantly granted. Naturally prodigal, he employed the time +in ordering the most elegant _trousseau_ for his bride. She who so +lately was struggling with bitter want, was now surrounded by servants +eager to anticipate every wish, while Barclay played the devoted +lover. Edith prayed earnestly for power to regard him with such +feelings as alone could hallow the union they were about to form. Vain +were her lonely struggles--her tearful supplications; a spectral form +seemed to rise ever between them, and reproach her that she had been +so untrue to herself, even for the preservation of a mother. + +The only thing that consoled her for her great sacrifice, was that her +beloved mother seemed to revive to some sense of enjoyment, when she +again found herself surrounded by that comfort to which she had been +accustomed. Weakened in mind as in body, Mrs. Euston fondly flattered +herself that her daughter might yet be happy amid the splendors of +wealth; and the poor mother welcomed the arbiter of their future fate +with smiles and courteous words, to which he listened with politeness, +and scorned as the hollow offspring of necessity. + +The dreaded day at length arrived, and with the calmness of exhausted +emotion, Edith prepared herself for the ceremony which was to consign +her to the protection of Barclay. She believed her earthly fate +sealed, and resignation was all she could command. + +Amid all her suffering, there was one thought which arose perpetually +before her; there was one human being on earth who would have risked +his life to serve or save her, and she knew that a heart worthy of her +love would hear the history of her enforced marriage with bitter +disappointment and anguish. + +Near the home of her infancy dwelt a family of sons and daughters with +whom she had been reared in habits of intimacy. Between herself and +the eldest son a strong attachment had grown up; it had never been +expressed in words, yet each felt as well assured of the affection of +the other, as if a thousand protestations had been uttered. About the +time that Mrs. Euston and her daughter left their own home to travel +with their beloved invalid, Walter Atwood bade adieu to his paternal +home, on a tour to Europe, where he was to complete his professional +education as a medical man. + +Mrs. Euston's place passed into the hands of strangers, and after a +few months all intercourse by letter ceased between their former +friends and themselves. After the death of her son, the bereaved +mother would not consent to return to their former neighborhood, and +thus all trace of them was lost to the Atwoods; but Edith knew in her +deep heart that Walter would return--would seek her; and it was this +conviction which gave her firmness to resist so long the overtures of +Barclay. + +Now all was at an end; another hour and the right even to think of him +would no longer be hers. Her mother entered her room, folded her to +her breast, and whispered, + +"The hour has arrived, my child. Robert is here with the clergyman. Do +not keep them waiting." + +"I am quite ready, mother," said Edith, calmly, and she advanced +without hesitation toward the door, for she heard an impatient step +without, which she well knew. Barclay awaited her in the hall--he +impetuously seized her hand and drew it beneath his arm. + +At that moment the door-bell was violently pulled, and both turned +impulsively to see who made so imperious a demand for admittance. + +At the open door stood two figures, one of a young man, who appeared +deeply agitated, for his features, beneath the light of the lamps, +seemed white and rigid, as if cut from marble. Over his shoulder +appeared a swarthy face, with a pair of bright, keen eyes, gleaming +from beneath overhanging brows. + +Edith and Barclay both uttered an exclamation--but they were very +different in their character. In the impulse of the moment, the former +drew her hand forcibly from him who sought to retain it, and with one +bound, was in the arms of the foremost stranger, as she exclaimed, + +"Walter--my saviour--my preserver! you have come at last!" + +The face of Atwood lost its unnatural rigidity as he pressed her to +his heart, and said, + +"Thank Heaven! I am not then too late!" + +Barclay advanced threateningly, + +"What does this mean, sir? Are you aware that such conduct in my house +is not to be tolerated--that you shall answer for it to me with your +life?" + +"It means, Mr. Barclay, that I come with authority to prevent the +unholy alliance you were about to force upon this helpless and +unprotected girl, to place the seal upon your crimes, by clasping in +wedlock the hand of the sister with that which is red with the +brother's blood." + +"'T is false--the boy killed himself, as Edith herself knows full +well. Am I to be held accountable for the dissipation of a young fool, +who, when once the curb was removed, went headlong to destruction +without the necessity of any prompting from me." + +"We will waive that part of the question, if you please, Mr. Barclay. +I have brought with me one who can prove much more than that. Come +forward, Antoine." + +The Frenchman advanced, and Barclay grew pale as he recognized him. + +"Let us retire to a private room," continued Atwood, in a lower +tone--"I would not have Mrs. Euston and her daughter hear too +suddenly the developments I am prepared to make." + +Then turning to Edith he said-- + +"You are saved, my dear Edith. Retire with your mother, while I settle +with Mr. Barclay." + +Mechanically Barclay led the way into an adjoining room. When there, +he turned haughtily and said-- + +"Now, sir, explain yourself--tell me why my privacy is thus invaded, +and--" + +Atwood interrupted him. + +"It is useless to attempt bravado with me, sir. Your whole career is +too intimately known to me to render it of any avail. You know that +from my boyhood I have loved Miss Euston, for you may remember a +conversation which took place between us several years since, when you +were received as a visiter at her mother's house. Jealousy enabled you +to penetrate what had been carefully veiled from others, and you taxed +me with what I would not deny. Do you remember the words you used to +the boy you then spoke to? That you would move heaven and earth to win +Edith Euston." + +"To what does all this tend?" asked Barclay, in an irritated tone. + +"Patience, and you will see. I returned from Europe and found that +Mrs. Euston's family had left for Havanna. Her lawsuit had gone +against her, and she had lost her home. Nothing more was known of her. +I lost no time in following her. I reached Cuba, and after many +inquiries, traced her to the house of the family which had received +her beneath their roof. There I heard the history of her son's unhappy +death, at the moment he was about to confer independence upon his +mother and sister. _You_ were mentioned as a visiter after his death; +your _generous_ offer to share with Miss Euston as your wife the +wealth which should have been hers was dwelt on. All this aroused a +vague suspicion in my mind. I made minute inquiries, and traced you +through all the orgies of your dissipation. One night I was following +up the inquiry, and I entered a tavern much frequented by foreigners. +A man sat apart in gloomy silence. One of his comrades said-- + +"'Antoine grieves over the loss of his bird. All the money the +American paid him does not make him forget that he sold his best +friend!' + +"By an electric chain of thought, the incident which attended poor +Euston's last moments, occurred to me. I approached the man, and +addressed him in French, for I saw that he was a native of that +country. I spoke of his bird. He shook his head and said-- + +"'It is not the loss of the bird, monsieur, but the use that was made +of him, that troubles my conscience.' + +"In short, to condense a long story, I learned from Antoine, that he +remained in your lodgings several days, until the mackaw he sold to +you became sufficiently accustomed to you to be caressed without +biting. During that time you had a room darkened, and required him to +train the bird to fly at a light and overturn it. When he was +dismissed, his curiosity was excited, and he watched your movements. +He nightly dogged your steps, and traced you to the garden of the +villa. He stood within a few feet of you on the night of Euston's +death, and beheld the use to which you put his bird. His eyes, +accustomed to the gloom without, beheld your dark form glide to the +side of your victim. He saw your murderous hand pressed upon the +breast of the dying youth." + +"'T is false--false. I defy him to prove it." + +"It is true, sir--the evidence is such as would condemn you in any +court; and now listen to me. I offer you lenient terms, in +consideration of the ties of relationship which bind you to those you +have so cruelly oppressed. One third of the fortune for which you have +paid so fearful a price shall be yours, if you will sign a paper I +have with me, which will restore the remainder to Mrs. Euston. If you +refuse, I have in my pocket a writ of arrest, and the officers are in +the shrubbery awaiting my orders to execute it. Comply with my terms +and I suffer you to escape." + +Thus confronted by imminent danger, Barclay seemed to lose his courage +and presence of mind. He measured the floor with rapid steps a few +moments, and then turning to Atwood motioned for the paper, to which +he affixed his signature without uttering a word. + +"There is yet another condition," said Atwood. + +"Leave this country within forty-eight hours. If, after that time, I +am made aware of your presence within the jurisdiction of the United +States, I will have you arrested as a murderer. The peace of mind of +those I have rescued from your power shall not be periled by your +presence within the same land they inhabit." Barclay ground his teeth +with rage. + +"I _shall_ leave it, be assured, but not to escape from this absurd +charge." + +"Go then. I care not from what motive." + +Another instant, and Barclay had passed from the room. Edith and her +mother traveled to their former home in the beautiful land of Florida, +under the protection of Atwood, and there, amid rejoicing friends, +surrounded by all the happy associations of her bright youth, she gave +her hand to her faithful lover. + +Barclay perished in a street brawl, in a foreign land, and the whole +of her brother's estate finally devolved upon her. + + + + +A VOICE FOR POLAND. + +BY WM. H. C. HOSMER. + + + Up, for encounter stern + While unsheathed weapons gleam; + The beacon-fires of Freedom burn, + Her banners wildly stream; + Awake! and drink at purple springs-- + Lo! the "White Eagle" flaps his wings + With a rejoicing scream, + That sends an old, heroic thrill + Through hearts that are unconquered still. + + Leap to your saddles, leap! + Tried wielders of the lance, + And charge as when ye broke the sleep + Of Europe, at the call of France: + The knightly deeds of other years + Eclipse, ye matchless cavaliers! + While plume and penon dance-- + That prince, upon his phantom steed, + In Ellster lost your ranks shall lead. + + Flock round the altar, flock! + And swear ye will be free; + Then rush to brave the battle shock + Like surges of a maddened sea; + Death, with a red and shattered brand + Yet clinging to the rigid hand, + A blissful fate would be, + Contrasted with that darker doom + A branded brow--a living tomb. + + Speed to the combat, speed! + And beat oppression down, + Or win, by martrydom, the meed + Of high and shadowless renown; + Ye weary exiles, from afar + Came back! and make the savage Czar + In terror clutch his crown; + While wronged and vengeful millions pour + Defiance at his palace-door. + + Throng forth with souls to dare, + From huts and ruined halls! + On the deep midnight of despair + A beam of ancient glory falls: + The knout, the chain and dungeon cave + To frenzy have aroused the brave; + Dismembered Poland calls, + And through a land opprest, betrayed, + Stalks Kosciusko's frowning shade. + + + + +TO HER WHO CAN UNDERSTAND IT. + +BY MAYNE REID. + + + They tell me, lady, that thy heart is changed-- + That on thy lip there is another name; + I'll not believe it--though for life estranged-- + I know thy love's lone worship is the same. + The bee that wanders on the summer breath, + May wanton safely among leaves and flowers, + But by the honied jar it clings till death-- + There is no change for hearts that loved like ours. + + You may not mock me--'tis an idle game-- + The lip may lie, the eye with bright beguiling + May, from the world, conceal a suffering flame, + But 'tis the eye and not the heart is smiling; + And I, too, have that power of deceiving, + By the strong pride of an unfeeling will, + The cold and cunning world in its believing-- + What boots it all? The heart will suffer still. + + Comes there not o'er thy spirit, when 'tis dreaming + In the lone hours of the voiceless night, + When the sweet past like a new present seeming, + Brings back those rosy hours of love and light? + Comes there not o'er thy dreaming spirit then + Delicious joy--although 'tis but a vision-- + That we have met, caressed and kissed again, + And revel still among those sweets Elysian? + + Comes there not o'er thy spirit when it wakes, + And finds, with sleep, the vision too hath parted + A lone depression, till thy proud heart aches, + And from thy burning orb the tear hath started? + And with sad memories through thy bosom thronging, + Within thy heart's most secret deep recesses + Feel'st thou not then an agony of longing + To dream again of those divine caresses? + + To dream them o'er and o'er, or deem them real, + While penitence is speaking in thy sighs-- + For this, unlike thy dream, is not ideal-- + It brings the pallid cheek, the moistened eyes: + Then, lady, mock not love so deeply hearted, + With that light seeming which deceit can give-- + The love I promised thee, when last we parted, + Shall never be another's while _you_ live. + + +[Illustration: Engraved by W. E. Tu +A PIC NIC ON OLDEN TIME. +Engraved Expressly for Graham's magazine] + + + + +A PIC-NIC IN OLDEN TIME. + +BY QUEVEDO. + +[SEE ENGRAVING.] + + +Joy is as old as the universe, yet as young as a June rose: and a +pic-nic has of all places been its delight, since the little quiet +family _fêtes champêtres_ of Adam and Eve in the garden of Eden. So it +is of no especial consequence in what reign of what kingdom our clever +artist has laid his scene--and sooth to say, from the diversified and +pleasantly incongruous costume and accessories of the picture, it +might puzzle an uninitiated to tell. But we, who are in the secrets of +Maga, and to whom the very brain-workings of her poets and painters +are as palpable as the crystal curdling of the lake beneath the filmy +breath of the Frost King, of course know all about it, and will +whisper in your ear the key to the pretty harmonies of wood and sky +and happy faces which he has spread out in a sort of visible cavatina, +or dear little love-song, beneath your eye. + +It was a gay time at Sweetbriar Lodge--for the fair Alice Hawthorn had +just been married to the Squire of Deerdale, and the happy pair +(new-married people were even in those times happy, although they were +not so set down in the newspapers,) had determined to spend the +honeymoon quietly at home, like sensible people, instead of posting +off to Bath or Brighton; or mewing themselves up in some outlandish +corner of the country, where they could see and hear nothing but +themselves, until they were ready to commence the married life by +being cloyed with each other's society. The season was mid-summer, and +the weather so balmy and beautiful that after wandering about in the +woods and fields all day, and watching the moon creep stealthily up +the sky to view herself in the fountain, one felt a longing to make +his bed on the fresh turf under the katydid's bower, and sleep there. +Of course I don't mean the young and happy bridegroom. He never +dreamed of being absent from his Alice; and he even felt quite jealous +of her little sister Emma, who used sometimes to come and put her +laughing, roguish face and curly head between the lovers, as they were +sitting on the sofa or reclining on the green turf by the little +fountain. + +But Alice had another sister, older than herself, and who had already +refused several excellent offers of marriage--declaring that she +intended to live and die single, unless she should fall in love with +some wandering minstrel or prince in disguise, like Lalla Rookh. Her +name was Hortensia; but on account of her proud indifference to the +attentions and compliments which were every where offered to her +wonderful beauty, she was usually called Haughty Hawthorn--a name +which seemed to please her better than all the flatteries of which she +was the object. She was already twenty-two, and ripening into the full +magnificence of glorious womanhood--her heart yet untouched by the +electric dart of love, and her fancy free as the birds of air. + +Now it was quite natural that the gentle Alice, whom love had made so +happy, should willingly enter into a conspiracy with her husband and a +parcel of the young people of the neighborhood against the peace and +comfort of her haughty sister--deeming of course--as I myself am also +of opinion--that a young lady out of love ought to be supremely +miserable, whatever she herself may think about it. + +Keeping in view the peculiar requisites required by Haughty in a +lover, the plan was to get up an old-fashioned pic-nic, at which a +young friend of Squire Deerdale, who was studying for an artist, and +had just returned from Italy, where he had picked up a little music as +well as painting, should be introduced after a mysterious fashion, +which would be sure to inflame the imagination of the loveless lady. +The artist, according to the squire, was handsome as a prince and +eloquent as a minstrel, and his extensive practice in Rome had made +him perfect master of the fine arts, the art of making love included. +So the pic-nic was proposed that very evening, to take place the next +day. Hortensia, who was fond of frolick and fun as the best of them, +albeit not yet in love, fell at once into the snare; and the squire +carelessly led the conversation to turn upon the sudden and unexpected +arrival of the young Duke of St. James upon his magnificent estate +adjoining Sweetbriar Lodge, which he said had taken place that very +day. + +"The duke," said the squire, "is, as you all have heard, one of the +most romantic and sentimental youths in the world, and quite out of +the way of our ordinary extravagant, matter-of-fact young nobility. I +had the pleasure of meeting him when I was in Rome, and could not help +being charmed with him. He read and wrote poetry divinely, played the +mandolin like St. Cecilia, and sung like an improvisatore. I met him +to-day, as he was approaching home in his carriage, and found him, as +well as I could judge from a five minutes' conversation, the same as +ever. I say nothing--but should a fresh-looking, golden-haired, +dreamy-eyed youth be seen at our pic-nic to-morrow, I hope he will be +greeted with the courtesy and welcome due not only to a neighbor but a +man of genius." + +This adroitly concocted speech was drank in like wine by the +unsuspicious Hortensia. A duke! a poet! a romantic man of genius! What +was it made her heart beat so rapidly?--_her_ heart, that had never +beat out of time save over the page of the poet or the novelist--or +may be in the trance of some beautiful midnight dream, such as love to +hover around the pillows of fair maidens, and who can blame them? + +The next morning, as Willis says of one of his fine days, was astray +from Paradise; and bright and early our pic-nickers, comprising a +goodly company of young people, married and single, with several +beautiful children, including of course the roguish Emma, were on the +field selected for the day's campaign. It was a lovely spot. Under a +noble oak whose limbs, rounded into a leafy dome, shed a palpitating +shadow around a sweet little fountain, guarded by a marble naiad, +gathered the merry company upon the green velvet ottoman, +daisy-spangled, that ran around this splendid natural saloon, bower +and drawing-room combined. The day had fulfilled the golden promise of +the early morning; the air, impregnated with a sparkling, effervescing +sunshine, was as bewitching as the breath of champagne foam, and our +adventurers were in the liveliest and gayest spirits. + +Noon was culminating, and the less excitable and more worldly portion +of the company began to be thinking seriously of the bountiful +refection which had been provided for the grand occasion. Hortensia, +it was observed by Squire Deerdale and his wife, and the others who +were in the secret, had seemed absent and thoughtful, all the morning, +and little Emma had teased her sufficiently for not playing with her +as usual. At this moment a young man was seen coming down the broad +sloping glade at the foot of which the party were seated. The squire +immediately rose and welcomed the stranger, introducing him to his +bride and sister-in-law, and expressing his pleasure that he had come. +"We almost began to fear," he added, "that you had forgotten our +humble festival." + +"A _fête_ thus embellished," replied the stranger, bowing with +peculiar grace to the ladies, and glancing admiringly at Hortensia, +"is not an affair to be so easily forgotten by a wanderer who comes, +after years of exile, to revive beneath the blue skies and bluer eyes +of his native land." + +"But your mandolin, Signor Foreigner; I hope you have not forgotten +that?" + +"Oh no indeed," returned the stranger with a musical laugh, "I never +forget my little friend, whose harmonies have often been my only +company. Here it comes," pointing to a lad who just then came up, +bearing a handsome though outlandish-looking guitar gingerly across +his arm. + +Another of the party had also brought his guitar, and the two were +soon tinkling away at different parts of the grounds--the latter +surrounded by half a dozen young men and women, and several beautiful +children; while the stranger, throwing himself on the grass at the +feet of Hortensia, upon whose lap nestled the little Emma, began a +simple ballad of the olden time--while the squire and his bride stood +against the old oak behind Hortensia. At length the strain of the +young musician changed, subsiding into low and plaintive undulations. + +"It is time for us to go," whispered Alice to her husband; "we are +evidently _de trop_ here"--and the wedded pair glided noiselessly off, +casting mischievous glances at the haughty Hortensia, who sat +absorbed in the music, and tears of sympathy and rapture ready to fall +from her eyes. It was a clear case of love at first sight. + +From this pleasant reverie both musician and listener were suddenly +roused by little Emma, who, raising her head and shaking back the long +ringlets from her face, exclaimed, + +"Oh, sister, hear that! There goes the champagne, and I am so hungry. +Come, let us go to dinner." + +"Excuse me, madam," exclaimed the stranger, ceasing to play and +springing to his feet, "your beautiful little monitor is right. I was +already forgetting myself and venturing to dream as of old;" and he +offered his arm to Hortensia, with that polite freedom not only +permitted, but enjoined, by the etiquette of the pic-nic. + +"And do you call it forgetfulness to dream?" inquired Hortensia. + +"With so fair a reality before me, yes; but at other times to dream is +to live." + +"Oh, yes, it _is_ nice to dream!" broke in the little Emma. "Almost as +nice as a wedding. Now last night I dreamt that you were married, +Haughty, like sister Alice." + +A lambent rosy flame seemed to envelop for an instant the beautiful +Hortensia, disappearing instantly, yet leaving its scarlet traces on +cheek and brow. + +"What say you, my pretty one," said the stranger, patting the lovely +child upon the head, "what say you to a sandwich and a glass of wine +with me, here on the greensward? (They had now approached the +_table_--if a snow-white damask spread upon the velvet grass, and +loaded with tempting viands could be called so.) Is not that better +than dreams?" + +"I love wine, sir, but mamma and sister say I shouldn't drink it, +because it makes my eyes red. Now _your_ eyes are as bright as stars. +Do you drink wine?" + +It was the stranger's turn to blush. And this little childish prattle +seemed to have removed the barrier of strangership from between the +two young people, who exchanged glances of a sort of merry vexation, +and seemed to understand each other as if they were old friends. + +That was a merry meal, "all under the greenwood tree," and on the +margin of that sweet little fountain, whose waters came up to the very +lip of the turf, which it refreshed with a sparkling coolness that +ever renewed the brightness of the flowers upon its bosom. After the +dinner was over, a dance was proposed, and the services of the +handsome stranger, as musician, were cheerfully offered and promptly +accepted. It was observed, however, that Hortensia, usually crazy for +dancing, strolled pensively about with little Emma at her side, and at +length seated herself on a little grassy bank, remote from the +dancers, yet where she could overlook the scene. + +There was a little pause in the dance, and Squire Deerdale approached +the stranger and whispered, + +"Do you like her?" + +"She's as beautiful as Juno, but I dare not hope that she would ever +love a poor vagabond like me. She deserves a prince of the blood, at +the very least." + +"Never mind!--_Vedremo_, as we say in Italy;" and with a laugh the +young man bounded again into the dance, while the stranger redoubled +his attention to his guitar. + +The day began to wane, and the shadows of a neighboring mountain to +creep slowly across the lea; and yet, so absorbed was that gay company +in the merry pleasures of the day, that hours glided by unnoticed; and +it was not until the round, yellow moon rose over the eastern hills, +as if peeping out to see the sun set, that they thought of breaking up +a scene of little less than enchantment. + +The stranger scarcely left the side of Hortensia, who seemed +completely subdued and fascinated by the serious eloquence, the +inexhaustible brilliancy of his conversation, as well as enthralled by +the classic beauty of his face, and the respectful yet tender glances +which he from time to time cast upon her face. It may also be supposed +that the hints casually dropped by the squire the night before, +respecting his distinguished acquaintance, the young Duke of St. +James, had not been without their effect. Sooth to say, however, that +the hitherto cold and impassive Hortensia was really in love, and that +she had too much self-respect to make any conditions in the bestowal +of her admiration. She was haughty, proud and ambitious--yet at the +same time high-minded and generous where her feelings were really +interested. + +Much may be accomplished in an afternoon between two congenial hearts +that meet for the first time; and it is not at all surprising that on +their way home the stranger and Hortensia should have lingered a +little behind the rest of the party, engaged in deep and earnest talk. + +"Beautiful being," whispered the stranger, "I have at length found my +heart's idol, whom in dreams I have ever worshiped. What need of long +acquaintanceship between hearts made for each other? Lady, I love +you!" + +"Sir, sir, I beg you to pause. You know not what you are saying--you +cannot mean that--" + +"But I tell you he does mean it, though," exclaimed a merry voice +close at the lady's elbow; and turning round, she saw her mischievous +brother-in-law, who had been demurely following their tardy footsteps. + +"Brother! you here! I--really--am quite astonished!" + +"And," interrupted the stranger, while a dark flush came over his +face, "allow me to say, Squire Deerdale, that I also am astonished at +this violation of the rights of a friendship even so old and sincere +as ours." + +"Well, well, I beg your pardon, fair lady; and as for you, sir, after +you have heard my explanation, I shall be prepared to give you any +satisfaction you may require. You must know, then, my dear old friend, +that from a few careless words I dropped last evening, by way of joke, +this young lady has imbibed the idea that you are the young Duke of +St. James in disguise; and for the purpose of preventing any +misunderstandings for the future, it is requisite that my sister and +my friend Walter Willie, the artist, should comprehend one another's +position fully." + +"Good heavens! madam, you cannot believe that I was accessory to this +mad prank of your brother's? Do not believe it for the world." + +"No, no, I acquit you and every body but myself. I am sure I intended +no harm by my thoughtless joke. Come, come, make up the matter at +once, so that I may hasten back to Alice, who will begin to grow +jealous, directly." + +"Madam, dear madam, (Hortensia turned away her head with an imperious +gesture,) I have only to beg your pardon for having too long intruded +upon your attention, and to take my leave. The poor artist must still +worship his ideal at a distance. For him there is but the world of +imagination. No such bright reality as being beloved rests in his +gloomy future. Farewell!" and the young man, bowing for a moment over +the hand of Hortensia, withdrew. + +"Brother, brother, what have you done!" passionately exclaimed the +beauty, in a voice choked by sobs. "For a foolish joke you have driven +away the only being who has ever interested my lonely heart. And now I +can never, never be happy again." + +"But, dear Hortensia, would you stoop to love a mere artist?" + +"Stoop, sir,--stoop! I know not what you mean. Think you so meanly of +me as to believe I would sell myself for wealth and a title? Proud I +may be--but not, I thank God, mercenary nor mean. And what a lofty, +noble spirit is that of your friend! What lord or duke could match the +height of his intellect or the gorgeousness of his imagination. Oh, +too soon my beautiful dream is broken!" and the young lady, all power +of her usual self-restraint being lost, wept like a child upon the +shoulder of her brother. + +"Nay, nay, sister dear, weep not," at length said the squire, tenderly +raising her head and leading her homeward. "All is not lost that is in +danger. And so that you really _have_ lost your hard little heart to +my noble, glorious friend, I'll take care that it is soon +recovered--or at any rate another one quite as good. Come, come, cheer +up! All will go well." + +The squire, although not usually rated as a prophet, predicted rightly +for once; for the very next day saw young Walter Willie at Sweetbriar +Lodge, with a face as handsome and happy as the morning. Hortensia was +ill, and must not be disturbed; and at this information his features +suddenly became overcast, as you may have seen a spring sky by a thick +cloud, springing up from nobody knows where. However, the squire +entered directly after, and whispered a few words to his guest, which +seemed to restore in a measure the brightness of his look. + +"And you really think, then, that I may hope?" + +"Nay, my friend, you may do as you like about that. All men may hope, +you know Shakspeare says. But I tell you that Hortensia has fallen in +love with your foolish face--it's just like her!--and that's all about +it. Come in and take some breakfast. Oh, I forgot--you've no appetite. +Of course not. Well, you'll find some nice fresh dew in those +morning-glories yonder, and I will rejoin you in a minute. We 'll make +a day of it." + +That evening the moon shone a million times brighter, the sky was a +million times bluer, and the nightingale sung a million times sweeter +than ever before. At least so thought the beautiful Hortensia and her +artist-lover, as they strolled, arm-in-arm, through the woody lawn +that skirted the garden of Sweetbriar Lodge, and held sweet converse +of immortal things by gazing into each other's eyes. And so ends our +veracious history of the Pic-Nic in Olden Time. + + + + +TO THE VIOLET. + +BY H. T. TUCKERMAN. + + + Sweet trophy of life's morning, fresh and calm, + Dropped from the gleanings of relentless time, + How from thy dainty chalice steals the balm + That hung like incense o'er its dewy prime! + + The lily's stateliness thou dost not own, + Nor glow voluptuous of the damask rose, + Thou canst not emulate the laurel's crown, + Nor, like the Cereus, watch while all repose. + + And these gay rivals of parterre and field + May freely drink the sunshine and the dew, + But only unto thee does heaven yield + The pure reflection of her cloudless blue. + + Thy tint will sometimes darken till it wear + A purple such as decked the eastern kings, + And yet, like innocence, all unaware + Its tribute to the wind thy blossom flings. + + Symbol of what is cherished and untold, + Thy fragrance oft reveals thee to the sight, + Peering in beauty from the common mould, + As casual blessings the forlorn requite. + + Thy image upon Laura's robe was wrought, + O'er which her poet with devotion mused, + And gentle souls, I ween, have ever caught + From thee a solace that the world refused. + + The Tuscan flower-girls delight to cheer + Each pensive exile with thy scented leaves, + Fit largess of a clime to fancy dear, + Which a new blandishment from thee receives. + + Grief's frenzy, when it melts, of thee will rave, + As of a thing too winsome to decay, + And thus Laertes at his sister's grave + Bids violets spring from her unsullied clay. + + Lowly incentive to celestial thought! + We ne'er with listless step can pass thee by, + For thou with tender embassies art fraught, + Like the fond beaming of a northern eye. + + Hence thou art sacred to our human needs; + Laid on the maiden's white and throbbing breast + Thy delicate odor for the absent pleads, + And mourners strew thee where their idols rest. + + In those wild hours when feeling chafed its bound, + And deepened more that utterance was denied, + In thee persuasive messengers I found + That reached the haven of love's wayward tide. + + And I have borne thee to the couch of death + When naught remained to do but wait and pray, + And marked the sudden flush and quickened breath + That proved thee dear though all had passed away! + + + + +THEY MAY TELL OF A CLIME. + +TO ---- ----. + +BY CHARLES E. TRAIL. + + + They may tell of a clime more delightful than this, + The land of the orange, the myrtle and vine; + Where the roses blush red beneath Zephyr's warm kiss, + And the bright beams of summer unceasingly shine. + But I know a sweet valley, a beautiful spot, + Where the turf is so green, and the breezes are bland; + And methinks, if you'll share there my ivy-crowned cot, + There'll be no place on earth like my own native land. + + A palace 'neath Italy's star-covered sky, + Unblest by thy presence would desolate be; + But cheered by the light of thy soft beaming eye, + Ah! sweet were a tent in the desert with thee. + For 'tis love--O! 'tis love which thus hallows the ground, + And brightens the gloom of the anchorite's cell; + And the Eden of earth--wheresoe'er it be found-- + Is the spot where the heart's cherished idol doth dwell. + + Then come to my cottage--though cool be the shade, + And verdant the sod 'neath the wide-spreading bough-- + Where the wood-dove its nest 'mid the foliage hath made, + Yet lone is that cottage, and desolate now. + For as the green forest, bereft of the dove, + No more with sweet echoes would musical be-- + Even so is the rose-mantled bower of love, + Unblest and uncheered, if not gladdened by thee. + + + + +A DREAM WITHIN A DREAM + +BY C. A. WASHBURN. + + +I dreamed that for a long time I courted Charlotte--what need of +dreaming? It was true. Nevertheless I dreamed that for a long time I +courted Charlotte, and at last, which was not true, married her. And I +thought that Charlotte and I lived very happily together. + +She loved me better than she ever thought she could before we were +married, for I loved her exceedingly, and was very kind to her. + +I remember how long it was that I wooed her. Always hoping, though +sometimes fearing that she would never love me so as to marry me; how, +when at last we were married, and I carried her home to my pretty +cottage, I could hardly contain myself for joy; and when I saw her +seated in our own parlor on the wedding eve, I could not keep a tear +from trickling down my cheek; and how she kissed away the tear, and +when she knew the cause, how she burst into a flood of tears, and said +she would love me the better for my having loved her so; and how that +we were from that time wholly united in heart and sympathy. + +Then, in the course of time, we had two darling children, which we +both loved--and I thought my cup of happiness completed. I had been an +ambitious man in my youth, and had experienced much of the +disappointment incident to a life for fame. But when God had given us +two such lovely children, I thought it was abusing his mercy to +neglect them for the applause of the world--and so devoted myself +entirely to their welfare. If I worked hard and was inclined to feel +peevish and cross, I thought how that I was laboring to make happy, +and good, and great, the dear boys, and I forgot every thing else. If +I became tired of the turmoil of life, I was the more happy when I got +home, for the children were always waiting and glad to see me, and +their presence immediately banished all anxiety and care. They seemed +so happy when I came--for Charlotte used to teach them to prize my +presence by dating their pleasures by my arrival; that I thought it +joy enough for one mortal to have looked upon the impersonation of +innocence and joy in his own children. + +Then, when the boys were asleep, how we used to talk about them; how +anxious we were when either of them was restless or unquiet! How we +used to reckon on the joy they would give us in age, and how in the +happiness of our lot we shed tears of happines and joy! With what +fervor did we unite in prayer for their health and preservation, and +wish all the world as happy as we were. We became selfish in our joy, +and felt to care little for any thing but home, and in our enjoyment +of the gift we had like to have forgotten the Giver. + +But at length Charlie, the younger boy, was sick, and we feared he +would die. We then remembered in whose hands his life was, and, I +believe, ever after regarded our treasures as trusts committed to our +keeping. Charlie suffered great pain, but he complained not. His very +submission smote our hearts, and though we could not think he was to +die, yet we thought he was too good to live. Benny could no longer +smile upon us, but watched by his brother's bed without speaking or +moving, unless to do him some service. We felt anxious about Charles, +yet forbore to speak of our anxiety, though when he was asleep we +could no longer conceal our sorrow and fears. And when one day the +physician imprudently said in his hearing that he feared Charles would +die, he looked at him in surprise, as if he had not thought of that; +and kissing the fevered brow of his sick brother, he came and stood by +his mother's side, and looking in her face as much as to say you wont +let brother die, he saw a tear in the clear blue eye of his mother, +and he sobbed aloud; and Charlotte could contain herself no longer, +but dropped hot tears on his face faster than she could kiss them +away. Then I feared if Charlie should die lest Benny should die too; +and then I knew that Charlotte could not bear all this, and I prayed +in my heart to God for Charles. And the next day, when the good +physician said the danger was past, we felt to thank God that he had +so chastened our affections, and ever loved him the more. + +So we lived in love and happiness for many years, and all that time +not a shade of discord passed between us; and I often thought what a +dreary world this had been to me if Charlotte had never been mine. I +used to pity my bachelor neighbor, and, as I thought, I could see the +tear of disappointment in his eye when he witnessed my happy lot. I +saw it was a vision, and only the figure of Margaret, my once loved +and pretty sister, who existed then but in the land of spirits, was +before me. + +And I told Margaret of the vision, and could not repress a sigh that +it was not reality; and musing long on what I was, and what I might +have been had nature dealt with me more kindly, until the vision +returned. Again I lived the life of youth's fancy. + +But the boys now began to mingle a little with the world, and we +feared we were not equal to the task of educating them. We trembled +when we thought of the dangers before them, though we could not +believe it possible that they should ever do wrong. Alas! what trouble +was before us! + +I had carried home a box of strawberries, and set them in the pantry, +and setting myself down in the library, waited for Charlotte to come +home from shopping. I saw Charlie come from the pantry, but thought +nothing at the time, and when Benny came in, bade him bring them to me +that I might divide them between them--they were gone; Charles must +have taken them, for no one else had been in the pantry. I called him +to me, and asked if he had taken them. I asked without concern, for I +knew if he had, he did it supposing it to be right. He said, "No, +sir." "Ah," said I, "you did." He then inquired what ones I meant, and +I told him, and told him he must confess it, or I must punish him. But +when I talked so seriously of punishment, he seemed confounded. He +turned pale, and only said, "I did not do it." That was a trying +moment; and when Charlotte came in, we considered long and anxiously +what we ought to do. Should we let the theft go unpunished, and the +falsehood to be repeated. Again we urged him to confess. The answer +was still the same. There was no alternative but a resort to what I +had prayed Heaven might spare me. I punished him severely, but he +confessed not. I wished I had not begun, but now I must go on. I still +increased the castigation, and it was only when I told him that I +would stop when he owned the theft, and not before, that he confessed +he had taken the berries. + +After this cruel punishment he went out and found Benny, who had been +crying piteously all the time, and then my two boys went and hid +themselves. I would have suffered the rack to have recalled that hour. +It was too late. On going into the kitchen shortly after, I found a +poor woman of the neighborhood with the box, which she said her +thievish son had confessed he stole from the pantry. Perhaps some +parents imagine the feelings of Charlotte and myself when we made this +discovery. But they are few. The boys both shunned us, and we dreaded +to see them. But at last we sent for them to come in, and they dared +not refuse to obey. I took Charles in my arms. I asked him to forgive +me; I told him who took the berries; I shed tears without measure; I +begged him to forgive me--to kiss me as he was wont. He could not do +it. It was cold and mechanical. His little heart seemed broke. Had he +died I thought I could have borne it, but I could not endure this. +When he slept he was fitful and troubled; ah! his troubles could not +be greater than mine. I slept not that night; no, nor for many nights +after that; but I watched him in his sleep, and many a hot tear did I +drop on his cheek, which he wiped off as poison; and for many weeks I +would rise several times every night, and go and gaze on his yet +pretty face, on which was stamped the curse for my own cruel haste. + +In the midst of these sore trials, the lovely face of Margaret again +appeared before me, and again the vision vanished into nothing. And I +told her this part of the dream, and even then could not suppress a +tear that it was a dream, and that the children of W---- could never +have an existence or a name. + +Then the kind Margaret spoke words of comfort to me, and made me +repress the half-formed feeling of discontent. + +"Have you not," said she, "said you would be satisfied for only one +hour of the love of Charlotte?" + +"True," I replied, "and that dream was worth more than all my life +before." + +"Have you not known in that the joys of a parent, and have you not +seen what sorrows and trials might have been yours, from which you +have now escaped? And do you now complain of your lot, W----? You know +not the designs of Providence. Will not Charlotte be yours in the +world to come?" + +"God grant it!" said I; "but where will be Benny and Charles? They can +never be, and I shall die, and the flame of parental love will burn in +me, and never can it have an object." + +"Hush you!" said Margaret, "cannot God give you in the other world +those spirits of fancy? Did you not enjoy them in the dream, and +cannot the same power make you enjoy them in Elysium? Is it nothing +that God has done for you in showing you what might have been, and +what can be _there_? Are you still ungrateful, and do you still +distrust his goodness? Is it nothing that he has kept you from +temptation, and that you have so clear a conscience? Will you not be +worthy of Charlotte in heaven; and have you no gratitude for all this? +Have you not dear friends still; and will not Margaret be a +guardian-angel to you so long as you sojourn in this valley of tears?" + +"Ah!" said I, "I am blest beyond my deserts, and I will no more +complain, but thank my heavenly Father for the dream-children he hath +given me." + +I felt reproved by the words of Margaret, for I felt I had often +indulged in useless repinings; and I determined I would do so no more, +but patiently await my time to enjoy the loved ones, both real and +ideal, in heaven. I again turned to speak to Margaret--but Margaret +had vanished to the land of spirits, and I was alone, the solitary man +I had long been. It was but a dream within a dream. + + + + +PASSED AWAY. + +BY W. WALLACE SHAW. + + + With wearied step, and heavy heart, + O'erburdened with life's woes-- + My soul bowed down with grief and care + The orphan only knows-- + I strayed along old ocean's shore, + Where I had wandered oft before, + My grief to hide from men; + + I listened--something seemed to say-- + The joys that once did fill thy breast + Where, oh! where are they? + A voice that mingled with the roar + Of dashing waves against the shore, + In hollow tone, replied-- + "They _bloomed_; and _died_!" + + + + +AN EVENING SONG, + +BY PROFESSOR WM. CAMPBELL. + +[AN EXTRACT.] + + + Lyre of my soul, awake--thy chords are few, + Feeble their tones and low, + Wet with the morning and the evening dew + Of ceaseless wo. + The time hath been to me and thee, my lyre, + When soul of fire + Was ours, and notes and aspirations bold + Of higher hopes and prouder promise told-- + Those days have flown-- + Now we are old, + Old and alone! + + Old in our youth--for sorrow maketh old, + And disappointment withereth the frame, + And harsh neglect will smother up the flame, + That else had proudly burned--and the cold + Offcasting of affection will repel + The warm life-current back upon the heart, + And choke it nigh to bursting--yet 't is well, + And wise-intended, that the venomed dart + Shall bear its sure and speedy remedy. + Why should the wretched wish to live? to be + One in this cold wide world--ever to feel + That others feel not--wounds that will not heal-- + A bruised, though yet unbroken spirit's strife-- + A waning and a wasting out of life-- + A longing after loving--and the curse + To know + One's self unknown-- + In secrecy a hopeless hope to nurse-- + Down to the grave to go + Unloved--alone! + + Yet not alone! Pardon, thou gentle breeze, + That comest o'er the waters with the tread + Of beauty stealing to the sufferer's bed, + To cool the burning brow, and whisper peace. + Pardon, ye sweet wild flow'rets, that each morn + Woo us to brush the dew-drop from the lid + Of tearful innocence, and meekly warn + Of worth in garb of lowliest texture hid. + Beings of gentlest life, ye murmuring streams, + Lull of our waking, music of our dreams, + Ye things of artless merriment, that throw + Around you gladness, wheresoe'er ye flow-- + And ye dark mountains, down whose changeful sides + The mystic guardian, giant shadow strides, + Whose kindly frown, howe'er the storms prevail, + Peace and repose ensureth to the vale-- + Ye tall proud forests, that forever sway + In kingly fury, or in graceful play-- + Ye bright blue waters whose untiring drip + Against this island shore doth lightly break, + Gentle and noiseless as the parting lip + Of dreaming infant on its mother's cheek, + Pardon my rash averment--pardon, ye + Flow'rets and streamlets, mountains, woods and waves, + That pour into the soul a melody, + Like to the far down music of the caves + Of ocean, heard not, felt not, save within, + Seeking to joy the darker depths to win-- + Oh! while your sweet and sacred voices steal + Into my spirit, as the joyous fall + Of the warm sunbeam on the frozen rill, + To wake the voice that slumbereth, and call + To bear you company + In your glad hymnings, let the wretched own + He cannot be + Alone! + + Never alone!--awake, my soul--on high + The glorious sun his thousand rays has flung + Athwart the vaulted sky-- + Lo! there the heavens their mighty harp have strung, + The gold, the silver and the crimson chord, + To hymn their evening hymn unto the Lord. + Hark! heard ye not that glorious burst of song, + Which, touched by hands unseen, those chords sent forth, + Bidding the attuned spheres the notes prolong + Deeper and louder, till the trembling earth + Catcheth the thrilling strain-- + Echoeth back again-- + From the bosom of ocean a voice + Pealeth forth, and the mountains rejoice + And the plains and the woods and the valleys rebound, + And the Universe all is a creature of sound, + That runneth his race + Through the infinite regions of infinite space, + Till arrived at the throne + Of HIM who alone + Is worthy of honor and glory and praise. + + And it is ever thus--morn, noon and eve, + And in the still midnight, undying + Choirs of creation's minstrels weave + Sweet symphony of incense, vying + In wrapt intricacy of endless songs. + Ever, oh ever thus they sing, + But to our soul's dull ear belongs + Seldom the trancing sense + To list the universal worshiping, + Thrill with the glorious theme, and drink its eloquence. + + Mocking all our soul's desiring, + Distant now the notes are stealing, + And the minstrels high reining, + Drapery blue their forms concealing. + + + + +THE OCEAN-BURIED. + +COMPOSED, AND DEDICATED TO MISSES HARRIET AND MARY HALSEY, + +Of Blooming Grove, O. C., N. Y., + +BY MISS AGNES H. JONES. + + +=Andantino Soave=. + + +[Illustration: music] + + "Bury me not in the deep, deep sea." The words came faint and mournfully, + From the pallid lips of a youth who lay On the cabin couch where, + +[Illustration: music] + + day by day, He had wasted and pined, till o'er his brow The death shade + had slowly pass'd, and now, When the land and his fond loved home were + nigh, They had gath'rd around to see him die. + + + Let my death-slumber be where a mother's prayer + And sister's tears can be blended there. + Oh, it will be sweet ere the heart's throb is o'er, + To know, when its fountain shall gush no more, + That those it so fondly has yearn'd for will come, + To plant the first wild-flower of spring on my tomb. + Let me lie where lov'd ones can weep over me-- + Bury me not in the deep, deep sea! + + And there is another, her tears would be shed + For him who lays far in an ocean bed; + In hours that it pains me to think of now, + She has twin'd these locks and kiss'd this brow-- + In this hair she has wreathed shall the sea-snake hiss? + The brow she has press'd shall the cold wave kiss? + For the sake of that bright one that wails for me, + Bury me not in the deep, deep sea! + + "She hath been in my dreams"--his voice failed short, + They gave no heed to his dying prayer.-- + They have lowered him o'er the vessel's side-- + Above him hath closed the solemn tide. + Where to dip her wing the wild fowl rests-- + Where the blue waves dance with their foamy crests-- + Where the billows bound and the winds sport free, + They have buried him there, in the deep, deep sea. + + + + +REVIEW OF NEW BOOKS. + + + _Calaynos: A Tragedy. By George H. Boker, E. H. Butler + & Co. Philadelphia, pp. 218._ + +The spirit of English poetry has been for years eminently lyric; the +few attempts at the epic or dramatic having been laid aside, if not +permanently, at least for a time. The age has been too busy in working +out, with machinery and steam, its own great epic thought, to find +leisure to listen to any thing longer than a single bugle-blast +encouraging its advancement. We cannot but believe, however, if we may +be allowed an analogical inference, that the age is fast approaching +the climax of its utilitarian inventions, and that man, instead of +chasing through unknown regions every will-o-wisp of his brain, in the +hope of bringing it a captive to the Patent-office, will sit modestly +down to apply to their various uses the discoveries already made. Then +will the healthy feast of literature once more begin, and the public +cease to be surfeited by the watery hash which has been daily set +steaming before them. In the volume under consideration we think we +can discern the promise of the return of the good old spirit of +English poetry--of solid honest thought expressed in straight forward +Saxon. The story, which is one of the chivalrous days of Spain, while +it is devoid of trick is full of thrilling interest, and its style, +while it is eminently poetical, neither swells into bombast nor +descends to the foppery so common among the verse-makers of our day. +There is a stately, old-fashioned tread in the diction, as of a man in +armor, who, should he attempt to gather flowers of mere prettiness, +would crush them at the first touch of his iron gauntlet, and who, if +he seems to move ungracefully at times, owes his motion to his weight +of mail. Calaynos, the hero, is in every respect a nobleman, not only +in blood, but what is better, in mind. He is a scholar, one who, in +the words of Dona Alda his wife, + + --uses time as usurers do their gold, + Making each moment pay him double interest. + +He is a philosopher-- + + Things nigh impossible are plain to him; + His trenchant will, like a fine-tempered blade, + With unturned edge, cleaves through the baser iron. + +He is generous and has + + --a predetermined trust in man; + +and holds that + + He who hates man must scorn the Source of man, + And challenge as unwise his awful Maker. + +The character of Dona Alda is noble and womanly--her chief trait being +her great pride and jealous care of her honor. She conceives that no +one will brave the + + --peril, such as he must brook, + Who dares to love the wife of great Calaynos. + +Her maid, Martina, tells her that + + --Queens of Spain + Have had their paramours-- + +and she replies, + + --So might it be, + _Yet never hap to bride of a Calaynos_! + +Don Luis, the villain of the plot, thus paints his own picture: + + --I was not formed for good: + To what Fate orders I must needs submit: + The sin not mine, but His who made me thus-- + Not in my will but in my nature lodged. + + * * * * * + + I will grasp the stable goods of life, + Nor care how foul the hand that does the deed. + +Martina is admirably drawn; her wit is excellent, and as exhaustless +as it is keen. She says of Calaynos-- + + He looks on pleasure as a kind of sin, + Calls pastime waste-time---- + + * * * * * + + I heard a man, who spent a mortal life + In hoarding up all kinds of stones and ores, + Call one, who spitted flies upon a pin, + A fool to pass his precious lifetime thus. + +She says of Oliver, Calayno's secretary, + + Yes, there he goes-- + Backward and forward, like a weaver's shuttle, + Spinning some web of wisdom most divine. + +She addresses him thus-- + + Our clay, the preachers say, was warmed to life; + But yours, your dull, cold mud, was froze to being. + _I would not be the oyster that you are + For all the pearls of wisdom in your shell!_ + +All the persons of the play are vivid and life-like. With the +beginning of the third act the interest becomes intense, and nothing +could be more vigorous and touching than the action and depth of +pathos toward the close of the piece. Every page teems with fine +thoughts and images, which lead us to believe that the mine from which +this book is a specimen, contains a golden vein of poetry which will +go far to enrich our native literature. + + + _Literary Sketches and Letters: Being the Final + Memorials of Charles Lamb, Never before Published. By + Thomas Noon Talfourd. New York: D. Appleton & Co. 1 + vol. 12mo._ + +The present work is important in more respects than one. It was needed +to clear up the obscurity which rested on several points of Lamb's +life, and it was needed to account for some of the peculiarities of +his character. The volume proves that this most genial and kindly of +humorists was tried by as severe a calamity as ever broke down the +energies of a great spirit, and the frailties commonly associated with +his name seem almost as nothing compared with the stern duties he +performed from his early manhood to his death. The present volume is +calculated to increase that personal sympathy and love for him, which +has ever distinguished the readers of Lamb from the readers of other +authors, and also to add a sentiment of profound respect for his +virtues and his fortitude. The truth is that Lamb's intellect was one +of the largest and strongest, as well as one of the finest, among the +great contemporary authors of his time, and it was altogether owing to +circumstances, and those of a peculiarly calamitous character, that +this ample mind left but inadequate testimonials of its power and +fertility. He is, and probably will be, chiefly known as an original +and somewhat whimsical essayist, but his essays, inimitable of their +kind, were but the playthings of his intellect. + +Talfourd has performed his editorial duties with his usual taste and +judgment, and with all that sweetness and grace of expression which +ever distinguishes the author of Ion. His sketches of Lamb's +companions are additions to the literary history of the present +century. Lamb's own letters, which constitute the peculiar charm of +the book, are admirable--the serious ones being vivid transcripts of +his moods of mind, and some of them almost painful in their direct +expression of agony, and the semi-serious rioting in mirth, mischief +and whim, full of wit and meaning, and full also of character and +kindliness. One of his early letters he closes, as being from his +correspondent's "afflicted, headachey, sore-throatey, humble servant." +In another he calls Hoole's translation of Tasso "more vapid than +smallest small beer, 'sun-vinegared.'" In speaking of Hazlitt's +intention to print a political pamphlet at his own expense, he comes +out with a general maxim, which has found many disciples: "The first +duty of an author, I take it, is never to pay any thing." When Hannah +More's Coelebs in Search of a Wife appeared, it was lent to him by a +precise lady to read. He thought it among the poorest of common +novels, and returned it with this stanza written in the beginning: + + If ever I marry a wife + I'd marry a landlord's daughter, + For then I may sit in the bar, + And drink cold brandy-and-water. + +In speaking of his troubles toward the close of his life, he has a +strange, humorous imagination, in every way worthy of his peculiar +genius: "My bedfellows are cough and cramp; _we sleep three in a +bed_." + +The present volume is elegantly printed, and will doubtless have a +run. It is full of matter, and that of the most interesting kind. No +reader of Lamb, especially, will be without it. + + + + _Modern French Literature. By L. Raymond de Vericour. + Edited by W. S. Chase, A. M. Boston: Gould, Kendall & + Lincoln. 1 vol. 12mo._ + +This work is the English production of a native Frenchman, and was +written for one of Chambers's series of books for the people. It is +edited, with notes alluding particularly to writers prominent in the +late French Revolution, by a young American scholar, who has recently +resided in France. The book, though deficient and sometimes incorrect +in details, deserves much praise for its general correctness and +accuracy. The author, though by no means a critic of the first class, +is altogether above the herd of Grub street hacks who commonly +undertake the popularizing of literary history. He is no Winstansley +and no Cibber. The range of his reading appears to be extensive. His +judgments are somewhat those of a school-master, but one of the +highest grade. There are several amusing errors relating to the +position of English authors, to some of which we cannot help alluding, +as they seem to have escaped the vigilant eye of the editor. Speaking +of Guizot and Sismondi as the leaders of the school of French +philosophical historians, he remarks that "the English language +possesses some good specimens of this class of history; the most +remarkable are Gibbon's Decline and Fall and the works of Mr. Millar." +This is as if the author had said that England possessed some good +specimens of the Romantic Drama, the most remarkable being +Shakspeare's Macbeth and the works of Mr. Colman. + +Again, in speaking of the novels of Paul de Kock, and protesting +against those English critics who call him the first writer of his +time and country, he says that it is as ridiculous as it would be in +Frenchmen to exalt the novels of Charles Dickens above Ivanhoe, +_Philip Augustus_ and Eugene Aram, The idea of a Frenchman thinking it +a paradox to rank Dickens above James, or even Bulwer, shows how +difficult it is for a foreigner, especially a Frenchman, to pass +beyond the external form of English literature. + +The author deserves the praise of being a sensible man, in the English +meaning of the phrase. There is one sentence in his introductory +which proves that his mind has escaped one besetting sin of the French +intellect, which has prevented its successful cultivation of politics +as a practical science. In speaking of the histories of Thiers and +Mignet, he says that they "have hatched a swarm of _Jeunes Prances_, +vociferating in their wild aberrations, emphatic eulogies on Marat, +Coulhon and Robespierre, and breathing a love of blood and +destruction, which they call the progressive march of events." + + + _Rise and Fall of Louis Philippe, Ex-King of the + French, Giving a History of the French Revolution from, + its Commencement in 1789. By Benj. Perley Poore, + Boston: Wm. D. Ticknor & Co. 1 vol. 12mo._ + +Of all the publications we have seen relating to Louis Philippe this +is the most complete and the most agreeable. The author, from his long +residence in Paris, and from his position as Historical Agent of the +State of Massachusetts, was enabled to collect a large mass of matter +relating to French history, and also to learn a great deal respecting +the Orleans dynasty, which would not naturally find its way into +print. The present volume, though it has little in relation to the +first French Revolution not generally known by students, embodies a +large number of important facts respecting Louis Philippe, which we +believe are now published for the first time. The biography itself has +the interest of a romance, for few heroes of novels ever were, in +imagination, subjected to the changes of fortune which Louis +encountered in reality. Mr. Poore's view of his character is not more +flattering than that which commonly obtains--on both sides of the +Atlantic. To sustain this disparaging opinion of his subject, however, +he is compelled to suppose policy and hypocrisy as the springs of many +actions which a reasonable charity would pronounce virtuous and +humane. It must be conceded that the conduct of the king during the +last few days of his reign was feeble, if not cowardly, but his +uniform character in other periods of his life was that of a man +possessing singular readiness and coolness in times of peril, and +encountering obstacles with a courage as serene as it was adventurous. + + + _The Tenant of Wildfield Hall. By Acton Bell, Author of + Wurthuring Heights.. New York: Harper & Brothers. 1 + vol. 12mo._ + +The appearance of this novel, so soon after the publication of +Wurthuring Heights, is an indication of Mr. Bell's intention to be a +frequent visiter, or visitation, of the public. We are afraid that the +personages he introduces to his readers will consist chiefly of one +class of mankind, and this class not the most pleasing. He is a +monomaniac on the subject of man's rascality and brutality, and crowds +his page with forcible delineations of offensive characters and +disgusting events. The power he displays is of a high but limited +order, and is exercised chiefly to make his readers uncomfortable. To +be sure the present novel is not so bad as Wurthuring Heights in the +matter of animal ferocity and impish diabolism; but still most of the +characters, to use a quaint illustration of an eccentric divine, "are +engaged in laying up for themselves considerable grants of land in the +bottomless pit," and brutality, blasphemy and cruelty constitute their +stock in trade. The author is not so much a delineator of human life +as of inhuman life. There are doubtless many scenes in The Tenant of +Wildfield Hall drawn with great force and pictorial truth, and which +freeze the blood and "shiver along the arteries;" but we think that +the author's process in conceiving character is rather logical than +imaginative, and consequently that he deals too much in unmixed +malignity and selfishness. The present novel, with all its peculiar +merits, lacks all those elements of interest which come from the +generous and gentle affections. His champagne enlivens, but there is +arsenic in it. + + + _Brothers and Sisters. By Frederika Bremer. Translated + by Mary Howitt. New York: Harper & Brothers._ + +This is by no means one of Miss Bremer's best productions, but it is +not on that account a commonplace production. The pathos, the +cheerfulness, the elevation, the sweet humane home-feeling of the +Swedish novelist, are here in much of their old power, with the +addition of universal philanthropy and the rights of labor. But we +fear that the original vein of our authoress is exhausted, and that +she is now repealing herself. It is a great mistake to suppose that a +new story, new names of characters, additional sentiments nicely +packed in new sentences, make a new novel, when the whole tone and +spirit of the production continually reminds the reader of the +authors previous efforts. It is no depreciation of Miss Bremer's +really fine powers to assert, that she lacks the creative energy of +Scott, or the ever active fancy and various observation of Dickens. + + + _Grantley Manor. By Lady Georgiana Fullerton. New York: + D. Appleton & Co. 1 vol. 12mo._ + +This is altogether one of the finest novels which have appeared for +many years. It is written with much beauty of style; evinces a +creative as well as cultivated mind, and contains a variety of +characters which are not only interesting in themselves, but have a +necessary connection with the plot and purpose. The mind of the author +has that combination of shrewdness and romantic fervor, of sense and +passion, so necessary to every novelist who desires to idealize +without contradicting the experience of common life. + + +EDITOR'S TABLE. + +To the readers of "Graham."--A series of misfortunes having bereft me +of any proprietory interest in this Magazine, the present publishers +have made a liberal arrangement with me, and for the future, the +editorial and pictorial departments of Graham's Magazine will be under +the charge of Joseph R. Chandler, Esq., J. Bayard Taylor, Esq., and +myself. + +It is due to the subscribers to "Graham" from me, to state, that from +the first hour I took charge of it, the warmest support and +encouragement were given me, and from two not very profitable +magazines "Graham" sprung at once into boundless popularity and +circulation. Money, as every subscriber knows, was freely expended +upon it, and an energy untiring and sleepless was devoted to its +business management, and had I not, in an evil hour, forgotten my own +true interests, and devoted that capital and industry to another +business which should have been confined exclusively to the magazine, +I should to-day have been under no necessity--not even of writing this +notice. + +I come back to my first love with an ardor undiminished, and an energy +not enervated, with high hopes and very bold purposes. What can be +done in the next three years, time, that great solver of doubts, must +tell. What a daring enterprize in business can do, I have already +shown in Graham's Magazine and the North American--and, alas! I have +also shown what folly can do, when business is forgotten--but I can +yet show the world that he who started life a poor boy, with but eight +dollars in his pocket, and has run such a career as mine, is hard to +be put down by the calumnies or ingratitude of any. Feeling, +therefore, that having lost one battle, "there is time enough to win +another," I enter upon the work of the "redemption of Graham," with +the very confident purposes of a man who never doubted his ability to +succeed, and who asks no odds in a fair encounter. + + GEO. R. GRAHAM. + + +An Acquisition.--Our readers will share in the pleasure with which it +is announced, that JOSEPH R. CHANDLER, Esq., the accomplished writer, +and former editor of "_The United States Gazette_," will hereafter be +"_one of us_" in the editorial management of Graham's Magazine. There +are few writers in the language who equal, and none excel Mr. Chandler +in graceful and pathetic composition. His sketches live in the hearts +of readers, while they are heart-histories recognized by thousands in +every part of the laud. An article from Mr. Chandler's pen may be +looked for in every number, and this will cause each number to be +looked for anxiously. + + +Editors Looking Up.--It is expected that an early number of "Graham" +will be graced with a portrait of our distinguished rival of the +"Lady's Book," that gentleman having "in the handsomest manner," as +they say in theatricals, sat for a picture of his goodly countenance +and proportions. At our command this has been transferred to steel, to +be handed over to the readers of "Graham," by Armstrong, an artist +whose ability is a fair warrant for a fine picture. Now if any of our +fair readers fall in love with Godey, we shall take it as a formal +slight, and shall insist upon having our face _run_ through an edition +of a magazine, to be gazed at and loved by thousands of as fine +looking people as can be crowded upon a subscription book. + + +W. E. TUCKER, ESQ.--We are very much gratified to be able to state, +that an arrangement has been made by the proprietors of "Graham" with +Mr. W. E. Tucker, whose exquisite title-pages and other gems in the +way of engraving are familiar to our readers, and that _for the year +1849, he engraves exclusively for Graham's Magazine_. + +This is but the beginning of arrangements proposed to revive the +original splendor of the pictorial department of this magazine, while +the literary arrangements are in the same style of liberality which +has ever distinguished "Graham." "There is a good time a-coming boys" +in 1849. + + +Sketches From Europe.--In the present absorbing state of affairs +abroad, it will please our readers to know, that we have engaged an +accomplished writer to furnish sketches of European manners, events +and society, such as escape the daily journals, for the pages of the +magazine. These sketches will occasionally be illustrated with +engravings of scenery and persons taken on the spot, and cannot fail +to add to the value of "Graham." + + +Gems From Late Readings.--We shall introduce into the next number of +Graham a department which we think cannot fail to be of interest, by +selections from authors which it is not possible for all the readers +of Graham to have seen. Culling such passages as may strike us in our +reading as worthy of wide circulation and preservation. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Graham's Magazine Vol XXXIII No. 4 +October 1848, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GRAHAM'S MAGAZINE, OCTOBER 1848 *** + +***** This file should be named 30116-8.txt or 30116-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/0/1/1/30116/ + +Produced by David T. Jones, Juliet Sutherland and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Canada Team at +http://www.pgdpcanada.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Graham. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + + + p {margin-top: .75em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: .75em; } + + p.main {font-style: normal; font-size: 100%; text-indent: 0em;} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 {text-align: center; clear: both;} + hr {width: 33%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em; margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; clear: both;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + font-family: serif} + + .cen {text-align: center; text-indent: 0em;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps; font-size: 95%;} + .right {text-align: right; padding-right: 2em;} + + .rfloat {position: absolute;right:18%; text-align: right; width: auto;} + + .blockquot {margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%; font-size: 90%;} + + + .pagenum {position: absolute; left: 2em; font-size: 70%; text-align: right; color: #A9A9A9} + + .totoc {position: absolute; left: 2em; font-size: 70%; text-align: right;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + .figleft {float: left; width: auto; clear: left; margin-left: + 0; margin-bottom: 0em; margin-top: + -0.5em; margin-right: 0.2em; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .figright {float: right; width: auto; clear: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 0; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + .tdr {text-align: right; vertical-align: bottom;} + + .tdl {text-align: left; padding-left: .25em;} + + .tdc {text-align: center; vertical-align: bottom;} + + + .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i1 {display: block; margin-left: 1em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 2em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i3 {display: block; margin-left: 3em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i4 {display: block; margin-left: 4em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i6 {display: block; margin-left: 6em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i10 {display: block; margin-left: 10em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i8 {display: block; margin-left: 8em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + + .linenum {position: absolute; left: 5%; right: 91%; } + + .footnotes {border: dashed 1px; margin-top: 1em; clear: both;} + .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + .footnote .label {float:left; width: auto; text-align: left;} + .fnanchor {font-size: .8em; text-decoration: none;} + + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Graham's Magazine Vol XXXIII No. 4 October +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 XXXIII No. 4 October 1848 + +Author: Various + +Editor: George R. Graham + Robert T. Conrad + +Release Date: September 28, 2009 [EBook #30116] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GRAHAM'S MAGAZINE, OCTOBER 1848 *** + + + + +Produced by David T. Jones, Juliet Sutherland and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Canada Team at +http://www.pgdpcanada.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 633px;"> +<img src="images/illus180.png" width="633" height="800" +alt="THE UNMARRIED BELLE" title="" /></div> +<h4>THE UNMARRIED BELLE</h4> +<h5>Sir W. C. Rofs, R.A. A.B. Ross<br /> +Engraved Expressly for Graham's Magazine</h5> +<br /> + +<h1>GRAHAM'S MAGAZINE.</h1> +<br /> +<h4><span class="smcap">Vol. XXXIII.</span> + PHILADELPHIA, OCTOBER, 1848. + <span class="smcap">No.</span> 4.</h4> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h3>TABLE OF CONTENTS</h3><br /> +<table summary="TOC" width="80%"> +<tr><td><a href="#THE_UNMARRIED_BELLE"><b>THE UNMARRIED BELLE.</b></a></td> +<td class="tdr">181</td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#ZENOBIA"><b>ZENOBIA.</b></a></td> +<td class="tdr">185</td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#TEMPER_LIFES_EXTREMES"><b>TEMPER LIFE'S EXTREMES.</b></a></td> +<td class="tdr">187</td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#THE_CRUISE_OF_THE_RAKER"><b>THE CRUISE OF THE RAKER.</b></a></td> +<td class="tdr">188</td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#DREAMS"><b>DREAMS.</b></a></td> +<td class="tdr">196</td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#A_LEAF_IN_THE_LIFE_OF_LEDYARD_LINCOLN"> +<b>A LEAF IN THE LIFE OF LEDYARD LINCOLN.</b></a></td> +<td class="tdr">197</td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#THE_DEFORMED_ARTIST"><b>THE DEFORMED ARTIST.</b></a></td> +<td class="tdr">202</td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#A_FAREWELL_TO_A_HAPPY_DAY"><b>A FAREWELL TO A HAPPY DAY.</b></a></td> +<td class="tdr">203</td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#SAM_NEEDY"><b>SAM NEEDY.</b></a></td> +<td class="tdr">204</td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#THE_ANGEL_OF_THE_SOUL"><b>THE ANGEL OF THE SOUL.</b></a></td> +<td class="tdr">210</td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#SCOUTING_NEAR_VERA_CRUZ"><b>SCOUTING NEAR VERA CRUZ.</b></a></td> +<td class="tdr">211</td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#I_WANT_TO_GO_HOME"><b>I WANT TO GO HOME.</b></a></td> +<td class="tdr">213</td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#THE_HUMBLING_OF_A_FAIRY"><b>THE HUMBLING OF A FAIRY.</b></a></td> +<td class="tdr">214</td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#A_NIGHT_THOUGHT"><b>A NIGHT THOUGHT.</b></a></td> +<td class="tdr">219</td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#THE_BARD"><b>THE BARD.</b></a></td> +<td class="tdr">219</td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#THE_WILL"><b>THE WILL.</b></a></td> +<td class="tdr">220</td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#A_VOICE_FOR_POLAND"><b>A VOICE FOR POLAND.</b></a></td> +<td class="tdr">228</td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#TO_HER_WHO_CAN_UNDERSTAND_IT"><b>TO HER WHO CAN UNDERSTAND IT.</b></a></td> +<td class="tdr">228</td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#A_PIC-NIC_IN_OLDEN_TIME"><b>A PIC-NIC IN OLDEN TIME.</b></a></td> +<td class="tdr">229</td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#TO_THE_VIOLET"><b>TO THE VIOLET.</b></a></td> +<td class="tdr">232</td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#THEY_MAY_TELL_OF_A_CLIME"><b>THEY MAY TELL OF A CLIME.</b></a></td> +<td class="tdr">232</td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#A_DREAM_WITHIN_A_DREAM"><b>A DREAM WITHIN A DREAM.</b></a></td> +<td class="tdr">233</td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#PASSED_AWAY"><b>PASSED AWAY.</b></a></td> +<td class="tdr">234</td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#AN_EVENING_SONG"><b>AN EVENING SONG.</b></a></td> +<td class="tdr">235</td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#THE_OCEAN-BURIED"><b>THE OCEAN-BURIED.</b></a></td> +<td class="tdr">236</td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#REVIEW_OF_NEW_BOOKS"><b>REVIEW OF NEW BOOKS.</b></a></td> +<td class="tdr">239</td></tr> +<tr><td><a href="#EDITORS_TABLE"><b>EDITOR'S TABLE.</b></a></td> +<td class="tdr">240</td></tr> +</table> +<br /><br /> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_UNMARRIED_BELLE" id="THE_UNMARRIED_BELLE"></a>THE UNMARRIED BELLE.</h2> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span> +<hr class="short" /> +<h4>BY ENNA DUVAL.</h4> +<hr class="short" /> + +<h5>[SEE ENGRAVING.]</h5> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Talk not of wasted affection, affection never was wasted;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If it enrich not the heart of another, its waters returning<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Back to their springs, like the rain, shall fill them full of refreshment;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That which the fountain sends forth returns again to the fountain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Patience; accomplish thy labor; accomplish thy work of affection!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sorrow and silence are strong, and patient endurance is godlike;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Therefore accomplish thy labor of love, till the heart is made godlike,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Purified, strengthened, perfected, and rendered more worthy of heaven!<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Longfellow's Evangeline.</span></p> + + +<p>I was loitering beside my mother's chair, in her +drawing-room, one day on my return from school, +listening to the conversation between her and some +morning visiters; they were discussing most earnestly +the merits of a reigning belle.</p> + +<p>"She is, indeed, perfectly beautiful," exclaimed +my mother. "I looked at her the other evening, +when I saw her at the last concert, and thought a +more lovely creature could not exist. The music +excited her, and her cheek was delicately flushed, +which heightened the brilliancy of her eyes; her +lovely lips were just half apart and trembling with +feeling. Then she understands so well the art and +mystery of dressing. While other young ladies +around her were in the full pride of brilliant <i>costume</i>, +the eye felt freshened and relieved when looking at +her—there was such a repose in her <i>demi-toilette</i>. +The simple white dress was so pure and chaste in +its effect, displaying only her lovely throat, and her +beautiful chestnut-brown hair was gathered up carelessly +but neatly, while over one tiny ear fell a rich +cluster of ringlets; then, with all her beauty and exquisite +taste, she is so unconscious, so unstudied. +That the world should call Mary Lee a beauty, I do +not wonder; but that society should pronounce her a +belle, is, indeed, a surprise to me—she is so unassuming, +so free from art and <i>affectation</i>."</p> + +<p>"So unlike her mother," exclaimed a lady, eagerly. +"I think Mary's success in society is as gratifying +as unexpected to Mrs. Lee. She delayed her <i>entrée</i> +into society as long as she could, and used to lament +most piteously to me the trouble she expected to +have with her, from her total want of animation and +spirit. But now she seems to have entirely forgotten +her former misgivings, for she takes many airs on +herself about Mary's popularity, talking all the while +as though scarcely any one was good enough for +the husband of the daughter she pronounced one +year ago a stupid, inanimate creature."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" said a gentleman, laughing, "the tie now +is between young Morton and Langley, I believe. +As Langley is the more <i>distingué</i> of the two, I suppose +the mother will favor him; but if one can +judge from appearances, the daughter prefers Harry +Morton."</p> + +<p>"I can assure you," interrupted Mr. Foster, an intimate +friend of our family, "the daughter has quite +as much admiration for the rich Mr. Langley as the +mother. There is a little incident connected with +that same concert Mrs. Duval speaks of, that convinces +me of the daughter's powers of management."</p> + +<p>"Shame on you, Philip Foster!" said my mother, +"you should not talk thus of any lady, much less of +Mary Lee."</p> + +<p>"What was the incident, Mr. Foster?" eagerly +inquired the other ladies.</p> + +<p>"Yes, do tell us, Phil," urged his gentleman +friend.</p> + +<p>My mother looked reproachfully at Mr. Foster, +but he shook his head laughingly at her, as he said,</p> + +<p>"Hear me first, dear Mrs. Duval, before you +judge. I was at Mrs. Lee's two or three mornings +since. Several visitors were in the drawing-rooms, +among them Harry Morton, as usual. I was looking +at a new and costly collection of engravings on the +<i>commode</i> table, when I overheard Harry Morton +ask Miss Lee if he should join their party at the concert +the next evening. She replied that she regretted<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span> +they were not going, for she had already promised +her mother to dine and spend the evening quietly +with an old friend. The next evening at the concert +the whole Lee party were there, and our belle, Miss +Mary, was brought in by young Langley, just newly +arrived from Europe. The unconscious <i>demi-toilette</i> +Mrs. Duval speaks so admiringly of, had the +desired effect. Langley's taste has been chastened +by a voyage over the Atlantic; the noisy over-dressing +of his countrywomen would, of course, +annoy his delicate sense—therefore was the simple +home costume adopted in preference, and the "<i>available</i>" +Mr. Langley secured as an admirer."</p> + +<p>"I do not believe any such thing, Philip!" exclaimed +my mother, indignantly. "I will answer +for it, there was some mistake. Mary Lee would +scorn a falsehood, and is entirely above all artifice +or design. Mrs. Lee is said to be maneuvering and +worldly; if she is, her daughter is entirely free from +such influences."</p> + +<p>"How did Morton take it, Phil?" asked the other +friend, laughingly.</p> + +<p>"He was with me," replied Mr. Foster, evidently +enjoying with some little malice my kind mother's +annoyance, "we had dropped into the concert by +chance together. He looked thunderstruck, but said +nothing, and did not approach her during the whole +evening. She knew he was there, however, for I +saw her return his cold bow in a painfully embarrassed +manner."</p> + +<p>The entrance of some other visiters, connected with +the Lees, put an end to the conversation. That +night, when my nurse was undressing me for bed, +I said,</p> + +<p>"What's a belle, Katy?"</p> + +<p>"A very rich and beautiful young lady," replied +my nurse, "who has plenty of lovers, and gets +married very soon."</p> + +<p>"Will I ever be a belle?" I innocently inquired, +as she gathered up my rebellious hair under my cap.</p> + +<p>"No," she replied, in impatient tones, "your +hair is too straight, and your skin too yellow; but +you must do as you're told to, or else nobody will even +love you; so go to sleep right away."</p> + +<p>I was silenced, and thus obedience was obtained +by appealing to my love of approbation. Many +years passed, bringing me to womanhood, when I +discovered the truth of Nurse Katy's reason why I +should not be a belle. Other people decided that +my "hair was too straight, and my skin too yellow," +to use Katy's homely, rough words; but her <i>brusque</i> +admonition, that made me go to sleep so quickly +when a child, acted upon me as a woman. My approbativeness +once roused, I managed, despite my +want of personal attractions, to secure a host of +friends; and the lesson I then learned, to please +others rather than myself for the sake of gaining +their love, has caused my life thus far to be very +sunny and happy, even more so than if I had been +the belle my childish fancy desired.</p> + +<p>One of Nurse Katy's principal attributes of a belle, +however, Mary Lee was deficient in. She did not +get married at all—and Mary Lee she remained all +her life. But she was one of the loveliest old maids +in the world, and quite as popular in our circle as +she had been in her own. She had been confined +many years with an invalid mother and paralytic +father, but after their death some time, she re-entered +society; and her house was the favorite resort of the +new set of young people, as it had been in her young +days. She gave the most delightful parties, planned +the most pleasant enjoyments for us, and although +acknowledging herself to be an old maid, she still +retained her youthful feelings unimpaired.</p> + +<p>Her mind remained in a fresh, healthy state, and +her disposition was still sweet and joyous. How we +all loved her; she was our confidante, adviser and +friend. She was still pretty, and might have proved +a very formidable rival had she chosen to enter +society as a young lady; but she preferred being regarded +by us as an elder friend. The young ladies +grouped around her as younger sisters; and one half +the young gentlemen would have married her <i>instanter</i>, +notwithstanding she was ten or fifteen years +their senior. Old maid as she was, strange to tell, +she was a promoter of marriages. The ill-natured +called Mary Lee a match-maker. She certainly did +interest herself very much with lovers, fathoming all +the little mysteries of their love-quarrels, and setting +every thing quite straight, even when they seemed +in inextricable confusion.</p> + +<p>Miss Lee had been very fond of my mother, and +extended to me the same regard, therefore I was, +notwithstanding the difference in our ages, on a more +intimate footing with her than her other young +friends. One day, as we were discussing the merits +of an approaching wedding, the conversation assumed +a confidential tone.</p> + +<p>"Indeed, Enna," she exclaimed, laughingly, +"there is nothing more interesting to me than a +couple of lovers full of romance, poetry, and perfectly +blind and uncaring as to the future. I love to +watch them in courtship, lend them a helping hand +in the quicksands of that dangerous but delicious +season; and then it makes me so happy to congratulate +them after their troubles are all over, and +they are happily married."</p> + +<p>"Ah! if they only could be sure of happiness," I +replied.</p> + +<p>"Shame on you for that old maid's croak!" she +said, with a bright look; "those who are not happy +in married life, would never be happy in any situation. +There should be no old maids or old bachelors, +Enna; we would all be happier married; we fail in +fulfilling our missions when we remain single. Hunt +up a lover, Enna; let me watch your courtship, and +rejoice over your wedding. As a clever friend of +mine once said, we think poetry as lovers, but in +married life we act true poetry."</p> + +<p>I opened my eyes with astonishment, and innocently +asked, "Why is it, then, you have never +married?"</p> + +<p>A shadow crossed over her face, and I felt a desire +to recall the question, for I feared I had called up disagreeable +reminiscences, but the next instant her +countenance was as beaming and calm as before.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I will tell you, Enna," she said, as she caressingly +rested her head on my shoulder, "why I have never +married; but to do that I must relate the history of +my rather uneventful life. My story has but little +interest, but it will gratify the curiosity of one who +loves me. My childhood was spent with an old +aunt. She took me when I was a delicate wee +thing, and I remained with her until her death, +which took place when I was nearly grown. She +was a dear, good old lady, and with her my life +passed most happily; my short visits home gave me +little pleasure, for my mother was a very worldly, +ambitious woman, and displayed but little tenderness +for me, which, when contrasted with my aunt's +fondness and indulgence, made me feel quite as a +stranger in my family; and when Aunt Mary died, +I wept as bitterly, and felt as lonely and bereft of +friends, as though I did not possess a mother, father, +and sisters. The two years after my aunt's death +were spent in close attention to those accomplishments +which had been neglected in my education as +unnecessary, and which my mother deemed so +essential; and not a day passed without my poor +mother's exclamations of despair over me.</p> + +<p>"'One comfort there is, however,' she would say, +'your aunt's little fortune of a few thousands will +be exaggerated in society, and people will forget +your <i>mauvaise honte</i> in giving you credit for being an +heiress.'</p> + +<p>"But the report of my being an heiress was not +needed, for when I entered society, to my mother's +amazement, I created quite a sensation. I had been +looked upon as a pretty girl always; but my mother +had so often declared that I was so inanimate and +innocent, she never would be able to do any thing +with me, and my pretty face would be of no service +to me, that I looked upon myself as quite an ordinary +person, and was as much surprised at my belle-hood +as my family. I wonder my little head was not +turned with the attentions I received, so unused as I +had been to admiration; it might have been, however, +had not a disappointment—a bitter, heart-aching +disappointment, wearied me of all this adulation +and attention.</p> + +<p>"Soon after my entrance into society, I became +acquainted with a Mr. Morton—agreeable, good-looking, +and attentive he was, of course—quite an +acquisition to me in my circle of admirers. His +worldly qualifications were not of so brilliant a nature +as to attract my prudent mother's fancy, for he +was only a young lawyer of slender means and +moderate practice. I do not think she ever dreamed +of the interest he excited in me, but looked upon him +as one of the crowd of attendants necessarily surrounding +a belle. But how differently I regarded +him. The piles of costly bouquets I received daily, +gained but little attention from me, unless I discerned +among them the tiny bunch of sweet-violets, +tea-roses, and mignonette, which he once in a great +while sent me. In my ball-tablets my eyes sought +the dances marked down for him; and when he was +my partner, the dance, generally so wearisome, was +only too short, too delightful; the reminiscence of +that happy time makes a silly girl of me again. My +mother never imagined he aspired to my hand—she +would have looked aghast at the bare mention of +such a probability; but she regarded him as a friend, +and he was a great favorite with her. She used to +say young men like Harry Morton, that knew their +places, were invaluable acquaintances for a belle; +thus were we thrown a great deal together. She +was so blind to his real position with me, quick-sighted +as she generally was in other things, I was +permitted to have him for my partner in dancing, +even for several quadrilles during an evening; he +was my constant attendant in my daily rides on horseback, +and my mother never hesitated to call upon +him if we were at any time in need of an escort to a +ball or opera. He was upon the footing of a brother +or cousin in the family; but, ah! how dear was he +to me. Without any actual explanation, I felt sure +of Harry Morton's love. I never had any doubts or +jealousies—we seemed to perfectly understand each +other. I never looked forward to our future—I was +too quietly happy in the present. I only dated from +one meeting to another—from the dinner to the party, +when he would be ready to hand us from our carriage, +to take me off my father's arm in compliance with +my mother's constant inquiry and request of, +'Where's Harry Morton? Here, Harry, do take +charge of Mary,' a request which he always seemed +delighted to obey. Then, after the happy good-night, +I would lie my head on the pillow to dream of him +and the morning ride we would take together. Why +he never spoke to me of his love I cannot tell. It +might have been that feelings of delicacy restrained +him; my father was rich, while he was but a poor +young lawyer; then report had made me an heiress +in my own right, as well as a belle, to my worldly +mother's great content. That he loved me I am sure, +though he never told me with his lips.</p> + +<p>"One morning my mother said to me, 'Do not +make any engagement for to-morrow, Mary; we must +dine <i>en famille</i> with dear old Mrs. Langley; we +have not been there for a month.'</p> + +<p>"Now this Mrs. Langley was a person of great +consideration in my mother's eyes. She was very +wealthy, and, moreover, had been at the head of the +fashionable world for many years. Since my entrance +into society, she had been quite an invalid, +and rarely appeared in public, but it gratified her exceedingly +to have her friends around her, for she +dreaded yielding up her command in the world. My +mother was an especial favorite of hers; and after I +had taken such a prominent situation in society, she +expressed great regard for me. Once in a month or +so we spent a day with her. She lived in great style—a +stately dinner, and a stupid, grand, heavy evening +was the amount of the visit. How I used to +dread the coming of the day; it was the only time I +was separated from Harry, for Mrs. Langley being +very exclusive, and making no new acquaintances, +he had no <i>entrée</i> there. I used to sing for her, arrange +her worsteds, tell her of the parties and different +entertainments, and read to her her son's last letter. +She had only one son, and he had been in Europe for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span> +two or three years. He was her idol, and she never +tired talking of him. Dear old lady, my conscience +smote me many times for the feelings of impatient +weariness and <i>ennui</i> I would give way to during +one of her tedious dinner parties.</p> + +<p>"The following morning after my mother had +announced the visit of penance, Harry Morton made +his appearance in our drawing-rooms, as usual, with +the other morning visiters. Every one was talking +of a new singer who was to make her <i>debût</i> on that +evening.</p> + +<p>"'May I join your party at the concert this +evening?' Harry asked me, in a low voice.</p> + +<p>"'I regret exceedingly,' I replied, 'that we are +not going to the concert. I have already promised +mamma to spend a quiet day and evening with an +old friend of hers. You must listen attentively to +this new <i>donna</i>, and tell me all about her voice if +you go.'</p> + +<p>"'I do not think I shall go,' he replied, in low, +earnest tones, 'for I could not enjoy the concert if +not with you.' A turn in the general conversation +drew us more into notice, and some ladies and +gentlemen entering, put an end to all further intercourse +between us; how long I remembered and +cherished those last words of his. When I made +my appearance in my mother's room at 5 o'clock, +shawl and hood in hand, she regarded me from head +to foot smilingly.</p> + +<p>"'What new caprice to-day?' she said, 'and yet +I must confess it is very becoming to you.'</p> + +<p>"I had felt too languid to dress much, and as the +weather was warm, spring being quite far advanced, +I had chosen a simple white mull robe for the visit +to our old friend, knowing that we should meet with +but few visiters there. This I explained apologetically +to my mother, who tapped me with her fan good-naturedly, +saying that beauties were cunning creatures, +they liked to show once in a while they could +defy the aid of ornament. The first few months of +my entrance into society my mother superintended, +with great attention, all my <i>toilettes</i>; but near the +close of the season she fell into the general opinion, +that what ever I did was exactly right; and poor +little me, that one short half-year before had no right +to express an opinion upon so grave a subject as +dress, was now constantly appealed to; and whatever +style I adopted was perfect in her eyes. Society had +placed its stamp upon me, I could pass current as a +coin of high value to her.</p> + +<p>"When I reached Mrs. Langley's, I found the old +lady attended by but one gentleman, who, beside +ourselves, was her only visiter. What was my surprise +to hear her introduce him as her son, Templeton +Langley. The dinner passed more pleasantly than +usual, for Mr. Langley made himself very agreeable. +After dinner he proposed we should go to the concert, +as he felt an interest in the new <i>primadonna</i>, having +heard her at her <i>debût</i> in Europe. I made an objection, +which was overruled by Mrs. Langley's expressing +a desire—strange for her—to go likewise; +and we went. I had not been ten minutes in the +room when, on lifting my eyes, the first person I saw +was Harry Morton looking sternly at me. Foolishly, +I grew embarrassed, my face burned, and my whole +frame trembled with nervous agitation. He did not +approach me, but gave me only a cold bow. 'He +thinks me guilty of falsehood,' I said to myself. +How wretchedly passed the evening, and yet I have +no doubt I was an object of envy to many of my +young lady friends. The rich <i>distingué</i>, Templeton +Langley showed himself my devoted admirer, while +his mother, the acknowledged leader of <i>ton</i>, sat beside +us smiling approvingly. My indifferent, cold +manner, my simple costume, and my beautiful face, +completed that evening the conquest of the fastidious, +fashionable young man. You cannot imagine the +delight of my mother, when day after day found +Templeton Langley constantly beside me, she could +scarcely restrain her exultation; while I, poor child, +listened with aching, throbbing senses for the approach +of one who never came near me. Two or +three weeks passed in a whirl of gayety. It was the +close of the season, and one or two brides in our +circle made the parties very constant. Mrs. Langley +proposed that our family should join her son and +herself in their summer visit to the Lakes; accordingly +we did so, and we spent more than three +months traveling. Ere the close of those three +months, Templeton Langley offered himself to me. +I could not describe to you the scene that ensued +between my mother and myself when I rejected +him. She was a worldly woman, and my conduct +seemed perfectly wild to her. She remonstrated, +persuaded, then reproached me in impatient, angry +tones. My father was a quiet, amiable man, and +rarely interfered with my mother in her management, +but he fortunately shook off enough of his lethargy to +come to my rescue at this time.</p> + +<p>"'If Mary does not love Mr. Langley,' he said, +'why urge her to marry him? Do not scold the poor +child,' and he drew me toward him tenderly.</p> + +<p>"Templeton Langley was rather an indifferent +person in every way. His wealth, combined with +his situation in the fashionable world, placed him in +a fictitious light; but he had little intelligence, no +originality, and only a passable personal appearance. +I was constantly drawing the comparison between +him and Harry Morton. Harry was so handsome, so +brilliant in conversation—and this thought rendered +poor Mr. Langley, with all his fastidious, elegant +manners, quite unbearable to me. To think of being +tied to such a man for life was perfect martyrdom +for me; and although hitherto so yielding, I showed +myself on this occasion obstinate. Floods of tears I +shed, and my mother fancied at first she could overcome +my 'ridiculous sentimentality,' as she called +it, but in vain; and finding a friend in my father, I +remained firm. I felt more sorry for old Mrs. +Langley, who was, indeed, terribly distressed, but +she treated me very kindly, and exonerated me from +all blame. She was, however, really very fond of +me, and had set her heart upon having me for a +daughter. Mr. Langley returned to Europe, and for +many months our circle of friends were quite at a +loss to know whether he had offered, been accepted,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span> +or refused, or whether he had only flirted with me. +My mother felt too disappointed to boast of the rejection; +and, moreover, she was so occupied in +bringing out my sister, Emma, as to have little time +to think of me or my affairs. My sister was but +seventeen, three years younger than I, but much +nearer my age in appearance. I found myself now +of but secondary consideration in my mother's eyes. +I fear she really disliked me then. She was an ambitious +woman, and had set her heart upon my making +a brilliant match; this favorite hope of hers I had +blighted, and feeling little interest in society, I +became of less consequence, for my sad, absent +manner made me, of course, uninteresting; therefore, +as my reign as a belle was over, my poor +mother now sought to dismiss me from her mind and +occupy herself with other objects.</p> + +<p>"Harry Morton had gone to the Southwest ere we +returned from our summer's journey, and we never +met again. A year or so afterward I heard of his +marriage with a dashing southern belle, and he is +now a distinguished man at the South. After these +perplexing, unfortunate misunderstandings, my health +failed, and for a long while I was an invalid, rarely +appearing in society. My two sisters, Emma and +Alice, were more lucky than I, for they married +happily, and with my mother's gratified approbation—for +they each made the 'best match of their season.' +Neither one was so pretty as I had been, and as my +mother used to ejaculate,</p> + +<p>"'Thank Heaven! neither Emma nor Alice are +belles; they at least will not trouble me with their +exaggerated notions about love and all that nonsense.'</p> + +<p>"I passed a miserable, wretched existence for a +year or more after Harry and I were separated. +How earnestly I prayed for death, so completely +prostrated was my spirit by my disappointment. I +felt as lonely as I had at the time of dear Aunt +Mary's death. In time, however, I aroused myself +from my morbid feelings, and in reading and study +found at first occupation, then strength and content.</p> + +<p>"The week after my youngest sister was married +my father was stricken down with paralysis. I was +the only one at home with my parents, for my bride +sister had sailed for Europe the day after her wedding, +and Emma was far distant in her Southern home, +having married a wealthy South Carolinian two +years before. Faithfully I devoted myself to my +father, and when my mother, a year afterward, was +seized with a painful, lingering disease, I made myself +so necessary to her comfort, that she at last +acknowledged, that what had appeared to be her +greatest trouble had proved her greatest blessing. +She altered very much before her death, and lost +entirely all those worldly feelings which had actuated +her during her early life. She suffered for many +years at times agonizing pain, and during this time I +was sole companion and nurse to my parents. Often +I thanked Providence for having denied to me my +early love, granting to me in lieu an opportunity +of fulfilling the most holy of duties. See, Enna, to +what an unromantic and yet enviable state of mind +I at last attained. Believe me, dearest, we never +should grieve over unavoidable troubles, for many +times they are but the rough husk of that sweet +kernel—a hidden blessing."</p> +<br /><br /> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="ZENOBIA" id="ZENOBIA"></a>ZENOBIA.</h2> + +<hr class="short" /> +<h4>BY MYRON L. MASON.</h4> +<hr class="short" /> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Twas holyday in Rome. Her sevenfold hills<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were trembling with the tread of multitudes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who thronged her streets. Hushed was the busy hum<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of labor. Silent in the shops reposed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The implements of toil. A common love<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of country, and a zeal for her renown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had warmed all hearts, and mingled for a day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Plebian ardor with patrician pride.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sire, the son, the matron and the maid,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Joined in bestowing on their emperor<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The joyous benedictions of the state.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alas! about that day's magnificence<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was spread a web of <i>shame</i>! The victor's sword<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was stained with cowardice—his dazzling fame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tarnished by insult to a fallen woman.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Returning from his conquests in the East,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Aurelian led in his triumphant train<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Palmyra's beauteous queen, Zenobia,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose only crime had been the love she bore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To her own country and her household gods.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">Long had the Orient owned the sovereign sway<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Rome imperial, and in forced submission<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had bowed the neck to the oppressor's yoke.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The corn of Syria, her fruits and wares,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The pearls of India, Araby's perfumes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The golden treasures of the mountains, all<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Profusely poured in her luxurious lap,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Crowned to the full her proud magnificence.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rome regal, throned on her eternal hills,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With power supreme and wide-extended hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Plundered the prostrate nations without stint<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of all she coveted, and, chiefly thou,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O Liberty, the birthright boon of Heaven.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But Rome had passed her noon; her despotism<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was overgrown; an earthquake was at work<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At her foundations; and new dynasties,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Striking their roots in ripening revolutions,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were soon to sway the destinies of realms.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">The East was in revolt. The myriad seeds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of dark rebellion, sown by tyranny,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And watered by the blood of patriots slain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were springing into life on every hand.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Success was alternating in this strife<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twixt power and <i>right</i>, and anxious Victory,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With balance poised, the doubtful issue feared.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Amid the fierce contention, 'mid the din<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of war's sublime encounter, and the crash<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of falling systems old, Palmyra's queen<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Followed her valiant lord, Palmyra's king.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ever beside him in the hour of peril,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She warded from his breast the battle's rage;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in the councils of the cabinet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her prudent wisdom was her husband's guide.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">Domestic treason, with insidious stab,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Snatched from Zenobia's side her gallant lord,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And threw into her hand the exigencies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of an unstable and capricious throne.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet was her genius not inadequate.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The precepts of experience, intertwined<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With intellectual power of lofty grade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Combined to raise Palmyra's beauteous queen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">High in the golden scale of moral greatness.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Under the teachings of the good Longinus<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The streams of science flowed into her mind;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, like the fountain-fostered mountain lake,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her soul was pure as its ethereal food.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The patronage bestowed on learned men<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Declared her love for letters. The rewards,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rich and unnumbered, she conferred on merit<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her own refined, exalted taste betrayed.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her graceful and majestic figure, crowned<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With beauty such as few but angels wear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like the rich casing that surrounds the gem,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heightened the splendor of her brilliant genius.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Equally daring on the battle-field<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in the chase, her prudence and her courage,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Displayed in many a hot emergency,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had twined victorious laurel round her brow.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Under her rule Palmyra's fortunes rose<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To an unequalled altitude, and wealth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flowed in upon her like a golden sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her wide dominion, stretching from the Nile<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the far Euxine and Euphrates' flood—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her active commerce, whose expanded range<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Monopolized the trade of all the East—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her stately capital, whose towers and domes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vied with proud Rome in architectural grace—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her own aspiring aims and high renown—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All breathed around the Asiatic queen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An atmosphere of greatness, and betrayed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her bold ambition, and her rivalry<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the imperial mistress of the world.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">But 't is the gaudiest flower is soonest plucked;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sturdiest oak first feels the builder's axe.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Palmyra's rising greatness had awaked<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The jealousy of Rome, and Fortune looked<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On her prosperity with envious eye.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Under the golden eagles of the empire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Aurelian's soldiers swept the thirsty sands,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And poured into Palmyra's palmy plains,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A mighty host hot for the battle-field.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Borne on her gallant steed, the warrior queen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The conflict sought, and led her eager troops<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into the stern encounter. Like the storm<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of their own desert plain, innumerable,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They rushed upon the foe, and courted danger.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Amid the serried ranks, whose steel array<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Glowed in the noonday sun, and threw a flood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of wavy sheen into the fragrant air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Zenobia rode; and, like an angry spirit,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Commissioned from above to chastise men,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where'er she moved was death. There was a flash<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of scorn that lighted up her fiery eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A glance of wrath upon her countenance—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There was a terror in her frenzied arm<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That struck dismay into the boldest heart.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alas for her, Fortune was unpropitious!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her fearless valor found an overmatch<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the experienced prudence of Aurelian;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And scarcely could the desert's hardy sons<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cope with the practiced legions of the empire.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The battle gained, Palmyra taken, sacked—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its queen a captive, hurled from off a throne,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stripped of her wide possessions, forced to sue<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In humblest attitude for even life—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The haughty victor led his weary legions<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Back to Italia's shores, and in his train<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His fallen rival, loaded with chains of gold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forged from the bullion of her treasury.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">'Twas holyday in Rome. The morning sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Emerging from the palace-crested hills<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the Campagna, poured a flood of light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon the slumbering city, summoning<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its teeming thousands to the festival.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A playful breeze, rich-laden with perfume<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From groves of orange, gently stirred the leaves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And curled the ripples on the Tiber's breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bearing to seaward o'er the flowery plain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The rising peans' joyful melodies.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flung to the wind, high from the swelling dome<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That crowned the Capitol, the imperial banner,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Broidered with gold and glittering with gems,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unfurled its azure field; and, as it caught<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sunbeams and flashed down upon the throng<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That filled the forum, there arose a shout<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deep as the murmur of the cataract.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In that spontaneous outburst of applause<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Rome spoke</i>; and as the echo smote the hills<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It woke the slumbering memory of a time<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When Rome was <i>free</i>.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">A trumpet from the walls<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Proclaimed the day's festivities begun.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Preceded by musicians and sweet singers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A long procession passed the city-gate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, traversing the winding maze of streets,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Climbed to the Capitol. Choice victims, dressed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With pictured ornaments and wreaths of flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An offering to the tutelary gods,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Led the advance. Then followed spoils immense,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Baskets of jewels, vases of wrought gold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Paintings and statuary, cloths and wares,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of costliest manufacture, close succeeded<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By the rich symbols of Palmyra's glory,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Torn from her temples and her palaces,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To grace a triumph in the streets of Rome.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With toilsome step next walked the captive queen;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then the victor, in his car of state,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With milk-white horses of Thessalian breed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in his retinue a splendid train<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Rome's nobility. In one long line<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The army last appeared in bright array,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With banners high displayed, filling the air<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With songs of victory. The pageant proud<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Quickened remembrance of departed days,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And warmed the bosoms of the multitude<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With deep devotion to the commonwealth.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">High in his gilded chariot, decked in robes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of broidered purple, and with laurel crowned,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rode the triumphant conqueror, in his hand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The emblems of his power. The capital<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of his wide empire was inflamed with zeal<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To do him honor and exalt his praise.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The world was at his feet; his sovereign will<br /></span> +<span class="i0">None dared to question, and his haughty word<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was law to nations. Yet his heart was troubled.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the dim distance he discerned the flight<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Of Freedom, on swift pinions heralding<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Enfranchisement to the oppressed of earth.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He knew the feeble tenure of dominion<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Based on allegiance with reluctance paid;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And read the future overthrow of Rome<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the unyielding spirit of his victim.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Uncovered in the sun, weary and faint,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bowed to the earth with chains of ravished gold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With feet unsandaled, walked Zenobia,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Slave to the craven tyrant's cruelty.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Neither her peerless beauty, nor her sex,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor yet her grievous sufferings could melt<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The despot's stony heart. She, who surpassed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her conqueror in all the qualities<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of head or heart which crown humanity<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With nobleness and high preëminence—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She, whose <i>misfortunes</i> in a glorious cause,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And not her <i>errors</i>, had achieved her ruin—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Burdened with ignominy and disgrace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For her resplendent <i>virtues</i>, not her <i>crimes</i>—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She who had graced a palace, and dispensed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pardon to penitence, reward to worth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And tempered justice with benevolence—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wickedly torn from her exalted station,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now walked a captive in the streets of Rome,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">E'en at the feet of the oppressors steeds.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet was her spirit all untamed. Disdain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still sat upon her countenance, and breathed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unmeasured scorn upon her persecutors.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The blush of innocence upon her cheek,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The burning pride that flashed within her eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The majesty enthroned upon her brow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Told, in a language which the tyrant <i>felt</i>,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That her unconquered spirit soared sublime<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In a pure orbit whither <i>his</i> sordid soul<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Could ne'er attain. Had he a captive led<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some odious wretch, whose sanguinary crimes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Long perpetrated under sanction of a strength<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No arm could reach, had spread a pall of mourning<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Over a people's desolated homes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He then had <i>right</i> to triumph o'er his victim.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But 't was not thus. Insatiable ambition<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had led him to unsheath his victor sword<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Against a monarch whose distinctive sway<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ravished from Rome no tittle of her <i>right</i>;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, to augment the aggregate of wrong,<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>That monarch was a woman</i>, whose renown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Compared with his, was gold compared with brass.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As o'er the stony street the captive paced<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her weary way before the victor's steeds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And marked the multitudes insatiate gaze,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The look of calm defiance on her face<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Told that she bowed not to her degradation.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her thoughts were not at Rome. Unheeded all,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The billows of the mad excitement dashed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">About her, and broke harmless at her feet.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dim reminiscences of former days<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Burst like a deluge on her errant mind;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leading her backward to the buried past,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When in the artless buoyancy of youth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She sat beneath Palmyra's fragrant shades<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gleaned the pages of historic story,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Red with Rome's bloody catalogue of wrong.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Little she dreamed Palmyra's palaces<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Should e'er be scenes of Roman violence;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Little she dreamed that <i>hers</i> should be the lot<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(A captive princess led in chains) to crown<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The splendor of a Roman holyday.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alas! the blow she thought not of had fallen.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A bloody struggle, like a dreadful dream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had briefly raged, and all to her was lost,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Save the poor grace of a degraded life.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her sun of glory was gone down in blood—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The glittering fabric of her power despoiled<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To swell the triumph of her conqueror.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But in the wreck of her magnificence,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With eye prophetic, she foresaw the ruin<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the proud capital of all the world.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She saw the quickening symptoms of rebellion<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Among the nations, and she caught their cry<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For <i>freedom</i> and for <i>vengeance</i>!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">Hark! the Goth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is thundering at the gate, His reckless sword<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leaps from the scabbard, eager to vindicate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The cause of the oppressed. A thousand years<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sun has witnessed in his daily course<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tyranny of Rome, now crushed <i>forever</i>.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mighty mass of her usurped dominion,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By its own magnitude at last dissevered,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is crumbling into fragments; and the shades<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of long-forgotten generations shriek<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With fiendish glee over the yawning gulf<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of her perdition.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<br /><br /> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="TEMPER_LIFES_EXTREMES" id="TEMPER_LIFES_EXTREMES"></a>TEMPER LIFE'S EXTREMES.</h2> + +<hr class="short" /> +<h4>BY GEORGE S. BURLEIGH.</h4> +<hr class="short" /> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Tis wise, in summer-warmth, to look before,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To the keen-nipping winter; it is good,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In lifeful hours, to lay aside some store<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of thought, to leaven the spirit's duller mood;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To mould the sodded dyke, in sunny hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Against the coming of the wasteful flood;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still tempering Life's extremes, that Wo no more<br /></span> +<span class="i1">May start abrupt in Joy's sweet neighborhood.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If Day burst sudden from the bars of Night,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Or with one plunge leaped down the sheer abyss,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Painful alike were darkness and the light,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Bearing fixed war through shifting victories;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But sweet their bond, where peaceful twilight lingers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Weaving the rosy with the sable fingers.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<br /><br /> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_CRUISE_OF_THE_RAKER" id="THE_CRUISE_OF_THE_RAKER"></a>THE CRUISE OF THE RAKER.</h2> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span> + +<h3>A TALE OF THE WAR OF 1812-15.</h3> + +<hr class="short" /> +<h4>BY HENRY A. CLARK.</h4> +<hr class="short" /> + +<h5>(<i>Continued from page 136.</i>)</h5> + +<h4>CHAPTER V.</h4> + +<h5><i>The Revenge.</i></h5> + + +<p>The report of the pistol fired by Julia had also been +heard upon the pirate brig. To Florette it gave assurance +of the safety of the fair fugitive. The pirate +sprang to his feet, forgetful of his wound, but fell +back helpless upon the companion-way, and soon relapsed +into his former thoughtful state, supposing the +sound had come from the deck of the Raker, though +it had seemed much too near and distinct to appear +possible that such was the case.</p> + +<p>The escape of Julia was not discovered until the +following morning. The wrath of the pirate was +fearfully vindictive. Even Florette became alarmed +when he fiercely accused her of some share in the +disappearance of the captive girl. This she tremblingly +denied, suggesting the opinion that Julia must +have jumped overboard, in her despair, induced by +the threats of the pirate. The loss of the boat was +also noticed, but not connected with the escape of +Julia, it being supposed that it had been carelessly +fastened. As a very natural consequence of his anger, +the pirate sought some person on whom he could +vent its fury.</p> + +<p>"Call aft the other woman," shouted he, "unless +she, too, has jumped overboard."</p> + +<p>A grim smile was interchanged between the men +who heard this order. John's true sex had not been +long kept concealed after he had reached the pirate +brig, and he had nearly fallen a victim to the rage the +unpleasant discovery excited in the men, but his +ludicrous and abject expressions of terror, though +they awoke no emotions of pity, yet excited the merriment +of his captors, and turned their anger into +laughter. A man's garments were thrown to him, +in which he speedily equipped himself, being indeed +in no slight degree relieved by the change. Since +that time he had kept himself as much aloof as possible +from the crew, anxiously and fearfully expectant +of some sudden catastrophe, either that his brains +would be blown out without affording him an opportunity +to expostulate, or that he would be called +upon to walk the plank.</p> + +<p>He was roused by a heavy hand laid upon his +shoulder.</p> + +<p>"O dear, don't," cried John.</p> + +<p>"The captain has sent word for'ard arter you, and +faith ye had betther be in a hurry, for he's a savage +when he's mad."</p> + +<p>"O! now I've got to do it."</p> + +<p>"Do what?"</p> + +<p>"Why walk the plank to be sure."</p> + +<p>"Arrah, jewel! don't be onaisy now."</p> + +<p>"Wont I's, don't you think?"</p> + +<p>"Not a bit of it, darling. I think he will be afther +running you up to the yard-arm."</p> + +<p>"But I can't run up it."</p> + +<p>"Ha! ha! but come along, honey."</p> + +<p>Half dragging John after him, the sailor led him to +the quarter-deck.</p> + +<p>"Here's the lady, captain, an' faith she's a swate +one."</p> + +<p>The truth of the case had already been explained +to the pirate.</p> + +<p>"You cowardly fool," said he, "did you expect to +escape by such a subterfuge? Pat, run him up to +the yard-arm."</p> + +<p>"Yes, captain, and that will be a relaif to him, for +he was mighty afraid he'd have to walk the plank."</p> + +<p>"He was? well then he shall."</p> + +<p>The vindictiveness of the pirate commander, who +had only changed the mode of John's death because +he thought that by so doing he should render it more +fearful and bitter to the victim, was the means of +saving the poor cockney's life. So do revenge and +malice often overreach themselves.</p> + +<p>A long plank was laid out over the side of the brig +and John commanded to walk out on it. He showed +a strong disinclination to obeying, but a huge pistol +placed against his forehead quickly influenced his decision, +and with a cry of anguish he stepped out upon +it. As the board tipped he turned to spring back to +the brig, but slipping up, fell upon the board, which +he pulled after him into the water.</p> + +<p>"Fool," cried the captain to one of his men, +"what did you let the board loose for, he will float +now till the chase picks him up—fire into him."</p> + +<p>A dozen balls were fired at John, and it seems he +was hit, for he let go the board and sunk.</p> + +<p>"There, captain, he's done for."</p> + +<p>The brig by this time had reached a considerable +distance from the place where John had been committed +to the deep, and when he rose to the surface, +as he soon did, he was out of danger from their shot.</p> + +<p>"O dear!" cried he, "I shan't ever get ashore; +I never could swim much."</p> + +<p>The waves threw him against the plank.</p> + +<p>"O! a shark! a shark!" shouted John, "now +don't;" and he grasped hold of the plank in a frenzy<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span> +of fear. He soon discovered the friendly aid it would +afford him, and held on to it with the tenacity of +despair.</p> + +<p>In less than half an hour the Raker came up. John +was noticed from its deck, and a brawny tar seizing +a rope and taking two or three turns of it round his +left arm sprang overboard to rescue the half unconscious +cockney.</p> + +<p>As the sailor seized him, John, supposing it to be +a shark, uttered a loud cry and lost all sensation. In +this condition he was hauled up to the deck of the +privateer, where, upon recovering his senses, he +found to his great surprise and joy, that instead of +being in the belly of some voracious fish, like Jonah +of old, he was in safety, and surrounded by the crew +of his former vessel, the Betty Allen, including his +master.</p> + +<p>The poor fellow was severely wounded by a pistol +shot, in the arm, but regardless of this he was wild +in his demonstrations of joy, especially when told +that his young mistress had also escaped.</p> + +<p>Captain Greene found that he had gained little, if +any, upon the pirate during the night, and became +convinced that he must again commence firing upon +her, trusting to some lucky ball to carry away a spar, +or failing, to allow the villains to escape the punishment +they so richly deserved, not only for their inhuman +treatment of the crew of the Betsy Allen, but +doubtless for numerous other crimes committed upon +the seas, as savage in their conception, and more +successful in their execution.</p> + +<p>The long gun was again uncovered, and a shot +dispatched from its huge portals after the pirate brig. +The first ball fired fell short of the brig, striking the +water directly in its wake, and ricochetting again +threw up the water beyond it.</p> + +<p>A succeeding ball, however, did some execution, +crashing through her top-gallant forecastle, but without +in any degree lessening her speed. As every fire +from the Raker lessened her speed, Capt. Greene became +exceedingly anxious that no balls should be +thrown away, and commanded Lieut. Morris to +point the gun, having more confidence in his skill +than in that of the gunner. The young officer aimed +the gun carefully, and as it was fired three cheers +arose from his crew, as they perceived the pirate's +mizzen-mast fall away.</p> + +<p>"She is ours," cried the lieutenant.</p> + +<p>"Stand by, men, to take in sail," shouted the captain. +"We will draw near enough," continued he +to Morris, "to fire into her at our leisure, a pirate is +not entitled to a more honorable warfare, and he +seems also to greatly outnumber us in men."</p> + +<p>As the privateer approached the pirate they could +not but admire the singular beauty of her build. She +rose and fell upon the waters as gracefully as a free +and wild ocean bird. The long red lines of her port-holes +swept with a gentle curve from stem to stern, +and her stem was so sharp that the bowsprit seemed +rather to terminate than to join it. Twelve carronades +occupied a double row of port-holes, and the +deck seemed crowded with men, all armed with +cutlases and pistols.</p> + +<p>"A formidable looking set," said Captain Greene, +as he laid aside his glass, "keep the gun lively."</p> + +<p>An ineffectual fire opened upon the privateer from +the pirate, but though they had a swivel of pretty +heavy calibre, turning on its axis amidship in such a +manner as to menace at will each point of the horizon, +it was evident that its force was far less than the long +gun of the privateer.</p> + +<p>A well aimed shot brought down the pirate's fore +topsail-yard, which hung in the slings, and succeeding +shots did much injury to her masts and rigging, +and at length the main-topmast fell over the side.</p> + +<p>The scene on board the pirate, during this unequal +warfare, was one approaching perplexity and disorder. +Their commander stood by the helm, gazing at +the privateer, his brow clouded with angry thought, +and giving little heed to the movements of his crew. +He was aroused from his abstraction by the voice of +one of his officers.</p> + +<p>"Captain, this is bad business, what is to be done?"</p> + +<p>The captain gazed at him in silence.</p> + +<p>"The crew are alarmed, and demand of you some +relief from this harassing state. Our guns will not +reach the chase, and we cannot leave her in this +crippled state."</p> + +<p>At this moment a heavy ball from the privateer +whizzed by them and buried itself in the main-mast +of the brig.</p> + +<p>The captain seemed fully aroused. His eyes flashed +with their wonted fire. He turned toward his crew, +and saw at a glance the state of depression which +had fallen upon them all. He even overheard some +muttered words of complaint.</p> + +<p>"Pat," says one, "this seems to be playing a +rough game, where nothing is to be won on our +side."</p> + +<p>"Faith, an' ye may say that, but we stand a chance +to gain one thing."</p> + +<p>"What may that be, Pat?"</p> + +<p>"O, a two-inch rope, and a run up to the fore +yard-arm."</p> + +<p>"The devil! That's not a pleasant thought, Pat."</p> + +<p>"No, but they say it's an aisy death."</p> + +<p>"Silence, men," was heard in the deep tones of +the captain's voice.</p> + +<p>In a moment all was still, and every eye turned toward +the companion-way, on which the captain stood, +resting one hand upon the main-boom, as he was exceedingly +weak from the wound inflicted by the ball +of Captain Horton.</p> + +<p>"My brave fellows," said their leader, "do not +be alarmed, we shall not be hanged this time. Is our +situation any worse than it has been in times heretofore? +Trust in me. Have I ever deceived you—have +I ever failed yet? You know I have not. +Where we cannot conquer by fair battle, we must +use stratagem. Be watchful and ready, and we will +yet not only escape yonder vessel, but stand upon +her deck as masters."</p> + +<p>The confidence with which he spoke inspired his +followers with like feeling, and with countenances +relighted by hope, they returned to their several stations. +Their reliance upon their commander was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span> +unbounded. He had so often triumphed when even +greater difficulties opposed, that they already felt +sure of ultimate delivery, now that he had been restored +to his former energy—they had mistaken the +lethargy into which pain and weakness had thrown +him for the torpor of despair. Again the joke and +laugh went round, and already they began to compute +their respective shares of booty in the vessel +so soon to be theirs, they knew not how.</p> + +<p>"Haul down the ensign, in token that we surrender," +cried the captain.</p> + +<p>A murmur of indignation and surprise arose from +the crew.</p> + +<p>"What, men, do you doubt me? 'Tis but a feint. +Haul down the flag and take in sail."</p> + +<p>The men obeyed with alacrity, for they already +clearly comprehended the plan of their leader. It was +his intention to entice the privateer alongside, and, +well aware of his own superiority in numbers, to +make a sudden onset upon her deck, and thus, contrary +to all laws of honorable warfare, seize by foul +means what could not be obtained in any other way.</p> + +<p>These pacific indications were viewed with some +surprise on board the privateer.</p> + +<p>"By Heaven!" cried Lieut. Morris, "she's tired +of this game soon."</p> + +<p>"Well, she had no other way to do; as it was we +should have sunk her without receiving a shot."</p> + +<p>"It was a losing game for her, true enough."</p> + +<p>"Lay the brig alongside of her," shouted Captain +Greene to his men.</p> + +<p>As his men with a cheer began to unfurl all sail, +Captain Horton approached the commander of the +privateer. He had up to this period ventured no interference, +both from matter of delicacy, and because +he saw nothing to disapprove of in the course pursued +by Captain Greene.</p> + +<p>"My dear sir," said he, as he laid his hand upon +the arm of the captain of the privateer, "allow me +to say a word."</p> + +<p>"Certainly, sir," replied the courteous commander. +"I ought sooner than this to have asked your advice."</p> + +<p>"I would not place too great confidence in the +pirate's signal of surrender."</p> + +<p>"Do you apprehend foul play?"</p> + +<p>"Recollect the savage brutality which the fiend +has already evinced, and judge for yourself whether +he is worthy of being trusted at all."</p> + +<p>"You are right, sir. Lieut. Morris," continued he, +turning to his young officer.</p> + +<p>"Ay, ay, sir."</p> + +<p>"Load the long gun with grape and canister, and +wheel it abaft—load the larboard guns the same way. +Now, my men, don't run too near her. She must +send a boat aboard."</p> + +<p>The privateer approached within half a cable's +length of the pirate.</p> + +<p>"Ship ahoy!" cried Captain Greene.</p> + +<p>No answer came from the pirate, but her head was +rounded to, so as to bear directly down on the Raker.</p> + +<p>"Answer me, or I'll fire into you."</p> + +<p>"Fire and be d—d," came from the deck of the +pirate, and at the same time a broadside was poured +into the Raker, which killed two or three men at the +guns, and severely wounded Captain Greene.</p> + +<p>"Lieut. Morris," cried he, "take the command of +the vessel," and falling on the deck he was immediately +carried below.</p> + +<p>The young officer was fully equal to the emergency +of the occasion. At a glance he perceived that the +pirate in the confusion which ensued from his unexpected +broadside, had fallen foul of the privateer's +rigging, and the crowd of his crew in his bow and +fore-rigging, all with cutlases drawn, and ready to +spring aboard the privateer, plainly announced the +intention to board.</p> + +<p>"All hands to repel boarders," shouted Morris, and +drawing his cutlas he sprang forward, followed by +his men.</p> + +<p>A well contested struggle ensued, the American +seamen, indignant at the foul deceit which had been +practiced upon them, fought like tigers, and for a +time kept the pirates at bay—they had indeed, notwithstanding +their superior numbers, nearly driven +them from the deck, when the form of their commander +appeared among them. In consequence of +his wound he had, contrary to his custom, entrusted +the command of the boarders to his first lieutenant, +and had remained upon his own vessel watching the +fight. He sprung among his crew, with a sword +drawn, and a tight sash bound around his waist, +from which the dark blood was slowly oozing, his +wound having burst away from its ligaments.</p> + +<p>"Cowards!" he shouted, "do ye yield—ye are two +to their one."</p> + +<p>Leaping to their front, he struck down a sailor and +plunged into the thickest of the fight. Reanimated +by the presence of their leader, who had so often led +them to victory, a new spirit seemed to light up the +fainting courage of the pirates, and with a fierce yell +they rushed forward. The American crew were +compelled to fall back before the fierce assault. At +the head of his men Lieut. Morris several times +crossed swords with the pirate captain, but the swaying +of the fight separated them. Perceiving that his +men were slowly yielding, though in good order, +Lieutenant Morris, cool and collected, cheered their +courage, and at this moment thought of the long gun +which had been drawn up, loaded to the muzzle with +grape and canister, against the companion-way, and +a man with a lighted match stationed by it.</p> + +<p>"Fall back to the quarter-deck," cried the young +officer.</p> + +<p>They retreated in close array, and uncovered the +mouth of the huge gun. At the sight of this a cry +of dismay broke from the foremost of the pirates, who +broke the front rank, and many of them escaped for +the time by leaping into the sea.</p> + +<p>"Fire," cried Lieut. Morris. In a moment he was +obeyed. Wild cries of agony arose amid the gathering +smoke, which, as it rolled away, revealed a horrible +sight. Not a living pirate stood upon the deck +of the privateer. A dense mass of bodies, writhing in +pain, lay upon the fore-deck, and many of the pirates +who had jumped into the sea were seen scrambling<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span> +up the sides of their own vessel; the pirate chief lay +dead at the head of his followers, foremost in death, +as he had been in life. It was a terrible and revolting +scene—the scuppers literally ran with blood, the +bulwarks were bespattered with brains and pieces +of scalps; several limbs were strewn about, and the +entire deck covered with the dead or dying.</p> + +<p>While the crew of the Raker stood for a time awe-struck +at the desolation they had themselves made, +the pirates, ferocious to the last, had regained their +own ship and cut her adrift, and as they paid off fired +a broadside into the Raker, which injured several of +her men. Roused by this, the privateersmen rushed +to their guns. The larboard guns, in obedience to +the order of Captain Greene, were already loaded +with grape; while with the starboard Morris commanded +his men to keep up a steady fire at the masts +and rigging.</p> + +<p>A fortunate shot from the Raker struck the helms-man +on board the pirate, shattering at the same time +the tiller. In a moment the brig was up in the wind, +and taken aback, throwing the pirates into confusion.</p> + +<p>"Ready about," cried Morris, leaping from the +carronade-slide on which he had raised himself, and +taking in at a glance the exposed position of the enemy—"head +her round, and stand ready to give the +rascals a taste from our larboard quarter."</p> + +<p>The Raker ranged across the bows of the pirate, +and before he could regain his headway, raked him +with a tremendous broadside of the same deadly missiles +which had already destroyed so many of their +comrades. The wild cries of anguish which arose +from the clouds of smoke told with what destructive +effect the death-bolts had been hurled.</p> + +<p>The pirate now paid off and returned an ineffectual +broadside, but rendered ungovernable by the loss of +her head-sails and tiller, he immediately broached-to +again, and the privateer poured in another terrible +discharge of grape and canister, raking him fore and +aft, then heaving-to and taking up a position on his +bow, she fired broadside after broadside into him in +rapid and deadly succession. The main-mast now +fell over the side, and the pirate at the same time fell +off before the wind, and drew out of the deep mantle +of smoke which had for some time covered both +vessels. As the smoke slowly curled up from the +deep it was seen that not a living man was visible +upon the deck of the pirate. Several of her guns +were dismounted, and her masts so cut away that +she lay upon the waters a helpless and disabled +wreck. Yet the red ensign of death, though rent +into ribbons, still fluttered from the peak, and the +young lieutenant hesitated to board, having learned +caution from the treachery of the pirate.</p> + +<p>While the crew of the Raker were thus occupied +in watching their enemy, a light female form was +seen to issue from the hatchway and gaze around the +deck of the pirate. She passed from body to body, +but seemed not to find what she sought. At length +she turned her eyes, streaming with tears, toward the +Raker, and pointing to the flag above her, as if to +indicate that there was no one to lower it, she knelt +upon the deck, bowing her head upon her hands. +Her long hair fell over her forehead and trailed upon +the blood-stained deck, as she knelt in mute despair +among the dying and the dead. It was a mournful +and singular picture of wo, and there were eyes long +unused to tears that filled to overflowing as they +gazed upon her.</p> + +<p>A boat was immediately lowered, and Lieutenant +Morris with a dozen of his crew were soon in possession +of the pirate's deck. Upon examining the +brig it was found that she was fast filling with water, +and after conveying to the Raker all that they could +lay hands on of value, including a large amount of +precious metal, she was left to her fate. Not one of +her crew was found living, so destructive had been +the continual discharge of grape from the Raker. +Florette accompanied them on board, and wept bitterly +as she saw the dead body of the pirate commander +lying in front of his slaughtered followers, +but suffered herself to be led below by Julia, who received +her with kindness and gratitude.</p> + +<p>All sail was now set upon the privateer, and she +bore away from the sinking craft of the pirate upon +her former course. The latter vessel, traversed in +every direction by the Raker's terrible fire, was +rapidly settling into the ocean. Suddenly, with a +sound like the gushing of an immense water-spout, +a huge chasm opened in the waves—the doomed brig +seemed struggling as if with conscious life, and then +lashing the waters with her shattered spars and broken +masts, went down forever beneath the deep waters, +over whose bosom she had so long rode as a +scourge and a terror, with blood and desolation following +in her wake.</p> + +<p>Among the effects of the pirate captain which had +been conveyed on board the Raker, a manuscript +was found, which seemed to be an autobiography of +his life. For what purpose he had written it can +never be known—most probably from an impulsive +desire to give vent on paper to thoughts and feelings +which he could not breathe to any living person, and +which he doubtless supposed would never be perused +by human eye—they show that, savage, and lawless, +and blood-thirsty as he had become, strong and terrible +motives had driven him into his unnatural pursuit, +and perchance a tear of pity may fall for him, +as the gentle reader peruses the private records of +the scourge of the ocean.</p> +<br /> + +<h4>CHAPTER VI.</h4> + +<h5><i>The Pirate's Story.</i></h5> + +<p>I am the youngest son of a gentleman of the northern +part of England. My father's family is as good +as any in the county, for without laying claim to any +title of nobility, our blood is as pure and our lineage +as ancient as the most boasted in England. I had +but one brother, who succeeded at our father's death +to the broad lands and rich heritage of our name. +The accursed law of primogeniture, to which I owe +all the evil that has befallen me, of course debarred +me from all share in the family estate. I had refused +to enter the army, the church or the navy, though my +inclinations were in favor of the latter profession;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span> +yet a stronger claim than ambition or a roving life +kept me on the paternal estate. It was not that I +envied my brother the possession of the wide bounds +over which he ruled, or that I found less happiness +in witnessing his, for I loved my brother, as God is +my witness, here, in my lonely cabin, with this +great sea around me, and this broad sky above me; +here, though no eye may ever see these lines, I +write, do I repeat it, I loved my brother dearly and +proudly. It was love that kept me idle at home +while other young men of England, belonging to the +same position in society as myself, and in the same +unfortunate category of younger sons, were carving +out for themselves fame and wealth in the service +of their country.</p> + +<p>Helen Burnett was the loveliest girl I have ever +seen, and I loved her with all the passionate devotedness +of a young and ardent heart; she was to +me the light of life, for all was dark when I was not +with her. She was the only daughter of our village +curate, and resided near our family mansion. We +had sported together beneath the venerable trees of +the park from the earliest days of childhood. Until +I left home for college she had seemed to me as a +sister, and I had loved her as such until, on returning +home from a long absence at college, I found a +blushing and beautiful young woman where I had +expected, forgetting the rapid work of time, to meet +with the same playful and lovely child I had kissed +at parting. She was, indeed, beautiful; tall, graceful, +and even commanding in figure, while the mildness +of an angel reposed in the glance of her deep-blue +eyes, and the sweet smile that so often visited her +lips, while her pleasantly modulated voice was +music itself.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">"A lyre of widest range,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Touched by all passion—did fall down and glance<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From tone to tone, and glided through all change of liveliest utterance."</span> +</div></div> +<br /> + +<p>Her hair was of the darkest shade of brown, resting +in soft wave-like smoothness above her high, pale +forehead. Alas! that she was <i>so</i> lovely! had she +been less so, either I might not have loved her, or I +might have been permitted by fortune to have been +happy with her.</p> + +<p>After leaving college, my time was all devoted to +Helen. She loved me no less than I loved her; and +I looked forward to a quiet and happy life, picturing +the future with colorings of the brightest hope and +joyfulness.</p> + +<p>It was at this time that my brother returned from +a long tour of the Continent. He was one of the +handsomest men of the day, and had been distinguished +by the appellation which had accompanied +him from court to court, of "the handsome Englishman." +He was of a medium stature, and faultlessly +proportioned; his expansive and intellectual forehead +seemed the seat of lofty thought, and his dark flashing +eye, intensely expressive, seemed to penetrate to +the heart of all who met its glance. I see him now—not +in his glorious beauty, but pale—pale, touched +by the cold fingers of death.</p> + +<p>I had too much of the pride of my race to live as a +dependent on my brother's bounty, yet I could not +bear the thought of leaving Helen. I was in no +situation to marry, and in an undecided state of +mind I suffered the days to glide away.</p> + +<p>My brother had just come back from a day's angling +in the trout-stream that flowed through his lands. +He met me at the park-gate.</p> + +<p>"Well, John," said I, "what luck to-day?"</p> + +<p>"O, William," said he, without heeding my +question, "I have seen the most charming girl—the +loveliest one that breathes. She outvies all I have +seen in my travels; do you know her. She is the +curate's daughter."</p> + +<p>I felt a sickness at heart, like the bitterness of +death—was it a presentiment, a warning of evil to +come.</p> + +<p>"Say, William?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—yes, she is lovely."</p> + +<p>"She is an angel."</p> + +<p>Sir John passed into the park, and I proceeded, +with a strange melancholy I could not dispel, to meet +Helen. She was at her father's door, and greeted +me with her accustomed kindness of voice and +manner.</p> + +<p>"Why are you so sad this lovely evening William?"</p> + +<p>"Sad!—am I sad?"</p> + +<p>"You look so."</p> + +<p>"Well, I will be so no longer, then;" and I endeavored +to shake off my depression, but not succeeding, +I bade her farewell at an earlier hour than +was my custom.</p> + +<p>From that day my brother's angling excursions +became more frequent—but he seldom returned with +a full basket. He often spoke to me of Helen, but +I always replied carelessly, and changed the topic of +conversation to something else, yet when alone, I +was in continual torment from my thoughts. I endeavored +to console myself with the reflection that +Helen's love was plighted to me, and that she would +not change, yet my thoughts were continually recurring +to my brother's great advantages over me in +every respect, not only in fortune but in personal +appearance; and I had already, in my suspicions, +placed him in the light of a rival for the hand of +Helen. I knew his high-minded and honorable disposition +too well to fancy for a moment that he would +attempt her ruin; and I also knew that there was +nothing in the inferior station of Helen's family that +would prevent him from seeking her hand in marriage, +if she had compelled his love.</p> + +<p>All that followed might perhaps have been prevented +had I at first told my brother frankly of my +love for Helen; but a foolish desire to prove her love +for me, and a certain feeling of self-respect kept me +silent.</p> + +<p>It was not a long time before I either saw, or +fancied I saw, a change in the manner of Helen +toward me—the thought was torture. I was for days +undecided how to act, but at length determined to +learn the true state of things. I knew my brother was +often at the parsonage, and I trembled for the +result.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Helen," I asked her, "is not my brother a +frequent visitor here?"</p> + +<p>It was twilight, but I thought I observed a heightened +color in her cheek.</p> + +<p>"Yes, he has been here several times since his +return."</p> + +<p>"Dear Helen, answer me frankly, has he ever +spoken to you of love?"</p> + +<p>She hesitated, but at length replied,</p> + +<p>"He has."</p> + +<p>"And did you not tell him your vows were plighted +to another?"</p> + +<p>"My father entered the room before I made any +reply at all."</p> + +<p>"Helen, do you love me now the same as ever +you have done?"</p> + +<p>"You have my plighted word, William." Yet +there was something bordering on coldness even in +the sweet accents with which she spoke; the nice +instinct of love detects each gradation of feeling +with an unerring certainty. I was not satisfied, and +when I left her, I was more unhappy than ever. I +longed to speak to my brother on the subject, yet +some indescribable feeling prevented me; and I +allowed the days to glide away, growing more and +more troubled in mind as they passed by.</p> + +<p>I was now convinced that Helen's affection for me +was not what it had been; and after a short interview +with her, in which she had again repeated her love +for me, but in such chilling tones that I felt it was +not from the heart she spoke, I sought the chamber +of my brother in a state almost bordering on madness. +All of our race have been of ungovernable passions, +but none more so than myself. I paused at his door +to regain in some degree my self-command, then +lifting the latch, I entered.</p> + +<p>"Ah, brother!" said Sir John, in a cheerful tone.</p> + +<p>"Yes, your younger brother," replied I, bitterly.</p> + +<p>Sir John started with wonder.</p> + +<p>"Why, William, what mean you?"</p> + +<p>I paid no heed to the interruption, but continued +growing, if possible, still more enraged as I proceeded.</p> + +<p>"Are not all the broad lands of our family estate +yours—its parks, its meadows, its streams; this +venerable mansion, where the <i>elder son</i> has rioted +for so many generations, leaving the younger to +make his way in the world as best he may."</p> + +<p>"Brother, are you mad? My purse is yours—I +have nothing that is not yours."</p> + +<p>"You have every thing, and not content with that, +you have sought to win away the love of my +affianced bride."</p> + +<p>"Who mean you, William?"</p> + +<p>"Helen Burnett."</p> + +<p>My brother turned pale, and gazing upon me for a +moment with astonishment, he heaved a deep sigh, +and covered his face with his hands.</p> + +<p>I folded my arms, and stood looking upon him +scornfully, for my passion had made me consider +him in the light of one who had knowingly stolen +away my bride.</p> + +<p>Sir John at length uncovered his face and spoke.</p> + +<p>"I would to God, William, you had told me this +sooner."</p> + +<p>"Is it then too late?" I inquired, bitterly.</p> + +<p>"Too late—too late for my happiness, but not +too late for justice and honor. She is yours, William, +I resign all pretensions to her hand, and will cease +to visit the parsonage."</p> + +<p>I was touched by the generous spirit of my brother, +and by the mournful shadow which clouded his +noble brow. I have ever acted from impulse, and +seizing him by the hand, I said,</p> + +<p>"Not so, John—not so! She is, as I have told +you, my affianced bride; her solemn and oft-repeated +vows are mine, and I have thought that her love +was forever mine; but this very night I plainly perceived +that a change has been wrought in her feelings. +She treated me with coldness instead of +warmth, and maddened by my interview with her, I +rushed into your presence, and have blamed you +unjustly."</p> + +<p>"My dear brother—"</p> + +<p>"No, no, John, I was wrong to accuse you. I +should have better known your nobleness. Henceforth +let us stand on equal ground; I do not want an +unwilling bride, and if you can win her love from +me, take her, though it drive me mad."</p> + +<p>A gleam of pleasure passed over Sir John's countenance +as he replied,</p> + +<p>"Be it so, my brother, it is but honorable; yet +will I at once resign all hope, and leave the country +if you but will it so."</p> + +<p>"Sir John, have you reason to think that Helen +loves you?"</p> + +<p>"She has never said so, but I did not think she +looked coldly upon me."</p> + +<p>"She is 'false, false as hell!'"</p> + +<p>"My dear William, however this suite terminate, +any thing in my power shall be done for you. If +the estates were not entailed, I would at once give +you a deed for half of them, and then I should have +no advantage over you in wealth or position. Here +is an order for a hundred thousand pounds."</p> + +<p>"Sir John I will accept nothing; if I lose Helen, I +shall have no more to live for, and I warn you, if I +become mad from disappointment, do not cross my +path, or I know not the consequence."</p> + +<p>"You do not threaten me."</p> + +<p>I felt the turbulent passions of my nature rising +within me, and fearing that I should lose all self-command, +I rushed from the room, and entering the +silent park, I wandered from grove to grove till the +cool air of the night had calmed my raging spirit, +when I sought my own chamber.</p> + +<p>I had never told the worthy curate of my love for +his daughter, and Helen had never been accustomed +to depend on him for advice or consolation. It was +to her mother that she had always turned for both, +and that mother had died but a year before the return +of my brother. Mr. Burnett was a quiet student, +passionately fond of his books, as innocent of the +world as a child, only fretful and peevish when any +thing occurred to disturb the quiet monotony of his +existence, and apparently unconscious that his little<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span> +Helen had grown from a child to a woman. His +mind was wholly wrapped up in his studies, even at +his meals it was abstracted, and he retired hastily to +his closet. Helen had no inclination to disturb the +serenity of his life, until it became absolutely necessary +that he should be made acquainted with her +engagement to me; and I had been too thoughtless of +all but my own happiness to intrude upon his +privacy, confident that his sanction to our marriage +would not be refused whenever demanded.</p> + +<p>I had yet to learn the lesson, bitter and agonizing, +that no woman is proof against the captivating temptations +of ambition, and the glare of wealth. I know +but little of the sex; they are called angels, and I +had thought Helen was an angel—alas! I found my +mistake. I read my doom in the averted coldness +of her glance; I felt it in the unwilling pressure of +her hand whenever we met, and I knew it when +I gazed upon the countenance of my brother, on +which was a quiet glow of happiness his expressive +features could not conceal, even when he knew my +searching glance was upon him. O! the agony of +feeling which oppressed me in those bitter days; I +felt all the savage passions of my nature rising within +me; there were moments when I felt as if I could +gladly see my brother and Helen stretched dead at +my feet. Day by day these vindictive thoughts increased +within me. It wanted but the finishing +stroke to make me completely mad—it came. +Though I had long dreaded to make the trial, on +which all my happiness for this world rested, I at +length determined to put it off no longer.</p> + +<p>The shadows of twilight were settling over the +earth as I slowly and sadly approached the parsonage. +My head was bowed upon my breast as I +walked with a noiseless step upon the little path +that led to the unpretending dwelling. I was not +aware how near I had come, till a ray of light from +the window fell across the path, and recalled me to +myself. As I stopped, I heard the tones of my +brother's voice in low and earnest conversation. I +drew nearer, and beheld a sight which rooted me to +the spot, even though I was not wholly unprepared +for such a scene.</p> + +<p>My brother and Helen were seated in the little +arbor before the parsonage, as she and myself had +often before sat when I fancied our love was lasting +as life. In the dim light I could see that my brother's +arm was round her waist, and that her head rested +upon his shoulder. I could hear their conversation.</p> + +<p>"And you do love me, then, Helen?"</p> + +<p>I heard no answer, but the long curls moved +slightly upon my brother's shoulder, and as he bent +his head and kissed her, I felt that he was answered—I +was answered—that he <i>was</i> loved.</p> + +<p>My brain burned as if on fire—and I sunk to the +earth with a low groan. How long I remained unconscious +I do not know; when I recovered, Helen +and Sir John stood beside me. I sprung to my feet, +and gazed upon them with the glare of a maniac. It +was so—my brain was crazed.</p> + +<p>"William," said Helen.</p> + +<p>Her soft voice fell upon my ears with a singular +cadence. With a fierce laugh I struck my brother +to the earth, and rushed forth into the forest. All +that night I must have wandered through its depths. +I found myself at the break of day miles from our +mansion, lying beneath an aged oak. I did not seem +to know myself. I cannot now describe the feelings +and thoughts which raged within me. The wild storm +which is now lashing the ocean without my cabin is +not more wild and fierce—the black sky above me is +not more dark and gloomy. They seemed at length +to settle into one stern, unchanging emotion, and +that was hatred toward my brother, and a stern determination +to revenge upon him the cruel wrong +which had driven me mad.</p> + +<p>My path led along the course of a mountain torrent, +whose sudden descent as it hurried toward the river, +formed successive water-falls not unmusical in their +cadence. A few purple beech and drooping willows +with here and there a mountain ash, skirted the +ravine that formed its bed; their leaves had fallen +before the blasts of autumn, they seemed emblematic +of myself; like me their glory had departed—they +were shorn of their loveliness by the rough storm, +left bare and verdureless in the chilling breath of +autumn; the seasons in their round would restore to +them their beauty and their bloom, clothing their +branches again in all the freshness of youth; but +what should give back to me the freshness and +youth of the heart? what restore the desolation of +of the soul?</p> + +<p>Weak and exhausted, I flung myself down in a +rude grotto, which commanded a view of the foaming +stream as it washed the rocks below; it was a scene +fitted to my mood, for I turned in disgust from the +beautiful landscape an opening in the forest revealed—the +beauty of earth had forever passed away from +me. That same opening, however, unfolded to the +sight the gray towers of my family mansion, and at +once I started to my feet and bent my course toward +them.</p> + +<p>At length I reached my home—how hateful every +thing about the venerable building seemed. I stole +to my chamber, and falling upon my couch, slept +from pure exhaustion.</p> + +<p>It was night when I awoke. I arose, but did not +leave my room; seated by the window with the +cold wind of November blowing upon my burning +brow, I nursed my thoughts of vengeance. I forgot +that he against whom I harbored such thoughts was +my only brother; I forgot my self-offered trial of our +powers with Helen; I forgot every thing—every +thing but the fiery feeling of revenge. Yes, I +was mad.</p> + +<p>Day after day I wandered around the old castle, +shunning every one. My brother strove to converse +with me, but glaring upon him like a maniac as I +was, I rushed past him. I felt the poison of hatred +working within me, and I knew the time was coming +when my revengeful spirit would find its vent.</p> + +<p>I often wandered toward the parsonage, but never +sought an interview with Helen. At times I caught +a glimpse of her light form as it passed by a window +or before the open door that led into the hall. One<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span> +evening I saw my brother enter, and drawing near +the window, I saw through the slightly-parted curtain, +such evidence of their mutual affection, that, if +possible, I became more than ever crazy in my +anguish and despair. I waited for him to come out +long hours, hours to me of bitterest sorrow, to him +of most intense delight. It was an exceedingly cold +night. A slight snow had fallen during the day, and +the landscape around me glistening in the moonlight, +seemed wrapped in a robe of the purest white. Yet +as I gazed all seemed to turn into the deep hue of +blood—wherever I gazed, every thing presented the +same fearful coloring. It was but the shadowy reflection +of a coming deed that should forever stain +my soul with a deeper red, that the years of eternity +could never efface.</p> + +<p>At length my brother opened the door of the parsonage +and came forth. Leaning against the trunk +of an old tree but a little distance from them, I saw +and heard the parting acts of endearment. At that +terrible moment the determination of my soul was +made, and I heard the dark devil within me whisper +one of you must die. I shuddered at the thought, +but when scarcely out of sight of the parsonage, +almost as soon as the door had closed upon the form +of Helen, I confronted my brother. Sir John started +back, surprised.</p> + +<p>"What, William, is it you?"</p> + +<p>I laughed scornfully.</p> + +<p>"My poor brother!"</p> + +<p>"Do you dare to pity me—ha! ha! ha! Sir John! +one of us must die this night—here, upon this spot; +here are two pistols, take one of them, and it will be +soon seen which is the fated one."</p> + +<p>Sir John mechanically took the pistol; cocking my +own, I retired a few paces, and turning, exclaimed,</p> + +<p>"Are you ready?"</p> + +<p>My words recalled him to himself; flinging his +pistol far into the wood, he exclaimed,</p> + +<p>"I will not fire at my brother."</p> + +<p>"Coward!"</p> + +<p>"The name belongs not to our race; fire at me if +you will, I will not at you."</p> + +<p>Enraged beyond expression, yet even in my madness +ashamed to fire at an unarmed man, I hesitated.</p> + +<p>My brother spoke.</p> + +<p>"Come, William, let us go home."</p> + +<p>"Home!—ha! ha! ha! my home is the wood and +the cave! Here, take my good-night."</p> + +<p>Thus speaking I flung my pistol full at his face +with all my strength; it struck him lengthwise, and +being cocked, went off in consequence of the concussion.</p> + +<p>Sir John fell upon the cold snow. I rushed up to +him, and beheld the blood flowing in torrents from a +ghastly wound; the ball had taken a downward direction, +and penetrated the abdomen.</p> + +<p>"William," he said, faintly, "you have murdered +me. God forgive you!"</p> + +<p>It seemed as if my reason came back to me at that +terrible moment as suddenly as it had left me. At +the report of my pistol, I had heard a loud scream +in the parsonage, and almost at the same time +with myself Helen rushed up to the side of my +brother.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" she cried, in accents of agony, "who has +done this?"</p> + +<p>"Who!" said I, bitterly, "do you ask? You +have done it; but no, Helen, I do not mean it—let +us carry him into the parsonage."</p> + +<p>With difficulty we lifted the body of my brother, +and bearing him into the house, laid him upon a +bed. Helen, who had up to this time been sustained +by the necessity of exertion, fainted beside the body. +I stood gazing upon them in stupid despair. The +worthy pastor opened the door of the room; he had +heard an unusual noise, and left his books to learn +the cause.</p> + +<p>I stopped not to converse with him, I could not +trust myself to speak, but stooping to the lifeless +form of Helen, I imprinted a last kiss upon her pale +lips, and burst from the chamber. I do not know +the result of that fatal night. It may be that my +brother and Helen were both restored to life and +happiness. God grant that it was so. It may be +that the spirits of both had already passed to another +world when I broke from the room, leaving the pale +and astonished pastor gazing upon the lifeless bodies +of his only daughter and the young lord of the manor. +Years have passed since then, and not a happy hour +have their long ages borne to me; yet methinks if I +could but know that my brother and Helen are +living in happiness in the mansion of my fathers, +much that is dark and despairing in the remnant of +life would be taken from the future.</p> + +<p>That night I bade farewell to the haunts of boyhood, +and the next day I was out upon the broad ocean. +I had jumped aboard of a little vessel which was +just weighing anchor, without asking its destination +or caring where it bore me. I made brief reply to +all interrogatories, merely showing a purse of gold, +which was sufficient answer, inasmuch as it showed +I was not to be an unprofitable part of the cargo.</p> + +<p>Seated upon the companion-way, that evening I +watched the receding shores of my native isle, and +as the sunlight went out on its white cliffs, leaving +them in sombre shade, I felt that so had the light of +my life gone out, leaving the darkness of despair +forever. Reckless as I was of the future, and dark +as was the past, I was not yet dead to all emotion, +and I could not witness my native land fading from +my view without experiencing those melancholy +feelings which the endearing recollections of former +years excite, embittered as they were with me by +the thought that even if I ever should return to the +home of my fathers, I should find no kindred to +welcome me back. No wonder, then, that I felt a +chilling sickness of the heart as I caught a last +glimpse of the Wicklow Mountains gleaming in the +warm colorings of the evening sun, as they mingled +their hoary summits with the "dewy skies" of my +native isle.</p> + +<p>The vessel on which I had chanced to take passage +was bound for the West Indies. It was a +small merchantman, and fell an easy prey to the +first pirate that gave chase. We were boarded and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span> +all consigned to death. When the command was +given to the pirates to shoot us all through the head, +I stepped forward with a smile, and a heart partaking +more of gladness than it had felt for long months, a +pistol was at my temple, when the stern voice of +the pirate captain commanded his man to stay his +hand. He stepped forward and gazed into my face.</p> + +<p>"My fine fellow, are you not afraid to die?"</p> + +<p>"I have nothing to live for—blow away, and I +will thank you."</p> + +<p>"By heaven, you are just the man for us! Now +take your choice, I have no objection to shoot you, +indeed it would be rather pleasant than otherwise, +but one of my lieutenants was killed yesterday, and +you can fill his place if you will. I give you five +minutes to decide while we are dispatching these +dogs." I gazed upon the cruel work—it did not shock +me; I even smiled at their agony, and had determined +to share their fate, when a momentary thought +of the unknown, mysterious hereafter restrained my +advancing step. Am I ready, thought I, to plunge +into its mysteries. I shuddered at the thought. It +was not the beautiful blue sky unrolled above me, +nor the broad, playful sea around that wooed me to +life. No, it was that fear of the "something after +death."</p> + +<p>"Are you ready to answer?"</p> + +<p>"I am thine."</p> + +<p>"It is well, throw these carcasses into the sea, and +set all sail for the Bermudas. Well, lieutenant," +continued he, as the ship fell off before the wind, +"give us your name, or it will be awkward work +hailing you."</p> + +<p>"William—" I stopped, the pride of my race arose +within me.</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"I will not give my name—call me William, I'll +answer to that."</p> + +<p>"Very well—lieutenant William, my lads, your +second lieutenant."</p> + +<p>The men seemed to like me from the first, and as +I gazed upon them with a proud, fearless eye, a +hearty cheer arose that endorsed my command.</p> + +<p>Since then my home has been the pirate's deck; +my heart has grown harder and harder with the +lapse of time. I love the sight of blood better than +I love the flowing wine—the agonizing shriek of +death better than the sweetest music—like an emissary +of evil I gloat over the tortures of man. I have +learned to hate the land of my birth, and all who first +drew breath upon her detested soil. I have been +foremost in every conflict, yet have I not met death—the +only foe whom I cannot conquer by my fierce +will and dark heart.</p> + +<p>I could not long remain a subordinate in command. +I had become the idol of our lawless crew, and a +single blow from my sword laid our captain low in +death upon his own deck; and I filled his place, +smiling with a fiendish pleasure, as I saw his body +thrown into the waves, and the hungry sharks +severing the limbs yet throbbing with life. I have +no feeling for my kind—yet I was not meant for this. +Under happier auspices, I might have been a leader +in the ranks of God as I am now in those of Satan; +my sword might have been drawn for my native +land with the purest and loftiest feelings of patriotism, +instead of being turned against her and her children. +Even now, in the midst of my crimes and desolation, +my heart throbs when I think of the great and good +of earth, and I feel that, like them, I might have left a +name of boast and pride to mankind; now, I shall +perish, unknown and unwept; the annals of my house +shall never record that one of its scions led a pirate +crew to deeds of bloody cruelty and death. Long +since I have buried my name in oblivion—I am dead +to my kindred, dead to the world; the caves of ocean +are yawning for the body of the pirate-chief, and +there will he sleep with the howling ocean and the +shrieking storm to sing his requiem and his dirge.</p> + +<p class="right">[<i>To be continued.</i></p> +<br /><br /> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="DREAMS" id="DREAMS"></a>DREAMS.</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yes, there were pleasant voices yesternight,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Humming within mine ear a tale of truth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Reminding me of days ere the sad blight<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of care had dimmed the brightness of my youth:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Yes, they were pleasant voices; but, forsooth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They threw a kind of melancholy charm<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Around my heart; as if in vengeful ruth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our very dreams have knowledge of the harm<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ourselves do to ourselves, without the least alarm!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I love such dreams, for at my couch there stood<br /></span> +<span class="i1">One who, in other lands, with magic spell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had taught my untaught heart to love the good,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The pure, the holy, which in her did dwell.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">It was a lovely image, and too well<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I do remember me the fatal hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">When that bright image—but I may not tell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How deep the thraldom, absolute the power—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My very dreams decide it was her only dower.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><i>Sandwich Islands.</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What are our dreams? A sort of fancy sketches,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Limned on the mind's retina, with a grace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More subtle than the wakeful artist catches,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And tinted with a more ethereal trace.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Our dreams annihilate both time and space,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And waft us, with magnetic swiftness, back<br /></span> +<span class="i1">O'er an oblivious decade to the place<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where youth's fond visions clustered o'er our track;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of youth's fond hopes decayed, alas! there is no lack!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I love such dreams, for they are more than real;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">They have a passion in them in whose birth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The heart receives again its beau ideal—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Its Platonized embodiment of worth.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Call ye them dreams! then what a mortal dearth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Throws its gaunt shadow o'er our little life!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Our very joy is mockery of mirth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And our quiescence agony of strife:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If dreams are naught but dreams, what is our real life?<br /></span> +<span class="i10">E. O. H.</span> +</div></div> +<br /><br /> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="A_LEAF_IN_THE_LIFE_OF_LEDYARD_LINCOLN" id="A_LEAF_IN_THE_LIFE_OF_LEDYARD_LINCOLN"></a>A LEAF IN THE LIFE OF LEDYARD LINCOLN.</h2> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span> +<h3>A SKETCH.</h3> + +<hr class="short" /> +<h4>BY MARY SPENCER PEASE.</h4> +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>It was in the joyous leaf-giving, life-giving month +of June, of 18—, after an absence of six years, that +I found myself once more among my own dearly +loved native hills.</p> + +<p>An intense worshiper of Nature, I had gratified to +the utmost my passion and curiosity by exploring all +the accessible regions of the old world. I had studied +every scene that was in any way famous, or <i>in</i>famous +I might say with regard to some, if the necessity +of clambering down or up unclimbable precipices, +or wading through interminable swamps, could +render them so.</p> + +<p>With all the fatigue and hardships I had undergone +my reward was great, and had more than repaid me +for the perilous dangers I had courted and conquered. +I had gazed, and dreamed, and raved by turns. I +had been melted into tears of tenderness by the perfect +harmony and loveliness of some scenes, and +had been frozen into awe by the magnificent grandeur +and terrible sublimity of others. And, after +those six years of travel in foreign lands, I had returned, +my brain one endless panorama of hills, valleys +and cloud-capped mountains, earth, skies, wood +and water. Not one of those gorgeous scenes, however, +had moved me as I was moved when once +again I beheld my boyhood's home—the stately mansion +of my fathers. Half hidden, it rose majestically +amid the noble elms that surrounded it; there lay +the velvet-green sloping lawn in front—down which, +as a boy, I had rolled in the summer and sledded in +the winter—there the wild, night-dark ravine in the +rear—fit haunt for elves and gnomes—that terminated +amid jagged rocks and tangled trees, in a rushing, +roaring brook of no mean dimensions, almost as +large as many of the so-called rivers of the mother +country. Just at this point, at the turn of the old +time-worn stage-road, where the venerable, picturesque +old homestead of my sires burst thus suddenly +into view, an opening in the trees, whether by +accident or design, revealed one of the very merriest, +maddest of musical water-falls, that went foaming +and tumbling its snow-white, sparkling waters +over a bed of huge rocks, and then, by a sudden +wilful bend, that same loud-uttering brook was lost +to view.</p> + +<p>As the rattling stage neared my home, my heart +leaped within me, and every fibre of it trembled with +emotion. I could have hugged and kissed each +familiar sturdy old tree, looking so grand and natural. +My soul warmed and yearned toward the well +remembered scene; and as I thought upon my fond, +doting mother and my loving, lovely sisters, and my +ever-indulgent father, I could have wept in the intensity +of my joy at finding myself so near them, +and breathing the same free, pure, health-giving air +that had nurtured my childhood. But was there not +sitting directly opposite to me one of the most exquisitely +beautiful of God's lovely women; and did not +her saucy, demure eyes seem to read my very soul? +I therefore restrained a display of my feelings, for it +would not have appeared in the least dignified or +proper in a fine-looking young man (such as I imagined +myself to be) of four-and-twenty, to be seen +with eyes streaming like a young girl.</p> + +<p>More than once, during our short stage-coach ride +had our eyes met; and hers had revealed to me a living +well of spiritual beauty; and although they were +withdrawn as soon as they encountered mine—not +coquettishly, but with true feminine modesty—still +they were not turned away until our mutual eyes +had flashed one electrical spark of mutual understanding +and mutual sympathy, that whole volumes +of dull words could never express either as vividly +or as truly. What a heaven-born mystery is contained +in the glance of an eye: it can kill and can +make alive; it can fill the heart with a sudden and +delicious ecstasy, and it can plunge it into the deepest, +darkest despair.</p> + +<p>I gave her one last look as the stage stopped before +my father's door, and if it expressed one tithe +of what I felt, it told her of my warm admiration of +her glorious beauty, and of my sorrow at leaving her, +perhaps forever, without knowing more of her.</p> + +<p>For the time the matchless image of my stage-coach +companion was lost in the loving embraces +and tender greetings of my family. I felt it truly +refreshing, after six years of exile from my own +kith and kin, to be caressed and made much of; to +be told by three deliciously beautiful, exquisitely +graceful sisters, hanging around one, and kissing one +every other word, to be told how much the few last +years had improved one, how handsome, &c. one +was grown; was it not enough to somewhat turn +one's brain, and make one a little vain and considerably +happy.</p> + +<p>In the still hush of the night, after finding myself +once more in my own room—<i>my</i> room, with its +cabinets of shells and mosses, that I had collected +when a boy in my various trips to the seashore, all +religiously left arranged as I had left them, its guns, +fishing-rods, stuffed rabbits and birds, its preserved +rattle-snakes and cases of insects, all of which had +stood for so long a time in their respective places +that they had become a part of the room—in the still<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span> +hush of the night the divine image of my most beautiful +stage-coach companion arose before me. The +evening was warm and soft, and gleaming in the +gorgeous moonlight lay that wild, weird ravine, and +the ever downward, foaming water-fall. Its musical +utterings, the delicious moonlight, and my own +newly awakened and hitherto invulnerable heart, +all conspired to make me poetical and inspired, or at +least to imagine myself to be so; and pardon me if I +gave utterance in verse to some of my feelings. +But do not in the least imagine that you are going +by any means to be presented with a fatiguing copy +of my passionate numbers; in the first place I am +very diffident, and in the next—but never mind the +next, I will tell you in plain prose that I felt convinced +in my heart, I felt a rapturous presentiment +that the unutterably lovely being I had that day beheld +would ere long be my own dear little wife, forever +and forever. An indistinct dream of having +somewhere, at some time before, known her haunted +me and tormented me, but I racked my brains in vain +to recollect the spot or time, and finally came to the +conclusion that it had been in another state of existence +we had met.</p> + +<p>I had been home but a few days when business +letters came, demanding the presence of my father +or myself in Philadelphia. My father expressed a +desire that I should go, and a certain internal prompting +urged me to comply with his request. The next +morning bright and early found me seated in the +same stage-coach in which I had met her. The due +progress of steamboat and cars deposited me safely +the day after in the goodly city of Squareruledom.</p> + +<p>The first leisure moment at my command, I paid +my respects to the family of my father's brother. I +found my good uncle and aunt at home; but my +little pet Emily—their only child—whom I had last +seen a rosy romping little imp of twelve—was unfortunately +out. My uncle urged me very hard to +make his house my home during my stay in Philadelphia; +but I had taken up my abode in the family +of an old college chum of mine, who had lately commenced +the practice of the art of healing, and who I +knew would be none the worse from a little of my +help in a pecuniary way. I therefore declined my +kind uncle's request, with a promise to come and +see them often.</p> + +<p>Judge of my inexpressible joy when, turning a +corner of a street, after leaving my uncle's, who +should I chance upon but the very being of whom +my brain and heart were full! Yes, there was the +identical she, and bless her dear little heart! she gave +me a bright half smile of recognition, which I returned +with as profound a bow as ever courtier +bowed to queen, or devotee to Pope's sublime imperial +toe.</p> + +<p>An omnibus came rolling by, which she, with a +motion of her neat little gloved hand, bid stop. She +stepped lightly into it, while I, with my usual impetuosity, +without knowing exactly what I was doing, +sprang after her. I consoled myself for my apparent +rudeness by throwing the entire blame upon the +elective affinities.</p> + +<p>On we went, and from time to time as I stole a +glance at her sweet face, I thought I detected a sly, +mischievous little devil playing around the corners +of her small dimpled mouth, and about the pure lids +of her downcast long-fringed eyes. She never +vouchsafed me a look, however; and as we went +on, and as I still watched her lovely face, a dread +vision arose up before me of a six-foot and well proportioned +youth, with fierce whiskers and a moustache +of undisputable cut and style, that I remembered +to have seen with the young lady during our +stage-coach ride together—that I remembered, with a +terrible heart-sinking, was impressively attentive to +her. I inwardly resolved to let nature have her +way, and let all the hair grow on my face that would; +what if it did grow a little reddish or so—why I +should resemble the rising sun, with my glory like a +halo around me. Seriously, I have long been of the +opinion that a shaved face is as much of a disgrace, +and ought to be so considered, as a shaved head fresh +from prison. Why do we not finish the half completed +work and actually shave off the hair of our +heads, our eye-brows and lashes, as well as our +beards, and thus go cool and comfortable through the +world? There would be this advantage in it, the +disciples of Spurzheim would have no trouble of +making a map of our bumps at sight; and then think +what an immense saving it would be in combs and +brushes, to say nothing of pomatum, which some so +freely use. I rejoice sincerely to see the sudden rise +in crops of hair, and most truly hope they will not +have as rapid a fall. Shaving is artificial and injurious, +exposing parts to cold that Nature never +meant should be exposed. Black, white or red—hair +is a protection and ornament that no manly face +or head should be without. Rejoice ye, therefore, +over every repentant sinner who tarrieth in Jericho +and letteth his beard to grow.</p> + +<p>But to return to my little omnibus companion, +who by this time was gracefully moving over the +smooth gravel-walks of Fairmount—for there we +had stopped—and exceedingly refreshing were its +cool shades and splashing fountains on that sultry +June day. I kept as near her as I could without +appearing rude, especially as I had received one or +two half glances from her bright eyes, that nearly +annihilated me, such an unearthly fluttering and +bumping in the region of my heart did they create. +Mercy upon me! what would a whole glance do? +And for a whole glance I courageously resolved to +strive, let the consequences be what they might.</p> + +<p>Now do you not expect an earthquake, or a roaring +bull, or at least a rabid dog? It was nothing +more however than a refreshing shower of rain—truly +refreshing to my thirsty soul, for it gave me +that coveted <i>whole</i> glance. Heavens! I actually +staggered, and would undoubtedly have fallen had it +not been for a friendly sappling—you will sneer at +witless I—that grew near me. But just try the effect +upon yourself—a shock of electricity is nothing in +comparison to a shock from a pair of bright eyes—such +eyes as hers. The truth of the case was here, +of a sudden, apparently from out the clear sky, came<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span> +down, with not a moment's warning, a perfect avalanche +of rain-drops—all expressly got up, or down, +for my benefit, else why did I happen to have an +umbrella in my hand? "A Wise man—" you remember +the rest. My beautiful incognito was away +up those long stairs, and walking leisurely around +the immense basin, when the rain came down. I +was not very far from her, and in less than an instant +my umbrella was over her pretty little blue bonnet, +with—</p> + +<p>"Be kind enough to accept my umbrella, Miss"—in +the most insinuating manner of which I was +master.</p> + +<p>"Thank you! but I will not deprive you of its +shelter," with that whole glance of which I spoke. +So on we went together, and somehow after we +found ourselves under shelter, it was the easiest and +most natural thing in the world to fall into a pleasant +conversation. After talking about the scenery, weather, +&c., we had mutually enjoyed during our short +stage ride, I spoke of the beauty around us, and +asked her if she often visited this lovely spot.</p> + +<p>"Not very often," replied she. "It is very beautiful +though, in spite of all they have done to spoil it."</p> + +<p>"To spoil it!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, by making it as much like a chess-board as +possible, all straight lines and stiffness. That is Philadelphia +however."</p> + +<p>"Then you are not a Philadelphian, or it is not a +favorite city with you?"</p> + +<p>"There you are mistaken. It is my native place, +and a city I love dearly—with all its formalities and +inhospitalities toward strangers. Philadelphia is a +prim matron, with a warm heart but a most frigid, +repulsive exterior, until you become acquainted with +her—one of her particular children."</p> + +<p>"I have been told that there is a finer collection of +works of art here than in any other city in the +Union."</p> + +<p>"I believe you have been told correctly. We have +more time in our quiet way to look after and admire +the productions of the great masters. Our taste has +wonderfully improved within a few years."</p> + +<p>"I have not been in town long enough to visit any +of your show places yet."</p> + +<p>"How I <i>should</i> like to see that lovely water-fall +and the whole of that beautiful scene on canvas. Do +you know I almost envied you a home in that beautiful +house with all its picturesque surroundings."</p> + +<p>"I am truly thankful you had the kind grace to +think of me at all."</p> + +<p>"How could I help it? I had a feeling the first +moment I saw you that you and I were destined to +be friends. Is there not a certain mysterious something—call +it magnetism or instinct—that either +draws us toward or repels us from every person we +meet in either a greater or less degree? With me +this instinct is very strong, and I obey it implicitly, +never in one instance having found it to fail. I know +at once who to trust and who to love. And would +know, by the same unerring law of my nature, who +to hate if ever I felt the least inclination to hate. +The only feeling of hate I ever experienced is a +strong desire to avoid all persons or things that are +disagreeable to me. I love harmony the most perfect, +and discord is a thing for me to flee from. I felt +toward you a most decided drawing, and I felt a conviction +then, as I do now, that we are to be very +near and dear friends."</p> + +<p>The little angel! I could have hugged and kissed +her on the spot; but I hugged her in my soul, and +inwardly vowed to consecrate my life to her, if the +"drawing" she felt for me could be rendered sufficiently +strong to admit of such a thing. On a sudden +I bethought me of the whiskered incognito, her stage +attendant. I mustered courage to ask her in a half +laughing way, if that fine-looking fellow she had +called Charles were her brother.</p> + +<p>Instantly her manner changed from that of sweet +and almost tender seriousness to an arch, quizzical +one that puzzled me.</p> + +<p>"Oh no, not my brother," said she.</p> + +<p>"<i>Not</i> her brother—a sharp pang of pain shot +through me—I was getting dreadfully jealous—I +looked all manner of curiosity and all manner of questions; +she took pity on me and said—a smile still +lurking in the corner of her eye—</p> + +<p>"He is no more nor less than the intended future +husband of the one you see before you."</p> + +<p>"The future devil! I sincerely beg your pardon, +but—you take me by surprise—I regret—but really I +do not feel that it can be so."</p> + +<p>"And why not?"</p> + +<p>"Truly, why not!"</p> + +<p>"He is very handsome."</p> + +<p>"That is as one thinks."</p> + +<p>"And very accomplished."</p> + +<p>"In flattery, most like."</p> + +<p>"And a most profound scholar."</p> + +<p>"In the art of making love, it would seem."</p> + +<p>"But I do not love him."</p> + +<p>"Not love him!"</p> + +<p>"No, nor never can."</p> + +<p>"Then why, my dearest young lady, do you marry +him?"</p> + +<p>"You may well ask; why indeed?"</p> + +<p>"You seemed very friendly with him the day I +saw you together, and happier than I could have +wished you."</p> + +<p>"That was before I knew I was to be his wife. +It has only been decided upon a few days."</p> + +<p>"And now?"</p> + +<p>"It is a long story, that I may tell you if we should +meet again. I never can love him, though I greatly +esteem him, and—"</p> + +<p>"<i>Esteem!</i>"</p> + +<p>"A sad substitute for love; but what is love without +esteem?"</p> + +<p>"What is esteem without love?"</p> + +<p>"Very true. It was not my own doing, although +I reluctantly gave my consent. If I can with honor +release myself from this unfortunate engagement—I +have thought more and more every day since, that +love, true heart-love, is the only tie that should sanction +the union of two beings—but why should I talk +in this way to you, a stranger? I cannot feel, how<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span>ever +that you are a stranger; we have surely met +before in some other state of being. I am a firm believer +in the beautiful faith of the transmigration of +souls—of pre-existence. What is it that brings two +congenial souls together, uniting them in one hour in +more perfect harmony than whole years could effect +among ordinary acquaintances?"</p> + +<p>"Something unexplainable," I answered, "as it +is mysterious. We can call it elective affinity, and +can talk very learnedly upon the singular attraction +of the magnet, as applied to the poles as well as +souls, and we can make vast and wise experiments, +and in the end be as far from the real cause as we +were before the Solomonic experiments were made. +The school-boy's reasoning was more to the point—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I do not like you, Dr. Fell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The reason why I cannot tell."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>I love you dearly, Dr. Fell, the reason why, &c., +would be just as conclusive. We are so accustomed +to seeing drops of water drawing near to meet each +other, and mingling in a loving embrace of perfect +unity, that we cease to wonder at the occurrence, as +we do also at the fact that oil and water will not +mingle."</p> + +<p>"Just as my soul will <i>not</i> mingle with the souls +of some. There is an antagonism more or less decided +between my inner self and many persons I +know; people, too, that I am compelled to be friendly +with, and wish to be friendly with, many of them +my cousins and aunts. Then again toward some +am I as irresistibly attracted."</p> + +<p>Her beautiful eyes sought mine frequently during +our conversation, and her glorious soul looked +through them—earnest, simple and pure.</p> + +<p>"Just so," resumed she, after a pause, during +which her sweet, soft eyes had been gazing on the +dreamy waters. "Just so have I felt attracted toward +you. I could sit down beside you and tell my whole +soul to you as freely as though you were my own +brother."</p> + +<p>The word <i>brother</i> sent a disagreeable shiver through +me that all her sweet confidence could not banish.</p> + +<p>"But," exclaimed she, starting up, "what am I +doing? The rain has stopped, and the waning sun +warns me that it is time to be at home. And what +<i>must</i> you think of me? I hardly dare to ask the—"</p> + +<p>"That you are the most lovely, most glorious of +all Heaven's glorious creatures; that you—"</p> + +<p>"There, there! if you talk in that way, I shall +truly repent having said all I have to you."</p> + +<p>"Forgive me; though I spoke sincerely, I +hope—"</p> + +<p>"I will forgive on condition of good behavior in +future. But I must not stay for another word. Promise +me that you will not leave this spot until ten +minutes after the omnibus I shall be in is out of sight."</p> + +<p>"I promise," said I, reluctantly.</p> + +<p>She gave me her little, soft, ungloved hand at +parting; its gentle pressure sent a thrill of ecstasy +through me, and I looked all the unutterable things +that my full soul felt into her warm brown eyes. +And, by the way, I may as well say that my own +eyes are—they are a dark, deep blue, and strangely +expressive, if I believe my sisters and my friends, +and—my own glass.</p> + +<p>For one week did I wander up and down the +streets, and watch every omnibus, and stare into +the windows and doors of every house I passed. I +peered under every pretty bonnet I met, and was, on +the eighth day, giving full chase to a coquettish little +blue one, in the earnest hope of finding the sweet +face of my beautiful incognita hidden under it, when +some one laid a strong grasp on my shoulder, and +looking around, I beheld the generous face of my +good uncle.</p> + +<p>"Bless the boy! why, Led, what is your hurry? +Your business must have been <i>very</i> urgent this last +week. Why, in the name of all the saints, have you +kept away so studiously? There is poor little Emily +actually dying with anxiety to see you. Bless my +soul! is this the way to treat your friends? But now +that I have fairly captured you, I do not intend to +let you go."</p> + +<p>And he did not, and would not; so I had to go with +him. And what do you think? The first object that +met my bewildered gaze, as my uncle led me into +the drawing-room, was—herself! her very self! but +so altered, looking so cold and stately. My uncle +introduced me to her as "My daughter Emily, +nephew Ledyard." "My daughter Emily" inclined +her beautiful head most graciously, and sweetly +smiled, but not one recognizing glance did she deign +to bestow on poor "nephew Ledyard." Lovely she +was, and proud and majestic as a queen. What +could it mean? I made several well-planned alluions +to omnibuses and stages, &c., not one of which +did she seem to comprehend.</p> + +<p>Her exceeding beauty still charmed me in spite +of her coldness; and I stayed to tea and then the +evening. My cousin sung for me; her voice was +highly cultivated and exceedingly sweet, and full of +feeling. Song after song she poured forth into the +listening air, and each song entranced me more than +the last.</p> + +<p>We conversed gayly on several topics, and she +grew more and more familiar with me, alluded +playfully to our childish intimacy; still, to the very +close of the evening, did she refuse to remember by +look or word that we had met since children. She +evidently wished to forget, and wished me to forget +the whole of that pleasant interview that had afforded +<i>me</i>, at least, such soul-felt delight; yet she acted her +part so well, was so careless and unconscious, and +withal so cold and full of queenly dignity, that I went +home in a perfect bewilderment of amazement.</p> + +<p>As I lay tossing on a sleepless bed, and in my +heart bitterly railing against the perversity and incomprehensibility +of women, I found myself incessantly +repeating to myself, "Am I Giles, or am I +not;" the truth flashed upon me that I was the unhappy +victim of an optical illusion, that the Cousin +Emily I had but a little before left was simply my +Cousin Emily, and not the beautiful being of whom +my heart and life were full—that incessant thinking +of her, and seeking her, had crazed my brain. I relighted +my lamp and made my way into the doctor's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span> +study. I read all I could find on the subject of +optical delusion and maniacal hallucination until I +convinced myself that I was laboring under a very +alarming attack of one or both, and resolved on +seriously consulting my friend, the doctor, early the +next morning.</p> + +<p>I went back to bed with the decided opinion that +I was exceedingly to be pitied—how would it appear +in the papers? for I must undoubtedly grow worse, +and it must undoubtedly end in suicide. "Sad occurrence," +"nice young man," "brilliant prospects," +"only son of—," and "promising talents," "laboring +under incipient insanity," "fatal cause unknown," +&c., &c. I sympathized with myself until +near morning, then fell into a sleep, which lasted +until the bell rung for breakfast. I dressed in a +hurry, and got down before the muffins were quite +cold. I ate a hearty breakfast, read a newspaper or +two, and determining on seeing my cousin again before +I made up my mind to ask advice, I soon found +myself at her door. The fresh morning air and the +walk had so invigorated me, that I laughed at my +last night's fears, especially as my lovely cousin +came into the drawing-room to receive me, radiant +with health and beauty. I found her just the same +as she was the night before, gay, witty and charming, +and as cold as marble. Still I could not be mistaken; +for, with all her feigned coldness—for some good +reason of her own undoubtedly—there was no +doubting her identity with that of my glorious Fairmount +vision.</p> + +<p>The day was a lovely one, soft and mild as a June +morning could make it. After conversing on indifferent +subjects for a time, I asked her, remarking on +the deliciousness of the morning, if she would not +like to go out with me to Fairmount. She assented +with a quiet smile, as innocently as though she had +never in her life before heard of such a place as +Fairmount.</p> + +<p>"The little-deceiver!" thought I. "Which way +shall we go?" said I, aloud, and very significantly, +"shall we take the omnibus?"</p> + +<p>"I will order the carriage," replied she, with a +slight shrug; "I never ride in those omnibusses, one +meets with such odd people."</p> + +<p>"<i>Never?</i>" asked I, emphatically.</p> + +<p>"Certainly, never!" answered she, with much +apparent surprise.</p> + +<p>My drive was a delightful one. How could it be +otherwise, with a glorious day surrounding me, and +a gloriously beautiful cousin sitting beside me, with +whom I could not exactly make up my mind whether +to fall desperately <i>in</i> love, or desperately <i>out</i> of +love. I, too, such an enthusiastic lover of beauty. +But she chose to be so different from what she was +at our first meeting—so reserved, that I could not +decide whether I most loved or was most indifferent +to her.</p> + +<p>We rode all the morning, and I left her, promising +to call again in the evening. I walked the streets +until dark, the whole affair vexed me so much—I, +such a hater of all mysteries, the most impatient of +all breathing mortals. I determined to come at once +to an understanding with my perverse little cousin, +and to decide at once the puzzling question whether +to love or not to love.</p> + +<p>In the evening I found myself alone with my little +tormentor.</p> + +<p>"Now, sweet Cousin Emily," said I, playfully, +"you have been teazing me long enough with your +pretty affectation of ignorance and innocence—not +but that you are as ignorant as the rest of your sweet +sex, and as innocent too—but, I beseech you, lay by +this masquerading, you have played possum long +enough. I humbly implore of you to be the same to +me that you were in our first visit to Fairmount—the +earnest, simple-hearted Cousin Emily you then +were."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Lincoln speaks in enigmas; I must confess +I do not understand his meaning, nor his elegant +allusion to 'playing possum.'"</p> + +<p>This she said with so much haughtiness, that I +was taken all aback. Rallying, however, in a moment +I determined not to give up the point.</p> + +<p>"I beseech of you to pardon the inelegance of my +expression, and also my pertinacity in insisting upon +some explanation of your manner toward me. It +will all do very well for the stage," continued I, +bitterly, "but in real life, among cousins, and two +that have met so frankly, and in such sincerity, I +feel that our acquaintanceship must at once end, +pleasant as it has been, as it might be to me, unless +you lay aside this assumed coldness. It harasses me +more than I can express. Emily, after seeing you in +the stage-coach, I thought I had never met with one +half so lovely, and I could think of nothing but you. +After remaining at home but one week, business +called me to Philadelphia. Judge of my delight +when almost the first object that met my view was +your beautiful, unforgotten little self. You were +just stepping into one of those very omnibusses you +have since seen fit to decry. What followed you +must remember as distinctly as I—no <i>not</i> as distinctly, +for the whole of that delicious interview is +engraven on my heart—one of the sun-bright scenes +of my life that I can never forget. And now, after +that beautiful interchange of thought and soul that +promised—every thing, do I find you cold, impassive. +If you repent the trust you so freely reposed +in me, in all frankness, say so; but for the sweet love +of heaven, do not pretend to such—"</p> + +<p>"For the sweet love of heaven what is the man +raving about? Are you mad, dear cousin, insane? +Poor Cousin Ledyard! Or is it—?" her whole +manner changed, her brilliant eyes lighted up with +intense fire. How beautiful she looked! I could +have knelt and worshiped her, though, strange to +say, my restless, ardent love for her had entirely +abated. "Yes!" exclaimed she, "it must be so;" +and with that she clasped her small white hands, and +throwing back her fine head, laughed with all her +heart, and strength, and soul.</p> + +<p>This was very pleasant for me; still I had to join +her laugh, it was so genuine and infectious.</p> + +<p>"Forgive me, dear cousin, forgive me for my rude +laughter; forgive me also for my folly in attempting<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span> +to deceive you. You will hereafter find me the +same you found me in our first pleasant interview. +Here is my hand—I will not explain one other word +to-night; I hear voices on the stairs. Come here to-morrow +evening at eight, and you shall know all—all +my reasons."</p> + +<p>"And why not to-morrow morning, cruel cousin?"</p> + +<p>"I am engaged all of the day to-morrow. I go +with mamma and papa out of town, ten miles or so, +to dine; a stupid affair, but mamma wishes it."</p> + +<p>"But before you go—just after breakfast."</p> + +<p>"No, no—come in the evening."</p> + +<p>By this time the voices heard on the stairs had +entered the room in the shape of a merry half-dozen +of my cousin's young friends. Feeling too agitated +for society, I withdrew.</p> + +<p>And now another night and a whole day more +of suspense—that pale horror, that come in what +shape it will, even in the shape of a beautiful cousin, +always torments the very life from my heart.</p> + +<p>All the clocks in town were striking eight as I +rung my uncle's bell. I found the drawing-room full +of company, at which I felt vexed and disappointed.</p> + +<p>My lovely cousin came up to me and placed her +arm within mine, and led me through the next room +into the conservatory, and there, seated amid the rare +eastern flowers, herself the queen of them, was, +gracious heaven! I dared scarcely breathe, so great +was my fear of dispelling the beautiful illusion. It +was she! none other; my stage-coach companion—my +Fairmount goddess. The musical, measured +voice of my statue-like Cousin Emily brought me to +myself.</p> + +<p>"Allow me. Cousin Ledyard, to introduce you to +<i>my</i> Cousin Emily."</p> + +<p>There they both stood, one Cousin Emily, calm, +stately, serene; the other trembling and in blushes.</p> + +<p>I looked from one to the other in the most ludicrous +bewilderment, yet each glance showed me more and +more what a wonderful fool I had been making of +myself for the last few days. Still they were strangely +alike; their own kindred could not at times distinguish +one from the other. My heart could feel the +difference. <i>My</i> Emily was a child of nature, the +other bred in a more conventional school. My Emily +was a shade less tall, less stately, less Grecian, and +exquisitely more lovely, and loving.</p> + +<p>But that double wedding <i>was</i> a grand one. By +what means my Emily contrived to disentangle herself +from that handsome-whiskered "Charles," and +to entangle him fast in the chains of the other Emily, +any one who wishes to know, and will take the +trouble, can have all due information on the subject, +and can also learn how I wooed my peerless Emily +and won her, by coming to our lovely picturesque +dwelling, situate in one of the most romantic spots +in the country. I write you all to come, one by +one, and spend a month with me, and you shall know +all the particulars. You will find my little Emily a +pattern housekeeper; you will also find a ready +welcome. Bless her sweet face! There she sits, +at the moment that I am writing this to you, with +her willow arms twined around the exquisite form of +her little lily-bud boy, and bending low her graceful +form over him, hushing to sleep the very bravest, +noblest, merriest little specimen of babyhood—the +exact image of his enraptured father.</p> +<br /><br /> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_DEFORMED_ARTIST" id="THE_DEFORMED_ARTIST"></a>THE DEFORMED ARTIST.</h2> + +<hr class="short" /> +<h4>BY MRS. E. N. HORSFORD.</h4> +<hr class="short" /> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The twilight o'er Italia's sky<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Had wove a shadowy veil,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And one by one the solemn stars<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Looked forth serene and pale;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As quickly the waning light<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Through a high casement stole,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fell on one with silver hair,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Who shrived a passing soul.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No costly pomp and luxury<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Relieved that chamber's gloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But glowing forms, by limner's art<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Created, thronged the room:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And as the low winds echoed far<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The bell for evening prayer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dying painter's earnest tones<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Fell on the languid air.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The spectral form of Death is nigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The thread of Life is spun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ave Maria! I have looked<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Upon my latest sun.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yet 'tis not with pale disease<br /></span> +<span class="i1">This frame is worn away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor yet—nor yet with length of years—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A child but yesterday"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I found within my father's hall<br /></span> +<span class="i1">No fervent love to claim—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The curse that marked me from my birth<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Devoted me to shame.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I saw upon my brother's brow<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Angelic beauty lay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mirror gave me back a form<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That thrilled me with dismay."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And soon I learned to shrink from all,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The lowly and the high;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To see but scorn on every lip,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Contempt in every eye.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And for a time e'en Nature's smile<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A bitter mockery wore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For beauty stamped each living thing<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The wide creation o'er;"<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And I alone was cursed and loathed;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">'Twas in a garden bower<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I knelt one eve, and scalding tears<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Fell fast on many a flower;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And as I rose I marked with awe<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And agonizing grief,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A frail mimosa at my feet<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Fold close each fragile leaf."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Alas! how dark my lot if thus<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A plant could shrink from me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But when I looked again I marked<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That from the honey-bee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The falling leaf, the bird's gay wing,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">It shrunk with pain and fear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A kindred presence I had found,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Life waxed sublimely clear."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I climbed the lofty mountain height<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And communed with the skies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And felt within my grateful heart<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Strange aspirations rise.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! what was this humanity<br /></span> +<span class="i1">When every beaming star<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was filled with lucid intellect,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Congenial, though afar."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I mused beneath the avalanche,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And traced the sparkling stream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till Nature's face became to me<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A passion and a dream:"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then thirsting for a higher lore<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I left my childhood's home,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And stayed not till I gazed upon<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The hills of fallen Rome.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I stood amid the forms of light,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Seraphic and divine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The painter's wand had summoned from<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The dim Ideal's shrine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And felt within my fevered soul<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Ambition's wasting fire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And seized the pencil with a vague<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And passionate desire"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"To shadow forth, with lineaments<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of earth, the phantom throng<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That swept before my sight in thought,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And lived in storied song.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vain, vain the dream—as well might I<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Aspire to build a star,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or pile the gorgeous sunset clouds<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That glitter from afar."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The threads of life have worn away,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Discordantly they thrill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But soon the sounding chords will be<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Forever mute and still.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in the spirit-land that lies<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Beyond, so calm and gray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I shall aspire with truer aim—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Ave Maria! pray!"<br /></span> +</div></div> +<br /><br /> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="A_FAREWELL_TO_A_HAPPY_DAY" id="A_FAREWELL_TO_A_HAPPY_DAY"></a>A FAREWELL TO A HAPPY DAY.</h2> + +<hr class="short" /> +<h4>BY FRANCES S. OSGOOD.</h4> +<hr class="short" /> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Good-bye—good-bye, thou gracious, golden day:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through luminous tears, thou smilest, far away<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the blue heaven, thy sweet farewell to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I, through <i>my</i> tears, gaze and smile with thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I see the last faint, glowing, amber gleam<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of thy rich pinion, like a lovely dream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose floating glory melts within the sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now thou'rt passed forever from mine eye!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Were we not friends—<i>best</i> friends—my cherished day?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did I not treasure every eloquent ray<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of golden light and love thou gavest me?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And have I not been true—most true to thee?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And <i>thou</i>—thou earnest like a joyous bird,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose sacred wings by heaven's own air were stirred.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lowly sang me all the happy time<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dear, soothing stories of that blissful clime!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And more, oh! more than this, there came with thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From Heaven, a stranger, rare and bright to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A new, sweet joy—a smiling angel-guest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That softly asked a home within my breast.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For talking sadly with my soul alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I heard far off and faint a music-tone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It seemed a spirit's call—so soft it stole<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On fairy wings into my waiting soul.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I <i>knew</i> it summoned me to something sweet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And so I followed it with faltering feet;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And found—what I had prayed for with wild tears—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A rest, that soothed the lingering grief of years!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So for that deep, perpetual joy, my day!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And for all lovely things that came to play<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In thy glad smile—the pure and pleading flowers<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That crowned with their frail bloom thy flying hours—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The sunlit clouds—the pleasant air that played<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its low lute-music 'mid the leafy shade—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, dearer far, the tenderness that taught<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My soul a new and richer thrill of thought—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For these—for all—bear thou to Heaven for me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The grateful thanks with which I mission thee!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then should thy sisters, wasted, wronged, upbraid,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Speak <i>thou</i> for me—for thou wert not betrayed!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Twas little—true—I could to thee impart—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I, with my simple, frail and wayward heart;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But that I strove the diamond sands to light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In Life's rich hour-glass, with <i>Love's</i> rainbow flight;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And that one generous spirit owed to me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A moment of exulting ecstasy;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And that I won o'er wrong a queenly sway—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For this, thou'lt smile for me in Heaven, my Day!<br /></span> +</div></div> +<br /><br /> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="SAM_NEEDY" id="SAM_NEEDY"></a>SAM NEEDY.</h2> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span> + +<h3>A TALE OF THE PENITENTIARY.</h3> + +<hr class="short" /> +<h4>BY LOUIS FITZGERALD TASISTRO.</h4> +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>Several years ago, a man of the name of Samuel +Needy, a poor artisan, was living in London. He +had with him a wife, and a child by this wife. This +artisan was skillful, quick, intelligent, very ill-treated +by education, very well-treated by nature—able to +think, but not to read. One winter his work failed +him—there was neither fire nor food in his garret; +the man, the woman, and the child were cold and +hungry; he committed a theft; it is unnecessary to +state what he stole, or whence he stole it. Suffice it +to know, that the consequences of this theft were +three days' food and fire to the wife and child, and +five years of imprisonment to the man.</p> + +<p>Sam Needy, lately an honest man, now and henceforth +a thief, was dignified and grave in appearance; +his high forehead was already wrinkled, though he +was still young; some gray lines lurked among the +black and bushy tufts of his hair; his eye was soft, +and buried deep beneath his lofty and well-turned +eye-brow; his nostrils were open, his chin advancing, +his lip scornful; it was a fine head—let us see what +society made of it.</p> + +<p>He was a man of few words—more frequent gestures—somewhat +imperious in his whole manner, +and one to make himself obeyed; of a melancholy +air—rather serious than suffering; for all that he had +suffered enough.</p> + +<p>In the place where he was confined there was a +director of the work-rooms—a kind of functionary +peculiar to prisons, who combined in himself the +offices of turnkey and tradesman, who would at the +same time issue an order to the workman and +threaten the prisoner—put tools in his hand and irons +on his feet. This man was a variety of his own +species—a man peremptory, tyrannical, governed by +his fancies, holding tight the reins of his authority, +and yet, on occasion, a boon companion, jovial and +condescending to a joke—rather hard than firm—reasoning +with no one—not even himself—a good +father, and doubtless a good husband—(a duty, by the +way, and not a virtue;) in short, evil but not bad. +The principal, the diagonal line of this man's character +was obstinacy; he was proud of it, and therein +compared himself to Napoleon, when he had once +fixed what he called <i>his will</i> upon an absurdity, he +went to its furthest length, holding his head high, and +despising all obstacles. Such violence of purpose +without reason, is only folly tied to the tail of brute +force, and serving to lengthen it. For the most part, +whenever a catastrophe, whether public or private, +happens amongst men, if we look beneath the rubbish +with which it strews the earth, to find in what +manner the fallen fabric had been propped, we shall, +with rare exceptions, discover it to have been blindly +put together by a weak and obstinate man, trusting and +admiring himself implicitly. Many of the smaller +of these strange fatalities pass in the world for +providences. Such was he who was the director of +the work-rooms in the House of Correction where +poor Sam Needy was sent to undergo his sentence. +Such was the stone with which society daily struck +its prisoners to draw sparks from them. The sparks +which such stones draw from such flints often kindle +conflagrations.</p> + +<p>In a short time Sam found the prison air natural to +him, and appeared to have forgotten every thing; +a certain severe serenity, which belonged to his +character, had resumed its mastery.</p> + +<p>In about the same time he had acquired a singular +ascendency over all his companions, as if by a sort +of silent agreement, and without any one knowing +wherefore, not even himself. All these men consulted +him, listened to him, admired and imitated +him, (the last point to which admiration can mount.) +It was no slight glory to be obeyed by all these lawless +natures; the empire had come to him without +his own seeking—it was a consequence of the respect +with which they beheld him. The eye of a man is +a window, through which may be seen the thoughts +which enter into and issue from his heart.</p> + +<p>Place an individual who possesses ideas among +those who do not, at the end of a given time, and by +a law of irresistible attraction, all their misty minds +shall draw together with humility and reverence +round his illuminated one. There are men who are +iron, and there are men who are loadstone. Sam +Needy was loadstone. In less than three months he +had become the soul, the law, the order of the work-room; +he was the dial, concentrating all rays; he +must even himself have sometimes doubted whether +he were king or prisoner—it was the captivity of a +pope among his cardinals.</p> + +<p>By as natural a reaction, accomplished step by +step, as he was loved by the prisoners, so was he +detested by the jailers. It is always thus, popularity +cannot exist without disfavor—the love of the slaves +is always exceeded one degree by the hate of their +masters.</p> + +<p>Sam Needy was, by his particular organization, a +great eater; his stomach was so formed, that food +enough for two common men would hardly have +sufficed for his nourishment. Lord Slickborough had +one of these large appetites, and laughed at it; but +that which is a cause of gayety for a British peer,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span> +with a rent-roll of fifty-thousand pounds a year, is a +heavy charge to an artisan, and a misfortune to a +prisoner.</p> + +<p>Sam Needy, free in his own loft, worked all day, +earned his four pounds of bread, and ate it; Sam +Needy, in prison, worked all day, and, for his pains, +received invariably one pound and a half of bread, +and four ounces of meat; the ration admits of no +change. Sam was therefore constantly hungry +whilst in the House of Correction; he was hungry, +and no more—he did not speak of it because it was +not his nature so to do.</p> + +<p>One day Sam, after devouring his scanty pittance, +had returned to his work, thinking to cheat his +hunger by it—the rest of the prisoners were eating +cheerily. A young man, pale, fair, and feeble-looking, +came and placed himself near him; he held +in his hand his ration, as yet untouched, and a knife; +he remained in that situation, with the air of one +who would speak, and dares not. The sight of the +man, and his bread and meat annoyed Sam.</p> + +<p>"What do you want?" said he, rudely.</p> + +<p>"That you would do me a service," said the young +man, timidly.</p> + +<p>"What?" replied Sam.</p> + +<p>"That you would help me to eat this—it is too +much for me."</p> + +<p>A tear stood in the proud eye of Sam; he took the +knife, divided the young man's ration into two +equal parts, took one of them, and began eating.</p> + +<p>"Thank you," said the young man; "if you like, +we will share together every day."</p> + +<p>"What is your name?" said Sam.</p> + +<p>"Heartall."</p> + +<p>"Wherefore are you here?"</p> + +<p>"I have committed a theft."</p> + +<p>"And I too," said Sam.</p> + +<p>Henceforth they did thus share together every +day. Sam Needy was little more than thirty years +old, but at times he appeared fifty, so stern were his +thoughts usually. Heartall was twenty—he might +have been taken for seventeen, so much innocence +was there in his appearance. A strict friendship was +knit up between the two, rather of father to son than +brother to brother, Heartall being still almost a child, +Sam already nearly an old man. They wrought in +the same work-room—they slept under the same +vault—they walked in the same airing-ground—they +ate of the same bread. Each of these two friends +was the universe to the other—it would seem that +they were happy.</p> + +<p>Mention has already been made of the director of +the work-rooms. This man, who was abhorred by +the prisoners, was often obliged, in order to enforce +obedience, to have recourse to Sam Needy, who +was beloved by them. On more than one occasion, +when the question was, how to put down a rebellion +or a tumult, the authority without title of Sam Needy +had given powerful aid to the official authority of +the director; in short, to restrain the prisoners, ten +words from him were as good as ten turnkeys. Sam +had many times rendered this service to the director, +wherefore the latter detested him cordially. He was +jealous of him; there was at the bottom of his heart +a secret, envious, implacable hatred against Sam—the +hate of a titular for a real sovereign—of a temporal +against a spiritual power; these are the worst of all +hatreds.</p> + +<p>Sam loved Heartall greatly, and did not trouble +himself about the director. One morning when the +turnkeys were leading the prisoners, two by two, +from their dormitory to the work-room, one of them +called Heartall, who was by the side of Sam, and +informed him that the director wished to see him.</p> + +<p>"What does he want with you?" said Sam.</p> + +<p>"I do not know," replied the other.</p> + +<p>The turnkey took Heartall away.</p> + +<p>The morning past; Heartall did not return to the +work-room. When the dinner hour arrived, Sam +expected that he should rejoin Heartall in the airing-ground—but +no Heartall was there. He returned into +the work-room, still Heartall did not make his appearance. +So passed the day. At night, when the +prisoners were removed to their dormitory, Sam +looked out for Heartall, but could not see him. It +would seem that he must have suffered much at that +moment, for he addressed the turnkey—a thing which +he had never done before.</p> + +<p>"Is Heartall sick?" was his question.</p> + +<p>"No," replied the turnkey.</p> + +<p>"Why is it, then, that he has not again made his +appearance to-day?"</p> + +<p>"Ah," replied the turnkey, carelessly, "they have +put him in another ward."</p> + +<p>The witnesses who deposed to these facts at a +later period, remarked, that at this answer, Sam's +hand, in which was a lighted candle, trembled a +little. He again asked, calmly,</p> + +<p>"Whose order was this?"</p> + +<p>The turnkey said "Mr. Flint's."</p> + +<p>The name of the director of the work-rooms was +Flint.</p> + +<p>The next day went by like the last, but no news +of Heartall.</p> + +<p>That evening, when the day's work ended, Mr. +Flint came to make his usual round of inspection. +As soon as Sam Needy saw him, he took off his cap +of coarse wool, buttoned his gray vest, sad livery of +the work-house, (it is a principle in prisons, that a +vest, respectfully buttoned, bespeaks the favor of +the superior officers,) and placed himself at the end +of his bench, waiting till the director came by. He +passed.</p> + +<p>"Sir," said Sam.</p> + +<p>The director stopped and turned half round.</p> + +<p>"Sir," said Sam, "is it true that Heartall's ward +has been changed?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," returned the director.</p> + +<p>"Sir," continued Sam, "I cannot live without +Heartall; you know that with the ration of the house +I have not enough to eat, and that Heartall shared +his bread with me."</p> + +<p>"That was his business," replied the director.</p> + +<p>"Sir, is there no means of getting Heartall replaced +in the same ward as myself?"</p> + +<p>"Impossible! it is so decided."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span></p> + +<p>"By whom?"</p> + +<p>"By myself."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Flint," persisted Sam, "the question is my +life or death, and it depends upon you."</p> + +<p>"I never revoke my decisions."</p> + +<p>"Sir, is it because I have given you offence?"</p> + +<p>"None."</p> + +<p>"In that case," said Sam, "why do you separate +me from Heartall?"</p> + +<p>"<i>It is my will</i>" said the director.</p> + +<p>With this explanation he went away.</p> + +<p>Sam Needy stooped his head and made no answer. +Poor caged lion, from whom they had taken his dog!</p> + +<p>The grief of this separation in no way changed the +prisoner's almost disease of voracity. Nor was he, +in other respects, obviously altered. He did not +speak of Heartall to any of his comrades. He walked +alone in the airing-ground, in the hours of recreation, +and suffered hunger—nothing more.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, those who knew him well, remarked +something of a sinister and sombre expression which +daily overspread his countenance more and more. +In other respects he was gentler than ever. Many +wished to share their ration with him, but he refused +with a smile.</p> + +<p>Every evening, after the explanation which the +director had given him, he committed a sort of folly, +which, in so grave a man, was astonishing. At the +moment when the director, in the progress of his +habitual duty, passed by Sam Needy's working-frame, +he would raise his eyes, gaze steadily upon +him, and then address to him, in a tone full of distress +and anger, combining at once menace and supplication, +these two words only—"<i>remember Heartall</i>!" +the director would either appear not to hear, or pass +on, shrugging his shoulders.</p> + +<p>He was wrong. It became evident to all the +lookers on of these strange scenes, that Sam Needy +was inwardly determined on some step. All the +prison awaited with anxiety the result of this strife +between obstinacy and resolution.</p> + +<p>It has been proved, that once Sam said to the +director, "Listen, sir, give me back my comrade; +you will do well to do it, I assure you. Take notice +that I tell you this."</p> + +<p>Another time, one Sunday, when he had remained +in the airing-ground for many hours in the same attitude, +seated on a stone, his elbows on his knees, and +his forehead buried in his hands, one of his fellow-convicts +approached him, and cried out, laughing,</p> + +<p>"What are you about here, Sam?"</p> + +<p>Sam raised his stern head slowly, and said, "<i>I +am sitting in judgment!</i>"</p> + +<p>At last, on the evening of the 1st of November, +1833, at the moment when the director was making +his round, Sam Needy crushed under his foot a +watch-glass, which he had that morning found in +the corridor. The director inquired whence that +noise proceeded.</p> + +<p>"It is nothing," said Sam. "It is I, Mr. Flint—give +me back my comrade."</p> + +<p>"Impossible!" said his master.</p> + +<p>"It must be done though," said Sam, in a low and +steady voice, and looking the director full in the +face, added, "reflect, this is the first of November, I +give you till the 10th."</p> + +<p>A turnkey made the remark to Mr. Flint that Sam +Needy threatened him, and that it was a case for +solitary confinement.</p> + +<p>"No, nothing of the kind," said the director, with +a disdainful smile, "we must be gentle with these +sort of people."</p> + +<p>On the morrow, another convict approached Sam +Needy, who walked by himself, melancholy, leaving +the other prisoners to bask in a patch of sunshine at +the further corner of the court.</p> + +<p>"What now, Sam—what are you thinking of? +You seem sad."</p> + +<p>"<i>I am afraid</i>," said Sam, "<i>that some misfortune +will happen soon to this gentle Mr. Flint</i>."</p> + +<p>There are nine full days from the 1st to the 10th +of November. Sam Needy did not let one pass +without gravely warning the director of the state, +more and more miserable, in which the disappearance +of Heartall placed him. The director, worn out, +sentenced him to four-and-twenty hours of solitary +confinement, because his prayer was too like a demand. +This was all that Sam Needy obtained.</p> + +<p>The 10th of November arrived. On this day Sam +arose with such a serene countenance as he had not +worn since the day when <i>the decision</i> of Mr. Flint +had separated him from his friend. When risen, he +searched in a white wooden box, which stood at the +foot of his bed, and contained his few possessions. +He drew thence a pair of sempstress's scissors. +These, with an odd volume of Cowper's poems, +were all that remained to him of the woman he had +loved—of the mother of his child—of his happy little +home of other days. Two articles, totally useless to +Sam; the scissors could only be of service to a +woman—the book to a lettered person. Sam could +neither sew nor read.</p> + +<p>At the time when he was traversing the old hall, +which serves as the winter walk for the prisoners, +he approached a convict of the name of Dawson, +who was looking with attention at the enormous +bars of a window. Sam was holding the little pair +of scissors in his hands; he showed them to Dawson, +saying, "To-night I will divide those bars with these +scissors."</p> + +<p>Dawson began to laugh incredulously. Sam joined +him.</p> + +<p>That morning he worked with more zeal than +usual—faster and better than ever before. A little +past noon he went down on some pretext or other to +the joiner's workshop, on the ground-floor, under +the story in which was his own. Sam was beloved +there as every where else; but he entered it seldom. +Thus it was—"Stop, here's Sam!" They got round +him; it was a perfect holyday. He cast a quick glance +around the room. Not one of the overlookers was there.</p> + +<p>"Who has a hatchet to lend me?" said he.</p> + +<p>"What to do?" was the inquiry.</p> + +<p>"Kill the director of the work-rooms."</p> + +<p>They offered him many to choose from. He took +the smallest of those which were very sharp, hid it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span> +in his trowsers, and went out. There were twenty-seven +prisoners in that room. He had not desired +them to keep his secret; they all kept it. They did +not even talk of it among themselves. Every one +separately awaited the result. The thing was straight-forward—terribly +simple. Sam could neither be +counseled nor denounced.</p> + +<p>An hour afterward he approached a convict sixteen +years old, who was lounging in the place of exercise, +and advised him to learn to read. The rest of the +day was as usual. At 7 o'clock at night the prisoners +were shut up, each division in the work-room to +which they belonged, and the overseers went out, as +it appears was the custom, not to return till after the +director's visit. Sam was locked in with his companions +like the rest.</p> + +<p>Then there passed in this work-room an extraordinary +scene, one not without majesty and awe, +the only one of the kind which is to be told in this +story. There were there (according to the judiciary +deposition afterward made) four-and-twenty +prisoners, including Sam Needy. As soon as the +overseers had left them alone, Sam stood up upon a +bench, and announced to all the room that he had +something to say. There was silence.</p> + +<p>Then Sam raised his voice, and said, "You all +know that Heartall was my brother. Here they do not +give me enough to eat; even with the bread which I +can buy with the little I earn, it is not sufficient. +Heartall shared his ration with me. I loved him at +first because he fed me, then because he loved me. +The director, Mr. Flint, separated us; our being together +could be nothing to him—but he is a bad-hearted +man, who enjoys tormenting others. I have +asked him for Heartall back again. You have heard +me. He will not do it. I gave him till the 10th, +which is to-day, to restore Heartall to me. He +ordered me into solitary confinement for telling him +so. I, during this time, have sat in judgment upon +him, and condemned him to death. In two hours he +will come to make his round. I warn you that I +am about to kill him. Have you any thing to say on +the matter?" All continued silent.</p> + +<p>He went on; he spoke (so it appears) with a peculiar +eloquence, which was natural to him. He declared +that he knew he was about to do a violent +deed, but could not think it wrong. He appealed to the +conscience of his four-and-twenty listeners. He was +placed in a cruel extremity; the necessity of doing +justice to himself was a strait into which every man +found himself driven at one time or other; he could +not, in truth, take the director's life without giving his +own for it; but it was right to give his life for a just +end. He had thought deeply on the matter, and that +alone, for two months; he believed he was not carried +away by passion, but if it were so, he trusted they +would warn him. He honestly submitted his reasons +to the just men whom he addressed. He was about +to kill Mr. Flint; but if any one had any objection to +make, he was ready to hear it.</p> + +<p>One voice alone was raised to say, that before killing +the director, Sam ought to make one last attempt to +soften him.</p> + +<p>"It is fair," said Sam. "I will do so."</p> + +<p>The great clock struck the hour—it was eight. +The director would make his appearance at nine.</p> + +<p>No sooner had this extraordinary court of appeal +ratified the sentence he had submitted to it, than +Sam resumed his former serenity. He placed upon +the table all the linen and garments he possessed—the +scanty property of a prisoner—and calling to him, +one after the other, those of his companions whom +he loved best after Heartall, he divided all amongst +them. He only kept the little pair of scissors. Then +he embraced them all. Some of them wept—upon +these he smiled.</p> + +<p>There were moments in this last hour, when he +chatted with so much tranquillity, and even gayety, +that many of his comrades inwardly hoped, as they +afterward declared, that he might perhaps abandon +his resolution.</p> + +<p>He perceived a young convict who was pale, who +was gazing upon him with fixed eyes, and trembling +doubtless from expectation of what he was about to +witness. "Come, courage, young man," said Sam +to him, softly, "it will be only the work of a +moment."</p> + +<p>When he had distributed all his goods, made all +his adieux, pressed all their hands, he interrupted the +restless whisperings which were heard here and there +in the dim corners of the work-room, and commanded +that they should return to their labor. All obeyed +him in silence.</p> + +<p>The apartment in which this passed was an oblong +hall, a parallelogram, lighted with windows on its +two longer sides, and with two doors opposite each +other at the two ends of the room. The working-frames +were ranged on each side near the windows, +the benches touching the wall at right angles, and +the space left free between the two rows of frames +formed a sort of avenue, which went straight from +one door to the other, crossing the hall entirely. It +was this which the director traversed in making his +inspection; he was to enter at the south door, and go +out by the north, after having looked at the workmen +on the right and left. Commonly he passed through +quickly and without stopping.</p> + +<p>Sam Needy had reseated himself on his bench, and +had betaken himself to his work. All were in expectation—the +moment approached; on a sudden +they heard the clock strike. Sam said, "It is the +last quarter." Then he rose, crossed gravely a part +of the hall, and placed himself, leaning on his elbow, +on the first frame on the left hand side, close to the +door of entrance; his countenance was perfectly +calm and benign.</p> + +<p>Nine o'clock struck—the door opened—the director +came in.</p> + +<p>At that moment the silence of the work-room was +as of a chamber full of statues.</p> + +<p>The director was alone as usual; he entered with +his jovial, self-satisfied, and stubborn air, without +noticing Sam, who was standing at the left side of +the door, his right hand hidden in his trowsers, and +passed rapidly by the first frames, tossing his head, +mumbling his words, and casting his glance, which<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span> +was law, here and there, not perceiving that the eyes +of all who surrounded him were fixed upon him as +upon a fearful phantom. On a sudden he turned +sharply round, surprised to hear a step behind him.</p> + +<p>It was Sam Needy, who for some instants followed +him in silence.</p> + +<p>"What are you about there?" said the director. +"Why are you not in your place?"</p> + +<p>Sam Needy answered respectfully, "Because I +have something to say to you, Mr. Flint."</p> + +<p>"What about?"</p> + +<p>"Concerning Heartall."</p> + +<p>"Still Heartall!" exclaimed the director.</p> + +<p>"Always," replied Sam.</p> + +<p>"Be quiet," said the director, walking on again. +"You are not content, then, with your four-and-twenty +hours of solitary confinement?"</p> + +<p>Sam followed him—"Mr. Flint, give me back my +comrade."</p> + +<p>"Impossible!"</p> + +<p>"Sir," said Sam, in a tone which might have +softened the heart of a fiend, "I entreat you, restore +Heartall to me. You shall see how well I will work. +To you who are free, it is no matter—you do not +know what the worth of a friend is; but I have only +the four walls of my prison. You can come and go, I +have nothing but Heartall—give him back to me. +Heartall fed me—you know it well. It will only +cost you the trouble of saying yes. What can it be +to you that there should be in the same room one +man called Sam Needy, another called Heartall?—for +the thing is simply that, Mr. Flint; good Mr. +Flint, I beseech you earnestly, for Heaven's sake!"</p> + +<p>Sam had probably never before said so much at one +time to a jailer; exhausted with the effort, he paused. +The director replied, with an impatient gesture,</p> + +<p>"Impossible—I have said it; speak to me no more +about it, you wear me out."</p> + +<p>Then, as if in a hurry, he stepped on more quickly, +Sam following. Thus speaking, they had reached +the door of exit; the prisoners looked after them, and +listened breathlessly.</p> + +<p>Sam gently touched the director's arm. "At least +let me know why I am condemned to death—tell +me why you have separated him from me?"</p> + +<p>"I have told you," answered the director; "<i>it is +my will</i>."</p> + +<p>He turned his back upon Sam, and was about to +take hold of the latch of the door.</p> + +<p>On this answer Sam had retreated a step; the +assembled statues who were there saw him bring out +his right hand, and the hatchet with it; it was raised, +and ere the victim could utter one cry, three blows, +one upon the other, had cleft his skull. At the moment, +when he fell back, a fourth blow laid his face +open; then, as if his frenzy, once let loose, <i>could not +stop</i>, Sam struck a fifth blow; it was useless—he +was dead.</p> + +<p>"Now for the other!" cried the murderer, and +threw away the hatchet. That other was himself. +They saw him draw from his bosom the small pair +of scissors, and before any one could attempt to +hinder him, bury them in his breast. The blade was +too short to penetrate. He struck them in again and +again, so many as twenty times. "Accursed heart! +cannot I then reach you?" and finally fell in a dead +swoon, bathed in his blood.</p> + +<p>Which of these men was the victim of the +other?</p> + +<p>When Sam returned to consciousness, he was in +bed, well attended, his wounds carefully bandaged; a +humane nurse was about his pillow, and more than +one magistrate, who asked him, with the appearance +of great interest, "Are you better?"</p> + +<p>He had lost a great quantity of blood, but the +scissors with which he had wounded himself, had +done their duty ill—none of the wounds were +dangerous.</p> + +<p>The examinations commenced. They asked him +if it were he who had killed the director of the +work-rooms. He replied, "It was." They asked +him why he had done it. He answered—<i>it was +his will.</i></p> + +<p>After this the wounds festered. He was seized +with a severe fever, of which he only did not die. +November, December, January, and February, went +over in recovering him and preparing for his trial; +physicians and judges alike made him the object of +their care—the former healed his wounds, the latter +made ready his scaffold. To be brief, on the 5th of +April, 1834, he appeared, being perfectly cured, +before the Court of Sessions.</p> + +<p>Sam made a good appearance before the court; he +had been carefully shaved, his head was bare; he +was dressed in the sad prison livery of two shades +of gray.</p> + +<p>When the trial was entered upon, a singular +difficulty presented itself. Not any of the witnesses +of the events of the 10th of November, would make +a deposition against Sam. The presiding judge +threatened them with his discretionary power in vain. +Sam then commanded them to give evidence. All +their tongues were loosed. They related what they +had seen.</p> + +<p>Sam Needy listened with profound attention. +When one of them, out of forgetfulness, or affection +for him, omitted some of the circumstances chargeable +upon the accused, Sam supplied them. By this +means the chain of facts which has been related was +unfolded before the court.</p> + +<p>There was one moment when some of the females +present wept. The clerk of the court summoned +the convict, Heartall. It was his turn to come forward. +He entered, staggering with emotion—he +wept. The police could not prevent his falling into +the arms of Sam. Sam raised him, and said with a +smile to the attorney-general, "Here is a villain who +shares his bread with those who are hungry." Then +he kissed Heartall's hand.</p> + +<p>The list of witnesses having been gone through, +the attorney-general rose and spoke in these words: +"Gentlemen of the jury, society would be shaken to +its foundation if public vengeance did not overtake +such great criminals as this man, who, etc., etc."</p> + +<p>After this memorable discourse, Sam's advocate +spoke. The pleader against, and the pleader for,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span> +made each in due order, the evolutions which they +are accustomed to make in the arena which is called +a criminal court.</p> + +<p>Sam did not think that all was said that might be +said. He arose in his turn. He spoke in a manner +which must have amazed all the intelligent persons +present on the occasion. It appeared as if there +were more of the orator than the murderer in this +poor artisan. He spoke in an upright attitude, with +a penetrating and well-managed voice; with an open, +sincere, and steadfast gaze, with a gesture almost +always the same, but full of command. There were +moments in which his genuine, lofty eloquence +stirred the crowd to a murmur, during which Sam +took breath, casting a bold gaze upon the bystanders. +Then again, this man, who could not read, was as +gentle, polished, select in his language, as a well-informed +person—at other moments modest, measured, +attentive, going step by step over the irritating +parts of the argument, courteous to his judges. +Once only he gave way to a burst of passion. The +attorney-general had proved in his speech that Sam +Needy had assassinated the director without any violence +on his part, and consequently <i>without provocation</i>.</p> + +<p>"What!" exclaimed Sam Needy, "I have not +been provoked! Ay—it is very true—I understand +you. A drunken man strikes me with his dagger—I +kill him, I have been provoked; you show mercy +to me, you send me to Botany Bay. But a man who +is not drunk, who has the perfect use of his +reason, wrings my heart for four years, humbles me +for four years, pierces me with a weapon every day, +every hour, every minute, in some unexpected point +for four years. I had a wife, for whose sake I became +a thief—he tortures me through that wife; a +child for whom I stole—he tortures me through that +child. I have not bread enough to eat—a friend gives +it me; he takes away my friend and my food. I ask +for my friend back—he condemns me to solitary confinement. +I speak to him—him, the spy—respectfully; +he answers me in dog's language. I tell him +I am suffering—he tells me I wear him out. What +would you, then, that I should do? I kill him. It is +well—I am a monster; I have murdered this man; I +have not been provoked. You take my life for it—be +it so."</p> + +<p>The debates being closed, the presiding judge made +his impartial and luminous summing up. The results +were these: a wicked life—a wretch in purpose. +Sam Needy had begun by stealing—he then murdered. +All this was true.</p> + +<p>When the jury were about being conducted +to their apartment, the judge asked the accused +if he had any thing to say upon the questions before +them.</p> + +<p>"Little," replied Sam, "only this; I am a thief and +an assassin. I have stolen, and have slain a man. +But why have I stolen? Why have I murdered? +Add these two questions to the rest, gentleman of +the jury."</p> + +<p>After a quarter of an hour's deliberation on the +part of the twelve individuals whom he had addressed +as <i>gentlemen of the jury</i>, Sam Needy was +condemned to death.</p> + +<p>Their decision was read to Sam, who contented +himself with saying, "It is well—but why has this +man stolen? Why has this man murdered? These +are questions to which they make no answer."</p> + +<p>He was carried back to prison—he supped almost +gayly.</p> + +<p>He had no wish to make an appeal against his +sentence. The old woman who had nursed him +entreated him with tears to do so. He complied out +of kindness to her. It would appear as if he had +resisted till the very last moment, for when he signed +his petition in the register, the legal delay of three +days had expired some minutes before. The benevolent +old nurse gave him a crown. He accepted +the money and thanked her.</p> + +<p>While his appeal was pending, offers of escape +were made him. There was thrown, one after the +other, in his dungeon, through its air-hole, a nail, +a bit of iron file, and the handle of a bucket. Any of +these three tools would have been sufficient to so +skillful a man as Sam Needy to cut through his irons. +He gave up the nail, the file, and the handle to the +turnkey.</p> + +<p>On the 10th of June, 1834, seven months after the +deed, its expiation arrived. That day, at seven +o'clock in the morning, the recorder of the tribunal +entered Sam Needy's dungeon, and announced to +him that he had not more than an hour to live. His +petition was rejected.</p> + +<p>"Come," said Sam, coldly, "I have this night +slept well, without troubling myself that I should +sleep still better the next."</p> + +<p>It would appear as if the words of strong men +always receive a certain dignity from approaching +death.</p> + +<p>The chaplain arrived—then the executioner. He +was humble to the one, gentle to the other.</p> + +<p>He maintained a perfect ease of spirit. He listened +to the chaplain with extreme attention, accusing himself +of many things, and regretting that he had not +been instructed in religion.</p> + +<p>At his request they had given him back the scissors +with which he had wounded himself. One blade, +which had been broken in his breast, was wanting. +He entreated the jailor to have these scissors taken +to Heartall as from himself.</p> + +<p>He besought those who bound his hands to place +in his right hand the crown-piece which the good +nurse had given him—the only thing which was now +remaining to him.</p> + +<p>At a quarter to eight he was led out of his prison, +with the customary mournful procession which +attends the condemned. He was pale; his eyes were +fixed on the chaplain—but he walked with a firm +step.</p> + +<p>He ascended the scaffold gravely. He shook hands +with the chaplain first, then the executioner, thanking +the one, forgiving the other. The executioner +<i>pushed him back gently</i>, says one account. At the moment +when the assistant put the hideous rope round +his neck, he made a sign to the chaplain to take<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span> +the crown-piece which he had in his right hand, and +said to him, "<i>For the poor</i>." At that moment the +clock was striking eight, the sound from the steeple +drowned his voice, and the chaplain answered that +he could not hear him. Sam waited for an interval +between two of the strokes, and repeated with +gentleness, "<i>For the poor</i>."</p> + +<p>The eighth stroke had scarcely sounded when +this noble and intelligent criminal was launched +into eternity.</p> +<br /><br /> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_ANGEL_OF_THE_SOUL" id="THE_ANGEL_OF_THE_SOUL"></a>THE ANGEL OF THE SOUL.</h2> + +<hr class="short" /> +<h4>BY J. BAYARD TAYLOR.</h4> +<hr class="short" /> + +<h5>Una stella, una notte, ed una croce. <i>Antonio Bisazza.</i></h5> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Silence hath conquered thee, imperial Night!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou sit'st alone within her void, cold halls,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy solemn brow uplifted, and thy soul<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Paining the space with dumb and mighty thought.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dreary wind ebbs, voiceless, round thy form,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Following the stealthy hours, that wake no stir<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the hushed velvet of thy mantle's fold.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy thoughts take being: down the dusky aisles<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Go shapes of good, and beckoning ghosts of crime,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And dreams of maddening beauty—hopes, that shine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To darken, and in cloudy height sublime,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The spectral march of some approaching Doom!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor these alone, oh! Mother of the world,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">People thy chambers, echoless and vast;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their dewy freshness like ambrosial cools<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Life's fever-thirst, and to the fainting soul<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their porphyry walls are touched with light, and gleams<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of shining wonder dazzle through the void,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like those bright marvels which the travele'rs torch<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wakes from the darkness of three thousand years,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In rock-hewn sepulchres of Theban kings.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Prophets, whose brows of pale, unearthly glow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Reflect the twilight of celestial dawns,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bards, transfigured in immortal song,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like eager children, kneeling at thy feet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unclasp the awful volume of thy lore.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My soul goes down thy far, untrodden paths,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the dim verge of being. There its step<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Touches the threshold of sublimer life,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And through the boundless empyrean leaps<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its prayer, borne like a faint, expiring cry,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To angel-warders, listening as they pace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The crystal walls of Heaven. Down the blue fields<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the untraveled Infinite, they come:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beneath their wings one sweet, dilating wave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thrills the pure deep, and bears my soul aloft,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To walk amid their shining groups, and call<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its guardian spirit, as an orphan calls<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His vanished brother, taken in childhood home:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"White through my cradled dreams thy pinions waved,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lost Angel of the Soul! thy presence led<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The babe's faint gropings through the glimmering dark<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And into Being's conscious dawn. Thy hand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Held mine in childhood, and thy beaming cheek<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lay close, like some fond playmate's, to mine own.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Up to that boundary, whence the heart leaps forth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To life, like some wild torrent, when the rains<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pour dark and full upon the cloudy hills,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy gentle footsteps wandered near to mine.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be with me now! Oh, in the starry hush<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the deep night, that holds the earthly down<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In all my nature, bring to me again<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The early purity, which kept thy hand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the entrancing harp it held in Heaven!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through the warm starting of my hoarded tears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let me behold thine eyes divine, as stars<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gleam through the twilight vapors of the sea!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Not yet hast thou forsaken me. The prayer<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose crowning fervor lifts my nature up<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Midway to God, may still evoke thy form.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou hast been with me, when the midnight dew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Clung damp upon my brow, and the broad fields<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stretched far and dim beneath the ghostly moon;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the dark, awful woods were silent near,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with imploring hands toward the stars<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Clasped in mute yearning, I have questioned Heaven<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the lost language of the book of Life.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, then thy face was glorious, and thy hair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the white moonbeam floating, veiled thy brow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But in the holy sadness of thine eye<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which held my spirit, tremblingly I saw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through rushing tears, the sign of angel-grief<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er the false promise of diviner years.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the far glide of some descending strain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of tenderest music I have heard thy voice;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thou hast called amid the stormy rush<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of grand orchestral triumph, with a sound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Resistless in its power. I feel the light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which is thine atmosphere, around my soul,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When a great sorrow gulfs it from the world.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Come back! come back! my heart grows faint, to know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How thy withdrawing radiance leaves more dim<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The twilight borders of the night of Earth.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now when the bitter truth is learned; when all<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That seemed so high and good but mocks its seeming—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the warm dreams of youth come shivering back,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the cold chambers of the heart to die—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When, with the wrestling years, familiar grows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The merciless hand of pain, desert me not!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come with the true heart of the faithful Night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When I have cast away the masquing garb<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of hollow Day, and lain my soul to rest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On her consoling bosom! From the founts<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of thine exhaustless light, make clear the road<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through toil and darkness, into God's repose!"<br /></span> +</div></div> +<br /><br /> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="SCOUTING_NEAR_VERA_CRUZ" id="SCOUTING_NEAR_VERA_CRUZ"></a>SCOUTING NEAR VERA CRUZ.</h2> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span> + +<h3>A SKETCH OF THE LATE CAMPAIGN.</h3> + +<hr class="short" /> +<h4>BY ECOLIER.</h4> +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>Hours before day, Lieutenant Rolfe and his party +were threading the mazes of the chapparal. The +moon glistened upon their bayonets and bright barrels. +Their path lay in a southwesterly direction, +near the old road to Orizava. Here it passed through +a glade or opening, where the moonbeams fell upon +a profusion of flowers, there it reëntered dark alleys +among the clustering trees, where the "trail arms" +was given in a half whisper. The boughs met and +locked overhead, and the thick foliage hid the moon +from sight. Now a bright beam escaping through +some chance opening in the leaves, quivered along +the path, and scared the wolf in his midnight wanderings. +Out again upon the open track through the +soft grass, and winding around the wild maguey, or +under the claw-shaped thorns of the musquit. A deer +sprung from his lair among the soft flowers—looked +back for a moment at the strange intruders, and +frightened at the gleaming steel, dashed off into the +thicket. The woods are not silent by night, as in +the colder regions of the north. The southern forest has +its voices, moonlit or dark. All through the livelong +night sings the mock-bird—screams the "loreto." +From dark till dawn, you hear the hoarse baying +of the "coyote," and the dismal howl of the +gaunt gray wolf. The cicada fills the air with its +monotonous and melancholy notes. In all these +sounds there is a breathing, a wild voluptuousness +that tells you you are wandering in the clime of the +sun—amidst scenes like those rendered classical by +the pen of St. Pierre. They who have read the +sweet French romance, will recognize his faithful +painting of tropical pictures. The sunny glades—and +shady arbors—the broad green and yellow leaves—the +tall palm-trees, with their long, lazy feathers +and clustering fruits waving to the slightest breeze, +and looking the same as in that sea island where they +flung their changing shadows over the loves of Paul +and Virginia. Scouting at night, and to strangers +(as were Rolfe and his men) in the land, was not +without its perils. Objects of alarm were near and +around. The nopal rose before you like the picket +of an enemy. Its dark column gleaming under the +false light of the moon is certainly some sentinel +on the outpost. A halt is the consequence, and +silent and cat-like one of the party, on his hands +and knees, steals nearer and nearer, through the +thorny brambles, until the true nature of the apparition +betrays itself, in the shape of a huge column of +prickly pear. He then returns to his comrades, and +the obstacle is passed, some one as he passes, with +a muttered curse, slashing his sabre through the soft +trunk of the harmless vegetable.</p> + +<p>The wild maguey grasps you by the leg, as though +some hideous monster had sprung from the bushes. +You start and rush forward, only to be dragged back +among the elastic leaves. It is useless to struggle. +You must either return and unwind yourself by gentle +means, or leave the better part of your cloth inexpressibles +in the ruthless fangs of the plant. The +ranchero fences his limbs with leather, or with leggings +of tiger-skin. It is not fancy or choice to wear +leather breeches in Mexico. Necessity has something +to say in fixing the fashion of your small +clothes.</p> + +<p>When day broke, Rolfe and his party were ten +miles from camp—ten miles from the nearest American +picket, and with only thirty men! They were +concealed in a thicket of aloes and musquit. This +thicket crowned the only eminence for miles in any +direction. It commanded a view of the whole country +southward to the Alvarado.</p> + +<p>As the sun rose the forest echoed with sounds and +song. The leaves moved with life, as a thousand +bright-plumed birds flashed from tree to tree. The +green parrot screamed after his mate, uttering his +wild notes of endearment. They are seen in pairs +flying high up in the heavens. The troupiale flashed +through the dark foliage like a ray of yellow light. +Birds seemed to vie with each other in their songs of +love. Amidst these sounds of the forest, the ear of +Rolfe caught the frequent crowing of cocks, the +barking of dogs, and the other well-known sounds +of the settlement. These were heard upon all sides. +It was plain that the country was thickly settled, +though not a house was visible above the tree-tops. +The thin column of blue smoke as it rose above the +green foliage proved the existence of dwellings.</p> + +<p>At some distance, westward, an open plain lay +like an emerald lake. The woods that bordered it +were of a darker hue than the meadow-grass upon +its bosom. In this plain were horses feeding, and +Rolfe saw at a glance that they were picketed. Some +of them had dragged their laryettes and were straying +from the group. There appeared to be in all about an +hundred horses. It was plain that their owners were +not far off. A thin blue smoke that hung over the +trees on one side of the meadow gave evidence of a +camp. The baying of dogs came from this direction, +mingled with the sounds of human voices. It +was evidently a camp of the "Jarochos," (guerilleros.)</p> + +<p>Suddenly a bugle sounded, wild and clear above +the voices of the singing-birds, a few notes somewhat +resembling the dragoon stable-call. The horses +flung up their heads and neighed fiercely, looking toward +the encampment. Presently a crowd of men +were seen running from the woods, each carrying a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span> +saddle. The few strays that had drawn their pickets +during the night, came running in at the well-known +voices of their masters. The saddles were flung on +and tightly girthed—the bits adjusted and the laryettes +coiled and hung to the saddle-horns, in less +time than an ordinary horseman would have put +on a bridle. Another flourish of the bugle, and the +troop were in their saddles and galloping away over +the greensward of the meadow in a southerly direction. +The whole transaction did not occupy five +minutes, and it seemed to Rolfe and his party, who +witnessed it, more like a dream than a reality. The +Jarochos were just out of musket range. A long +shot might have reached them, but even had Rolfe +ventured this, it would have been with doubtful propriety. +Rumor had fixed the existence of a large +force of the enemy in this neighborhood. It was +supposed that at least a thousand men were on the +Alvarado road, with the intention of penetrating our +lines, with beeves for the besieged Veracruzanos.</p> + +<p>"They got off in good time, sergeant," muttered +Rolfe, "had they but waited half an hour longer—Oh! +for a score of Harney's horses!"</p> + +<p>"Lieutenant, may I offer an opinion?" asked the +sergeant, who had raised himself and stood peering +through the leafy branches of a cacuchou-tree.</p> + +<p>"Certainly, Heiss, any suggestion—"</p> + +<p>"Wal, then—thar's a town," the sergeant lifted +one of the leafy boughs and pointed toward the south-east—a +spire and cross—a white wall and the roofs +of some cottages were seen over the trees. "Raoul +here, who's French, and knows the place, says it's +Madalin—he's been to it—and there's no good road +for horses direct from here—but the road from Vera +Cruz crosses that meadow far up—now, lieutenant, +it's my opinion them thieving Mexicans is bound +for that 'ere place—Raoul says it's a good sweep +round—if we could git acrosst this yere strip we'd +head 'em sure."</p> + +<p>The backwoodsman swept his broad hand toward +the south, to indicate the strip of woods that he desired +to cross. The plan seemed feasible enough. +The town, although seemingly near, was over five +miles distant. The road by which the guerrilleros had +to reach it was much farther. Could Rolfe and his +party meet them on this road, by an ambuscade, they +would gain an easy victory, although with inferior +numbers, and Rolfe wished to carry back to camp a +Mexican prisoner. This was the object of the scout, +to gain information of the force supposed to be in the +rear of our lines. The men, too, were eager for the +wild excitement of a fight. For what came they +there?</p> + +<p>"Raoul," said Rolfe, "is there any path through +these woods?"</p> + +<p>"Zar is, von road I have believe—oui—Monsieur +Lieutenant."</p> + +<p>Raoul was a dapper little Frenchman, who had +joined the army at Vera Cruz, where we found him. +He had been a sort of market-gardener for the plaza, +and knew the back country perfectly. He had fallen +into bad odor with the rancheros of the <i>Tierra Caliente</i>, +and owed them no good-will. The coming of +the American army had been a perfect godsend to +Raoul, who was now an American volunteer, and, +as circumstances afterward proved, worthy of the +title.</p> + +<p>"Close teecket, monsieur," continued the Frenchman, +"but there be von road, I make ver sure, by +that tree, vot you call him, big tree."</p> + +<p>Raoul pointed to some live-oaks that formed a dark +belt across the woods.</p> + +<p>"Take the lead, Raoul."</p> + +<p>The little Frenchman sprung out in front and commenced +descending into the dark woods beneath. +The party was soon winding through the shadowy +aisles of a live-oak forest. The woods were at first +open and easy. After a short march they came to a +small stream, bright and silvery. But what was the +surprise of Rolfe to find that the path here gave out, +and on the opposite bank of the rivulet the trees grew +closer together, and the woods were almost woven +into a solid mass, by the lianas and other creeping +plants. These were covered with blossoms. In +some places a wall of snow-white flowers rose up +before you. Pyramidal forms of foliage, green and +yellow, over which hung myriads of vine-blossoms, +like a scarlet mantle. Still there was no path—at +least to be trodden by human foot. Birds flew around, +scared in their solitary haunts. The armadilla and +the wolf stood at a distance with glaring eyes. The +fearful-looking guana scampered off upon the decaying +limbs of the live-oak, or the still more fearful +cobra di capella glided almost noiselessly over the +dry leaves and brambles.</p> + +<p>Raoul confessed that he had been deceived. He +had never traveled this belt of timber. The path +was lost.</p> + +<p>This was strange. A path had conducted them +thus far, but on reaching the stream had suddenly +stopped. Soldiers went up and down the water-course, +and peeped through the trellis of vines, but +to no purpose. In all directions they were met by +an impenetrable chapparal.</p> + +<p>Chafing with disappointment, the young officer was +about to retrace his way, when an exclamation from +Heiss recalled him. The backwoodsman had found +a clew to the labyrinth. An opening led into the +thicket. This had been concealed by a perfect curtain +of closely woven vines, covered with thick +foliage and flowers. It appeared at first to be a natural +door to the avenue which led from this spot, but +a slight examination showed that these vines had +been trained by human hands, and that the path itself +had been kept open by the same agency. Branches +were here and there lopped off and cast aside, and +the ground had the marks of human footsteps. The +track was clear and beaten, and Rolfe ordering his +men to follow noiselessly, in Indian file, took the +lead. For at least two miles they traced the windings +of this forest road, through dark woods, occasionally +opening out into green flowery glades. The +bright sky began to gleam through the trees. Farther +on and the breaks became larger and more frequent. +An extensive clearing was near at hand. +They reached it, but to their astonishment, instead<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span> +of a cultivated farm, which they had been expecting +to see, the clearing had more the appearance of a +vast flower-garden. The roofs and turrets of a house +were visible near its centre. The house itself appeared +of a strange oriental style, and was buried +amidst groves of the brightest foliage. Several huge +old trees spread their branches over the roof, and +their leaves hung around the fantastic turrets.</p> + +<p>What should have been fields were like a succession +of huge flower-beds—and large shrubs, covered +with sheets of pink and white blossoms that resembled +wild roses. This shrubbery was high enough +to conceal the approach of Rolfe and his party as +they followed the path—apparently the only one +which led to the house.</p> + +<p>On nearing this, the officer halted his men in a little +glade, and taking with him Heiss and the boy Gerry, +(who might return for the men in case of a surprise,) +proceeded to reconnoitre the strange-looking habitation.</p> + +<p>A wall of ivy, or some perennial vine, lay between +him and the house. A curtain of green leaves +covered the entrance through this wall. This appeared +to have grown up by neglect. As Rolfe lifted +this festoon, to pass through, the sound of female +voices greeted him. These voices reached his ear +in tones of the lightest mirth. At intervals came a +clear ringing laugh from some throat of silver, and +then a plunging, splashing sound of water. Rolfe +conjectured that some females were in the act of +bathing, and not wishing to intrude upon them sat +down for a moment outside the wall. The sounds +of merriment were still heard, and among the soft +tones the officer imagined that he could distinguish +the coarser voice of a man. Curiosity now prompted +him to enter. Moreover, he reflected that if there +were men there already there could not be much impropriety +in his taking a share in the amusement.</p> + +<p>Drawing aside the curtain of leaves he looked in. +The interior was a garden, but evidently in a neglected +state. It appeared the ruin of a once noble +garden and shrubbery. Broken fountains and statues +crumbling among weeds, and untrained rose-trees, +met the eye. The voices were more distinct, but +those who uttered them were hidden by a hedge of +jessamines. Rolfe stepped silently up to this hedge +and peeped through an opening. The picture presented +was indeed an enchanting one.</p> + +<p>A large fountain lay between him and the house +filled with crystal water. In this fountain two young +girls were plunging and diving about in the wildest +abandon of mirth. The water was not more than +waist deep, and the arms and bosoms of the young +girls appeared above its surface. They were strikingly +alike, in all except color. In this there was +a marked contrast. The neck, arms and bosom of +one seemed carved from snow-white marble, while +the other's complexion was almost as dark as mahogany. +There was the same cast of features, the +same expression in both countenances, and their +forms, just emerging from the slender figure of +girlhood, were exactly alike. Their long hair trailed +after them, black and luxuriant, on the surface of +the water, as they plunged and swam from one side +of the basin to the other. A huge negress sat upon +the edge of the fountain, seemingly enjoying the +bath as much as those who partook of it. It was the +voice of this negress that Rolfe had mistaken for that +of a man.</p> + +<p>The young officer did not hesitate a moment, but +stole gently back and regained his comrades.</p> + +<p>Then striking through the flowery fields that +stretched away toward the wood in the rear, he +commenced searching for the path that led from the +woods in a direction opposite to that whence he had +come, without disturbing the inmates of this peaceful +mansion. Finding this path on the other side, the +party entered and hastily kept on, in order to intercept +the guerilleros, whom they still hoped to fall in +with. In these hopes they were not disappointed, +for emerging from the woods near Medellin they +came upon the guerilleros, with whom they had a +sharp skirmish. Rolfe and his party were successful, +killing two of the guerrilla and taking the same +number prisoners.</p> + +<p>The young girls continued their pleasant pastime, +little dreaming how near to them had been these +strange and warlike visiters.</p> +<br /><br /> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="I_WANT_TO_GO_HOME" id="I_WANT_TO_GO_HOME"></a>I WANT TO GO HOME</h2> + +<hr class="short" /> +<h4>BY RICHARD COE, JR.</h4> +<hr class="short" /> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I want to go home!" saith a weary child,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That hath lost its way in straying;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye may try in vain to calm its fears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or wipe from its eyes the blinding tears,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">It looks in your face, still saying—<br /></span> +<span class="i3">"I want to go home!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I want to go home!" saith a fair young bride,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">In anguish of spirit praying;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her chosen hath broken the silver cord—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hath spoken a harsh and cruel word,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And she now, alas! is saying—<br /></span> +<span class="i3">"I want to go home!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I want to go home!" saith the weary soul,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Ever earnest thus 'tis praying;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It weepeth a tear—heaveth a sigh—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And upward glanceth with streaming eye<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To its promised rest, still saying—<br /></span> +<span class="i3">"I want to go home!"<br /></span> +</div></div> +<br /><br /> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_HUMBLING_OF_A_FAIRY" id="THE_HUMBLING_OF_A_FAIRY"></a>THE HUMBLING OF A FAIRY.</h2> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span> + +<hr class="short" /> +<h4>BY G. G. FOSTER.</h4> +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>The Princess Dewbell was confessed to be the +queen of the ball, notwithstanding that the beauty +and grace and wit of the whole realm were there, +for it was the birth-night festival of the fairy princess, +and her royal father, with all a parent's fond pride, +had exhausted invention, and impoverished extravagance, +to give <i>éclat</i> to the occasion. The walls of +his ancestral palace were sparkled all over with +dew-drops, which a troop of early bees had spent all +the summer mornings in collecting and preserving +in the royal patent dew-preserver, invented by one +of the native geniuses of the realm. These brilliant +mirrors, flashing in the light of ten thousand fire-flies +of the royal household, whose whole lives had been +expended in learning how to carry their dainty lamps +about so as to produce the finest effects, reflected the +forms of the ladies and the dazzling military trappings +of the handsome cavaliers, (there was war at +that time between the glorious empire of Fairydom +and the weak and infatuated republic of Elfland on +its southern borders, and the epaulette and spurs +were the only pass to the hearts of the fair,) imbuing +them with an infinitude of prismatic hues, all softened +into a kind of timed starlight, exquisite as the +dying voice of music. In this gorgeous saloon, at +the head of which sat, well pleased, the benevolent +old King Paterflor and his modest and still lovely +queen Sweetbine, all were noble and accomplished +and beautiful and gay; but the charms of the Princess +Dewbell, just bursting into the richness of full-grown +fairyhood, were so surpassing that none had +ever been found to question, even in their own +hearts, her supremacy. This, perhaps, may appear +strange to many of my pretty readers, but they must +remember that mine is a faithful chronicle of fairies—not +of women. The princess was standing lightly +touching—it could not be said that she leaned against—the +slender stalk of a garden lily, that rose like an +emerald column of classic mould above her lovely +form, and expanded into a graceful dome of transparent +and crimson-veined cornelian above her head. +Her eyes were cast pensively (at the Musical Fund +Hall it would have been called coquettishly) upon +the ground, and ever and anon she tossed her proud +head with an imperious gesture, until the streaming +curls waved and parted around her cheek and neck, +like vine-leaves about a marble column as the south +wind creeps among them soliciting for kisses. The +lady Dewbell, amid all this scene of enchantment, +which spread out before and around her, as if her +own loveliness had breathed it into existence, still +was discontented; sad, perhaps, at the total absence +of care in her bosom, and sighing for a sorrow. Unhappy +lady Dewbell! She had so many hundred +times been told, what she herself believed full well, +that she was absolutely the most beautiful creature +in existence, that the tale had lost its interest. The +champagne of flattery, its creaming foam long ago +melted into the brain, stood untasted before her, dull +and flat as the subsided fountain poured by the last +rain-shower into the tulip's cup. And so the fairy +princess stood listless and apart from the joyous +revel, her little form swaying lightly to and fro, with +the undulations of the lily-stem against which she +more perceptibly rested. It is well for Root and +Collins and Plumbe that the royal daguerreotyper +was laid up in a cowslip, with a broken skylight +which he had received in a rough-and-tumble with a +gnat, about the ownership of a particular ray of light, +at last sunsetting.</p> + +<p>But if the lady Dewbell were queen of the ball, the +noble knight Sir Timothy Lawn was as undisputedly +worthy of the post of honor among her gallant train +of admirers. Indeed, it was universally known, of +course as a profound secret among the gossips of the +palace, that Sir Timothy was the declared lover of +the proud Dewbell, and it was even whispered that +she had actually been seen hanging around his neck +one bright June morning, in a sweet clover-nook by +the brook-side, while he bent tenderly over her, his +eyes filled with tears of rapture. But as this story +could only be traced to a rough beetleherd, who said +he saw the lovers thus as he was driving his herd of +black cattle to water, it was not generally believed. +At any rate, all the ladies were decidedly of opinion +that Sir Timothy was in every way a match for the +haughty beauty, and that if she did not accept him +while he was in the humor she would be very likely +to go farther and fare worse. In fact, several old +maids and bluestockings, over their dishes of scandal +and marsh-fog, (both of which they made uncommonly +strong,) openly avowed it as their opinion, +that he was a great deal too good for her, and that, +if the truth must be told, the princess was an impertinent, +saucy and irreverent creature, who hadn't +the slightest respect for her superiors. "As to her +beauty," said one of these crones, whose little face +was very much of the size and complexion of a dried +camomile-flower, and who was shrewdly suspected +of qualifying her marsh-fog with pale pink-brandy—"As +for her beauty, that is all in my eye. I have +seen plenty of your plump, smooth-skinned pieces of +paint and affectation fade in my time, little as I have +yet seen of life. Mark my words—before we have +reached our prime, my great lady princess will be +as ugly as—"</p> + +<p>"As ugly as yourself, granny! Ha, ha, ha! ho, +ho, ho! haw, haw, haw!" shouted a mirthful voice, +while an indescribably comic face, half cat and half +baby, appeared for a single glimpse above the bur<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span>dock +leaf behind which the spinsters were holding +their <i>conversazione</i>.</p> + +<p>"There 's that imp Puck again, as sure as I am +a woman!" exclaimed the gentle Mrs. Mullenstalk, +rising hastily and spilling a dish of fog all over the +front of her new green and yellow striped grass +dress, as she ran toward the spot whence the voice +had proceeded. "I'll to the palace this very night, +and lay my complaint against that wretch. We'll +see whether virtuous ladies are to be insulted in this +manner, and their helplessness trampled under foot!"</p> + +<p>The intruder had already disappeared; but as the +amiable Mrs. Mullenstock got her spectacles adjusted, +she just caught sight of him throwing a +somerset into a pumpkin-flower; while his laugh +still sounded faintly upon the air, mingled with +snatches of a wild refrain, of which she could only +distinguish these lines:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Oh ho, Granny Mullenstock, how envious you be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll plague you to death, or the hornets catch me!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The spinster shook her fist and grinned horribly at +the broad-mouthed, innocent yellow flower, down +whose throat the varlet had leaped—but chancing at +that moment to catch a glimpse of her own face in a +little bit of mica, which served her for a toilet-mirror, +she uttered the least bit of a little shriek in the world +and fainted—her companions, who had by this time +gathered round her, exchanging sly winks and malicious +looks of gratification as she went off.</p> + +<p>But we must return to the ball-room, where the +fire-flies have got sleepy, and many of them had +already put out their lamps and retired, and the brilliant +company of dancers and promenaders has +dwindled down to a few sets, composed of those +ladies who had not been asked to dance in the height +of the evening, and some sour-looking gentlemen in +very tight coats and pants, who had "got the mitten" +from their sweethearts at the door, and were desperately +trying to do the amiable out of sheer revenge. +At length even these disappeared; the saloons were +entirely deserted, save by the beautiful mother moonbeam, +who slept upon the fragrant turf, her babe, the +silver starlight, folded lovingly within her bosom.</p> + +<p>Yet no, the scene is not quite solitary. Carefully +bending aside the tall, slender spears of diamond-tipped +grass that perpetually guarded the sacred domain +of the imperial palace, a cavalier in full armor +appears, making way for a lady, whose long veil of +the finest spider's web completely conceals her head +and form, making her seem like an exhalation, taking, +as its highest gift of grace, the shape of woman. +The two advance slowly and cautiously to the centre +of the saloon, and then the cavalier, throwing himself +on his knees, (that's the way fairies invariably +make love,) beseeches his companion to have pity +upon him. The lady throws back her veil with a +motion of indescribable grace, and looking down into +the upturned face of her lover, seriously a moment, +then lightly, utters a low laugh, and replies,</p> + +<p>"Very well, Sir Timothy Lawn, upon my word! +Quite prettily done, indeed!. You must have been +taking lessons of Signor Sweetbriar, the royal parson. +Now do run and bring me a glass of geranium-dew—I +protest I have drank scarcely a drop all the +evening."</p> + +<p>"Not one word, then, for your poor lover and +true knight," sighed Sir Timothy, in a tone of the +deepest despondence.</p> + +<p>"I did not come here to listen to school-boy nonsense," +said the lady Dewbell, with a haughty and +impatient motion of the head. "I came to get a +glass of geranium-water. But, as you decline +obliging me to that extent, I suppose I must e'en get +it for myself. Good-night to you, Sir Timothy! +Pleasant dreams!" and she disappeared.</p> + +<p>The knight was for a moment confounded; then +rising slowly, he pointed to a bright star that shone +directly above him, winking and winking with all +its might, as much as to say, "what a green-horn +you are!" and swore an oath that no fairy should ever +henceforth have power over his heart, till she who +had so wantonly scorned and insulted him should +beg to be forgiven. As he was turning sadly away, +to seek his solitary chamber in the upper branch of +a bachelor's button, on the other side of the brook, +the elf-clown Puck stood before him, looking as +demure as puss herself.</p> + +<p>"Well, fool," said the knight, somewhat impatiently, +"how long hast thou been listening here?"</p> + +<p>"As long as my ears, your worship," replied the +urchin, undauntedly, "and they were long enough +to hear that your worship's valiancy is a very much +over-praised commodity—since a maiden's dainty +veil of knitted night-air has proved too strong +for him."</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The knight he sued, and the knight he sighed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But he went away without supper or bride."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"Silence, imp! or I 'll make thine ears, of which +thou hast had such pestilent service, shorter by +a span."</p> + +<p>"No, I thank your valiancy! my ears do very +well as they are. And I came to do you a good turn +by offering you the use of them. But as your worship +is so high and dry in Dundrum Bay, as we say +at sea, I'll e'en get back to my nap in the hazle copse +again."</p> + +<p>"Nay, good Puck, I meant thee no harm, as thou +knowest well enough. Since thou knowest my +innermost grief, let me hear thy fool's advice in the +matter."</p> + +<p>"If I gave thee advice, I were in truth a fool. +But I'll very willingly forgive thee this time, and +tell thee what I overheard to-night at the palace."</p> + +<p>"Ah, that's a good Puck!"</p> + +<p>"That depends on circumstances, your valiancy. +I am somewhat like a dish of toasted gallinippers—whether +it is palatable or not depending very much +in the way it is served. But this is what I heard his +majesty say to her majesty. 'Sweetbine, my dear,' +said he, 'don't you think Dewbell has a fancy for +our brave and noble knight, Sir Timothy Lawn?' +'Why, my love,' replied her majesty, 'I have long +been almost certain that she loved him. But she is +such a confirmed flirt I am afraid she can never be +brought to say so. I haven't the least idea that she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span> +would not reject Sir Timothy, were he to propose.' +'We must cure her of this fatal pride and folly,' +replied his majesty, 'and I think that, with a little of +your assistance, I can manage it capitally.' And +then the dear old people passed into the royal bed-chamber, +in the japonica wing, and I heard no more."</p> + +<p>"I'll to the king."</p> + +<p>"And I'll to a better friend than he; if you permit +me, your worship, I take my <i>bough</i> and <i>leave</i>."</p> + +<p>"Avaunt, vile punning Puck! Thou hast been to +Philadelphia, where all the streets rhyme, and every +corner is a pun upon the next. May the fiend unquip +thee! Away!'</p> + +<p>"If thou I kest not jokes, thou hadst best stick to +thy bachelor's-buttonhood. I tell thee, marriage is a +capital joke."</p> + +<p>"What knowest thou of marriage?"</p> + +<p>"I am one of its fruits."</p> + +<p>"A bitter jest, indeed, and plucked ere half ripened. +St. Bulwer! but thou wilt be a mother's blessing +when thou art fully grown!"</p> + +<p>"Better save thy wits, sir knight! Thou wilt have +a plentiful lack of them ere the honeymoon be out of +the comb. A pleasant roost in thy bachelor's hall, +and many of them!" and the vagabond sprung upon +the back of a green lizard creeping silently through +the grass, and sticking his heels into his astonished +charger, dragoon-fashion, disappeared down the bank +of the brook.</p> + +<p>The old king and his good wife, Sweetbine, were +very much grieved at the foolish trifling of their +daughter, Dewbell—for they were well assured that +Dewbell loved the noble knight, Sir Timothy, and +that it was only a spirit of mere wantonness that led +her to vex and torment him. Long into the night +did the royal couple converse, striving to devise +some means of bringing their wayward daughter to +her senses. They at last hit upon a plan, which they +fondly hoped might be the means of securing the +happiness of their child, and settling her comfortably +in life.</p> + +<p>The next morning his majesty sent for the dwarf, +Puck, to his private cabinet, and received him with +an unusually grave and troubled aspect.</p> + +<p>"Venerable sire," said Puck, making a mock +reverence, and scarcely able to suppress a chuckle +at the solemn looks of his master, "what facetious +dream hath been playing its mad pranks about thy +sacred pillow? Never saw I kingly face so mirthfully +beprankt."</p> + +<p>"Come hither, good Puck," said the king, patiently, +"and when thou hast made thy breakfast of fun upon +thy poor master, listen to him seriously."</p> + +<p>"Dear prince", said the dwarf, suddenly running +up to the king and casting himself weeping at his +feet, "art thou, then, really troubled? Forgive thy +poor slave!" and he began blubbering in the most +pitiable manner, while he looked up into the face of +the king with such a look of wo-begone and ludicrous +despair, that Paterflor himself could scarce refrain +from bursting into laughter.</p> + +<p>"Thou hast done nothing wrong, good Puck—handsome +Puck," said the king, chucking his favorite +under the chin. "I have need of thee. Here is my +signet-ring. Bring me straight hither a young and +handsome peasant, one who has never been seen by +the court, nor any inhabitant of the palace. He must +be intelligent, conscientious, and trustworthy. Dost +thou know of such a one?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, your majesty, I think I do. My friend, +young Paudeen O'Rafferty, the son of the old forest-keeper, +has just returned from Ireland, where he was +carried by the fairies at his christening, and has been +kept ever since until now, trying to get through the +rent made by Mr. O'Connell in the pockets of his +relatives. He's as tight an Irish lad as your majesty +ever saw; and as for his honesty, I'll endorse it with +both hands. The O'Raffertys are constitutionally +honest."</p> + +<p>"Well, bring him hither at once. I shall be ready +to receive him."</p> + +<p>Puck, with his funny face entirely restored to +good humor, left the palace by a private gate, and +running across a beautiful meadow, disappeared in +the dark green forest. Idle lingerer as he was, he +felt a strong inclination, at every hazel-copse he +passed, to stop and have a chat with the rabbits he +knew were hid beneath it; and more than once he +was on the point of running up to a friendly deer and +kissing his cold, black nose, just for auld lang syne. +But, for a wonder, he was constant to his errand, +and ran straight on—not stopping even to throw +stones at a squirrel by the way—till he came to the +forester's hut.</p> + +<p>He found the old forester and his wife alone. +They received him kindly, for, notwithstanding his +mad pranks, Puck was a favorite every where, and +especially among the poor and humble, who were +always safe from his mischievous propensities. The +young Paudeen was out a little bit in the forest, but +would return directly.</p> + +<p>"And what brings good Master Puck from among +the great lords and beautiful ladies of the coort to our +poor little shieling, not bigger nor betther than the +mud cabins of ould Ireland itself?" inquired the old +woman, who had grown, with age and toil, wrinkled +deaf and sour.</p> + +<p>"I'll explain all that as soon as Paudeen comes +home," replied the grave and mysterious Puck; +"but, in the meantime, how do you get on Mr. +O'Rafferty, and what is the news in the forest?"</p> + +<p>"We get on but poorly," said the old forester, +"and the news is, that the people at the other side of +the forest, where the potatoes have all rotted, and +the land is wore down to its bare bones, for want of +rest like, are very bad. Some of the women and +childhers have already starved, and the men have +for the most part took to dhrinken and fighten, till +things is in a mighty bad way."</p> + +<p>"Yes," chimed in the old woman, who seemed to +have caught by instinct the subject of conversation, +"and the poor stharven people say, too, that there is +plenty of money squandhered upon extravagance by +the king and his coort to give them all bread; +and that the forests that is kept for the deers and +craythurs to be killed for the spoort of the big folks,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span> +would give every man a bit of fresh land, and that +the potatoes would grow well enough then."</p> + +<p>"Auch, Peggy, will ye have us hung for parjery, +out and out!" exclaimed the terrified husband, casting +a deprecating look at Puck. "Poor craythur, she +doesn't know what she is saying."</p> + +<p>At this juncture the young Paudeen made his appearance, +and put a stop to a conversation that was +becoming decidedly stupid. He made his respects +cordially to Puck; and when he heard his errand, +seemed amazed and delighted. After a good deal of +difficulty, the old lady was made to understand what +was the desire of the king.</p> + +<p>"Hooh!" exclaimed the old crone, leaping from +her seat and dancing about the room, "the dhrame's +come true at last! Och, hullybaloo! didn't I know +that the pretty Paudeen wasn't born for the pig-stye! +Bedad, but he'll ruffle the gentles! Wont you, darlint?" +and the old woman fell upon her son's neck, +smothering him with kisses, while the poor youth +could hardly keep his legs under the vigor of her +maternal caresses.</p> +<br /> + +<h4>PART II.</h4> + +<p>In a few days after the interview of Puck and +Paudeen in the hut of the forester, there was great +excitement at the court of Fairyland. The fashionable +milliners and dress-makers never had seen such +a time—orders from the aristocracy poured in upon +them by scores, and their doors were beset by +fashionable carriages, and little fairy footmen caparisoned +in long coats with many capes, and broad, +red bands fastened with shining buckles round their +hats. The great <i>artistes</i> who were at the head of +these establishments saw themselves amassing fortunes +from the sudden influx of fashionable custom. +But the poor little fairy seamstresses, who sat up all +night, sometimes without time to eat or sleep, from +sunset to sunset, so that all these splendid dresses +might be finished in time—they did not fare so well. +They grew pale and sick, and sat swaying and +swinging about as they worked, until one might have +thought them the ghosts of fairy workers, come back +for a ghostly midnight frolic in their old haunts. It +was melancholy enough, truly; but then nobody +knew any thing about it. The rich ladies, when +their splendid robes came home, did not stop to think +that good, earnest, faithful fairy hearts had embroidered +the roses that adorned the skirts from their +own cheeks, and spangled them with the broken +fragments of their youth's faded dreams. If they +had—</p> + +<p>Well, and if they had?</p> + +<p>That is not at all to the purport of my story; and +so I will proceed to let the reader into the secret of +all this flutter and fluster. A great prince had made +his appearance at the court of Paterflor, and had +created almost as great an excitement in Fairyland +as a new prima donna with bright eyes and a <i>sfogato</i> +voice among mere mortals. Nobody knew exactly +who he was, but he came from a great way off, and +had a name as long as a province, and, beside being +incalculably wealthy, it was universally voted (ladies +vote in Fairyland) that he was the very handsomest +love of a fairy knight that ever jingled spurs, or +sighed at the feet of beauty. He had come to court +evidently with the "highest recommendations" to +the king, such as would have procured him immediate +access into the first "circles," even in Philadelphia, +where society lives behind barred doors, +and goes about armed cap-a-pie against encroachment +or intrusion. He had been at once received at +the royal table, and a splendid suite of apartments +had been assigned him in the palace itself. Such extraordinary +attentions from the imperial family, of +course, made the stranger a favorite and a welcome +guest wherever he appeared; and there was not a +lady at court who would not have given her eyes—if +it would not have spoiled her beauty—for a smile +from his magnificent mouth.</p> + +<p>It was discovered, however, at a very early stage +of the proceedings, that the chief object of the prince's +admiration was the lady Dewbell, who, proud as she +was, could not help feeling flattered by the evident +and special devotion of one for whom the whole of +her sex were dying. Sir Timothy Lawn, who, from +pique or melancholy, or from some unknown cause, +had left the court the very day after the arrival of +the new prince, was not entirely forgotten, but was +laid away carefully on a back shelf of her heart; +and the lady Dewbell never had been so beautiful, so +fascinating, so joyous and irresistible. Courts are as +fickle as coquettes; and before the month had passed, +in a series of brilliant <i>fêtes</i> and entertainments, at +all of which the prince and princess were the reigning +toast, it was regarded as a settled thing that there +would, ere the maple leaves grew red in the dying +gaze of the year, be a royal marriage in Fairyland.</p> + +<p>But while to all around the beautiful Dewbell was +ever the same careless, saucy and happy creature +as ever, in her heart she nursed a bitter sorrow. +After many and severe struggles, she was forced at +last to make to herself the humiliating acknowledgment +that she deeply and truly loved Sir Timothy +Lawn, that noble and chivalric spirit, whom her unworthy +trifling had driven—so her frightened heart +interpreted it—in disgust from her. Compelled in +common courtesy to receive the devoted attentions +of the stranger prince, and to hear every day and +every hour repeated the earnest solicitations of her +father that she should school herself to regard the +stranger as her future husband, her little fairy heart +was quite broken with its ceaseless struggles. Her +pride and self-will were entirely vanquished, and she +felt herself truly the most miserable of fairy maidens. +Suicide is of course a thing strictly prohibited among +immortals; but had it been otherwise, I sadly fear +that one of the lady Dewbell's spider-web silk hose +would some morning have been found without a +garter, and she herself hanging like a beauteous exhalation +among the elm-leaves in the morning sunshine. +Oh, had Sir Timothy been there then, he +would have found, instead of his imperious and tantalizing +coquette, the tenderest and truest of dis<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span>consolate +maidens, ready to melt into his arms between +the delicious pause of a sigh and a kiss. +"Naughty, cruel Sir Timothy! Horrid creature! +to take all my nonsense for real earnest, and to go +away and leave me to be persecuted to death!" exclaimed +the lady Dewbell, with an uncontrollable +burst of tears, as she threw herself, her toilet half +finished, and her hair all strewn over her face and +shoulders, upon her little praying cushion. "What +will become of poor Bell!"</p> + +<p>"What ails my daughter?" said the sweet, soft +voice of the queen mother, as she knelt tenderly +over her child, and pressed her head to her bosom. +"Tell your sorrows to your mother."</p> + +<p>"Oh, mother, <i>I</i> am the most wretched fairy that +ever existed. I don't want to marry that odious, +red-haired stranger; and my father has made me +promise that the wedding shall take place on Halloween—and +I—I have consented. But I love Sir +Timothy; and I wont marry any body but him," +sobbed the poor creature, convulsively, as she cast +herself upon the floor, and looked up to her mother, +terrified and half frantic.</p> + +<p>"But, dearest, you know you laughed at poor Sir +Timothy's vows—and he is so sensitive."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, I know I did, but I'll never do so any +more. <i>If</i> Sir Timothy will only come back and forgive +me, and marry me, just this once, I will never, +never offend him again as long as I live—never, +never, never! Do, mamma, do make him come +back!"</p> + +<p>"Poor child! I will certainly do all I can. But +you have promised to be married on Halloween."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, but that is a good fortnight off, and you +can bring Sir Timothy back before then, you know, +and he can kill this horrid stranger, and then every +body will be <i>so</i> happy!" and the face of the +volatile creature began already to re-clothe itself +in smiles.</p> + +<p>"I fear you are mistaken, love," said her mother, +solemnly, and shaking her head in an impressive +manner, she added, "do not deceive yourself with +such fallacies, my daughter; your princely word is +passed, your father's royal honor is pledged, and you +must be married on Halloween."</p> + +<p>The lady Dewbell, sobbing hysterically, again +looked up. She was alone; at the same moment +the cat-and-baby face of Puck glanced by the window, +and a wild, mischievous laugh melted away into +a song, of which the lady only caught the two +last lines:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"He rideth fast, and he rideth well,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But his heart still clings to the pretty Bell."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"Oh, bless thee, dear Puck!" sighed the haply +wondering lady, rising and leaning from the window. +"May thy sweet prophecy come true!"</p> + + +<p>PART III.</p> + +<p>'T is Halloween midnight. Through the tall windows +of the venerable church streamed in the broad +moonlight, in bright silver floods, that lost themselves +in the profound recesses of the distant aisles, or fell +like many-colored snow-flakes upon the marble floor. +Entering without sound, came up the middle aisle +the royal wedding-procession. First walked the +father, the royal Paterflor, looking stern and determined, +yet, it must be confessed, a little roguish +about the crowsfeet. Upon his arm leaned his pale +and stricken daughter, the once proud, joyous and +imperious Princess Dewbell. She was pale as a +lily's cup, and drooping as its stem. She never +raised her head from her bosom, and her eyes, once +sparkling like fountains of light, were hidden beneath +their willowy lids. Next comes the "red-haired +prince," as the lady Dewbell had scornfully denominated +him, (his head <i>was</i> a little inclined to flame, +dear reader, between you and me,) respectfully conducting +the ever sweet and placid Queen Woodbine; +and after them a troop of merry and gayly-dressed +fairies, both ladies and gentlemen, but very demure +and solemn; while Puck, in the united capacity of +Hymen and Grand Usher, was dodging about with +his flaming torch, now in front, now in rear, now +here, now there, and every where imparting an air +of grotesqueness to the whole affair.</p> + +<p>At the altar the party stopped, and ranging themselves +in the approved order for such occasions, the +priest—a grave and reverend bullfrog, whose surplice +was scrupulously neat and tidy—proceeded +with the ceremony. When he came to the question, +"dost thou, my daughter, freely and voluntarily bestow +thy hand and thy affections upon this man, +Paudeen O'Rafferty, commonly called Pat?"</p> + +<p>The pale and shrinking lady raised her head and +opened her great ox-like eyes; the bridegroom looked +sheepish and hung his head; King Paterflor seemed +suddenly troubled with a severe fit of coughing, and +the priest could scarcely forbear a chuckle.</p> + +<p>"Father, dear father, what is the meaning of this +cruel joke?" exclaimed the poor lady Dewbell, +running to her father and catching hold of his arm. +But the old king's cough was still very troublesome. +She then appealed to the priest, but he seemed deaf, +and only made a grum kind of noise in his throat, +that sounded a good deal like "Pat O'Rafferty."</p> + +<p>"Who, then, are you, sir?" demanded she, at +last, of the groom, turning suddenly and imperiously +upon him her piercing gaze.</p> + +<p>"So plaze yer ladyship, I am Paudeen O'Rafferty, +the son of the forester—at yer ladyship's sarvice."</p> + +<p>The fairy princess was about to faint, in the most +approved manner, and had already selected a convenient +cushion upon which to fall, when a tall and +noble form crossed the moon-ray, and Sir Timothy +Lawn stood before her.</p> + +<p>"Beloved princess," said he, kneeling, and respectfully +taking her hand, "I hope my presence is not +disagreeable to the queen of my heart, for whose love +I have so long pined. Speak to me frankly, sweet +lady Dewbell, tell me, can you love me? Will you +permit me to call you mine forever?"</p> + +<p>The lady Dewbell changed her intention respecting +the cushion upon which she had intended to faint, +and, somehow, found herself before she was half<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span> +conscious of it, in her lover's arms. An explanation +ensued; the prince Paudeen gave up his post of +honor to Sir Timothy; the ceremony was concluded +on the spot; and as the gay and joyous party left +the church, Puck was seen sitting at the organ +accompanying himself in a sort of wild yet sweet +chant, of which the lady Dewbell easily distinguished—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Oh, a merry tale will the gossips tell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the happy mishap of the proud lady Bell."<br /></span> +</div></div> +<br /><br /> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="A_NIGHT_THOUGHT" id="A_NIGHT_THOUGHT"></a>A NIGHT THOUGHT.</h2> + +<hr class="short" /> +<h4>BY THOMAS BUCHANAN READ.</h4> +<hr class="short" /> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">Long have I gazed upon all lovely things,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Until my soul was melted into song,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Melted with love till from its thousand springs<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The stream of adoration, swift and strong,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Swept in its ardor, drowning brain and tongue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till what I most would say was borne away unsung.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">The brook is silent when it mirrors most<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whate'er is grand or beautiful above;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The billow which would woo the flowery coast<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dies in the first expression of its love;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And could the bard consign to living breath<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Feelings too deep for thought, the utterance were death!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">The starless heavens at noon are a delight;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The clouds a wonder in their varying play,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And beautiful when from their mountainous height<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The lightning's hand illumes the wall of day:—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The noisy storm bursts down—and passing brings<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The rainbow poised in air on unsubstantial wings.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">But most I love the melancholy night—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When with fixed gaze I single out a star<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A feeling floods me with a tender light—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A sense of an existence from afar,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A life in other spheres of love and bliss,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Communion of true souls—a loneliness in this!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">There is a sadness in the midnight sky—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An answering fullness in the heart and brain,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Which tells the spirit's vain attempt to fly<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And occupy those distant worlds again.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">At such an hour Death's were a loving trust,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If life could then depart in its contempt of dust.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">It may be that this deep and longing sense<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is but the prophecy of life to come;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">It may be that the soul in going hence<br /></span> +<span class="i2">May find in some bright star its promised home;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And that the Eden lost forever here<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Smiles welcome to me now from yon suspended sphere.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">There is a wisdom in the light of stars,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A wordless lore which summons me away—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">This ignorance belongs to earth which bars<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The spirit in these darkened walls of clay,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And stifles all the soul's aspiring breath;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">True knowledge only dawns within the gales of Death.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">Imprisoned thus, why fear we then to meet<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The angel who shall ope the dungeon-door,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And break these galling fetters from our feet,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To lead us up from Time's benighted shore?<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Is it for love of this dark cell of dust,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which, tenantless, awakes but horror and disgust?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">Long have I mused upon all lovely things;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But thou, oh Death! art lovelier than all;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Thou sheddest from thy recompensing wings<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A glory which is hidden by the pall—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The excess of radiance falling from thy plume<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Throws from the gates of Time a shadow on the tomb.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<br /><br /> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_BARD" id="THE_BARD"></a>THE BARD.</h2> + +<hr class="short" /> +<h4>BY S. ANNA LEWIS.</h4> +<hr class="short" /> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Why should my anxious heart repine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That Wealth and Power can ne'er be mine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Love has flown—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That Friendship changes as the breeze?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mine is a joy unknown to these;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In Song's bright zone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To sit by Helicon serene,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hear the waves of Hippocrene<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lave Phœbus' throne.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Here deathless lyres the strains prolong,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That gush from living founts of song,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Without a cross;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here spirits never feel the weight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Wrong, or Envy, or of Hate,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or earthly loss;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The pomp of Pelf—the pride of Birth—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The gilded trappings of this earth<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Return to dross.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, ye! who would forget the ills<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of earth, and all the bosom fills<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With agony!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come dwell with me in Fancy's dream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beside this lovely fabled stream<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of minstrelsy;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And let its draughts celestial roll<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into the deep wells of thy soul<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Eternally.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">God always sets along the way<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of weary souls some beacon ray<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of light divine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And only when my spirit's wings<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are weary in the quest of springs<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of Song, I pine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If I could always heavenward fly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And never earthward turn mine eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bliss would be mine.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<br /><br /> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_WILL" id="THE_WILL"></a>THE WILL.</h2> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span> + +<hr class="short" /> +<h4>BY MISS E. A. DUPUY</h4> +<hr class="short" /> + +<h4>PART I.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There is peace in the Night of the Early Dead—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">It will yield to a glorious morrow! <i>Clarke</i>.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<br /> + +<p>Amid all the brightness and bloom which the imagination +conjures up, when we think of the sunny +islands lying within the tropics, many mournful associations +arise and cast a sadness over the picture. +Very few have not had within the circle of their +relatives, or friends, some cherished one, who has +vainly sought the balmy breezes of those favored +spots, with the feverish hope that amid their loveliness +Death would forget to launch his arrows for +them.</p> + +<p>Alas! to die among strangers is usually the fate of +those who are thus lured from their homes by a deceitful +hope. There, where Nature wears a perpetual +verdure—where the fervid sun brings forth a +luxuriance of vegetation unknown in more northern +regions, the wearied spirit sinks to repose, soothed, +or saddened, by the glow of existence around.</p> + +<p>A spacious apartment on the southern side of a +highly ornamented villa, opened into a magnificent +garden, filled with orange-trees, oleanders, and many +other gorgeous flowers peculiar to the climate of +Cuba; while in the distance the sunlight gleamed +upon a row of towering palms, whose stately +columns, crowned by their verdant coronal, resembled +the pillars of some mighty temple, which found +a fitting canopy in the blue arch of heaven, glowing +with the gorgeous hues of a tropical sunset.</p> + +<p>The floor of this room was inlaid with marble of +different colors, and the couch and windows were +draped with snowy lace, lightly embroidered at the +edges, and looped with cords of blue and silver—tables +with marble tops, supporting porcelain vases +filled with flowers, were placed between the windows, +for these ephemeral children of sunshine were +dear to the heart of the dying one. Beside one of +these stood a large cushioned chair, in which reclined +a young man of delicate features and wasted +form. He appeared in the last stages of his fell disease, +and the friends who had received him beneath +their roof to die, wondered that he should have been +deluded with the hope that health could ever again +reanimate his bowed and shrunken form. There +was an expression of care upon his sharpened features—a +feverish restlessness in his manner, which +betrayed the spirit's unrest.</p> + +<p>At his feet sat a young girl, whose brilliant complexion +and pale-brown hair betrayed her Saxon origin; +the finely rounded figure, the delicately formed +feet and hands, and the gracefully turned head and +bust, were all evidences of the grade of life to which +she belonged. She held the burning hand of the invalid +between her own soft, cool palms, and sung in +a sweet low voice an old ballad which told of the +ancient greatness of the Saxon race. At a short distance +from them sat an elderly lady, clad in deep +mourning, and her saddened countenance corresponded +well with her weeds.</p> + +<p>The young man made an impatient movement, +and said—"Sing not to me England's former prowess, +dear Edith. What to the dying can such themes be +but a bitter mockery? Take your guitar, my sister, +and throw your soul into its vibrating strings, while +you sing me such a lay as I can fancy the angels of +Heaven to be pouring forth around the throne of +God."</p> + +<p>"Shall I sing the chants of our church, dearest +Edgar?" said Edith in a subdued voice.</p> + +<p>"Yes—yes—they breathe peace and resignation +into my restless soul. When I am dying, my sister, +stifle your own feelings as you love me, and pour +into my failing senses those magnificent strains. If +God sees fit to tear me from you before I can legally +provide for you and my beloved mother, I shall be +enabled to forget the bitter truth in listening to your +sweet voice. You promise me this, Edith?"</p> + +<p>"I do—Heaven will sustain me even then, my +darling brother, and give me power to forget my +own anguish in soothing your last moments."</p> + +<p>Edith Euston pressed his hand to her lips, and +raising from the floor a guitar which lay beside her, +she poured forth a strain of melody which seemed +to soothe the senses of the invalid to rest. His eyes +closed, and an expression of repose rested on his +worn features.</p> + +<p>Twilight deepened over the earth—a single ray +of light, from the reddened sky, fell through the open +window upon the figure of the young girl, and the +mother, who sat silent and abstracted, thought as she +glanced upon her that even in a higher world her +beloved Edith could wear no lovelier outward semblance +than was now hers. There was an expression +of elevated feeling, of pure tenderness in her +upturned face which revealed the high and noble +soul within. One fitted to suffer and conquer in the +dark struggle which she felt awaited her.</p> + +<p>Hers were not the only eyes which contemplated +that lovely picture of sisterly devotion upon that +twilight eve. Another stood without, beneath the +shadow of a high hedge, and gazed upon the unconscious +musician with even deeper admiration; and +his dark, expressive features lighted up with an +emotion almost of reverence. The stars came forth +in the translucent depths of ether; the young moon +cast her tremulous light over the garden, yet still the +intruder lingered in his place of concealment. +Twice he put the boughs aside, as if to approach the +room and announce his presence, but again receded,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span> +as if irresolute and uncertain as to the effect his presence +might produce.</p> + +<p>At length all became silent. The tones of the instrument +died slowly away, and the voice of the +singer ceased to pour forth its song. The windows +were still unclosed, for the invalid had reached that +distressing stage in his malady, when his oppressed +breathing required a constant circulation of free air. +A lamp burning beneath an alabaster shade was +swung from the centre of the ceiling, and its mellow +lustre diffused a faint moonlight radiance throughout +the apartment.</p> + +<p>With suppressed breathing the two ladies watched +the sleep of the sick youth, and he who had so earnestly +observed every movement of Edith, ventured +to approach so near the open window that the heavy +and interrupted respiration of young Euston was distinctly +audible to him; while his eagle eye sought to +penetrate the shadow in which his features reposed, +that he might read upon them the ravages made by +approaching dissolution.</p> + +<p>As he stood thus, the moonlight revealed a tall, +well proportioned figure, clad in a suit of black, +well fitted to his form. His prominent features and +flashing black eyes were half concealed by a large +straw hat, which was carelessly placed upon his +head. As he gazed upon the sleeping form, his lips +curled, and a strange expression of exultation came +to his face; his eye wandered triumphantly to the +fair brow of Edith.</p> + +<p>"Twice rejected," he muttered half audibly—"twice +rejected, and with scorn, by yon dainty girl; +now methinks my vengeance is almost within my +grasp. I hold her future destiny in my power; for +this boy <i>cannot</i> drag out his existence another week. +Yes, Edith—to labor you have not been bred—to beg +you will be ashamed, and he who vainly hopes that +time will be granted him to deprive me of my inheritance, +will perish from my path, just as he believes +himself on the verge of consummating his +hatred to me."</p> + +<p>Edith softly arose, and making a sign to her mother, +glided noiselessly from the room by a distant +window, which opened to the floor. The intruder +hesitated a moment, and then followed her with light +and rapid steps. The flutter of her white dress +guided him to the retreat she had chosen, and she had +scarcely thrown herself upon a rustic seat beneath +the shelter of some orange-boughs, and given vent to +her painfully repressed emotion, by a burst of tears, +when the dark stranger stood before her. She started +up and would have fled, but he spoke, and the sound +of his voice seemed to bind her to the spot as by a +spell.</p> + +<p>"Why would you fly from me, Edith?" he asked. +"I come in the spirit of good-will to you and yours."</p> + +<p>A struggle seemed to be passing in the mind of the +young girl. She wiped her tears away, and after a +pause answered in a tone which faltered at first, but +grew firm, and even haughty as she proceeded,</p> + +<p>"What has brought you hither, Mr. Barclay? +Yet why do I ask? To exult in the fate of your unfortunate +victim; to watch each painful breath which +brings him nearer to his grave, with the certainty +that the very eagerness with which he desires a few +more days of existence, that he may fulfill a sacred +duty, is fast wearing away the faint thread that yet +binds him to life. Oh false, unfeeling man! depart, +I pray you, if one human instinct yet remains within +your callous heart, and leave my unhappy brother to +die in peace."</p> + +<p>She turned to depart, but Barclay stepped forward +and placed his hand on her arm, as if to detain her. +She shrunk from his touch with an expression of +loathing, which called the crimson to his cheek, but +he suppressed his emotion, and said calmly—</p> + +<p>"I knew that you would soon need a protector, +Miss Euston, and I came hither with the faint hope +that I might be able to overcome your cruel prejudices +against me—that I might become to you a +friend at least, if no dearer title were allowed me."</p> + +<p>"You a friend to <i>me</i>!" exclaimed Edith impetuously. +"You, who lured my brother from his home, +to wreck his existence in the life of dissipation to +which you tempted him. Ever feeble from his boyhood, +you knew that little was needed to destroy his +frail constitution—yet, because he stood between you +and the possession of wealth, his life was offered as +the sacrifice to your criminal cupidity. And now +you come hither to watch the last fluttering throes of +existence, fearful that Death may delay his arrows +until he shall have passed that hour which entitles +him to dispose of his property—and disappoint your +hopes, by bequeathing his wealth to those who are +dearest to him."</p> + +<p>"You are excited, Edith. You judge me too severely. +Edgar's own headlong passions destroyed +him. I merely urged him to do as others of his years +and station, without foreseeing such fatal results. +My love for you would have prompted me to save +your brother."</p> + +<p>"Speak not to me of love—dare not approach the +sister of your victim with proffers of affection. The +death of Edgar may leave me penniless—nearly +friendless—I have been tenderly nurtured, but I +would sooner embrace a life of sternest self-denial, +of utter poverty, than link myself with infamy in +your person. Leave me—and dare not approach the +room of my brother, to imbitter his last hours by +your presence."</p> + +<p>"And your mother, my fair heroine?" said Barclay, +in a tone of sarcasm bordering on contempt. +"What will become of her if you persist in the rejection +of the only person in the wide world on whom +you have any claim? She is old, feeble, broken in +health and spirit. Ah! will not your proud heart +faint when you behold her sharing this life of poverty +and self-denial, which seems to you so much more +attractive than the home and protection I offer you?"</p> + +<p>Edith stifled the tears that sprung anew to her eyes, +and after a brief struggle said with composure—</p> + +<p>"My mother is too honorable—she has too bitter a +disdain of meanness ever to wish her child to sacrifice +the truth and integrity of her soul, by accepting +the hand of one for whom she has no respect."</p> + +<p>"By Heaven!" said Barclay passionately, "you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span> +force me to throw away the scabbard and declare +war to the knife. Be it so, then. Yonder weak boy +cannot survive five of the ten days yet required to +complete his majority. Then comes to me—yes to +<i>me</i>—all his wealth; and only as <i>my</i> wife shall one +ray of my prosperity shine upon you. The gray +hairs of your only parent may be brought to the +grave by want and sorrow, and unless you relent +toward me my heart shall be steeled to her sufferings."</p> + +<p>At this picture, which was only too likely to be +realized, the courage of the unhappy Edith forsook +her, and she exclaimed in faltering tones—</p> + +<p>"My dear, dear mother! for her sake any other +sacrifice might be borne—but not this—not this. My +brother yet lives, and Heaven may in pity prolong +his existence beyond the hour he so anxiously prays +to see. Then we escape your power."</p> + +<p>Barclay laughed mockingly.</p> + +<p>"This is the fifteenth, and he is not of age until +the twenty-fifth, exactly at the second hour of the +morning. One moment only before that time should +Death claim his victim the estate is mine, and you +dependent on my bounty. Think you that the frail +and wasted ghost of a man who struggles for breath +in yonder room can live through another week? +Hope—yes, hope for the best, for despair will come +soon enough. I feel as secure of my inheritance as +though it were already mine."</p> + +<p>Edith proudly motioned him from her path, and +fled toward the house, with his mocking words still +ringing in her ears. Her brother yet slept, and as she +gazed upon his sunken features it seemed to her as +if death were already stamped upon them, and she +bent her head above his still face, to convince herself +that he yet breathed.</p> + +<p>Barclay and Euston were distantly related, and had +both been educated by an eccentric kinsman, with +the belief among their connections that he designed +dividing his ample fortune between them. To the +surprise and chagrin of Barclay, he found on the +death of Colonel Euston that the whole of his estate +was bequeathed to his young cousin, encumbered +with an annuity to himself, which appeared to one +of his expensive tastes, and lavish prodigality, as +absolute poverty.</p> + +<p>Edgar Euston was then but seventeen years of +age, and of a delicate bodily organization, which did +not promise length of days. A clause in Colonel +Euston's will offered a temptation to Barclay, which +he had not sufficient principle to resist. If Euston +died before attaining his majority the estate was to +pass into the hands of his kinsman, and no mention +was made of the mother or sister of the young heir. +Barclay reflected that if he could remove Euston +from his path, before he attained his twenty-first +year, the coveted wealth would yet be his.</p> + +<p>From that hour he made every effort to win the +confidence and affection of young Euston. He was +his senior by nearly ten years, and possessed a +knowledge of the world, and a fascination of manner +which was extremely attractive to a youth who had +passed the greater portion of his life, at a country +residence, in the society of his mother and sister. +Euston entered one of our Northern colleges, and +under the auspices of his kinsman he soon achieved +a reputation which was far more applauded by the +wild students than agreeable to the professors. He +blindly followed wherever Barclay led, and before +he entered his twenty-first year he returned to his +early home, with a constitution completely broken +by the reckless life he had led, and the symptoms of +early decay in his flushed cheek and hollow cough. +Vain had been the entreaties and remonstrances of +his mother and sister; under the influence of his +tempter, they were utterly disregarded—until the +hand of disease was laid upon him, and he felt that +the only atonement he could offer for all the suffering +he had inflicted upon them would probably be denied +to him.</p> + +<p>He earnestly desired to live, that he might reach +that age which would entitle him to make a legal +transfer of his property to those who were deservedly +dear to him, for in the event of his death without +a will, his mother and sister would be left entirely +dependent on the tender mercies of his successor. +An unfortunate lawsuit had deprived his +mother of the property which had become hers on +the death of his father, and his own reckless extravagance +had dissipated more than the annual +revenue of his own property since it came into his +possession.</p> + +<p>Too late he discovered the baseness of Barclay's +motives, and renounced all intercourse with him—but +he would not thus be cast off. He had seen and +loved the noble-hearted Edith, and he forced his +hypocritical offers of service upon the afflicted +family, until Edith distinctly assured him that he +need never hope for a return to his passion.</p> + +<p>Euston had long since abandoned all hope of recovery, +but he sought the mild climate of Cuba, +trusting that the fatal day might be deferred until he +had secured independence to his family, but his physician +feared that the very eagerness of his wishes +would eventually defeat them. It was mournful, +and deeply touching, to witness that clinging to +existence in one so young, not from love of life itself, +but from a desire to perform an act of justice. +That completed, his mission on earth was ended, and +Death might claim him without a murmur.</p> + +<p>The hours dragged heavily on toward the desired +day, and each one as it passed appeared to hurry +the poor invalid with rapid strides toward the grave, +that seemed eager to claim its prey. Barclay had +not again ventured to intrude on Edith, but he nightly +hovered around the room of the dying youth, and +gloated on the wasted and death-like form which +held his earthly fortunes in his hands.</p> + +<p>A skillful physician had accompanied Euston from +his native land, and his unremitting attention, aided +by the tender nursing of his affectionate sister, +seemed as if they would eventually reap their reward +in the preservation of life beyond the hour of +his majority.</p> + +<p>In pain and weariness time slowly waned, but it +still left him life and an unclouded mind; and the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span> +bold, bad heart, that nightly watched him, feared that +the wealth he so ardently coveted, might yet elude +his grasp.</p> + +<p>The evening of the twenty-fifth at last arrived. +Euston reclined in his chair as we first beheld him, +wrapped in a brocade dressing-gown, whose brilliant +colors made his extreme pallor the more remarkable; +a table was drawn close beside him, and on it, at his +own desire, was placed his repeater, from which +his eyes scarcely wandered. His breath came slowly +and gaspingly, and at brief intervals his physician +moistened his parched lips with a restorative cordial, +and murmured words of encouragement in +his ear.</p> + +<p>As before, Edith sat at his feet, with her guitar, +ready to stifle her deep emotion, and fulfill her promise +to sing to him while his parting soul was struggling +for release from its earthly tenement. His +mother leaned over his chair, and bathed his cold +brow with her burning tears; in the back-ground sat +a clergyman, gazing on the scene with absorbing +interest.</p> + +<p>Each one in that hushed room felt the approach of +the stern tyrant, and all prayed fervently that his +dart might be stayed yet a few hours.</p> + +<p>"My sister, sing to me. Soothe me into quietness +by the loved tones of your voice. It is my <i>only</i> hope +for life beyond the desired hour," murmured the +dying youth.</p> + +<p>With tremulous fingers Edith touched the chords, +and poured forth the solemn strains to which he loved +to listen, and he sunk back and closed his eyes. At +first her voice faltered, but she gradually regained +her self-command, and never had those clear, rich +tones uttered a sweeter strain, than that which floated +around the fluttering spirit, which struggled to release +itself from the attenuated form of the early +doomed.</p> + +<p>Barclay stood without, watching the scene with +breathless interest, and a terrible struggle was passing +in his dark and stormy soul. Euston might live beyond +the hour of two, and he would then be a beggar. +His eye wandered toward Edith, so nobly devoted, +so purely beautiful; and the tempter whispered,</p> + +<p>"She might save you—ennoble you; the love, the +sweet influence of such a woman are all powerful. +Once yours, you could surround her with such an +atmosphere of care and tenderness, that her heart +must be won to love you—to forget the past. Without +her, you are doomed—doomed. What matters a +few more moments of existence to one like him, +when the eternal welfare of a human being hangs +trembling in the balance? Deprived of the means +of living, Edith will have no choice—she must marry +you, or debase her pride of soul before the iron +sway of poverty. Her mother is old—infirm; and +for her sake, the daughter will listen to your proffers +of love. Take your destiny into your own hands. +Cowardly soul! why falter now? It is but completing +your own work. He is <i>your</i> victim—you know +it, and feel it in every pulse of your throbbing heart. +Years of usefulness might have been his, but for you; +then complete the sacrifice without hesitation. What +avails it to have accomplished so much, if the reward +escapes you at the last moment?"</p> + +<p>Such were the wild thoughts that oppressed his +soul during those terrible hours. He saw that the +parchment which disinherited him was placed beside +Euston, and the pen stood in the inkstand, ready +to do its service, so soon as the hand of the watch +pointed to the hour of two; and he ground his teeth +in impotent rage, as the moments flitted by, and +Euston yet continued to breathe.</p> + +<p>Terrible is the watch of love beside the flitting soul +which parts in peace; but how much more awful +was that vigil, in which the anguish of bereavement +was doubly embittered by the fear of future want to +those who had been reared amid all the refinements +of luxury. The mother looked upon her remaining +child, and felt that she was not formed to struggle +with poverty and neglect, and the daughter bent her +earful eyes on that venerable form, and in the depths +of her soul, prayed that her old age might be spared +;he grinding cares of want.</p> + +<p>The watch struck the half hour—then the quarter—and +a feeble motion of Euston stopped the hand of +Edith as she swept it over the strings of her instrument. +She arose and stood beside him; a breathless +silence reigned throughout the apartment, only +broken by the monotonous ticking of the watch, +which struck upon the excited nerves of those around +with a sound as distinct as the reverberations of +thunder.</p> + +<p>Not a word was uttered until the hand pointed to +the hour, then, as if endued with sudden energy, the +dying man stretched forth his hand, and grasping the +pen, said in a firm, distinct voice,</p> + +<p>"Now let me sign my name, and yield up my +spirit to the angel that has been beckoning me away +for hours. My mother—my sister, God has vouchsafed +to me a mercy I did not deserve. Thank +Heaven! your interests are safe. You are free from +<i>his</i> power."</p> + +<p>At that instant a strange cry was heard; a bird +flew into the room, and, dazzled by the light, flapped +his wings against the shade of the lamp, overturned +it, and left the apartment in utter darkness. In the +confusion of the moment, a figure glided through the +open window, and stood beside the chair of Euston. +He noiselessly placed his firm grasp upon his laboring +breast, and held it there a single instant. A faint +rattling sound was heard, and Edith wildly called +for lights.</p> + +<p>Noiselessly as he had entered glided that dark form +from the side of his victim, and buried itself in the +shadows of the trees without. Many lights flashed +into the room—they glared coldly on the face of the +dead, and the mother sunk senseless in the arms +of her daughter.</p> +<br /> + +<h4>PART II.</h4> + +<p>Several months have passed away, and Mrs. +Euston and her daughter have returned to their native +land. A single room in an obscure boarding-house +in the heart of a southern city was occupied by both. +The expenses of their voyage to New Orleans, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span> +a few months sojourn in their present abode, humble +as it was, had nearly exhausted their slender resources. +Edith had made many efforts to procure a few +scholars to instruct in music and drawing, but the +departure of the greater portion of the wealthy, +during the unhealthy season, had deprived her of +those she had been able to obtain. She thought of +going out as a daily governess, but the feeble health +and deep dejection of her mother, offered an insuperable +objection to such an arrangement. When she +left her alone even for an hour, she usually found +her in such a state of nervous excitement on her +return, as was painful to behold.</p> + +<p>Edith is seated near the only window of their +sordid apartment in the afternoon of a sultry summer +day; the sun is shining without with overpowering +splendor; a heated vapor rises from the paved streets +and seems to shimmer in the breathless atmosphere. +Edith had lost all the freshness and roundness of +youth; her cheek was deadly white, and her emaciated +form seemed to indicate the approach of the +terrible disease of which her brother had died. She +was sewing industriously, and her air of weariness +and lassitude betrayed the strong mastery of the +spirit over the body, in the continuance of her employment.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Euston was lying on the bed; and twenty years +seemed to have passed over her since the night of +her son's death. The oppressive heat had induced +her to remove her cap, and her long hair, white as +the snows of winter, lay around her wasted and furrowed +features. From infancy the respect and observance +due to one of high station had been bestowed +upon her, and the reverse in their fortunes +was more than she could bear. At first, her high-toned +feelings had shrunk from obligations to the new +heir, and she approved of Edith's rejection; but as +time passed, amid privations to which she had never +been accustomed, her very soul revolted against +their miserable mode of living.</p> + +<p>To a woman of refined feelings and vivid imagination, +the coarse and sordid realities around her were +sufficiently heart-sickening, without having the terrible +fear forced upon her that her only child was +hurrying to the grave through her exertions to keep +them literally from starvation. Her daughter now +thought she slept, but her mind was far too busily +occupied to permit the sweet influences of slumber +to soothe her into a momentary forgetfulness of her +bitter grief. Suddenly she unclosed her eyes, and +spoke.</p> + +<p>"Edith, my child, lay aside that work—such constant +employment is destroying you. Is it not time +that we heard from Robert Barclay? Surely he will +not be relentless, when he hears that your health is +failing. After all, Edith, you need not be so averse +to receiving assistance from him; the property he +holds is rightfully ours."</p> + +<p>"Mother," replied Edith, a faint flush mounting to +her cheek, "for your sake I have submitted to humiliate +myself before our ruthless kinsman, but I fear it +will be in vain. Only as his wife will my claims +on his humanity and justice be acknowledged. Would +you not shrink, dearest mother, from condemning +your child to such a doom? Could you not better +bear to stand above my grave, and know me at peace +within it, than to behold me wedded to this unprincipled +man, to whose pernicious example my +brother owed his early doom?"</p> + +<p>"Speak not of dying, my daughter," said the poor +mother, hysterically, "I cannot bear it; I am haunted +by the fear that I shall at last be left on earth alone. +I daily behold you fading before my eyes without +the power to avert the fate I see written upon your +pale cheek and wasted form. As Robert's wife you +would have a luxurious home, the means of gratifying +refined tastes, and of contributing to the happiness +of others. He may atone to me, by the preservation +of one child, for the destruction of the other."</p> + +<p>"Mother, your fears for me blind you to the truth. +Are not mental griefs far more difficult to bear than the +privations of poverty, galling as they are? As Mr. +Barclay's wife, I should loathe myself for the hypocrisy +I should be compelled to practice toward him; +and the wealth for which I had sold myself, would +allow me leisure to brood over my own unworthiness, +until madness might be the result. No, no, mother +-come what may, I never can be so untrue to myself +as to become the wife of Robert Barclay."</p> + +<p>"God help us, then!" said Mrs. Euston, despondingly.</p> + +<p>A carriage drove to the door, and a gentleman +alighted from it. Edith heard the bustle, but she did +not look out to see what occasioned it, and she was +startled from her painful reverie by a knock on the +door. She opened it, and started back with a faint +cry as she recognized Barclay.</p> + +<p>"The landlady told me to come up," he said, as +he glanced around the wretched apartment, and a +slight twinge of remorse touched his heart as he remarked +the changed appearance of Edith. She motioned +him to enter, while Mrs. Euston arose from +the bed, and offered him a seat.</p> + +<p>"I concluded it would be best to reply to your +communication in person," said he to Mrs. Euston, +as he took the offered chair. "I come with the most +liberal intentions, provided Miss Euston will listen +to reason. I am grieved to see you in a place so +unsuited to your former station as this wretched +apartment."</p> + +<p>"And yet," said Edith, "I have passed some pleasant +hours in this room, comfortless as it looks. So +long as I had the hope of being able to provide for +our wants by my own exertions, I found contentment +in its humble shelter."</p> + +<p>"Your happiness must then be truly independent +of outward circumstances," replied Barclay, with a +touch of his old sarcasm. "I supposed, from the +tenor of your mother's petition, that you had begun +to repent of your high-toned language to me in our +last interview, and would now accede to terms you +once spurned, as the price of my assistance to you +and yours."</p> + +<p>Edith curbed her high spirit, and calmly replied, +"You misunderstood my mother's words. As the +mother of the late heir, she justly considers herself<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span> +entitled to a pittance from your estate, and she claimed +from your humanity, what she was hopeless of obtaining +from your sense of justice. For myself, I hoped +for nothing from either, but I acquiesced in her application. +I am sorry that you have founded on it +expectations which must prove fallacious."</p> + +<p>"Then, madam, I need remain no longer," said +Barclay, addressing Mrs. Euston. "Your daughter +remembers our interview previous to, and after, the +death of her brother; the only terms on which I +would assist you were then explicitly expressed."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Euston caught his hand, and bowed her venerable +head upon it.</p> + +<p>"Have mercy, Robert, upon my gray hairs—my +daughter; look at her—she is dying by inches—she +is stifling in this wretched spot. The money that was +my son's should surely buy a shelter for us. Leave us +not helpless, hopeless. My God! my God! give me eloquence +to plead for my child!" and she threw herself +upon the floor, and raised her clasped hands to heaven.</p> + +<p>"Madam," said Barclay, "it only rests with your +daughter to have mercy upon you and herself. +Where, I ask you, is her filial piety, when she beholds +you suffer thus, and relents not toward one who +offers her a love that has survived coldness, contempt, +contumely."</p> + +<p>Edith approached her mother, and assisted her +to rise.</p> + +<p>"My dearest mother, calm yourself. Humble not +yourself thus before our oppressor. God is just—is +merciful. He will not forget the widow and the orphan +in their extremity. Leave us, Mr. Barclay; had my +wishes alone been consulted, you never would have +been called on thus to witness our misfortunes."</p> + +<p>Barclay bowed, and haughtily strode from the room.</p> + +<p>"Another month of privation," he muttered, "and +she will surely be mine or Death's. It does not much +matter to which she belongs. Ah, if she only knew +all!" and he sprung into his cabriolet, and dashed off +toward the more aristocratic portion of the city.</p> + +<p>In the hope that Edith would be forced to relent, +Barclay had remained in New Orleans thus late in +the season, and he resolved to linger yet a little +longer, until want and suffering should leave her no +choice. His passion for her was one of those insanities +to which men of his violent character are +often liable. He desired her as the one great gift, +which was to purify, to exalt him in the scale of +humanity. The delicate beauty of her person, the +sensibility of her soul, the grace of her manner, rendered +her irresistibly attractive to him; but so selfish +was his love, that he would sooner have seen her +perish at his feet, than have rendered her assistance, +except at the price proposed.</p> + +<p>Another month passed by, and still there was no +news of Edith or her mother. He grasped the daily +paper, almost with a sensation of fear, and glanced +at the column of deaths, which at that season usually +contains a goodly array. Their names were not yet +among them, or perchance in their poverty and obscurity +they would not find admittance even among +the daily list of mortality.</p> + +<p>The yellow fever had commenced its annual +ravages, and Barclay retreated to a country-house +in the vicinity, owned by a friend, and dispatched a +confidential servant to inquire concerning Mrs. +Euston and her daughter. They were still in the +same place, but the mother had been ill, and was still +confined to her bed.</p> + +<p>One morning, about two weeks afterward, Barclay +was seated in a delightful little saloon, over a late +breakfast. The room was furnished with every appliance +of modern luxury, and the morning air stirred +the branches of noble trees without, whose verdant +shade completely shut out the glare of the sun. A +servant entered, and presented to him a letter which +had just been left. The irregular hand with which +it was directed, prevented him from recognizing the +writing of Edith, and when he opened the missive, +which had evidently been blotted with her bitter +tears, a flush of triumph mounted to his cheek, and he +exclaimed with an oath,</p> + +<p>"Mine at last!—I knew it must end thus!"</p> + +<p>The letter contained the following words:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"After a night of such suffering as casts all I have +previously endured into the shade, I address you. +My mother now lies before me in that heavy and +death-like sleep which follows utter exhaustion. +Her state of health for the last month has demanded +my constant care, and the precarious remuneration +I have been able to obtain for sewing, I have thus +been compelled to give up. We have parted with +every souvenir of our better days—even our clothing +has been sacrificed, until we have but a change of +garments left; and now our landlady insists on being +paid the small sum we owe her, or we must leave +her house to-day. She came into our room last +evening, and the scene which ensued threw my mother +into such a state of nervous excitement, that she +has not yet recovered from it."</p> + +<p>"I cannot disguise from myself that she is very +ill. If she awakes to a renewal of the same anguish, +I dare not contemplate the consequences. You +know that I do not love you, Mr. Barclay. I make +no pretension to a change in my feelings; repugnant +as it must be to a heart of sensibility, I must +view this transaction as a matter of bargain and sale. +I will accept your late offer, to save my mother from +further suffering, and to gain a home for her declining +years."</p> + +<p>"For myself, I will endeavor to be to you—but +why should I promise any thing for myself. God +alone can give me strength to live after the sacrifice +is completed."</p></div> + +<p class="right">"<span class="smcap">Edith.</span>"</p> + +<p>There was much in this letter that was wounding +to his vanity, and bitter to his feelings; but he had +triumphed! The stately pride of this girl was humbled +before him—her spirit bowed in the dust before +the gaunt spectre she had thought herself capable of +braving. She would be his—the fair, the pure in +heart, would link herself to vice, infamy and crime, +for money. Money! the world's god! See the +countless millions groveling upon the earth before +the great idol—the golden calf, which so often brings +with it as bitter a curse as was denounced against<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span> +the people of old, when they forsook the living and +true God for its worship.</p> + +<p>Can it not buy every thing—even woman's love, +or the semblance of it, which would serve him just +as well? He, the murderer of the brother, would +purchase the compliance of the sister with this +magical agent; but—and his heart quailed at the +thought—could it buy self-respect? Could it enable +him to look into the clear eye of that woman he +would call his wife, and say, "My soul is worthy +to be linked with thine in the realms of eternity."</p> + +<p>No—he felt that the sacrilegious union must be +unblessed on earth, and severed in heaven, yet he +shrunk not from his purpose.</p> + +<p>He lost no time in seeking Edith; Mrs. Euston was +yet buried in the leaden slumber produced by a +powerful narcotic. The unhappy girl received him +alone, and he remarked that his words of impassioned +love brought no color to her marble cheek—no emotion +to her soul; she seemed to have steeled herself +for the interview, and it was not until he pressed +the kiss of betrothal upon her pallid lips, that she betrayed +any sensibility—then a thrill, a shudder pervaded +her whole frame, and he supported her nearly +insensible form several moments before she regained +power to sustain herself. Could he have looked into +that breaking heart, and have read there all the +bitter loathing, the agonized struggles for self-control, +would he have persisted in his suit? Yes—for this +was a part of his vengeance for the slights she had +put upon him; and in the future, if she did not play +the part he thus forced upon her, with all the devotion +he should exact, had he not bitter words at his +command to taunt her with the scene of that morning?</p> + +<p>A physician was called in, who advised the removal +of Mrs. Euston while she slept; and arrangements +were soon made to accomplish it. The family +to whom Barclay's present retreat belonged, were +spending the summer at the north, and their house +had been left at his disposal. He determined to remove +Mrs. Euston and her daughter thither, while +he took up his own abode, until the day of his marriage, +with a bachelor friend in the neighborhood.</p> + +<p>Edith demanded an interval of a week before their +union took place, which he reluctantly granted. +Naturally prodigal, he employed the time in ordering +the most elegant <i>trousseau</i> for his bride. She who so +lately was struggling with bitter want, was now surrounded +by servants eager to anticipate every wish, +while Barclay played the devoted lover. Edith +prayed earnestly for power to regard him with such +feelings as alone could hallow the union they were +about to form. Vain were her lonely struggles—her +tearful supplications; a spectral form seemed to rise +ever between them, and reproach her that she had +been so untrue to herself, even for the preservation +of a mother.</p> + +<p>The only thing that consoled her for her great +sacrifice, was that her beloved mother seemed to +revive to some sense of enjoyment, when she +again found herself surrounded by that comfort to +which she had been accustomed. Weakened in +mind as in body, Mrs. Euston fondly flattered herself +that her daughter might yet be happy amid the +splendors of wealth; and the poor mother welcomed +the arbiter of their future fate with smiles and courteous +words, to which he listened with politeness, +and scorned as the hollow offspring of necessity.</p> + +<p>The dreaded day at length arrived, and with the +calmness of exhausted emotion, Edith prepared herself +for the ceremony which was to consign her to +the protection of Barclay. She believed her earthly +fate sealed, and resignation was all she could command.</p> + +<p>Amid all her suffering, there was one thought which +arose perpetually before her; there was one human +being on earth who would have risked his life to +serve or save her, and she knew that a heart worthy +of her love would hear the history of her enforced +marriage with bitter disappointment and anguish.</p> + +<p>Near the home of her infancy dwelt a family of +sons and daughters with whom she had been reared +in habits of intimacy. Between herself and the +eldest son a strong attachment had grown up; it had +never been expressed in words, yet each felt as well +assured of the affection of the other, as if a thousand +protestations had been uttered. About the +time that Mrs. Euston and her daughter left their +own home to travel with their beloved invalid, +Walter Atwood bade adieu to his paternal home, on +a tour to Europe, where he was to complete his professional +education as a medical man.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Euston's place passed into the hands of +strangers, and after a few months all intercourse by +letter ceased between their former friends and themselves. +After the death of her son, the bereaved +mother would not consent to return to their former +neighborhood, and thus all trace of them was lost to +the Atwoods; but Edith knew in her deep heart that +Walter would return—would seek her; and it was +this conviction which gave her firmness to resist so +long the overtures of Barclay.</p> + +<p>Now all was at an end; another hour and the right +even to think of him would no longer be hers. Her +mother entered her room, folded her to her breast, +and whispered,</p> + +<p>"The hour has arrived, my child. Robert is here +with the clergyman. Do not keep them waiting."</p> + +<p>"I am quite ready, mother," said Edith, calmly, +and she advanced without hesitation toward the door, +for she heard an impatient step without, which she +well knew. Barclay awaited her in the hall—he impetuously +seized her hand and drew it beneath his arm.</p> + +<p>At that moment the door-bell was violently pulled, +and both turned impulsively to see who made so imperious +a demand for admittance.</p> + +<p>At the open door stood two figures, one of a young +man, who appeared deeply agitated, for his features, +beneath the light of the lamps, seemed white and +rigid, as if cut from marble. Over his shoulder appeared +a swarthy face, with a pair of bright, keen +eyes, gleaming from beneath overhanging brows.</p> + +<p>Edith and Barclay both uttered an exclamation—but +they were very different in their character. In +the impulse of the moment, the former drew her hand +forcibly from him who sought to retain it, and with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span> +one bound, was in the arms of the foremost stranger, +as she exclaimed,</p> + +<p>"Walter—my saviour—my preserver! you have +come at last!"</p> + +<p>The face of Atwood lost its unnatural rigidity as +he pressed her to his heart, and said,</p> + +<p>"Thank Heaven! I am not then too late!"</p> + +<p>Barclay advanced threateningly,</p> + +<p>"What does this mean, sir? Are you aware that +such conduct in my house is not to be tolerated—that +you shall answer for it to me with your life?"</p> + +<p>"It means, Mr. Barclay, that I come with authority +to prevent the unholy alliance you were about to +force upon this helpless and unprotected girl, to +place the seal upon your crimes, by clasping in +wedlock the hand of the sister with that which is +red with the brother's blood."</p> + +<p>"'T is false—the boy killed himself, as Edith herself +knows full well. Am I to be held accountable +for the dissipation of a young fool, who, when once +the curb was removed, went headlong to destruction +without the necessity of any prompting from me."</p> + +<p>"We will waive that part of the question, if you +please, Mr. Barclay. I have brought with me one +who can prove much more than that. Come forward, +Antoine."</p> + +<p>The Frenchman advanced, and Barclay grew pale +as he recognized him.</p> + +<p>"Let us retire to a private room," continued Atwood, +in a lower tone—"I would not have Mrs. +Euston and her daughter hear too suddenly the developments +I am prepared to make."</p> + +<p>Then turning to Edith he said—</p> + +<p>"You are saved, my dear Edith. Retire with +your mother, while I settle with Mr. Barclay."</p> + +<p>Mechanically Barclay led the way into an adjoining +room. When there, he turned haughtily and said—</p> + +<p>"Now, sir, explain yourself—tell me why my +privacy is thus invaded, and—"</p> + +<p>Atwood interrupted him.</p> + +<p>"It is useless to attempt bravado with me, sir. +Your whole career is too intimately known to me to +render it of any avail. You know that from my +boyhood I have loved Miss Euston, for you may remember +a conversation which took place between +us several years since, when you were received as +a visiter at her mother's house. Jealousy enabled +you to penetrate what had been carefully veiled from +others, and you taxed me with what I would not +deny. Do you remember the words you used to the +boy you then spoke to? That you would move +heaven and earth to win Edith Euston."</p> + +<p>"To what does all this tend?" asked Barclay, in +an irritated tone.</p> + +<p>"Patience, and you will see. I returned from +Europe and found that Mrs. Euston's family had left +for Havanna. Her lawsuit had gone against her, +and she had lost her home. Nothing more was +known of her. I lost no time in following her. I +reached Cuba, and after many inquiries, traced her +to the house of the family which had received her +beneath their roof. There I heard the history of her +son's unhappy death, at the moment he was about to +confer independence upon his mother and sister. +<i>You</i> were mentioned as a visiter after his death; +your <i>generous</i> offer to share with Miss Euston as +your wife the wealth which should have been hers +was dwelt on. All this aroused a vague suspicion +in my mind. I made minute inquiries, and traced +you through all the orgies of your dissipation. One +night I was following up the inquiry, and I entered a +tavern much frequented by foreigners. A man sat +apart in gloomy silence. One of his comrades said—</p> + +<p>"'Antoine grieves over the loss of his bird. All +the money the American paid him does not make +him forget that he sold his best friend!'</p> + +<p>"By an electric chain of thought, the incident +which attended poor Euston's last moments, occurred +to me. I approached the man, and addressed +him in French, for I saw that he was a native of +that country. I spoke of his bird. He shook his +head and said—</p> + +<p>"'It is not the loss of the bird, monsieur, but the +use that was made of him, that troubles my conscience.'</p> + +<p>"In short, to condense a long story, I learned from +Antoine, that he remained in your lodgings several +days, until the mackaw he sold to you became sufficiently +accustomed to you to be caressed without +biting. During that time you had a room darkened, +and required him to train the bird to fly at a light and +overturn it. When he was dismissed, his curiosity +was excited, and he watched your movements. He +nightly dogged your steps, and traced you to the +garden of the villa. He stood within a few feet of +you on the night of Euston's death, and beheld the +use to which you put his bird. His eyes, accustomed +to the gloom without, beheld your dark form glide to +the side of your victim. He saw your murderous +hand pressed upon the breast of the dying youth."</p> + +<p>"'T is false—false. I defy him to prove it."</p> + +<p>"It is true, sir—the evidence is such as would +condemn you in any court; and now listen to me. I +offer you lenient terms, in consideration of the ties +of relationship which bind you to those you have so +cruelly oppressed. One third of the fortune for +which you have paid so fearful a price shall be yours, +if you will sign a paper I have with me, which will +restore the remainder to Mrs. Euston. If you refuse, +I have in my pocket a writ of arrest, and the officers +are in the shrubbery awaiting my orders to execute it. +Comply with my terms and I suffer you to escape."</p> + +<p>Thus confronted by imminent danger, Barclay +seemed to lose his courage and presence of mind. +He measured the floor with rapid steps a few moments, +and then turning to Atwood motioned for the +paper, to which he affixed his signature without +uttering a word.</p> + +<p>"There is yet another condition," said Atwood.</p> + +<p>"Leave this country within forty-eight hours. If, +after that time, I am made aware of your presence +within the jurisdiction of the United States, I will +have you arrested as a murderer. The peace of +mind of those I have rescued from your power shall +not be periled by your presence within the same +land they inhabit."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span> +Barclay ground his teeth with rage.</p> + +<p>"I <i>shall</i> leave it, be assured, but not to escape +from this absurd charge."</p> + +<p>"Go then. I care not from what motive."</p> + +<p>Another instant, and Barclay had passed from the +room. Edith and her mother traveled to their former +home in the beautiful land of Florida, under the protection +of Atwood, and there, amid rejoicing friends, +surrounded by all the happy associations of her bright +youth, she gave her hand to her faithful lover.</p> + +<p>Barclay perished in a street brawl, in a foreign +land, and the whole of her brother's estate finally devolved +upon her.</p> +<br /><br /> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="A_VOICE_FOR_POLAND" id="A_VOICE_FOR_POLAND"></a>A VOICE FOR POLAND.</h2> + +<hr class="short" /> +<h4>BY WM. H. C. HOSMER.</h4> +<hr class="short" /> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Up, for encounter stern<br /></span> +<span class="i1">While unsheathed weapons gleam;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The beacon-fires of Freedom burn,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Her banners wildly stream;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Awake! and drink at purple springs—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lo! the "White Eagle" flaps his wings<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With a rejoicing scream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That sends an old, heroic thrill<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through hearts that are unconquered still.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Leap to your saddles, leap!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Tried wielders of the lance,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And charge as when ye broke the sleep<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of Europe, at the call of France:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The knightly deeds of other years<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Eclipse, ye matchless cavaliers!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">While plume and penon dance—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That prince, upon his phantom steed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In Ellster lost your ranks shall lead.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Flock round the altar, flock!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And swear ye will be free;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then rush to brave the battle shock<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Like surges of a maddened sea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Death, with a red and shattered brand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet clinging to the rigid hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A blissful fate would be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Contrasted with that darker doom<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A branded brow—a living tomb.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Speed to the combat, speed!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And beat oppression down,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or win, by martrydom, the meed<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of high and shadowless renown;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye weary exiles, from afar<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Came back! and make the savage Czar<br /></span> +<span class="i1">In terror clutch his crown;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While wronged and vengeful millions pour<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Defiance at his palace-door.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Throng forth with souls to dare,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">From huts and ruined halls!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the deep midnight of despair<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A beam of ancient glory falls:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The knout, the chain and dungeon cave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To frenzy have aroused the brave;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Dismembered Poland calls,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And through a land opprest, betrayed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stalks Kosciusko's frowning shade.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<br /><br /> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="TO_HER_WHO_CAN_UNDERSTAND_IT" id="TO_HER_WHO_CAN_UNDERSTAND_IT"></a>TO HER WHO CAN UNDERSTAND IT.</h2> + +<hr class="short" /> +<h4>BY MAYNE REID.</h4> +<hr class="short" /> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They tell me, lady, that thy heart is changed—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That on thy lip there is another name;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll not believe it—though for life estranged—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I know thy love's lone worship is the same.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bee that wanders on the summer breath,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">May wanton safely among leaves and flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But by the honied jar it clings till death—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">There is no change for hearts that loved like ours.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You may not mock me—'tis an idle game—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The lip may lie, the eye with bright beguiling<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May, from the world, conceal a suffering flame,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">But 'tis the eye and not the heart is smiling;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I, too, have that power of deceiving,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">By the strong pride of an unfeeling will,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The cold and cunning world in its believing—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">What boots it all? The heart will suffer still.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Comes there not o'er thy spirit, when 'tis dreaming<br /></span> +<span class="i1">In the lone hours of the voiceless night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the sweet past like a new present seeming,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Brings back those rosy hours of love and light?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Comes there not o'er thy dreaming spirit then<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Delicious joy—although 'tis but a vision—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That we have met, caressed and kissed again,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And revel still among those sweets Elysian?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Comes there not o'er thy spirit when it wakes,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And finds, with sleep, the vision too hath parted<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A lone depression, till thy proud heart aches,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And from thy burning orb the tear hath started?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with sad memories through thy bosom thronging,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Within thy heart's most secret deep recesses<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Feel'st thou not then an agony of longing<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To dream again of those divine caresses?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To dream them o'er and o'er, or deem them real,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">While penitence is speaking in thy sighs—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For this, unlike thy dream, is not ideal—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">It brings the pallid cheek, the moistened eyes:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then, lady, mock not love so deeply hearted,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With that light seeming which deceit can give—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The love I promised thee, when last we parted,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Shall never be another's while <i>you</i> live.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<br /><br /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 603px;"> +<img src="images/illus295.png" width="603" height="800" +alt="A PIC NIC IN OLDEN TIME" title="" /></div> +<h5>Engraved by W. E. Tu</h5> +<h4>A PIC NIC IN OLDEN TIME.</h4> +<h5>Engraved Expressly for Graham's Magazine</h5> +<br /> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="A_PIC-NIC_IN_OLDEN_TIME" id="A_PIC-NIC_IN_OLDEN_TIME"></a>A PIC-NIC IN OLDEN TIME.</h2> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span> + +<hr class="short" /> +<h4>BY QUEVEDO.</h4> +<hr class="short" /> + +<h5>[SEE ENGRAVING.]</h5> + + +<p>Joy is as old as the universe, yet as young as a +June rose: and a pic-nic has of all places been its +delight, since the little quiet family <i>fêtes champêtres</i> +of Adam and Eve in the garden of Eden. So it is of +no especial consequence in what reign of what kingdom +our clever artist has laid his scene—and sooth +to say, from the diversified and pleasantly incongruous +costume and accessories of the picture, it +might puzzle an uninitiated to tell. But we, who are +in the secrets of Maga, and to whom the very brain-workings +of her poets and painters are as palpable +as the crystal curdling of the lake beneath the filmy +breath of the Frost King, of course know all about +it, and will whisper in your ear the key to the pretty +harmonies of wood and sky and happy faces which +he has spread out in a sort of visible cavatina, or +dear little love-song, beneath your eye.</p> + +<p>It was a gay time at Sweetbriar Lodge—for the +fair Alice Hawthorn had just been married to the +Squire of Deerdale, and the happy pair (new-married +people were even in those times happy, although +they were not so set down in the newspapers,) had +determined to spend the honeymoon quietly at +home, like sensible people, instead of posting off to +Bath or Brighton; or mewing themselves up in some +outlandish corner of the country, where they could +see and hear nothing but themselves, until they were +ready to commence the married life by being cloyed +with each other's society. The season was mid-summer, +and the weather so balmy and beautiful +that after wandering about in the woods and fields all +day, and watching the moon creep stealthily up the +sky to view herself in the fountain, one felt a longing +to make his bed on the fresh turf under the katydid's +bower, and sleep there. Of course I don't +mean the young and happy bridegroom. He never +dreamed of being absent from his Alice; and he +even felt quite jealous of her little sister Emma, who +used sometimes to come and put her laughing, roguish +face and curly head between the lovers, as they were +sitting on the sofa or reclining on the green turf by +the little fountain.</p> + +<p>But Alice had another sister, older than herself, +and who had already refused several excellent offers +of marriage—declaring that she intended to live and +die single, unless she should fall in love with some +wandering minstrel or prince in disguise, like Lalla +Rookh. Her name was Hortensia; but on account +of her proud indifference to the attentions and compliments +which were every where offered to her +wonderful beauty, she was usually called Haughty +Hawthorn—a name which seemed to please her better +than all the flatteries of which she was the object. +She was already twenty-two, and ripening into the +full magnificence of glorious womanhood—her heart +yet untouched by the electric dart of love, and her +fancy free as the birds of air.</p> + +<p>Now it was quite natural that the gentle Alice, +whom love had made so happy, should willingly +enter into a conspiracy with her husband and a parcel +of the young people of the neighborhood against +the peace and comfort of her haughty sister—deeming +of course—as I myself am also of opinion—that +a young lady out of love ought to be supremely +miserable, whatever she herself may think about it.</p> + +<p>Keeping in view the peculiar requisites required +by Haughty in a lover, the plan was to get up an old-fashioned +pic-nic, at which a young friend of Squire +Deerdale, who was studying for an artist, and had +just returned from Italy, where he had picked up a +little music as well as painting, should be introduced +after a mysterious fashion, which would be sure to +inflame the imagination of the loveless lady. The +artist, according to the squire, was handsome as a +prince and eloquent as a minstrel, and his extensive +practice in Rome had made him perfect master of +the fine arts, the art of making love included. So +the pic-nic was proposed that very evening, to take +place the next day. Hortensia, who was fond of frolick +and fun as the best of them, albeit not yet in +love, fell at once into the snare; and the squire carelessly +led the conversation to turn upon the sudden +and unexpected arrival of the young Duke of St. +James upon his magnificent estate adjoining Sweetbriar +Lodge, which he said had taken place that very +day.</p> + +<p>"The duke," said the squire, "is, as you all have +heard, one of the most romantic and sentimental +youths in the world, and quite out of the way of our +ordinary extravagant, matter-of-fact young nobility. +I had the pleasure of meeting him when I was in +Rome, and could not help being charmed with him. +He read and wrote poetry divinely, played the mandolin +like St. Cecilia, and sung like an improvisatore. +I met him to-day, as he was approaching +home in his carriage, and found him, as well as I +could judge from a five minutes' conversation, the +same as ever. I say nothing—but should a fresh-looking, +golden-haired, dreamy-eyed youth be seen +at our pic-nic to-morrow, I hope he will be greeted +with the courtesy and welcome due not only to a +neighbor but a man of genius."</p> + +<p>This adroitly concocted speech was drank in like +wine by the unsuspicious Hortensia. A duke! a +poet! a romantic man of genius! What was it +made her heart beat so rapidly?—<i>her</i> heart, that had +never beat out of time save over the page of the poet +or the novelist—or may be in the trance of some beautiful +midnight dream, such as love to hover around +the pillows of fair maidens, and who can blame them?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span></p> + +<p>The next morning, as Willis says of one of his +fine days, was astray from Paradise; and bright and +early our pic-nickers, comprising a goodly company +of young people, married and single, with several +beautiful children, including of course the roguish +Emma, were on the field selected for the day's campaign. +It was a lovely spot. Under a noble oak +whose limbs, rounded into a leafy dome, shed a palpitating +shadow around a sweet little fountain, +guarded by a marble naiad, gathered the merry company +upon the green velvet ottoman, daisy-spangled, +that ran around this splendid natural saloon, bower +and drawing-room combined. The day had fulfilled +the golden promise of the early morning; the air, impregnated +with a sparkling, effervescing sunshine, +was as bewitching as the breath of champagne foam, +and our adventurers were in the liveliest and gayest +spirits.</p> + +<p>Noon was culminating, and the less excitable and +more worldly portion of the company began to be +thinking seriously of the bountiful refection which +had been provided for the grand occasion. Hortensia, +it was observed by Squire Deerdale and his +wife, and the others who were in the secret, had +seemed absent and thoughtful, all the morning, and +little Emma had teased her sufficiently for not playing +with her as usual. At this moment a young man +was seen coming down the broad sloping glade at +the foot of which the party were seated. The squire +immediately rose and welcomed the stranger, introducing +him to his bride and sister-in-law, and expressing +his pleasure that he had come. "We +almost began to fear," he added, "that you had forgotten +our humble festival."</p> + +<p>"A <i>fête</i> thus embellished," replied the stranger, +bowing with peculiar grace to the ladies, and glancing +admiringly at Hortensia, "is not an affair to be so +easily forgotten by a wanderer who comes, after +years of exile, to revive beneath the blue skies and +bluer eyes of his native land."</p> + +<p>"But your mandolin, Signor Foreigner; I hope +you have not forgotten that?"</p> + +<p>"Oh no indeed," returned the stranger with a +musical laugh, "I never forget my little friend, +whose harmonies have often been my only company. +Here it comes," pointing to a lad who just then came +up, bearing a handsome though outlandish-looking +guitar gingerly across his arm.</p> + +<p>Another of the party had also brought his guitar, +and the two were soon tinkling away at different +parts of the grounds—the latter surrounded by half a +dozen young men and women, and several beautiful +children; while the stranger, throwing himself on +the grass at the feet of Hortensia, upon whose lap +nestled the little Emma, began a simple ballad of the +olden time—while the squire and his bride stood +against the old oak behind Hortensia. At length the +strain of the young musician changed, subsiding into +low and plaintive undulations.</p> + +<p>"It is time for us to go," whispered Alice to her +husband; "we are evidently <i>de trop</i> here"—and the +wedded pair glided noiselessly off, casting mischievous +glances at the haughty Hortensia, who sat +absorbed in the music, and tears of sympathy and +rapture ready to fall from her eyes. It was a clear +case of love at first sight.</p> + +<p>From this pleasant reverie both musician and +listener were suddenly roused by little Emma, who, +raising her head and shaking back the long ringlets +from her face, exclaimed,</p> + +<p>"Oh, sister, hear that! There goes the champagne, +and I am so hungry. Come, let us go to dinner."</p> + +<p>"Excuse me, madam," exclaimed the stranger, +ceasing to play and springing to his feet, "your +beautiful little monitor is right. I was already forgetting +myself and venturing to dream as of old;" +and he offered his arm to Hortensia, with that polite +freedom not only permitted, but enjoined, by the +etiquette of the pic-nic.</p> + +<p>"And do you call it forgetfulness to dream?" inquired +Hortensia.</p> + +<p>"With so fair a reality before me, yes; but at +other times to dream is to live."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, it <i>is</i> nice to dream!" broke in the little +Emma. "Almost as nice as a wedding. Now last +night I dreamt that you were married, Haughty, like +sister Alice."</p> + +<p>A lambent rosy flame seemed to envelop for an +instant the beautiful Hortensia, disappearing instantly, +yet leaving its scarlet traces on cheek and brow.</p> + +<p>"What say you, my pretty one," said the stranger, +patting the lovely child upon the head, "what say +you to a sandwich and a glass of wine with me, here +on the greensward? (They had now approached +the <i>table</i>—if a snow-white damask spread upon the +velvet grass, and loaded with tempting viands could +be called so.) Is not that better than dreams?"</p> + +<p>"I love wine, sir, but mamma and sister say I +shouldn't drink it, because it makes my eyes red. +Now <i>your</i> eyes are as bright as stars. Do you +drink wine?"</p> + +<p>It was the stranger's turn to blush. And this little +childish prattle seemed to have removed the barrier +of strangership from between the two young people, +who exchanged glances of a sort of merry vexation, +and seemed to understand each other as if they were +old friends.</p> + +<p>That was a merry meal, "all under the greenwood +tree," and on the margin of that sweet little fountain, +whose waters came up to the very lip of the turf, +which it refreshed with a sparkling coolness that +ever renewed the brightness of the flowers upon its +bosom. After the dinner was over, a dance was +proposed, and the services of the handsome stranger, +as musician, were cheerfully offered and promptly +accepted. It was observed, however, that Hortensia, +usually crazy for dancing, strolled pensively about +with little Emma at her side, and at length seated +herself on a little grassy bank, remote from the +dancers, yet where she could overlook the scene.</p> + +<p>There was a little pause in the dance, and Squire +Deerdale approached the stranger and whispered,</p> + +<p>"Do you like her?"</p> + +<p>"She's as beautiful as Juno, but I dare not hope +that she would ever love a poor vagabond like me. +She deserves a prince of the blood, at the very least."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Never mind!—<i>Vedremo</i>, as we say in Italy;" +and with a laugh the young man bounded again into +the dance, while the stranger redoubled his attention +to his guitar.</p> + +<p>The day began to wane, and the shadows of a +neighboring mountain to creep slowly across the lea; +and yet, so absorbed was that gay company in the +merry pleasures of the day, that hours glided by unnoticed; +and it was not until the round, yellow moon +rose over the eastern hills, as if peeping out to see +the sun set, that they thought of breaking up a scene +of little less than enchantment.</p> + +<p>The stranger scarcely left the side of Hortensia, +who seemed completely subdued and fascinated by +the serious eloquence, the inexhaustible brilliancy of +his conversation, as well as enthralled by the classic +beauty of his face, and the respectful yet tender +glances which he from time to time cast upon her +face. It may also be supposed that the hints casually +dropped by the squire the night before, respecting his +distinguished acquaintance, the young Duke of St. +James, had not been without their effect. Sooth to +say, however, that the hitherto cold and impassive +Hortensia was really in love, and that she had too +much self-respect to make any conditions in the +bestowal of her admiration. She was haughty, +proud and ambitious—yet at the same time high-minded +and generous where her feelings were really +interested.</p> + +<p>Much may be accomplished in an afternoon between +two congenial hearts that meet for the first +time; and it is not at all surprising that on their way +home the stranger and Hortensia should have lingered +a little behind the rest of the party, engaged in deep +and earnest talk.</p> + +<p>"Beautiful being," whispered the stranger, "I +have at length found my heart's idol, whom in dreams +I have ever worshiped. What need of long acquaintanceship +between hearts made for each other? Lady, +I love you!"</p> + +<p>"Sir, sir, I beg you to pause. You know not what +you are saying—you cannot mean that—"</p> + +<p>"But I tell you he does mean it, though," exclaimed +a merry voice close at the lady's elbow; +and turning round, she saw her mischievous brother-in-law, +who had been demurely following their tardy +footsteps.</p> + +<p>"Brother! you here! I—really—am quite astonished!"</p> + +<p>"And," interrupted the stranger, while a dark +flush came over his face, "allow me to say, Squire +Deerdale, that I also am astonished at this violation +of the rights of a friendship even so old and sincere +as ours."</p> + +<p>"Well, well, I beg your pardon, fair lady; and as +for you, sir, after you have heard my explanation, +I shall be prepared to give you any satisfaction you +may require. You must know, then, my dear old +friend, that from a few careless words I dropped last +evening, by way of joke, this young lady has imbibed +the idea that you are the young Duke of St. +James in disguise; and for the purpose of preventing +any misunderstandings for the future, it is requisite +that my sister and my friend Walter Willie, the +artist, should comprehend one another's position +fully."</p> + +<p>"Good heavens! madam, you cannot believe that +I was accessory to this mad prank of your brother's? +Do not believe it for the world."</p> + +<p>"No, no, I acquit you and every body but myself. +I am sure I intended no harm by my thoughtless +joke. Come, come, make up the matter at once, so +that I may hasten back to Alice, who will begin to +grow jealous, directly."</p> + +<p>"Madam, dear madam, (Hortensia turned away +her head with an imperious gesture,) I have only to +beg your pardon for having too long intruded upon +your attention, and to take my leave. The poor +artist must still worship his ideal at a distance. For +him there is but the world of imagination. No such +bright reality as being beloved rests in his gloomy +future. Farewell!" and the young man, bowing for +a moment over the hand of Hortensia, withdrew.</p> + +<p>"Brother, brother, what have you done!" passionately +exclaimed the beauty, in a voice choked by +sobs. "For a foolish joke you have driven away +the only being who has ever interested my lonely +heart. And now I can never, never be happy again."</p> + +<p>"But, dear Hortensia, would you stoop to love a +mere artist?"</p> + +<p>"Stoop, sir,—stoop! I know not what you mean. +Think you so meanly of me as to believe I would +sell myself for wealth and a title? Proud I may be—but +not, I thank God, mercenary nor mean. And +what a lofty, noble spirit is that of your friend! What +lord or duke could match the height of his intellect or +the gorgeousness of his imagination. Oh, too soon +my beautiful dream is broken!" and the young lady, +all power of her usual self-restraint being lost, wept +like a child upon the shoulder of her brother.</p> + +<p>"Nay, nay, sister dear, weep not," at length said +the squire, tenderly raising her head and leading her +homeward. "All is not lost that is in danger. And +so that you really <i>have</i> lost your hard little heart to +my noble, glorious friend, I'll take care that it is +soon recovered—or at any rate another one quite as +good. Come, come, cheer up! All will go well."</p> + +<p>The squire, although not usually rated as a prophet, +predicted rightly for once; for the very next day saw +young Walter Willie at Sweetbriar Lodge, with a +face as handsome and happy as the morning. Hortensia +was ill, and must not be disturbed; and at this +information his features suddenly became overcast, +as you may have seen a spring sky by a thick cloud, +springing up from nobody knows where. However, +the squire entered directly after, and whispered a +few words to his guest, which seemed to restore in +a measure the brightness of his look.</p> + +<p>"And you really think, then, that I may hope?"</p> + +<p>"Nay, my friend, you may do as you like about +that. All men may hope, you know Shakspeare +says. But I tell you that Hortensia has fallen in +love with your foolish face—it's just like her!—and +that's all about it. Come in and take some +breakfast. Oh, I forgot—you've no appetite. Of +course not. Well, you'll find some nice fresh dew<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span> +in those morning-glories yonder, and I will rejoin you +in a minute. We 'll make a day of it."</p> + +<p>That evening the moon shone a million times +brighter, the sky was a million times bluer, and the +nightingale sung a million times sweeter than ever +before. At least so thought the beautiful Hortensia +and her artist-lover, as they strolled, arm-in-arm, +through the woody lawn that skirted the garden of +Sweetbriar Lodge, and held sweet converse of immortal +things by gazing into each other's eyes. +And so ends our veracious history of the Pic-Nic in +Olden Time.</p> +<br /><br /> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="TO_THE_VIOLET" id="TO_THE_VIOLET"></a>TO THE VIOLET.</h2> + +<hr class="short" /> +<h4>BY H. T. TUCKERMAN.</h4> +<hr class="short" /> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sweet trophy of life's morning, fresh and calm,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Dropped from the gleanings of relentless time,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How from thy dainty chalice steals the balm<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That hung like incense o'er its dewy prime!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The lily's stateliness thou dost not own,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Nor glow voluptuous of the damask rose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou canst not emulate the laurel's crown,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Nor, like the Cereus, watch while all repose.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And these gay rivals of parterre and field<br /></span> +<span class="i1">May freely drink the sunshine and the dew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But only unto thee does heaven yield<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The pure reflection of her cloudless blue.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thy tint will sometimes darken till it wear<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A purple such as decked the eastern kings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yet, like innocence, all unaware<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Its tribute to the wind thy blossom flings.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Symbol of what is cherished and untold,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Thy fragrance oft reveals thee to the sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Peering in beauty from the common mould,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">As casual blessings the forlorn requite.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thy image upon Laura's robe was wrought,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">O'er which her poet with devotion mused,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gentle souls, I ween, have ever caught<br /></span> +<span class="i1">From thee a solace that the world refused.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Tuscan flower-girls delight to cheer<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Each pensive exile with thy scented leaves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fit largess of a clime to fancy dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Which a new blandishment from thee receives.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Grief's frenzy, when it melts, of thee will rave,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">As of a thing too winsome to decay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thus Laertes at his sister's grave<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Bids violets spring from her unsullied clay.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lowly incentive to celestial thought!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">We ne'er with listless step can pass thee by,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For thou with tender embassies art fraught,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Like the fond beaming of a northern eye.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hence thou art sacred to our human needs;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Laid on the maiden's white and throbbing breast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy delicate odor for the absent pleads,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And mourners strew thee where their idols rest.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In those wild hours when feeling chafed its bound,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And deepened more that utterance was denied,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In thee persuasive messengers I found<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That reached the haven of love's wayward tide.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And I have borne thee to the couch of death<br /></span> +<span class="i1">When naught remained to do but wait and pray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And marked the sudden flush and quickened breath<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That proved thee dear though all had passed away!<br /></span> +</div></div> +<br /><br /> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THEY_MAY_TELL_OF_A_CLIME" id="THEY_MAY_TELL_OF_A_CLIME"> +</a>THEY MAY TELL OF A CLIME.</h2> + +<h3>TO —— ——.</h3> + +<hr class="short" /> +<h4>BY CHARLES E. TRAIL.</h4> +<hr class="short" /> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They may tell of a clime more delightful than this,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The land of the orange, the myrtle and vine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the roses blush red beneath Zephyr's warm kiss,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And the bright beams of summer unceasingly shine.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I know a sweet valley, a beautiful spot,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Where the turf is so green, and the breezes are bland;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And methinks, if you'll share there my ivy-crowned cot,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">There'll be no place on earth like my own native land.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A palace 'neath Italy's star-covered sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Unblest by thy presence would desolate be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But cheered by the light of thy soft beaming eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Ah! sweet were a tent in the desert with thee.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For 'tis love—O! 'tis love which thus hallows the ground,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And brightens the gloom of the anchorite's cell;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the Eden of earth—wheresoe'er it be found—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Is the spot where the heart's cherished idol doth dwell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then come to my cottage—though cool be the shade,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And verdant the sod 'neath the wide-spreading bough—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the wood-dove its nest 'mid the foliage hath made,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Yet lone is that cottage, and desolate now.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For as the green forest, bereft of the dove,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">No more with sweet echoes would musical be—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even so is the rose-mantled bower of love,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Unblest and uncheered, if not gladdened by thee.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<br /><br /> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="A_DREAM_WITHIN_A_DREAM" id="A_DREAM_WITHIN_A_DREAM"> +</a>A DREAM WITHIN A DREAM</h2> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span> + +<hr class="short" /> +<h4>BY C. A. WASHBURN.</h4> +<hr class="short" /> + +<p>I dreamed that for a long time I courted Charlotte—what +need of dreaming? It was true. Nevertheless +I dreamed that for a long time I courted Charlotte, +and at last, which was not true, married her. And +I thought that Charlotte and I lived very happily +together.</p> + +<p>She loved me better than she ever thought she +could before we were married, for I loved her exceedingly, +and was very kind to her.</p> + +<p>I remember how long it was that I wooed her, · +always hoping, though sometimes fearing that she +would never love me so as to marry me; how, when +at last we were married, and I carried her home to +my pretty cottage, I could hardly contain myself for +joy; and when I saw her seated in our own parlor +on the wedding eve, I could not keep a tear from +trickling down my cheek; and how she kissed away +the tear, and when she knew the cause, how she +burst into a flood of tears, and said she would love +me the better for my having loved her so; and how +that we were from that time wholly united in heart +and sympathy.</p> + +<p>Then, in the course of time, we had two darling +children, which we both loved—and I thought my +cup of happiness completed. I had been an ambitious +man in my youth, and had experienced much +of the disappointment incident to a life for fame. +But when God had given us two such lovely children, +I thought it was abusing his mercy to neglect them +for the applause of the world—and so devoted myself +entirely to their welfare. If I worked hard and was +inclined to feel peevish and cross, I thought how +that I was laboring to make happy, and good, and +great, the dear boys, and I forgot every thing else. +If I became tired of the turmoil of life, I was the +more happy when I got home, for the children were +always waiting and glad to see me, and their presence +immediately banished all anxiety and care. +They seemed so happy when I came—for Charlotte +used to teach them to prize my presence by dating +their pleasures by my arrival; that I thought it joy +enough for one mortal to have looked upon the impersonation +of innocence and joy in his own children.</p> + +<p>Then, when the boys were asleep, how we used +to talk about them; how anxious we were when +either of them was restless or unquiet! How we +used to reckon on the joy they would give us in +age, and how in the happiness of our lot we shed +tears of happines and joy! With what fervor did +we unite in prayer for their health and preservation, +and wish all the world as happy as we were. We +became selfish in our joy, and felt to care little for +any thing but home, and in our enjoyment of the +gift we had like to have forgotten the Giver.</p> + +<p>But at length Charlie, the younger boy, was sick, +and we feared he would die. We then remembered +in whose hands his life was, and, I believe, ever +after regarded our treasures as trusts committed to +our keeping. Charlie suffered great pain, but he +complained not. His very submission smote our +hearts, and though we could not think he was to die, +yet we thought he was too good to live. Benny +could no longer smile upon us, but watched by his +brother's bed without speaking or moving, unless to +do him some service. We felt anxious about Charles, +yet forbore to speak of our anxiety, though when he +was asleep we could no longer conceal our sorrow +and fears. And when one day the physician imprudently +said in his hearing that he feared Charles +would die, he looked at him in surprise, as if he had +not thought of that; and kissing the fevered brow of +his sick brother, he came and stood by his mother's +side, and looking in her face as much as to say you +wont let brother die, he saw a tear in the clear blue +eye of his mother, and he sobbed aloud; and Charlotte +could contain herself no longer, but dropped +hot tears on his face faster than she could kiss them +away. Then I feared if Charlie should die lest +Benny should die too; and then I knew that Charlotte +could not bear all this, and I prayed in my heart to +God for Charles. And the next day, when the good +physician said the danger was past, we felt to thank +God that he had so chastened our affections, and ever +loved him the more.</p> + +<p>So we lived in love and happiness for many years, +and all that time not a shade of discord passed between +us; and I often thought what a dreary world +this had been to me if Charlotte had never been mine. +I used to pity my bachelor neighbor, and, as I thought, +I could see the tear of disappointment in his eye +when he witnessed my happy lot. I saw it was a +vision, and only the figure of Margaret, my once +loved and pretty sister, who existed then but in the +land of spirits, was before me.</p> + +<p>And I told Margaret of the vision, and could +not repress a sigh that it was not reality; and musing +long on what I was, and what I might have been had +nature dealt with me more kindly, until the vision +returned. Again I lived the life of youth's fancy.</p> + +<p>But the boys now began to mingle a little with the +world, and we feared we were not equal to the task +of educating them. We trembled when we thought +of the dangers before them, though we could not +believe it possible that they should ever do wrong. +Alas! what trouble was before us!</p> + +<p>I had carried home a box of strawberries, and set +them in the pantry, and setting myself down in the +library, waited for Charlotte to come home from +shopping. I saw Charlie come from the pantry, but +thought nothing at the time, and when Benny came +in, bade him bring them to me that I might divide +them between them—they were gone; Charles must<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span> +have taken them, for no one else had been in the +pantry. I called him to me, and asked if he had +taken them. I asked without concern, for I knew if +he had, he did it supposing it to be right. He said, "No, +sir." "Ah," said I, "you did." He then inquired what +ones I meant, and I told him, and told him he must +confess it, or I must punish him. But when I talked +so seriously of punishment, he seemed confounded. +He turned pale, and only said, "I did not do it." +That was a trying moment; and when Charlotte came +in, we considered long and anxiously what we ought +to do. Should we let the theft go unpunished, and +the falsehood to be repeated. Again we urged him +to confess. The answer was still the same. There +was no alternative but a resort to what I had prayed +Heaven might spare me. I punished him severely, +but he confessed not. I wished I had not begun, but +now I must go on. I still increased the castigation, +and it was only when I told him that I would stop when +he owned the theft, and not before, that he confessed +he had taken the berries.</p> + +<p>After this cruel punishment he went out and found +Benny, who had been crying piteously all the time, +and then my two boys went and hid themselves. I +would have suffered the rack to have recalled that +hour. It was too late. On going into the kitchen +shortly after, I found a poor woman of the neighborhood +with the box, which she said her thievish +son had confessed he stole from the pantry. Perhaps +some parents imagine the feelings of Charlotte and +myself when we made this discovery. But they are +few. The boys both shunned us, and we dreaded to +see them. But at last we sent for them to come in, +and they dared not refuse to obey. I took Charles +in my arms. I asked him to forgive me; I told him +who took the berries; I shed tears without measure; +I begged him to forgive me—to kiss me as he was +wont. He could not do it. It was cold and mechanical. +His little heart seemed broke. Had he +died I thought I could have borne it, but I could not +endure this. When he slept he was fitful and +troubled; ah! his troubles could not be greater than +mine. I slept not that night; no, nor for many nights +after that; but I watched him in his sleep, and many +a hot tear did I drop on his cheek, which he wiped +off as poison; and for many weeks I would rise +several times every night, and go and gaze on his +yet pretty face, on which was stamped the curse for +my own cruel haste.</p> + +<p>In the midst of these sore trials, the lovely face of +Margaret again appeared before me, and again the +vision vanished into nothing. And I told her this +part of the dream, and even then could not suppress +a tear that it was a dream, and that the children of +W—— could never have an existence or a name.</p> + +<p>Then the kind Margaret spoke words of comfort +to me, and made me repress the half-formed feeling +of discontent.</p> + +<p>"Have you not," said she, "said you would be +satisfied for only one hour of the love of Charlotte?"</p> + +<p>"True," I replied, "and that dream was worth +more than all my life before."</p> + +<p>"Have you not known in that the joys of a parent, +and have you not seen what sorrows and trials +might have been yours, from which you have now +escaped? And do you now complain of your lot, +W——? You know not the designs of Providence. +Will not Charlotte be yours in the world to come?"</p> + +<p>"God grant it!" said I; "but where will be Benny +and Charles? They can never be, and I shall die, +and the flame of parental love will burn in me, and +never can it have an object."</p> + +<p>"Hush you!" said Margaret, "cannot God give +you in the other world those spirits of fancy? Did +you not enjoy them in the dream, and cannot the +same power make you enjoy them in Elysium? +Is it nothing that God has done for you in showing +you what might have been, and what can be <i>there</i>? +Are you still ungrateful, and do you still distrust his +goodness? Is it nothing that he has kept you from +temptation, and that you have so clear a conscience? +Will you not be worthy of Charlotte in heaven; +and have you no gratitude for all this? Have you +not dear friends still; and will not Margaret be a +guardian-angel to you so long as you sojourn in this +valley of tears?"</p> + +<p>"Ah!" said I, "I am blest beyond my deserts, and +I will no more complain, but thank my heavenly +Father for the dream-children he hath given me."</p> + +<p>I felt reproved by the words of Margaret, for I +felt I had often indulged in useless repinings; and I +determined I would do so no more, but patiently +await my time to enjoy the loved ones, both real +and ideal, in heaven. I again turned to speak to +Margaret—but Margaret had vanished to the land of +spirits, and I was alone, the solitary man I had long +been. It was but a dream within a dream.</p> +<br /><br /> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="PASSED_AWAY" id="PASSED_AWAY"></a>PASSED AWAY.</h2> + +<hr class="short" /> +<h4>BY W. WALLACE SHAW.</h4> +<hr class="short" /> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With wearied step, and heavy heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">O'erburdened with life's woes—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My soul bowed down with grief and care<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The orphan only knows—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I strayed along old ocean's shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where I had wandered oft before,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">My grief to hide from men;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I listened—something seemed to say—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The joys that once did fill thy breast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where, oh! where are they?<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A voice that mingled with the roar<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of dashing waves against the shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In hollow tone, replied—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"They <i>bloomed</i>; and <i>died</i>!"<br /></span> +</div></div> +<br /><br /> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="AN_EVENING_SONG" id="AN_EVENING_SONG"></a>AN EVENING SONG,</h2> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span> + +<hr class="short" /> +<h4>BY PROFESSOR WM. CAMPBELL.</h4> +<hr class="short" /> + +<h3>[AN EXTRACT.]</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lyre of my soul, awake—thy chords are few,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Feeble their tones and low,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wet with the morning and the evening dew<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of ceaseless wo.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The time hath been to me and thee, my lyre,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">When soul of fire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was ours, and notes and aspirations bold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of higher hopes and prouder promise told—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Those days have flown—<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Now we are old,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Old and alone!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Old in our youth—for sorrow maketh old,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And disappointment withereth the frame,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And harsh neglect will smother up the flame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That else had proudly burned—and the cold<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Offcasting of affection will repel<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The warm life-current back upon the heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And choke it nigh to bursting—yet 't is well,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wise-intended, that the venomed dart<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Shall bear its sure and speedy remedy.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Why should the wretched wish to live? to be<br /></span> +<span class="i1">One in this cold wide world—ever to feel<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That others feel not—wounds that will not heal—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A bruised, though yet unbroken spirit's strife—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A waning and a wasting out of life—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A longing after loving—and the curse<br /></span> +<span class="i6">To know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One's self unknown—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">In secrecy a hopeless hope to nurse—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Down to the grave to go<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unloved—alone!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet not alone! Pardon, thou gentle breeze,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That comest o'er the waters with the tread<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of beauty stealing to the sufferer's bed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To cool the burning brow, and whisper peace.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pardon, ye sweet wild flow'rets, that each morn<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Woo us to brush the dew-drop from the lid<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of tearful innocence, and meekly warn<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of worth in garb of lowliest texture hid.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beings of gentlest life, ye murmuring streams,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lull of our waking, music of our dreams,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye things of artless merriment, that throw<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Around you gladness, wheresoe'er ye flow—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ye dark mountains, down whose changeful sides<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mystic guardian, giant shadow strides,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose kindly frown, howe'er the storms prevail,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Peace and repose ensureth to the vale—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye tall proud forests, that forever sway<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In kingly fury, or in graceful play—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye bright blue waters whose untiring drip<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Against this island shore doth lightly break,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gentle and noiseless as the parting lip<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of dreaming infant on its mother's cheek,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pardon my rash averment—pardon, ye<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Flow'rets and streamlets, mountains, woods and waves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That pour into the soul a melody,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Like to the far down music of the caves<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of ocean, heard not, felt not, save within,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seeking to joy the darker depths to win—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Oh! while your sweet and sacred voices steal<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Into my spirit, as the joyous fall<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of the warm sunbeam on the frozen rill,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To wake the voice that slumbereth, and call<br /></span> +<span class="i3">To bear you company<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In your glad hymnings, let the wretched own<br /></span> +<span class="i3">He cannot be<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Alone!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Never alone!—awake, my soul—on high<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The glorious sun his thousand rays has flung<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Athwart the vaulted sky—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Lo! there the heavens their mighty harp have strung,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The gold, the silver and the crimson chord,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To hymn their evening hymn unto the Lord.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hark! heard ye not that glorious burst of song,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Which, touched by hands unseen, those chords sent forth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bidding the attuned spheres the notes prolong<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Deeper and louder, till the trembling earth<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Catcheth the thrilling strain—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Echoeth back again—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the bosom of ocean a voice<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pealeth forth, and the mountains rejoice<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the plains and the woods and the valleys rebound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the Universe all is a creature of sound,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That runneth his race<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Through the infinite regions of infinite space,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Till arrived at the throne<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Of HIM who alone<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Is worthy of honor and glory and praise.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And it is ever thus—morn, noon and eve,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And in the still midnight, undying<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Choirs of creation's minstrels weave<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Sweet symphony of incense, vying<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In wrapt intricacy of endless songs.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Ever, oh ever thus they sing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But to our soul's dull ear belongs<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Seldom the trancing sense<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To list the universal worshiping,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thrill with the glorious theme, and drink its eloquence.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Mocking all our soul's desiring,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Distant now the notes are stealing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the minstrels high reining,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Drapery blue their forms concealing.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<br /><br /> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_OCEAN-BURIED" id="THE_OCEAN-BURIED"></a>THE OCEAN-BURIED.</h2> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span> + +<h5>COMPOSED, AND DEDICATED TO MISSES HARRIET AND MARY HALSEY.</h5> + +<h5><span class="smcap">Of Blooming Grove</span>, O. C., N. Y.,</h5> + +<hr class="short" /> +<h4>BY MISS AGNES H. JONES.</h4> +<hr class="short" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 592px;"> +<img src="images/music1.png" width="592" height="600" +alt="music1" title="" /></div> + +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 578px;"> +<img src="images/music2.png" width="578" height="600" +alt="music2" title="" /></div> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Let my death-slumber be where a mother's prayer<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sister's tears can be blended there.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, it will be sweet ere the heart's throb is o'er,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To know, when its fountain shall gush no more,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That those it so fondly has yearn'd for will come,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To plant the first wild-flower of spring on my tomb.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let me lie where lov'd ones can weep over me—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bury me not in the deep, deep sea!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And there is another, her tears would be shed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For him who lays far in an ocean bed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In hours that it pains me to think of now,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She has twin'd these locks and kiss'd this brow—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In this hair she has wreathed shall the sea-snake hiss?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The brow she has press'd shall the cold wave kiss?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the sake of that bright one that wails for me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bury me not in the deep, deep sea!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"She hath been in my dreams"—his voice failed short,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They gave no heed to his dying prayer.—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They have lowered him o'er the vessel's side—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Above him hath closed the solemn tide.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where to dip her wing the wild fowl rests—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the blue waves dance with their foamy crests—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the billows bound and the winds sport free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They have buried him there, in the deep, deep sea.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<br /><br /> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="REVIEW_OF_NEW_BOOKS" id="REVIEW_OF_NEW_BOOKS"> +</a>REVIEW OF NEW BOOKS.</h2> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>Calaynos: A Tragedy. By George H. Boker, E. H. Butler +& Co. Philadelphia, pp. 218.</i>#/</p></div> + +<p>The spirit of English poetry has been for years eminently +lyric; the few attempts at the epic or dramatic having been +laid aside, if not permanently, at least for a time. The age +has been too busy in working out, with machinery and +steam, its own great epic thought, to find leisure to listen +to any thing longer than a single bugle-blast encouraging +its advancement. We cannot but believe, however, if we +may be allowed an analogical inference, that the age is +fast approaching the climax of its utilitarian inventions, +and that man, instead of chasing through unknown regions +every will-o-wisp of his brain, in the hope of bringing it +a captive to the Patent-office, will sit modestly down to +apply to their various uses the discoveries already made. +Then will the healthy feast of literature once more begin, +and the public cease to be surfeited by the watery hash +which has been daily set steaming before them. In the +volume under consideration we think we can discern the +promise of the return of the good old spirit of English +poetry—of solid honest thought expressed in straight forward +Saxon. The story, which is one of the chivalrous +days of Spain, while it is devoid of trick is full of thrilling +interest, and its style, while it is eminently poetical, neither +swells into bombast nor descends to the foppery so common +among the verse-makers of our day. There is a +stately, old-fashioned tread in the diction, as of a man in +armor, who, should he attempt to gather flowers of mere +prettiness, would crush them at the first touch of his iron +gauntlet, and who, if he seems to move ungracefully at +times, owes his motion to his weight of mail. Calaynos, +the hero, is in every respect a nobleman, not only in blood, +but what is better, in mind. He is a scholar, one who, in +the words of Dona Alda his wife,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">—uses time as usurers do their gold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Making each moment pay him double interest.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>He is a philosopher—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Things nigh impossible are plain to him;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His trenchant will, like a fine-tempered blade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With unturned edge, cleaves through the baser iron.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>He is generous and has</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">—a predetermined trust in man;<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>and holds that</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He who hates man must scorn the Source of man,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And challenge as unwise his awful Maker.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The character of Dona Alda is noble and womanly—her +chief trait being her great pride and jealous care of her +honor. She conceives that no one will brave the</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">—peril, such as he must brook,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who dares to love the wife of great Calaynos.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Her maid, Martina, tells her that</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">—Queens of Spain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have had their paramours—<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>and she replies,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">—So might it be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Yet never hap to bride of a Calaynos</i>!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Don Luis, the villain of the plot, thus paints his own +picture:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">—I was not formed for good:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To what Fate orders I must needs submit:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sin not mine, but His who made me thus—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not in my will but in my nature lodged.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">I will grasp the stable goods of life,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor care how foul the hand that does the deed.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Martina is admirably drawn; her wit is excellent, and +as exhaustless as it is keen. She says of Calaynos—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He looks on pleasure as a kind of sin,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Calls pastime waste-time——<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I heard a man, who spent a mortal life<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In hoarding up all kinds of stones and ores,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Call one, who spitted flies upon a pin,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A fool to pass his precious lifetime thus.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>She says of Oliver, Calayno's secretary,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yes, there he goes—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Backward and forward, like a weaver's shuttle,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spinning some web of wisdom most divine.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>She addresses him thus—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Our clay, the preachers say, was warmed to life;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But yours, your dull, cold mud, was froze to being.<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>I would not be the oyster that you are</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>For all the pearls of wisdom in your shell!</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>All the persons of the play are vivid and life-like. With +the beginning of the third act the interest becomes intense, +and nothing could be more vigorous and touching than the +action and depth of pathos toward the close of the piece. +Every page teems with fine thoughts and images, which +lead us to believe that the mine from which this book is a +specimen, contains a golden vein of poetry which will go +far to enrich our native literature.</p> +<br /> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>Literary Sketches and Letters: Being the Final Memorials of +Charles Lamb, Never before Published. By Thomas Noon +Talfourd. New York: D. Appleton & Co. 1 vol. 12mo.</i></p></div> + + +<p>The present work is important in more respects than one. +It was needed to clear up the obscurity which rested on +several points of Lamb's life, and it was needed to account +for some of the peculiarities of his character. The volume +proves that this most genial and kindly of humorists was +tried by as severe a calamity as ever broke down the energies +of a great spirit, and the frailties commonly associated +with his name seem almost as nothing compared with the +stern duties he performed from his early manhood to his +death. The present volume is calculated to increase that +personal sympathy and love for him, which has ever distinguished +the readers of Lamb from the readers of other +authors, and also to add a sentiment of profound respect +for his virtues and his fortitude. The truth is that Lamb's +intellect was one of the largest and strongest, as well as +one of the finest, among the great contemporary authors of +his time, and it was altogether owing to circumstances, +and those of a peculiarly calamitous character, that this +ample mind left but inadequate testimonials of its power +and fertility. He is, and probably will be, chiefly known +as an original and somewhat whimsical essayist, but his +essays, inimitable of their kind, were but the playthings of +his intellect.</p> + +<p>Talfourd has performed his editorial duties with his usual +taste and judgment, and with all that sweetness and grace +of expression which ever distinguishes the author of Ion. +His sketches of Lamb's companions are additions to the +literary history of the present century. Lamb's own letters, +which constitute the peculiar charm of the book, are<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span> +admirable—the serious ones being vivid transcripts of his +moods of mind, and some of them almost painful in their +direct expression of agony, and the semi-serious rioting in +mirth, mischief and whim, full of wit and meaning, and +full also of character and kindliness. One of his early +letters he closes, as being from his correspondent's +"afflicted, headachey, sore-throatey, humble servant." +In another he calls Hoole's translation of Tasso "more +vapid than smallest small beer, 'sun-vinegared.'" In +speaking of Hazlitt's intention to print a political pamphlet +at his own expense, he comes out with a general maxim, +which has found many disciples: "The first duty of an +author, I take it, is never to pay any thing." When Hannah +More's Cœlebs in Search of a Wife appeared, it was +lent to him by a precise lady to read. He thought it among +the poorest of common novels, and returned it with this +stanza written in the beginning:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If ever I marry a wife<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I'd marry a landlord's daughter,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For then I may sit in the bar,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And drink cold brandy-and-water.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>In speaking of his troubles toward the close of his life, he +has a strange, humorous imagination, in every way worthy +of his peculiar genius: "My bedfellows are cough and +cramp; <i>we sleep three in a bed</i>."</p> + +<p>The present volume is elegantly printed, and will doubtless +have a run. It is full of matter, and that of the most +interesting kind. No reader of Lamb, especially, will be +without it.</p> +<br /> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>Modern French Literature. By L. Raymond de Vericour. +Edited by W. S. Chase, A. M. Boston: Gould, Kendall +& Lincoln. 1 vol. 12mo.</i></p></div> + +<p>This work is the English production of a native Frenchman, +and was written for one of Chambers's series of +books for the people. It is edited, with notes alluding particularly +to writers prominent in the late French Revolution, +by a young American scholar, who has recently resided +in France. The book, though deficient and sometimes +incorrect in details, deserves much praise for its +general correctness and accuracy. The author, though by +no means a critic of the first class, is altogether above the +herd of Grub street hacks who commonly undertake the +popularizing of literary history. He is no Winstansley +and no Cibber. The range of his reading appears to be +extensive. His judgments are somewhat those of a school-master, +but one of the highest grade. There are several +amusing errors relating to the position of English authors, +to some of which we cannot help alluding, as they seem to +have escaped the vigilant eye of the editor. Speaking of +Guizot and Sismondi as the leaders of the school of French +philosophical historians, he remarks that "the English +language possesses some good specimens of this class of +history; the most remarkable are Gibbon's Decline and +Fall and the works of Mr. Millar." This is as if the +author had said that England possessed some good specimens +of the Romantic Drama, the most remarkable being +Shakspeare's Macbeth and the works of Mr. Colman.</p> + +<p>Again, in speaking of the novels of Paul de Kock, and +protesting against those English critics who call him the +first writer of his time and country, he says that it is as +ridiculous as it would be in Frenchmen to exalt the novels +of Charles Dickens above Ivanhoe, <i>Philip Augustus</i> and +Eugene Aram, The idea of a Frenchman thinking it a +paradox to rank Dickens above James, or even Bulwer, +shows how difficult it is for a foreigner, especially a +Frenchman, to pass beyond the external form of English +literature.</p> + +<p>The author deserves the praise of being a sensible man, +in the English meaning of the phrase. There is one sentence +in his introductory which proves that his mind has +escaped one besetting sin of the French intellect, which +has prevented its successful cultivation of politics as a practical +science. In speaking of the histories of Thiers and +Mignet, he says that they "have hatched a swarm of +<i>Jeunes Prances</i>, vociferating in their wild aberrations, emphatic +eulogies on Marat, Coulhon and Robespierre, and +breathing a love of blood and destruction, which they call +the progressive march of events."</p> +<br /> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>Rise and Fall of Louis Philippe, Ex-King of the French, +Giving a History of the French Revolution from, its Commencement +in 1789. By Benj. Perley Poore, Boston: +Wm. D. Ticknor & Co. 1 vol. 12mo.</i></p></div> + +<p>Of all the publications we have seen relating to Louis +Philippe this is the most complete and the most agreeable. +The author, from his long residence in Paris, and from his +position as Historical Agent of the State of Massachusetts, +was enabled to collect a large mass of matter relating to +French history, and also to learn a great deal respecting +the Orleans dynasty, which would not naturally find its +way into print. The present volume, though it has little +in relation to the first French Revolution not generally +known by students, embodies a large number of important +facts respecting Louis Philippe, which we believe are now +published for the first time. The biography itself has the +interest of a romance, for few heroes of novels ever were, +in imagination, subjected to the changes of fortune which +Louis encountered in reality. Mr. Poore's view of his +character is not more flattering than that which commonly +obtains—on both sides of the Atlantic. To sustain this disparaging +opinion of his subject, however, he is compelled +to suppose policy and hypocrisy as the springs of many actions +which a reasonable charity would pronounce virtuous +and humane. It must be conceded that the conduct of the +king during the last few days of his reign was feeble, if +not cowardly, but his uniform character in other periods +of his life was that of a man possessing singular readiness +and coolness in times of peril, and encountering obstacles +with a courage as serene as it was adventurous.</p> +<br /> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>The Tenant of Wildfield Hall. By Acton Bell, Author of Wurthuring Heights.. New York: Harper & Brothers. +1 vol. 12mo.</i></p></div> + +<p>The appearance of this novel, so soon after the publication +of Wurthuring Heights, is an indication of Mr. Bell's +intention to be a frequent visiter, or visitation, of the public. +We are afraid that the personages he introduces to +his readers will consist chiefly of one class of mankind, and +this class not the most pleasing. He is a monomaniac on +the subject of man's rascality and brutality, and crowds +his page with forcible delineations of offensive characters +and disgusting events. The power he displays is of a high +but limited order, and is exercised chiefly to make his +readers uncomfortable. To be sure the present novel is +not so bad as Wurthuring Heights in the matter of animal +ferocity and impish diabolism; but still most of the characters, +to use a quaint illustration of an eccentric divine, +"are engaged in laying up for themselves considerable +grants of land in the bottomless pit," and brutality, blasphemy +and cruelty constitute their stock in trade. The +author is not so much a delineator of human life as of inhuman +life. There are doubtless many scenes in The +Tenant of Wildfield Hall drawn with great force and pictorial +truth, and which freeze the blood and "shiver along +the arteries;" but we think that the author's process in +conceiving character is rather logical than imaginative, +and consequently that he deals too much in unmixed ma<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span>lignity +and selfishness. The present novel, with all its +peculiar merits, lacks all those elements of interest which +come from the generous and gentle affections. His champagne +enlivens, but there is arsenic in it.</p> +<br /> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>Brothers and Sisters. By Frederika Bremer. Translated +by Mary Howitt. New York: Harper & Brothers.</i></p></div> + +<p>This is by no means one of Miss Bremer's best productions, +but it is not on that account a commonplace production. +The pathos, the cheerfulness, the elevation, the +sweet humane home-feeling of the Swedish novelist, are +here in much of their old power, with the addition of universal +philanthropy and the rights of labor. But we fear +that the original vein of our authoress is exhausted, and +that she is now repealing herself. It is a great mistake to +suppose that a new story, new names of characters, additional +sentiments nicely packed in new sentences, make a +new novel, when the whole tone and spirit of the production +continually reminds the reader of the authors previous +efforts. It is no depreciation of Miss Bremer's really fine +powers to assert, that she lacks the creative energy of +Scott, or the ever active fancy and various observation of +Dickens.</p> +<br /> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>Grantley Manor. By Lady Georgiana Fullerton. New +York: D. Appleton & Co. 1 vol. 12mo.</i></p></div> + +<p>This is altogether one of the finest novels which have +appeared for many years. It is written with much beauty +of style; evinces a creative as well as cultivated mind, +and contains a variety of characters which are not only +interesting in themselves, but have a necessary connection +with the plot and purpose. The mind of the author has +that combination of shrewdness and romantic fervor, of +sense and passion, so necessary to every novelist who desires +to idealize without contradicting the experience of +common life.</p> +<br /><br /> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="EDITORS_TABLE" id="EDITORS_TABLE"></a>EDITOR'S TABLE.</h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">To the readers of "Graham".</span>—A series of misfortunes +having bereft me of any proprietory interest in +this Magazine, the present publishers have made a liberal +arrangement with me, and for the future, the editorial and +pictorial departments of Graham's Magazine will be under +the charge of Joseph R. Chandler, Esq., J. Bayard Taylor, +Esq., and myself.</p> + +<p>It is due to the subscribers to "Graham" from me, to +state, that from the first hour I took charge of it, the +warmest support and encouragement were given me, and +from two not very profitable magazines "Graham" sprung +at once into boundless popularity and circulation. Money, +as every subscriber knows, was freely expended upon it, +and an energy untiring and sleepless was devoted to its +business management, and had I not, in an evil hour, forgotten +my own true interests, and devoted that capital and +industry to another business which should have been confined +exclusively to the magazine, I should to-day have +been under no necessity—not even of writing this notice.</p> + +<p>I come back to my first love with an ardor undiminished, +and an energy not enervated, with high hopes and very +bold purposes. What can be done in the next three years, +time, that great solver of doubts, must tell. What a daring +enterprize in business can do, I have already shown in Graham's +Magazine and the North American—and, alas! I +have also shown what folly can do, when business is forgotten—but +I can yet show the world that he who started +life a poor boy, with but eight dollars in his pocket, and +has run such a career as mine, is hard to be put down by +the calumnies or ingratitude of any. Feeling, therefore, +that having lost one battle, "there is time enough to win +another," I enter upon the work of the "redemption of +Graham," with the very confident purposes of a man who +never doubted his ability to succeed, and who asks no odds +in a fair encounter.</p> + +<p class="right">GEO. R. GRAHAM.</p> + + +<p><span class="smcap">An Acquisition.</span>—Our readers will share in the pleasure +with which it is announced, that <span class="smcap">Joseph R. Chandler</span>, +Esq., the accomplished writer, and former editor of "<i>The +United States Gazette</i>," will hereafter be "<i>one of us</i>" in +the editorial management of Graham's Magazine. There +are few writers in the language who equal, and none excel +Mr. Chandler in graceful and pathetic composition. +His sketches live in the hearts of readers, while they are +heart-histories recognized by thousands in every part of +the laud. An article from Mr. Chandler's pen may be +looked for in every number, and this will cause each number +to be looked for anxiously.</p> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Editors Looking Up.</span>—It is expected that an early +number of "Graham" will be graced with a portrait of +our distinguished rival of the "Lady's Book," that gentleman +having "in the handsomest manner," as they say in +theatricals, sat for a picture of his goodly countenance +and proportions. At our command this has been transferred +to steel, to be handed over to the readers of "Graham," +by Armstrong, an artist whose ability is a fair +warrant for a fine picture. Now if any of our fair readers +fall in love with Godey, we shall take it as a formal slight, +and shall insist upon having our face <i>run</i> through an edition +of a magazine, to be gazed at and loved by thousands +of as fine looking people as can be crowded upon a subscription +book.</p> + + +<p><span class="smcap">W. E. Tucker, Esq.</span>—We are very much gratified to be +able to state, that an arrangement has been made by the proprietors +of "Graham" with Mr. W. E. Tucker, whose +exquisite title-pages and other gems in the way of engraving +are familiar to our readers, and that <i>for the year 1849, he +engraves exclusively for Graham's Magazine</i>.</p> + +<p>This is but the beginning of arrangements proposed to +revive the original splendor of the pictorial department of +this magazine, while the literary arrangements are in the +same style of liberality which has ever distinguished +"Graham." "There is a good time a-coming boys" +in 1849.</p> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Sketches From Europe.</span>—In the present absorbing state +of affairs abroad, it will please our readers to know, that +we have engaged an accomplished writer to furnish +sketches of European manners, events and society, such +as escape the daily journals, for the pages of the magazine. +These sketches will occasionally be illustrated with engravings +of scenery and persons taken on the spot, and +cannot fail to add to the value of "Graham."</p> + + +<p><span class="smcap">Gems From Late Readings.</span>—We shall introduce into +the next number of Graham a department which we think +cannot fail to be of interest, by selections from authors +which it is not possible for all the readers of Graham to +have seen. Culling such passages as may strike us in our +reading as worthy of wide circulation and preservation.</p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Graham's Magazine Vol XXXIII No. 4 +October 1848, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GRAHAM'S MAGAZINE, OCTOBER 1848 *** + +***** This file should be named 30116-h.htm or 30116-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/0/1/1/30116/ + +Produced by David T. Jones, Juliet Sutherland and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Canada Team at +http://www.pgdpcanada.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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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 XXXIII No. 4 October 1848 + +Author: Various + +Editor: George R. Graham + Robert T. Conrad + +Release Date: September 28, 2009 [EBook #30116] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GRAHAM'S MAGAZINE, OCTOBER 1848 *** + + + + +Produced by David T. Jones, Juliet Sutherland and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Canada Team at +http://www.pgdpcanada.net + + + + + + + +[Illustration: Sir W. C. Rofs, R.A. A.B. Ross +THE UNMARRIED BELLE +Engraved Expressly for Graham's Magazine] + + +GRAHAM'S MAGAZINE. + +VOL. XXXIII. PHILADELPHIA, OCTOBER, 1848. No. 4. + + + + +THE UNMARRIED BELLE. + +BY ENNA DUVAL. + +[SEE ENGRAVING.] + + + Talk not of wasted affection, affection never was wasted; + If it enrich not the heart of another, its waters returning + Back to their springs, like the rain, shall fill them full of refreshment; + That which the fountain sends forth returns again to the fountain. + Patience; accomplish thy labor; accomplish thy work of affection! + Sorrow and silence are strong, and patient endurance is godlike; + Therefore accomplish thy labor of love, till the heart is made godlike, + Purified, strengthened, perfected, and rendered more worthy of heaven! + LONGFELLOW'S EVANGELINE. + + +I was loitering beside my mother's chair, in her drawing-room, one day +on my return from school, listening to the conversation between her +and some morning visiters; they were discussing most earnestly the +merits of a reigning belle. + +"She is, indeed, perfectly beautiful," exclaimed my mother. "I looked +at her the other evening, when I saw her at the last concert, and +thought a more lovely creature could not exist. The music excited her, +and her cheek was delicately flushed, which heightened the brilliancy +of her eyes; her lovely lips were just half apart and trembling with +feeling. Then she understands so well the art and mystery of dressing. +While other young ladies around her were in the full pride of +brilliant _costume_, the eye felt freshened and relieved when looking +at her--there was such a repose in her _demi-toilette_. The simple +white dress was so pure and chaste in its effect, displaying only her +lovely throat, and her beautiful chestnut-brown hair was gathered up +carelessly but neatly, while over one tiny ear fell a rich cluster of +ringlets; then, with all her beauty and exquisite taste, she is so +unconscious, so unstudied. That the world should call Mary Lee a +beauty, I do not wonder; but that society should pronounce her a +belle, is, indeed, a surprise to me--she is so unassuming, so free +from art and _affectation_." + +"So unlike her mother," exclaimed a lady, eagerly. "I think Mary's +success in society is as gratifying as unexpected to Mrs. Lee. She +delayed her _entree_ into society as long as she could, and used to +lament most piteously to me the trouble she expected to have with her, +from her total want of animation and spirit. But now she seems to have +entirely forgotten her former misgivings, for she takes many airs on +herself about Mary's popularity, talking all the while as though +scarcely any one was good enough for the husband of the daughter she +pronounced one year ago a stupid, inanimate creature." + +"Ah!" said a gentleman, laughing, "the tie now is between young Morton +and Langley, I believe. As Langley is the more _distingue_ of the two, +I suppose the mother will favor him; but if one can judge from +appearances, the daughter prefers Harry Morton." + +"I can assure you," interrupted Mr. Foster, an intimate friend of our +family, "the daughter has quite as much admiration for the rich Mr. +Langley as the mother. There is a little incident connected with that +same concert Mrs. Duval speaks of, that convinces me of the daughter's +powers of management." + +"Shame on you, Philip Foster!" said my mother, "you should not talk +thus of any lady, much less of Mary Lee." + +"What was the incident, Mr. Foster?" eagerly inquired the other +ladies. + +"Yes, do tell us, Phil," urged his gentleman friend. + +My mother looked reproachfully at Mr. Foster, but he shook his head +laughingly at her, as he said, + +"Hear me first, dear Mrs. Duval, before you judge. I was at Mrs. Lee's +two or three mornings since. Several visitors were in the +drawing-rooms, among them Harry Morton, as usual. I was looking at a +new and costly collection of engravings on the _commode_ table, when I +overheard Harry Morton ask Miss Lee if he should join their party at +the concert the next evening. She replied that she regretted they +were not going, for she had already promised her mother to dine and +spend the evening quietly with an old friend. The next evening at the +concert the whole Lee party were there, and our belle, Miss Mary, was +brought in by young Langley, just newly arrived from Europe. The +unconscious _demi-toilette_ Mrs. Duval speaks so admiringly of, had +the desired effect. Langley's taste has been chastened by a voyage +over the Atlantic; the noisy over-dressing of his countrywomen would, +of course, annoy his delicate sense--therefore was the simple home +costume adopted in preference, and the "_available_" Mr. Langley +secured as an admirer." + +"I do not believe any such thing, Philip!" exclaimed my mother, +indignantly. "I will answer for it, there was some mistake. Mary Lee +would scorn a falsehood, and is entirely above all artifice or design. +Mrs. Lee is said to be maneuvering and worldly; if she is, her +daughter is entirely free from such influences." + +"How did Morton take it, Phil?" asked the other friend, laughingly. + +"He was with me," replied Mr. Foster, evidently enjoying with some +little malice my kind mother's annoyance, "we had dropped into the +concert by chance together. He looked thunderstruck, but said nothing, +and did not approach her during the whole evening. She knew he was +there, however, for I saw her return his cold bow in a painfully +embarrassed manner." + +The entrance of some other visiters, connected with the Lees, put an +end to the conversation. That night, when my nurse was undressing me +for bed, I said, + +"What's a belle, Katy?" + +"A very rich and beautiful young lady," replied my nurse, "who has +plenty of lovers, and gets married very soon." + +"Will I ever be a belle?" I innocently inquired, as she gathered up my +rebellious hair under my cap. + +"No," she replied, in impatient tones, "your hair is too straight, and +your skin too yellow; but you must do as you're told to, or else +nobody will even love you; so go to sleep right away." + +I was silenced, and thus obedience was obtained by appealing to my +love of approbation. Many years passed, bringing me to womanhood, when +I discovered the truth of Nurse Katy's reason why I should not be a +belle. Other people decided that my "hair was too straight, and my +skin too yellow," to use Katy's homely, rough words; but her _brusque_ +admonition, that made me go to sleep so quickly when a child, acted +upon me as a woman. My approbativeness once roused, I managed, despite +my want of personal attractions, to secure a host of friends; and the +lesson I then learned, to please others rather than myself for the +sake of gaining their love, has caused my life thus far to be very +sunny and happy, even more so than if I had been the belle my childish +fancy desired. + +One of Nurse Katy's principal attributes of a belle, however, Mary Lee +was deficient in. She did not get married at all--and Mary Lee she +remained all her life. But she was one of the loveliest old maids in +the world, and quite as popular in our circle as she had been in her +own. She had been confined many years with an invalid mother and +paralytic father, but after their death some time, she re-entered +society; and her house was the favorite resort of the new set of young +people, as it had been in her young days. She gave the most delightful +parties, planned the most pleasant enjoyments for us, and although +acknowledging herself to be an old maid, she still retained her +youthful feelings unimpaired. + +Her mind remained in a fresh, healthy state, and her disposition was +still sweet and joyous. How we all loved her; she was our confidante, +adviser and friend. She was still pretty, and might have proved a very +formidable rival had she chosen to enter society as a young lady; but +she preferred being regarded by us as an elder friend. The young +ladies grouped around her as younger sisters; and one half the young +gentlemen would have married her _instanter_, notwithstanding she was +ten or fifteen years their senior. Old maid as she was, strange to +tell, she was a promoter of marriages. The ill-natured called Mary Lee +a match-maker. She certainly did interest herself very much with +lovers, fathoming all the little mysteries of their love-quarrels, and +setting every thing quite straight, even when they seemed in +inextricable confusion. + +Miss Lee had been very fond of my mother, and extended to me the same +regard, therefore I was, notwithstanding the difference in our ages, +on a more intimate footing with her than her other young friends. One +day, as we were discussing the merits of an approaching wedding, the +conversation assumed a confidential tone. + +"Indeed, Enna," she exclaimed, laughingly, "there is nothing more +interesting to me than a couple of lovers full of romance, poetry, and +perfectly blind and uncaring as to the future. I love to watch them in +courtship, lend them a helping hand in the quicksands of that +dangerous but delicious season; and then it makes me so happy to +congratulate them after their troubles are all over, and they are +happily married." + +"Ah! if they only could be sure of happiness," I replied. + +"Shame on you for that old maid's croak!" she said, with a bright +look; "those who are not happy in married life, would never be happy +in any situation. There should be no old maids or old bachelors, Enna; +we would all be happier married; we fail in fulfilling our missions +when we remain single. Hunt up a lover, Enna; let me watch your +courtship, and rejoice over your wedding. As a clever friend of mine +once said, we think poetry as lovers, but in married life we act true +poetry." + +I opened my eyes with astonishment, and innocently asked, "Why is it, +then, you have never married?" + +A shadow crossed over her face, and I felt a desire to recall the +question, for I feared I had called up disagreeable reminiscences, but +the next instant her countenance was as beaming and calm as before. + +"I will tell you, Enna," she said, as she caressingly rested her head +on my shoulder, "why I have never married; but to do that I must +relate the history of my rather uneventful life. My story has but +little interest, but it will gratify the curiosity of one who loves +me. My childhood was spent with an old aunt. She took me when I was a +delicate wee thing, and I remained with her until her death, which +took place when I was nearly grown. She was a dear, good old lady, and +with her my life passed most happily; my short visits home gave me +little pleasure, for my mother was a very worldly, ambitious woman, +and displayed but little tenderness for me, which, when contrasted +with my aunt's fondness and indulgence, made me feel quite as a +stranger in my family; and when Aunt Mary died, I wept as bitterly, +and felt as lonely and bereft of friends, as though I did not possess +a mother, father, and sisters. The two years after my aunt's death +were spent in close attention to those accomplishments which had been +neglected in my education as unnecessary, and which my mother deemed +so essential; and not a day passed without my poor mother's +exclamations of despair over me. + +"'One comfort there is, however,' she would say, 'your aunt's little +fortune of a few thousands will be exaggerated in society, and people +will forget your _mauvaise honte_ in giving you credit for being an +heiress.' + +"But the report of my being an heiress was not needed, for when I +entered society, to my mother's amazement, I created quite a +sensation. I had been looked upon as a pretty girl always; but my +mother had so often declared that I was so inanimate and innocent, she +never would be able to do any thing with me, and my pretty face would +be of no service to me, that I looked upon myself as quite an ordinary +person, and was as much surprised at my belle-hood as my family. I +wonder my little head was not turned with the attentions I received, +so unused as I had been to admiration; it might have been, however, +had not a disappointment--a bitter, heart-aching disappointment, +wearied me of all this adulation and attention. + +"Soon after my entrance into society, I became acquainted with a Mr. +Morton--agreeable, good-looking, and attentive he was, of +course--quite an acquisition to me in my circle of admirers. His +worldly qualifications were not of so brilliant a nature as to attract +my prudent mother's fancy, for he was only a young lawyer of slender +means and moderate practice. I do not think she ever dreamed of the +interest he excited in me, but looked upon him as one of the crowd of +attendants necessarily surrounding a belle. But how differently I +regarded him. The piles of costly bouquets I received daily, gained +but little attention from me, unless I discerned among them the tiny +bunch of sweet-violets, tea-roses, and mignonette, which he once in a +great while sent me. In my ball-tablets my eyes sought the dances +marked down for him; and when he was my partner, the dance, generally +so wearisome, was only too short, too delightful; the reminiscence of +that happy time makes a silly girl of me again. My mother never +imagined he aspired to my hand--she would have looked aghast at the +bare mention of such a probability; but she regarded him as a friend, +and he was a great favorite with her. She used to say young men like +Harry Morton, that knew their places, were invaluable acquaintances +for a belle; thus were we thrown a great deal together. She was so +blind to his real position with me, quick-sighted as she generally was +in other things, I was permitted to have him for my partner in +dancing, even for several quadrilles during an evening; he was my +constant attendant in my daily rides on horseback, and my mother never +hesitated to call upon him if we were at any time in need of an escort +to a ball or opera. He was upon the footing of a brother or cousin in +the family; but, ah! how dear was he to me. Without any actual +explanation, I felt sure of Harry Morton's love. I never had any +doubts or jealousies--we seemed to perfectly understand each other. I +never looked forward to our future--I was too quietly happy in the +present. I only dated from one meeting to another--from the dinner to +the party, when he would be ready to hand us from our carriage, to +take me off my father's arm in compliance with my mother's constant +inquiry and request of, 'Where's Harry Morton? Here, Harry, do take +charge of Mary,' a request which he always seemed delighted to obey. +Then, after the happy good-night, I would lie my head on the pillow to +dream of him and the morning ride we would take together. Why he never +spoke to me of his love I cannot tell. It might have been that +feelings of delicacy restrained him; my father was rich, while he was +but a poor young lawyer; then report had made me an heiress in my own +right, as well as a belle, to my worldly mother's great content. That +he loved me I am sure, though he never told me with his lips. + +"One morning my mother said to me, 'Do not make any engagement for +to-morrow, Mary; we must dine _en famille_ with dear old Mrs. Langley; +we have not been there for a month.' + +"Now this Mrs. Langley was a person of great consideration in my +mother's eyes. She was very wealthy, and, moreover, had been at the +head of the fashionable world for many years. Since my entrance into +society, she had been quite an invalid, and rarely appeared in public, +but it gratified her exceedingly to have her friends around her, for +she dreaded yielding up her command in the world. My mother was an +especial favorite of hers; and after I had taken such a prominent +situation in society, she expressed great regard for me. Once in a +month or so we spent a day with her. She lived in great style--a +stately dinner, and a stupid, grand, heavy evening was the amount of +the visit. How I used to dread the coming of the day; it was the only +time I was separated from Harry, for Mrs. Langley being very +exclusive, and making no new acquaintances, he had no _entree_ there. +I used to sing for her, arrange her worsteds, tell her of the parties +and different entertainments, and read to her her son's last letter. +She had only one son, and he had been in Europe for two or three +years. He was her idol, and she never tired talking of him. Dear old +lady, my conscience smote me many times for the feelings of impatient +weariness and _ennui_ I would give way to during one of her tedious +dinner parties. + +"The following morning after my mother had announced the visit of +penance, Harry Morton made his appearance in our drawing-rooms, as +usual, with the other morning visiters. Every one was talking of a new +singer who was to make her _debut_ on that evening. + +"'May I join your party at the concert this evening?' Harry asked me, +in a low voice. + +"'I regret exceedingly,' I replied, 'that we are not going to the +concert. I have already promised mamma to spend a quiet day and +evening with an old friend of hers. You must listen attentively to +this new _donna_, and tell me all about her voice if you go.' + +"'I do not think I shall go,' he replied, in low, earnest tones, 'for +I could not enjoy the concert if not with you.' A turn in the general +conversation drew us more into notice, and some ladies and gentlemen +entering, put an end to all further intercourse between us; how long I +remembered and cherished those last words of his. When I made my +appearance in my mother's room at 5 o'clock, shawl and hood in hand, +she regarded me from head to foot smilingly. + +"'What new caprice to-day?' she said, 'and yet I must confess it is +very becoming to you.' + +"I had felt too languid to dress much, and as the weather was warm, +spring being quite far advanced, I had chosen a simple white mull robe +for the visit to our old friend, knowing that we should meet with but +few visiters there. This I explained apologetically to my mother, who +tapped me with her fan good-naturedly, saying that beauties were +cunning creatures, they liked to show once in a while they could defy +the aid of ornament. The first few months of my entrance into society +my mother superintended, with great attention, all my _toilettes_; but +near the close of the season she fell into the general opinion, that +what ever I did was exactly right; and poor little me, that one short +half-year before had no right to express an opinion upon so grave a +subject as dress, was now constantly appealed to; and whatever style I +adopted was perfect in her eyes. Society had placed its stamp upon me, +I could pass current as a coin of high value to her. + +"When I reached Mrs. Langley's, I found the old lady attended by but +one gentleman, who, beside ourselves, was her only visiter. What was +my surprise to hear her introduce him as her son, Templeton Langley. +The dinner passed more pleasantly than usual, for Mr. Langley made +himself very agreeable. After dinner he proposed we should go to the +concert, as he felt an interest in the new _primadonna_, having heard +her at her _debut_ in Europe. I made an objection, which was overruled +by Mrs. Langley's expressing a desire--strange for her--to go +likewise; and we went. I had not been ten minutes in the room when, on +lifting my eyes, the first person I saw was Harry Morton looking +sternly at me. Foolishly, I grew embarrassed, my face burned, and my +whole frame trembled with nervous agitation. He did not approach me, +but gave me only a cold bow. 'He thinks me guilty of falsehood,' I +said to myself. How wretchedly passed the evening, and yet I have no +doubt I was an object of envy to many of my young lady friends. The +rich _distingue_, Templeton Langley showed himself my devoted admirer, +while his mother, the acknowledged leader of _ton_, sat beside us +smiling approvingly. My indifferent, cold manner, my simple costume, +and my beautiful face, completed that evening the conquest of the +fastidious, fashionable young man. You cannot imagine the delight of +my mother, when day after day found Templeton Langley constantly +beside me, she could scarcely restrain her exultation; while I, poor +child, listened with aching, throbbing senses for the approach of one +who never came near me. Two or three weeks passed in a whirl of +gayety. It was the close of the season, and one or two brides in our +circle made the parties very constant. Mrs. Langley proposed that our +family should join her son and herself in their summer visit to the +Lakes; accordingly we did so, and we spent more than three months +traveling. Ere the close of those three months, Templeton Langley +offered himself to me. I could not describe to you the scene that +ensued between my mother and myself when I rejected him. She was a +worldly woman, and my conduct seemed perfectly wild to her. She +remonstrated, persuaded, then reproached me in impatient, angry tones. +My father was a quiet, amiable man, and rarely interfered with my +mother in her management, but he fortunately shook off enough of his +lethargy to come to my rescue at this time. + +"'If Mary does not love Mr. Langley,' he said, 'why urge her to marry +him? Do not scold the poor child,' and he drew me toward him tenderly. + +"Templeton Langley was rather an indifferent person in every way. His +wealth, combined with his situation in the fashionable world, placed +him in a fictitious light; but he had little intelligence, no +originality, and only a passable personal appearance. I was constantly +drawing the comparison between him and Harry Morton. Harry was so +handsome, so brilliant in conversation--and this thought rendered poor +Mr. Langley, with all his fastidious, elegant manners, quite +unbearable to me. To think of being tied to such a man for life was +perfect martyrdom for me; and although hitherto so yielding, I showed +myself on this occasion obstinate. Floods of tears I shed, and my +mother fancied at first she could overcome my 'ridiculous +sentimentality,' as she called it, but in vain; and finding a friend +in my father, I remained firm. I felt more sorry for old Mrs. Langley, +who was, indeed, terribly distressed, but she treated me very kindly, +and exonerated me from all blame. She was, however, really very fond +of me, and had set her heart upon having me for a daughter. Mr. +Langley returned to Europe, and for many months our circle of friends +were quite at a loss to know whether he had offered, been accepted, +or refused, or whether he had only flirted with me. My mother felt too +disappointed to boast of the rejection; and, moreover, she was so +occupied in bringing out my sister, Emma, as to have little time to +think of me or my affairs. My sister was but seventeen, three years +younger than I, but much nearer my age in appearance. I found myself +now of but secondary consideration in my mother's eyes. I fear she +really disliked me then. She was an ambitious woman, and had set her +heart upon my making a brilliant match; this favorite hope of hers I +had blighted, and feeling little interest in society, I became of less +consequence, for my sad, absent manner made me, of course, +uninteresting; therefore, as my reign as a belle was over, my poor +mother now sought to dismiss me from her mind and occupy herself with +other objects. + +"Harry Morton had gone to the Southwest ere we returned from our +summer's journey, and we never met again. A year or so afterward I +heard of his marriage with a dashing southern belle, and he is now a +distinguished man at the South. After these perplexing, unfortunate +misunderstandings, my health failed, and for a long while I was an +invalid, rarely appearing in society. My two sisters, Emma and Alice, +were more lucky than I, for they married happily, and with my mother's +gratified approbation--for they each made the 'best match of their +season.' Neither one was so pretty as I had been, and as my mother +used to ejaculate, + +"'Thank Heaven! neither Emma nor Alice are belles; they at least will +not trouble me with their exaggerated notions about love and all that +nonsense.' + +"I passed a miserable, wretched existence for a year or more after +Harry and I were separated. How earnestly I prayed for death, so +completely prostrated was my spirit by my disappointment. I felt as +lonely as I had at the time of dear Aunt Mary's death. In time, +however, I aroused myself from my morbid feelings, and in reading and +study found at first occupation, then strength and content. + +"The week after my youngest sister was married my father was stricken +down with paralysis. I was the only one at home with my parents, for +my bride sister had sailed for Europe the day after her wedding, and +Emma was far distant in her Southern home, having married a wealthy +South Carolinian two years before. Faithfully I devoted myself to my +father, and when my mother, a year afterward, was seized with a +painful, lingering disease, I made myself so necessary to her comfort, +that she at last acknowledged, that what had appeared to be her +greatest trouble had proved her greatest blessing. She altered very +much before her death, and lost entirely all those worldly feelings +which had actuated her during her early life. She suffered for many +years at times agonizing pain, and during this time I was sole +companion and nurse to my parents. Often I thanked Providence for +having denied to me my early love, granting to me in lieu an +opportunity of fulfilling the most holy of duties. See, Enna, to what +an unromantic and yet enviable state of mind I at last attained. +Believe me, dearest, we never should grieve over unavoidable troubles, +for many times they are but the rough husk of that sweet kernel--a +hidden blessing." + + + + +ZENOBIA. + +BY MYRON L. MASON. + + + 'Twas holyday in Rome. Her sevenfold hills + Were trembling with the tread of multitudes + Who thronged her streets. Hushed was the busy hum + Of labor. Silent in the shops reposed + The implements of toil. A common love + Of country, and a zeal for her renown, + Had warmed all hearts, and mingled for a day + Plebian ardor with patrician pride. + The sire, the son, the matron and the maid, + Joined in bestowing on their emperor + The joyous benedictions of the state. + Alas! about that day's magnificence + Was spread a web of _shame_! The victor's sword + Was stained with cowardice--his dazzling fame + Tarnished by insult to a fallen woman. + Returning from his conquests in the East, + Aurelian led in his triumphant train + Palmyra's beauteous queen, Zenobia, + Whose only crime had been the love she bore + To her own country and her household gods. + + Long had the Orient owned the sovereign sway + Of Rome imperial, and in forced submission + Had bowed the neck to the oppressor's yoke. + The corn of Syria, her fruits and wares, + The pearls of India, Araby's perfumes, + The golden treasures of the mountains, all + Profusely poured in her luxurious lap, + Crowned to the full her proud magnificence. + Rome regal, throned on her eternal hills, + With power supreme and wide-extended hand, + Plundered the prostrate nations without stint + Of all she coveted, and, chiefly thou, + O Liberty, the birthright boon of Heaven. + But Rome had passed her noon; her despotism + Was overgrown; an earthquake was at work + At her foundations; and new dynasties, + Striking their roots in ripening revolutions, + Were soon to sway the destinies of realms. + + The East was in revolt. The myriad seeds + Of dark rebellion, sown by tyranny, + And watered by the blood of patriots slain, + Were springing into life on every hand. + Success was alternating in this strife + 'Twixt power and _right_, and anxious Victory, + With balance poised, the doubtful issue feared. + Amid the fierce contention, 'mid the din + Of war's sublime encounter, and the crash + Of falling systems old, Palmyra's queen + Followed her valiant lord, Palmyra's king. + Ever beside him in the hour of peril, + She warded from his breast the battle's rage; + And in the councils of the cabinet + Her prudent wisdom was her husband's guide. + + Domestic treason, with insidious stab, + Snatched from Zenobia's side her gallant lord, + And threw into her hand the exigencies + Of an unstable and capricious throne. + Yet was her genius not inadequate. + The precepts of experience, intertwined + With intellectual power of lofty grade, + Combined to raise Palmyra's beauteous queen + High in the golden scale of moral greatness. + Under the teachings of the good Longinus + The streams of science flowed into her mind; + And, like the fountain-fostered mountain lake, + Her soul was pure as its ethereal food. + The patronage bestowed on learned men + Declared her love for letters. The rewards, + Rich and unnumbered, she conferred on merit + Her own refined, exalted taste betrayed. + Her graceful and majestic figure, crowned + With beauty such as few but angels wear, + Like the rich casing that surrounds the gem, + Heightened the splendor of her brilliant genius. + Equally daring on the battle-field + And in the chase, her prudence and her courage, + Displayed in many a hot emergency, + Had twined victorious laurel round her brow. + Under her rule Palmyra's fortunes rose + To an unequalled altitude, and wealth + Flowed in upon her like a golden sea, + Her wide dominion, stretching from the Nile + To the far Euxine and Euphrates' flood-- + Her active commerce, whose expanded range + Monopolized the trade of all the East-- + Her stately capital, whose towers and domes + Vied with proud Rome in architectural grace-- + Her own aspiring aims and high renown-- + All breathed around the Asiatic queen + An atmosphere of greatness, and betrayed + Her bold ambition, and her rivalry + With the imperial mistress of the world. + + But 't is the gaudiest flower is soonest plucked; + The sturdiest oak first feels the builder's axe. + Palmyra's rising greatness had awaked + The jealousy of Rome, and Fortune looked + On her prosperity with envious eye. + Under the golden eagles of the empire, + Aurelian's soldiers swept the thirsty sands, + And poured into Palmyra's palmy plains, + A mighty host hot for the battle-field. + Borne on her gallant steed, the warrior queen + The conflict sought, and led her eager troops + Into the stern encounter. Like the storm + Of their own desert plain, innumerable, + They rushed upon the foe, and courted danger. + Amid the serried ranks, whose steel array + Glowed in the noonday sun, and threw a flood + Of wavy sheen into the fragrant air, + Zenobia rode; and, like an angry spirit, + Commissioned from above to chastise men, + Where'er she moved was death. There was a flash + Of scorn that lighted up her fiery eye, + A glance of wrath upon her countenance-- + There was a terror in her frenzied arm + That struck dismay into the boldest heart. + Alas for her, Fortune was unpropitious! + Her fearless valor found an overmatch + In the experienced prudence of Aurelian; + And scarcely could the desert's hardy sons + Cope with the practiced legions of the empire. + The battle gained, Palmyra taken, sacked-- + Its queen a captive, hurled from off a throne, + Stripped of her wide possessions, forced to sue + In humblest attitude for even life-- + The haughty victor led his weary legions + Back to Italia's shores, and in his train + His fallen rival, loaded with chains of gold, + Forged from the bullion of her treasury. + + 'T was holyday in Rome. The morning sun, + Emerging from the palace-crested hills + Of the Campagna, poured a flood of light + Upon the slumbering city, summoning + Its teeming thousands to the festival. + A playful breeze, rich-laden with perfume + From groves of orange, gently stirred the leaves, + And curled the ripples on the Tiber's breast, + Bearing to seaward o'er the flowery plain + The rising peans' joyful melodies. + Flung to the wind, high from the swelling dome + That crowned the Capitol, the imperial banner, + Broidered with gold and glittering with gems, + Unfurled its azure field; and, as it caught + The sunbeams and flashed down upon the throng + That filled the forum, there arose a shout + Deep as the murmur of the cataract. + In that spontaneous outburst of applause + _Rome spoke_; and as the echo smote the hills + It woke the slumbering memory of a time + When Rome was _free_. + + A trumpet from the walls + Proclaimed the day's festivities begun. + Preceded by musicians and sweet singers, + A long procession passed the city-gate, + And, traversing the winding maze of streets, + Climbed to the Capitol. Choice victims, dressed + With pictured ornaments and wreaths of flowers, + An offering to the tutelary gods, + Led the advance. Then followed spoils immense, + Baskets of jewels, vases of wrought gold, + Paintings and statuary, cloths and wares, + Of costliest manufacture, close succeeded + By the rich symbols of Palmyra's glory, + Torn from her temples and her palaces, + To grace a triumph in the streets of Rome. + With toilsome step next walked the captive queen; + And then the victor, in his car of state, + With milk-white horses of Thessalian breed, + And in his retinue a splendid train + Of Rome's nobility. In one long line + The army last appeared in bright array, + With banners high displayed, filling the air + With songs of victory. The pageant proud + Quickened remembrance of departed days, + And warmed the bosoms of the multitude + With deep devotion to the commonwealth. + + High in his gilded chariot, decked in robes + Of broidered purple, and with laurel crowned, + Rode the triumphant conqueror, in his hand + The emblems of his power. The capital + Of his wide empire was inflamed with zeal + To do him honor and exalt his praise. + The world was at his feet; his sovereign will + None dared to question, and his haughty word + Was law to nations. Yet his heart was troubled. + In the dim distance he discerned the flight + Of Freedom, on swift pinions heralding + Enfranchisement to the oppressed of earth. + He knew the feeble tenure of dominion + Based on allegiance with reluctance paid; + And read the future overthrow of Rome + In the unyielding spirit of his victim. + Uncovered in the sun, weary and faint, + Bowed to the earth with chains of ravished gold, + With feet unsandaled, walked Zenobia, + Slave to the craven tyrant's cruelty. + Neither her peerless beauty, nor her sex, + Nor yet her grievous sufferings could melt + The despot's stony heart. She, who surpassed + Her conqueror in all the qualities + Of head or heart which crown humanity + With nobleness and high preeminence-- + She, whose _misfortunes_ in a glorious cause, + And not her _errors_, had achieved her ruin-- + Burdened with ignominy and disgrace + For her resplendent _virtues_, not her _crimes_-- + She who had graced a palace, and dispensed + Pardon to penitence, reward to worth, + And tempered justice with benevolence-- + Wickedly torn from her exalted station, + Now walked a captive in the streets of Rome, + E'en at the feet of the oppressors steeds. + Yet was her spirit all untamed. Disdain + Still sat upon her countenance, and breathed + Unmeasured scorn upon her persecutors. + The blush of innocence upon her cheek, + The burning pride that flashed within her eye, + The majesty enthroned upon her brow, + Told, in a language which the tyrant _felt_, + That her unconquered spirit soared sublime + In a pure orbit whither _his_ sordid soul + Could ne'er attain. Had he a captive led + Some odious wretch, whose sanguinary crimes, + Long perpetrated under sanction of a strength + No arm could reach, had spread a pall of mourning + Over a people's desolated homes, + He then had _right_ to triumph o'er his victim. + But 't was not thus. Insatiable ambition + Had led him to unsheath his victor sword + Against a monarch whose distinctive sway + Ravished from Rome no tittle of her _right_; + And, to augment the aggregate of wrong, + _That monarch was a woman_, whose renown, + Compared with his, was gold compared with brass. + As o'er the stony street the captive paced + Her weary way before the victor's steeds, + And marked the multitudes insatiate gaze, + The look of calm defiance on her face + Told that she bowed not to her degradation. + Her thoughts were not at Rome. Unheeded all, + The billows of the mad excitement dashed + About her, and broke harmless at her feet. + Dim reminiscences of former days + Burst like a deluge on her errant mind; + Leading her backward to the buried past, + When in the artless buoyancy of youth + She sat beneath Palmyra's fragrant shades + And gleaned the pages of historic story, + Red with Rome's bloody catalogue of wrong. + Little she dreamed Palmyra's palaces + Should e'er be scenes of Roman violence; + Little she dreamed that _hers_ should be the lot + (A captive princess led in chains) to crown + The splendor of a Roman holyday. + Alas! the blow she thought not of had fallen. + A bloody struggle, like a dreadful dream, + Had briefly raged, and all to her was lost, + Save the poor grace of a degraded life. + Her sun of glory was gone down in blood-- + The glittering fabric of her power despoiled + To swell the triumph of her conqueror. + But in the wreck of her magnificence, + With eye prophetic, she foresaw the ruin + Of the proud capital of all the world. + She saw the quickening symptoms of rebellion + Among the nations, and she caught their cry + For _freedom_ and for _vengeance_! + + * * * * * + + Hark! the Goth + Is thundering at the gate, His reckless sword + Leaps from the scabbard, eager to vindicate + The cause of the oppressed. A thousand years + The sun has witnessed in his daily course + The tyranny of Rome, now crushed _forever_. + The mighty mass of her usurped dominion, + By its own magnitude at last dissevered, + Is crumbling into fragments; and the shades + Of long-forgotten generations shriek + With fiendish glee over the yawning gulf + Of her perdition. + + + + +TEMPER LIFE'S EXTREMES. + +BY GEORGE S. BURLEIGH. + + + 'Tis wise, in summer-warmth, to look before, + To the keen-nipping winter; it is good, + In lifeful hours, to lay aside some store + Of thought, to leaven the spirit's duller mood; + To mould the sodded dyke, in sunny hour, + Against the coming of the wasteful flood; + Still tempering Life's extremes, that Wo no more + May start abrupt in Joy's sweet neighborhood. + If Day burst sudden from the bars of Night, + Or with one plunge leaped down the sheer abyss, + Painful alike were darkness and the light, + Bearing fixed war through shifting victories; + But sweet their bond, where peaceful twilight lingers, + Weaving the rosy with the sable fingers. + + + + +THE CRUISE OF THE RAKER. + +A TALE OF THE WAR OF 1812-15. + +BY HENRY A. CLARK. + +(_Continued from page 136._) + +CHAPTER V. + +_The Revenge._ + + +The report of the pistol fired by Julia had also been heard upon the +pirate brig. To Florette it gave assurance of the safety of the fair +fugitive. The pirate sprang to his feet, forgetful of his wound, but +fell back helpless upon the companion-way, and soon relapsed into his +former thoughtful state, supposing the sound had come from the deck of +the Raker, though it had seemed much too near and distinct to appear +possible that such was the case. + +The escape of Julia was not discovered until the following morning. +The wrath of the pirate was fearfully vindictive. Even Florette became +alarmed when he fiercely accused her of some share in the +disappearance of the captive girl. This she tremblingly denied, +suggesting the opinion that Julia must have jumped overboard, in her +despair, induced by the threats of the pirate. The loss of the boat +was also noticed, but not connected with the escape of Julia, it being +supposed that it had been carelessly fastened. As a very natural +consequence of his anger, the pirate sought some person on whom he +could vent its fury. + +"Call aft the other woman," shouted he, "unless she, too, has jumped +overboard." + +A grim smile was interchanged between the men who heard this order. +John's true sex had not been long kept concealed after he had reached +the pirate brig, and he had nearly fallen a victim to the rage the +unpleasant discovery excited in the men, but his ludicrous and abject +expressions of terror, though they awoke no emotions of pity, yet +excited the merriment of his captors, and turned their anger into +laughter. A man's garments were thrown to him, in which he speedily +equipped himself, being indeed in no slight degree relieved by the +change. Since that time he had kept himself as much aloof as possible +from the crew, anxiously and fearfully expectant of some sudden +catastrophe, either that his brains would be blown out without +affording him an opportunity to expostulate, or that he would be +called upon to walk the plank. + +He was roused by a heavy hand laid upon his shoulder. + +"O dear, don't," cried John. + +"The captain has sent word for'ard arter you, and faith ye had betther +be in a hurry, for he's a savage when he's mad." + +"O! now I've got to do it." + +"Do what?" + +"Why walk the plank to be sure." + +"Arrah, jewel! don't be onaisy now." + +"Wont I's, don't you think?" + +"Not a bit of it, darling. I think he will be afther running you up to +the yard-arm." + +"But I can't run up it." + +"Ha! ha! but come along, honey." + +Half dragging John after him, the sailor led him to the quarter-deck. + +"Here's the lady, captain, an' faith she's a swate one." + +The truth of the case had already been explained to the pirate. + +"You cowardly fool," said he, "did you expect to escape by such a +subterfuge? Pat, run him up to the yard-arm." + +"Yes, captain, and that will be a relaif to him, for he was mighty +afraid he'd have to walk the plank." + +"He was? well then he shall." + +The vindictiveness of the pirate commander, who had only changed the +mode of John's death because he thought that by so doing he should +render it more fearful and bitter to the victim, was the means of +saving the poor cockney's life. So do revenge and malice often +overreach themselves. + +A long plank was laid out over the side of the brig and John commanded +to walk out on it. He showed a strong disinclination to obeying, but a +huge pistol placed against his forehead quickly influenced his +decision, and with a cry of anguish he stepped out upon it. As the +board tipped he turned to spring back to the brig, but slipping up, +fell upon the board, which he pulled after him into the water. + +"Fool," cried the captain to one of his men, "what did you let the +board loose for, he will float now till the chase picks him up--fire +into him." + +A dozen balls were fired at John, and it seems he was hit, for he let +go the board and sunk. + +"There, captain, he's done for." + +The brig by this time had reached a considerable distance from the +place where John had been committed to the deep, and when he rose to +the surface, as he soon did, he was out of danger from their shot. + +"O dear!" cried he, "I shan't ever get ashore; I never could swim +much." + +The waves threw him against the plank. + +"O! a shark! a shark!" shouted John, "now don't;" and he grasped hold +of the plank in a frenzy of fear. He soon discovered the friendly aid +it would afford him, and held on to it with the tenacity of despair. + +In less than half an hour the Raker came up. John was noticed from its +deck, and a brawny tar seizing a rope and taking two or three turns of +it round his left arm sprang overboard to rescue the half unconscious +cockney. + +As the sailor seized him, John, supposing it to be a shark, uttered a +loud cry and lost all sensation. In this condition he was hauled up to +the deck of the privateer, where, upon recovering his senses, he found +to his great surprise and joy, that instead of being in the belly of +some voracious fish, like Jonah of old, he was in safety, and +surrounded by the crew of his former vessel, the Betty Allen, +including his master. + +The poor fellow was severely wounded by a pistol shot, in the arm, but +regardless of this he was wild in his demonstrations of joy, +especially when told that his young mistress had also escaped. + +Captain Greene found that he had gained little, if any, upon the +pirate during the night, and became convinced that he must again +commence firing upon her, trusting to some lucky ball to carry away a +spar, or failing, to allow the villains to escape the punishment they +so richly deserved, not only for their inhuman treatment of the crew +of the Betsy Allen, but doubtless for numerous other crimes committed +upon the seas, as savage in their conception, and more successful in +their execution. + +The long gun was again uncovered, and a shot dispatched from its huge +portals after the pirate brig. The first ball fired fell short of the +brig, striking the water directly in its wake, and ricochetting again +threw up the water beyond it. + +A succeeding ball, however, did some execution, crashing through her +top-gallant forecastle, but without in any degree lessening her speed. +As every fire from the Raker lessened her speed, Capt. Greene became +exceedingly anxious that no balls should be thrown away, and commanded +Lieut. Morris to point the gun, having more confidence in his skill +than in that of the gunner. The young officer aimed the gun carefully, +and as it was fired three cheers arose from his crew, as they +perceived the pirate's mizzen-mast fall away. + +"She is ours," cried the lieutenant. + +"Stand by, men, to take in sail," shouted the captain. "We will draw +near enough," continued he to Morris, "to fire into her at our +leisure, a pirate is not entitled to a more honorable warfare, and he +seems also to greatly outnumber us in men." + +As the privateer approached the pirate they could not but admire the +singular beauty of her build. She rose and fell upon the waters as +gracefully as a free and wild ocean bird. The long red lines of her +port-holes swept with a gentle curve from stem to stern, and her stem +was so sharp that the bowsprit seemed rather to terminate than to join +it. Twelve carronades occupied a double row of port-holes, and the +deck seemed crowded with men, all armed with cutlases and pistols. + +"A formidable looking set," said Captain Greene, as he laid aside his +glass, "keep the gun lively." + +An ineffectual fire opened upon the privateer from the pirate, but +though they had a swivel of pretty heavy calibre, turning on its axis +amidship in such a manner as to menace at will each point of the +horizon, it was evident that its force was far less than the long gun +of the privateer. + +A well aimed shot brought down the pirate's fore topsail-yard, which +hung in the slings, and succeeding shots did much injury to her masts +and rigging, and at length the main-topmast fell over the side. + +The scene on board the pirate, during this unequal warfare, was one +approaching perplexity and disorder. Their commander stood by the +helm, gazing at the privateer, his brow clouded with angry thought, +and giving little heed to the movements of his crew. He was aroused +from his abstraction by the voice of one of his officers. + +"Captain, this is bad business, what is to be done?" + +The captain gazed at him in silence. + +"The crew are alarmed, and demand of you some relief from this +harassing state. Our guns will not reach the chase, and we cannot +leave her in this crippled state." + +At this moment a heavy ball from the privateer whizzed by them and +buried itself in the main-mast of the brig. + +The captain seemed fully aroused. His eyes flashed with their wonted +fire. He turned toward his crew, and saw at a glance the state of +depression which had fallen upon them all. He even overheard some +muttered words of complaint. + +"Pat," says one, "this seems to be playing a rough game, where nothing +is to be won on our side." + +"Faith, an' ye may say that, but we stand a chance to gain one thing." + +"What may that be, Pat?" + +"O, a two-inch rope, and a run up to the fore yard-arm." + +"The devil! That's not a pleasant thought, Pat." + +"No, but they say it's an aisy death." + +"Silence, men," was heard in the deep tones of the captain's voice. + +In a moment all was still, and every eye turned toward the +companion-way, on which the captain stood, resting one hand upon the +main-boom, as he was exceedingly weak from the wound inflicted by the +ball of Captain Horton. + +"My brave fellows," said their leader, "do not be alarmed, we shall +not be hanged this time. Is our situation any worse than it has been +in times heretofore? Trust in me. Have I ever deceived you--have I +ever failed yet? You know I have not. Where we cannot conquer by fair +battle, we must use stratagem. Be watchful and ready, and we will yet +not only escape yonder vessel, but stand upon her deck as masters." + +The confidence with which he spoke inspired his followers with like +feeling, and with countenances relighted by hope, they returned to +their several stations. Their reliance upon their commander was +unbounded. He had so often triumphed when even greater difficulties +opposed, that they already felt sure of ultimate delivery, now that he +had been restored to his former energy--they had mistaken the lethargy +into which pain and weakness had thrown him for the torpor of despair. +Again the joke and laugh went round, and already they began to compute +their respective shares of booty in the vessel so soon to be theirs, +they knew not how. + +"Haul down the ensign, in token that we surrender," cried the captain. + +A murmur of indignation and surprise arose from the crew. + +"What, men, do you doubt me? 'Tis but a feint. Haul down the flag and +take in sail." + +The men obeyed with alacrity, for they already clearly comprehended +the plan of their leader. It was his intention to entice the privateer +alongside, and, well aware of his own superiority in numbers, to make +a sudden onset upon her deck, and thus, contrary to all laws of +honorable warfare, seize by foul means what could not be obtained in +any other way. + +These pacific indications were viewed with some surprise on board the +privateer. + +"By Heaven!" cried Lieut. Morris, "she's tired of this game soon." + +"Well, she had no other way to do; as it was we should have sunk her +without receiving a shot." + +"It was a losing game for her, true enough." + +"Lay the brig alongside of her," shouted Captain Greene to his men. + +As his men with a cheer began to unfurl all sail, Captain Horton +approached the commander of the privateer. He had up to this period +ventured no interference, both from matter of delicacy, and because he +saw nothing to disapprove of in the course pursued by Captain Greene. + +"My dear sir," said he, as he laid his hand upon the arm of the +captain of the privateer, "allow me to say a word." + +"Certainly, sir," replied the courteous commander. "I ought sooner +than this to have asked your advice." + +"I would not place too great confidence in the pirate's signal of +surrender." + +"Do you apprehend foul play?" + +"Recollect the savage brutality which the fiend has already evinced, +and judge for yourself whether he is worthy of being trusted at all." + +"You are right, sir. Lieut. Morris," continued he, turning to his +young officer. + +"Ay, ay, sir." + +"Load the long gun with grape and canister, and wheel it abaft--load +the larboard guns the same way. Now, my men, don't run too near her. +She must send a boat aboard." + +The privateer approached within half a cable's length of the pirate. + +"Ship ahoy!" cried Captain Greene. + +No answer came from the pirate, but her head was rounded to, so as to +bear directly down on the Raker. + +"Answer me, or I'll fire into you." + +"Fire and be d--d," came from the deck of the pirate, and at the same +time a broadside was poured into the Raker, which killed two or three +men at the guns, and severely wounded Captain Greene. + +"Lieut. Morris," cried he, "take the command of the vessel," and +falling on the deck he was immediately carried below. + +The young officer was fully equal to the emergency of the occasion. At +a glance he perceived that the pirate in the confusion which ensued +from his unexpected broadside, had fallen foul of the privateer's +rigging, and the crowd of his crew in his bow and fore-rigging, all +with cutlases drawn, and ready to spring aboard the privateer, plainly +announced the intention to board. + +"All hands to repel boarders," shouted Morris, and drawing his cutlas +he sprang forward, followed by his men. + +A well contested struggle ensued, the American seamen, indignant at +the foul deceit which had been practiced upon them, fought like +tigers, and for a time kept the pirates at bay--they had indeed, +notwithstanding their superior numbers, nearly driven them from the +deck, when the form of their commander appeared among them. In +consequence of his wound he had, contrary to his custom, entrusted the +command of the boarders to his first lieutenant, and had remained upon +his own vessel watching the fight. He sprung among his crew, with a +sword drawn, and a tight sash bound around his waist, from which the +dark blood was slowly oozing, his wound having burst away from its +ligaments. + +"Cowards!" he shouted, "do ye yield--ye are two to their one." + +Leaping to their front, he struck down a sailor and plunged into the +thickest of the fight. Reanimated by the presence of their leader, who +had so often led them to victory, a new spirit seemed to light up the +fainting courage of the pirates, and with a fierce yell they rushed +forward. The American crew were compelled to fall back before the +fierce assault. At the head of his men Lieut. Morris several times +crossed swords with the pirate captain, but the swaying of the fight +separated them. Perceiving that his men were slowly yielding, though +in good order, Lieutenant Morris, cool and collected, cheered their +courage, and at this moment thought of the long gun which had been +drawn up, loaded to the muzzle with grape and canister, against the +companion-way, and a man with a lighted match stationed by it. + +"Fall back to the quarter-deck," cried the young officer. + +They retreated in close array, and uncovered the mouth of the huge +gun. At the sight of this a cry of dismay broke from the foremost of +the pirates, who broke the front rank, and many of them escaped for +the time by leaping into the sea. + +"Fire," cried Lieut. Morris. In a moment he was obeyed. Wild cries of +agony arose amid the gathering smoke, which, as it rolled away, +revealed a horrible sight. Not a living pirate stood upon the deck of +the privateer. A dense mass of bodies, writhing in pain, lay upon the +fore-deck, and many of the pirates who had jumped into the sea were +seen scrambling up the sides of their own vessel; the pirate chief +lay dead at the head of his followers, foremost in death, as he had +been in life. It was a terrible and revolting scene--the scuppers +literally ran with blood, the bulwarks were bespattered with brains +and pieces of scalps; several limbs were strewn about, and the entire +deck covered with the dead or dying. + +While the crew of the Raker stood for a time awe-struck at the +desolation they had themselves made, the pirates, ferocious to the +last, had regained their own ship and cut her adrift, and as they paid +off fired a broadside into the Raker, which injured several of her +men. Roused by this, the privateersmen rushed to their guns. The +larboard guns, in obedience to the order of Captain Greene, were +already loaded with grape; while with the starboard Morris commanded +his men to keep up a steady fire at the masts and rigging. + +A fortunate shot from the Raker struck the helms-man on board the +pirate, shattering at the same time the tiller. In a moment the brig +was up in the wind, and taken aback, throwing the pirates into +confusion. + +"Ready about," cried Morris, leaping from the carronade-slide on which +he had raised himself, and taking in at a glance the exposed position +of the enemy--"head her round, and stand ready to give the rascals a +taste from our larboard quarter." + +The Raker ranged across the bows of the pirate, and before he could +regain his headway, raked him with a tremendous broadside of the same +deadly missiles which had already destroyed so many of their comrades. +The wild cries of anguish which arose from the clouds of smoke told +with what destructive effect the death-bolts had been hurled. + +The pirate now paid off and returned an ineffectual broadside, but +rendered ungovernable by the loss of her head-sails and tiller, he +immediately broached-to again, and the privateer poured in another +terrible discharge of grape and canister, raking him fore and aft, +then heaving-to and taking up a position on his bow, she fired +broadside after broadside into him in rapid and deadly succession. The +main-mast now fell over the side, and the pirate at the same time fell +off before the wind, and drew out of the deep mantle of smoke which +had for some time covered both vessels. As the smoke slowly curled up +from the deep it was seen that not a living man was visible upon the +deck of the pirate. Several of her guns were dismounted, and her masts +so cut away that she lay upon the waters a helpless and disabled +wreck. Yet the red ensign of death, though rent into ribbons, still +fluttered from the peak, and the young lieutenant hesitated to board, +having learned caution from the treachery of the pirate. + +While the crew of the Raker were thus occupied in watching their +enemy, a light female form was seen to issue from the hatchway and +gaze around the deck of the pirate. She passed from body to body, but +seemed not to find what she sought. At length she turned her eyes, +streaming with tears, toward the Raker, and pointing to the flag above +her, as if to indicate that there was no one to lower it, she knelt +upon the deck, bowing her head upon her hands. Her long hair fell +over her forehead and trailed upon the blood-stained deck, as she +knelt in mute despair among the dying and the dead. It was a mournful +and singular picture of wo, and there were eyes long unused to tears +that filled to overflowing as they gazed upon her. + +A boat was immediately lowered, and Lieutenant Morris with a dozen of +his crew were soon in possession of the pirate's deck. Upon examining +the brig it was found that she was fast filling with water, and after +conveying to the Raker all that they could lay hands on of value, +including a large amount of precious metal, she was left to her fate. +Not one of her crew was found living, so destructive had been the +continual discharge of grape from the Raker. Florette accompanied them +on board, and wept bitterly as she saw the dead body of the pirate +commander lying in front of his slaughtered followers, but suffered +herself to be led below by Julia, who received her with kindness and +gratitude. + +All sail was now set upon the privateer, and she bore away from the +sinking craft of the pirate upon her former course. The latter vessel, +traversed in every direction by the Raker's terrible fire, was rapidly +settling into the ocean. Suddenly, with a sound like the gushing of an +immense water-spout, a huge chasm opened in the waves--the doomed brig +seemed struggling as if with conscious life, and then lashing the +waters with her shattered spars and broken masts, went down forever +beneath the deep waters, over whose bosom she had so long rode as a +scourge and a terror, with blood and desolation following in her wake. + +Among the effects of the pirate captain which had been conveyed on +board the Raker, a manuscript was found, which seemed to be an +autobiography of his life. For what purpose he had written it can +never be known--most probably from an impulsive desire to give vent on +paper to thoughts and feelings which he could not breathe to any +living person, and which he doubtless supposed would never be perused +by human eye--they show that, savage, and lawless, and blood-thirsty +as he had become, strong and terrible motives had driven him into his +unnatural pursuit, and perchance a tear of pity may fall for him, as +the gentle reader peruses the private records of the scourge of the +ocean. + + +CHAPTER VI. + +_The Pirate's Story._ + +I am the youngest son of a gentleman of the northern part of England. +My father's family is as good as any in the county, for without laying +claim to any title of nobility, our blood is as pure and our lineage +as ancient as the most boasted in England. I had but one brother, who +succeeded at our father's death to the broad lands and rich heritage +of our name. The accursed law of primogeniture, to which I owe all the +evil that has befallen me, of course debarred me from all share in the +family estate. I had refused to enter the army, the church or the +navy, though my inclinations were in favor of the latter profession; +yet a stronger claim than ambition or a roving life kept me on the +paternal estate. It was not that I envied my brother the possession of +the wide bounds over which he ruled, or that I found less happiness in +witnessing his, for I loved my brother, as God is my witness, here, in +my lonely cabin, with this great sea around me, and this broad sky +above me; here, though no eye may ever see these lines, I write, do I +repeat it, I loved my brother dearly and proudly. It was love that +kept me idle at home while other young men of England, belonging to +the same position in society as myself, and in the same unfortunate +category of younger sons, were carving out for themselves fame and +wealth in the service of their country. + +Helen Burnett was the loveliest girl I have ever seen, and I loved her +with all the passionate devotedness of a young and ardent heart; she +was to me the light of life, for all was dark when I was not with her. +She was the only daughter of our village curate, and resided near our +family mansion. We had sported together beneath the venerable trees of +the park from the earliest days of childhood. Until I left home for +college she had seemed to me as a sister, and I had loved her as such +until, on returning home from a long absence at college, I found a +blushing and beautiful young woman where I had expected, forgetting +the rapid work of time, to meet with the same playful and lovely child +I had kissed at parting. She was, indeed, beautiful; tall, graceful, +and even commanding in figure, while the mildness of an angel reposed +in the glance of her deep-blue eyes, and the sweet smile that so often +visited her lips, while her pleasantly modulated voice was music +itself. + + "A lyre of widest range, + Touched by all passion--did fall down and glance + From tone to tone, and glided through all change of liveliest + utterance." + +Her hair was of the darkest shade of brown, resting in soft wave-like +smoothness above her high, pale forehead. Alas! that she was _so_ +lovely! had she been less so, either I might not have loved her, or I +might have been permitted by fortune to have been happy with her. + +After leaving college, my time was all devoted to Helen. She loved me +no less than I loved her; and I looked forward to a quiet and happy +life, picturing the future with colorings of the brightest hope and +joyfulness. + +It was at this time that my brother returned from a long tour of the +Continent. He was one of the handsomest men of the day, and had been +distinguished by the appellation which had accompanied him from court +to court, of "the handsome Englishman." He was of a medium stature, +and faultlessly proportioned; his expansive and intellectual forehead +seemed the seat of lofty thought, and his dark flashing eye, intensely +expressive, seemed to penetrate to the heart of all who met its +glance. I see him now--not in his glorious beauty, but pale--pale, +touched by the cold fingers of death. + +I had too much of the pride of my race to live as a dependent on my +brother's bounty, yet I could not bear the thought of leaving Helen. I +was in no situation to marry, and in an undecided state of mind I +suffered the days to glide away. + +My brother had just come back from a day's angling in the trout-stream +that flowed through his lands. He met me at the park-gate. + +"Well, John," said I, "what luck to-day?" + +"O, William," said he, without heeding my question, "I have seen the +most charming girl--the loveliest one that breathes. She outvies all I +have seen in my travels; do you know her. She is the curate's +daughter." + +I felt a sickness at heart, like the bitterness of death--was it a +presentiment, a warning of evil to come. + +"Say, William?" + +"Yes--yes, she is lovely." + +"She is an angel." + +Sir John passed into the park, and I proceeded, with a strange +melancholy I could not dispel, to meet Helen. She was at her father's +door, and greeted me with her accustomed kindness of voice and manner. + +"Why are you so sad this lovely evening William?" + +"Sad!--am I sad?" + +"You look so." + +"Well, I will be so no longer, then;" and I endeavored to shake off my +depression, but not succeeding, I bade her farewell at an earlier hour +than was my custom. + +From that day my brother's angling excursions became more +frequent--but he seldom returned with a full basket. He often spoke to +me of Helen, but I always replied carelessly, and changed the topic of +conversation to something else, yet when alone, I was in continual +torment from my thoughts. I endeavored to console myself with the +reflection that Helen's love was plighted to me, and that she would +not change, yet my thoughts were continually recurring to my brother's +great advantages over me in every respect, not only in fortune but in +personal appearance; and I had already, in my suspicions, placed him +in the light of a rival for the hand of Helen. I knew his high-minded +and honorable disposition too well to fancy for a moment that he would +attempt her ruin; and I also knew that there was nothing in the +inferior station of Helen's family that would prevent him from seeking +her hand in marriage, if she had compelled his love. + +All that followed might perhaps have been prevented had I at first +told my brother frankly of my love for Helen; but a foolish desire to +prove her love for me, and a certain feeling of self-respect kept me +silent. + +It was not a long time before I either saw, or fancied I saw, a change +in the manner of Helen toward me--the thought was torture. I was for +days undecided how to act, but at length determined to learn the true +state of things. I knew my brother was often at the parsonage, and I +trembled for the result. + +"Helen," I asked her, "is not my brother a frequent visitor here?" + +It was twilight, but I thought I observed a heightened color in her +cheek. + +"Yes, he has been here several times since his return." + +"Dear Helen, answer me frankly, has he ever spoken to you of love?" + +She hesitated, but at length replied, + +"He has." + +"And did you not tell him your vows were plighted to another?" + +"My father entered the room before I made any reply at all." + +"Helen, do you love me now the same as ever you have done?" + +"You have my plighted word, William." Yet there was something +bordering on coldness even in the sweet accents with which she spoke; +the nice instinct of love detects each gradation of feeling with an +unerring certainty. I was not satisfied, and when I left her, I was +more unhappy than ever. I longed to speak to my brother on the +subject, yet some indescribable feeling prevented me; and I allowed +the days to glide away, growing more and more troubled in mind as they +passed by. + +I was now convinced that Helen's affection for me was not what it had +been; and after a short interview with her, in which she had again +repeated her love for me, but in such chilling tones that I felt it +was not from the heart she spoke, I sought the chamber of my brother +in a state almost bordering on madness. All of our race have been of +ungovernable passions, but none more so than myself. I paused at his +door to regain in some degree my self-command, then lifting the latch, +I entered. + +"Ah, brother!" said Sir John, in a cheerful tone. + +"Yes, your younger brother," replied I, bitterly. + +Sir John started with wonder. + +"Why, William, what mean you?" + +I paid no heed to the interruption, but continued growing, if +possible, still more enraged as I proceeded. + +"Are not all the broad lands of our family estate yours--its parks, +its meadows, its streams; this venerable mansion, where the _elder +son_ has rioted for so many generations, leaving the younger to make +his way in the world as best he may." + +"Brother, are you mad? My purse is yours--I have nothing that is not +yours." + +"You have every thing, and not content with that, you have sought to +win away the love of my affianced bride." + +"Who mean you, William?" + +"Helen Burnett." + +My brother turned pale, and gazing upon me for a moment with +astonishment, he heaved a deep sigh, and covered his face with his +hands. + +I folded my arms, and stood looking upon him scornfully, for my +passion had made me consider him in the light of one who had knowingly +stolen away my bride. + +Sir John at length uncovered his face and spoke. + +"I would to God, William, you had told me this sooner." + +"Is it then too late?" I inquired, bitterly. + +"Too late--too late for my happiness, but not too late for justice and +honor. She is yours, William, I resign all pretensions to her hand, +and will cease to visit the parsonage." + +I was touched by the generous spirit of my brother, and by the +mournful shadow which clouded his noble brow. I have ever acted from +impulse, and seizing him by the hand, I said, + +"Not so, John--not so! She is, as I have told you, my affianced bride; +her solemn and oft-repeated vows are mine, and I have thought that her +love was forever mine; but this very night I plainly perceived that a +change has been wrought in her feelings. She treated me with coldness +instead of warmth, and maddened by my interview with her, I rushed +into your presence, and have blamed you unjustly." + +"My dear brother--" + +"No, no, John, I was wrong to accuse you. I should have better known +your nobleness. Henceforth let us stand on equal ground; I do not want +an unwilling bride, and if you can win her love from me, take her, +though it drive me mad." + +A gleam of pleasure passed over Sir John's countenance as he replied, + +"Be it so, my brother, it is but honorable; yet will I at once resign +all hope, and leave the country if you but will it so." + +"Sir John, have you reason to think that Helen loves you?" + +"She has never said so, but I did not think she looked coldly upon +me." + +"She is 'false, false as hell!'" + +"My dear William, however this suite terminate, any thing in my power +shall be done for you. If the estates were not entailed, I would at +once give you a deed for half of them, and then I should have no +advantage over you in wealth or position. Here is an order for a +hundred thousand pounds." + +"Sir John I will accept nothing; if I lose Helen, I shall have no more +to live for, and I warn you, if I become mad from disappointment, do +not cross my path, or I know not the consequence." + +"You do not threaten me." + +I felt the turbulent passions of my nature rising within me, and +fearing that I should lose all self-command, I rushed from the room, +and entering the silent park, I wandered from grove to grove till the +cool air of the night had calmed my raging spirit, when I sought my +own chamber. + +I had never told the worthy curate of my love for his daughter, and +Helen had never been accustomed to depend on him for advice or +consolation. It was to her mother that she had always turned for both, +and that mother had died but a year before the return of my brother. +Mr. Burnett was a quiet student, passionately fond of his books, as +innocent of the world as a child, only fretful and peevish when any +thing occurred to disturb the quiet monotony of his existence, and +apparently unconscious that his little Helen had grown from a child +to a woman. His mind was wholly wrapped up in his studies, even at his +meals it was abstracted, and he retired hastily to his closet. Helen +had no inclination to disturb the serenity of his life, until it +became absolutely necessary that he should be made acquainted with her +engagement to me; and I had been too thoughtless of all but my own +happiness to intrude upon his privacy, confident that his sanction to +our marriage would not be refused whenever demanded. + +I had yet to learn the lesson, bitter and agonizing, that no woman is +proof against the captivating temptations of ambition, and the glare +of wealth. I know but little of the sex; they are called angels, and I +had thought Helen was an angel--alas! I found my mistake. I read my +doom in the averted coldness of her glance; I felt it in the unwilling +pressure of her hand whenever we met, and I knew it when I gazed upon +the countenance of my brother, on which was a quiet glow of happiness +his expressive features could not conceal, even when he knew my +searching glance was upon him. O! the agony of feeling which oppressed +me in those bitter days; I felt all the savage passions of my nature +rising within me; there were moments when I felt as if I could gladly +see my brother and Helen stretched dead at my feet. Day by day these +vindictive thoughts increased within me. It wanted but the finishing +stroke to make me completely mad--it came. Though I had long dreaded +to make the trial, on which all my happiness for this world rested, I +at length determined to put it off no longer. + +The shadows of twilight were settling over the earth as I slowly and +sadly approached the parsonage. My head was bowed upon my breast as I +walked with a noiseless step upon the little path that led to the +unpretending dwelling. I was not aware how near I had come, till a ray +of light from the window fell across the path, and recalled me to +myself. As I stopped, I heard the tones of my brother's voice in low +and earnest conversation. I drew nearer, and beheld a sight which +rooted me to the spot, even though I was not wholly unprepared for +such a scene. + +My brother and Helen were seated in the little arbor before the +parsonage, as she and myself had often before sat when I fancied our +love was lasting as life. In the dim light I could see that my +brother's arm was round her waist, and that her head rested upon his +shoulder. I could hear their conversation. + +"And you do love me, then, Helen?" + +I heard no answer, but the long curls moved slightly upon my brother's +shoulder, and as he bent his head and kissed her, I felt that he was +answered--I was answered--that he _was_ loved. + +My brain burned as if on fire--and I sunk to the earth with a low +groan. How long I remained unconscious I do not know; when I +recovered, Helen and Sir John stood beside me. I sprung to my feet, +and gazed upon them with the glare of a maniac. It was so--my brain +was crazed. + +"William," said Helen. + +Her soft voice fell upon my ears with a singular cadence. With a +fierce laugh I struck my brother to the earth, and rushed forth into +the forest. All that night I must have wandered through its depths. I +found myself at the break of day miles from our mansion, lying beneath +an aged oak. I did not seem to know myself. I cannot now describe the +feelings and thoughts which raged within me. The wild storm which is +now lashing the ocean without my cabin is not more wild and +fierce--the black sky above me is not more dark and gloomy. They +seemed at length to settle into one stern, unchanging emotion, and +that was hatred toward my brother, and a stern determination to +revenge upon him the cruel wrong which had driven me mad. + +My path led along the course of a mountain torrent, whose sudden +descent as it hurried toward the river, formed successive water-falls +not unmusical in their cadence. A few purple beech and drooping +willows with here and there a mountain ash, skirted the ravine that +formed its bed; their leaves had fallen before the blasts of autumn, +they seemed emblematic of myself; like me their glory had +departed--they were shorn of their loveliness by the rough storm, left +bare and verdureless in the chilling breath of autumn; the seasons in +their round would restore to them their beauty and their bloom, +clothing their branches again in all the freshness of youth; but what +should give back to me the freshness and youth of the heart? what +restore the desolation of of the soul? + +Weak and exhausted, I flung myself down in a rude grotto, which +commanded a view of the foaming stream as it washed the rocks below; +it was a scene fitted to my mood, for I turned in disgust from the +beautiful landscape an opening in the forest revealed--the beauty of +earth had forever passed away from me. That same opening, however, +unfolded to the sight the gray towers of my family mansion, and at +once I started to my feet and bent my course toward them. + +At length I reached my home--how hateful every thing about the +venerable building seemed. I stole to my chamber, and falling upon my +couch, slept from pure exhaustion. + +It was night when I awoke. I arose, but did not leave my room; seated +by the window with the cold wind of November blowing upon my burning +brow, I nursed my thoughts of vengeance. I forgot that he against whom +I harbored such thoughts was my only brother; I forgot my self-offered +trial of our powers with Helen; I forgot every thing--every thing but +the fiery feeling of revenge. Yes, I was mad. + +Day after day I wandered around the old castle, shunning every one. My +brother strove to converse with me, but glaring upon him like a maniac +as I was, I rushed past him. I felt the poison of hatred working +within me, and I knew the time was coming when my revengeful spirit +would find its vent. + +I often wandered toward the parsonage, but never sought an interview +with Helen. At times I caught a glimpse of her light form as it passed +by a window or before the open door that led into the hall. One +evening I saw my brother enter, and drawing near the window, I saw +through the slightly-parted curtain, such evidence of their mutual +affection, that, if possible, I became more than ever crazy in my +anguish and despair. I waited for him to come out long hours, hours to +me of bitterest sorrow, to him of most intense delight. It was an +exceedingly cold night. A slight snow had fallen during the day, and +the landscape around me glistening in the moonlight, seemed wrapped in +a robe of the purest white. Yet as I gazed all seemed to turn into the +deep hue of blood--wherever I gazed, every thing presented the same +fearful coloring. It was but the shadowy reflection of a coming deed +that should forever stain my soul with a deeper red, that the years of +eternity could never efface. + +At length my brother opened the door of the parsonage and came forth. +Leaning against the trunk of an old tree but a little distance from +them, I saw and heard the parting acts of endearment. At that terrible +moment the determination of my soul was made, and I heard the dark +devil within me whisper one of you must die. I shuddered at the +thought, but when scarcely out of sight of the parsonage, almost as +soon as the door had closed upon the form of Helen, I confronted my +brother. Sir John started back, surprised. + +"What, William, is it you?" + +I laughed scornfully. + +"My poor brother!" + +"Do you dare to pity me--ha! ha! ha! Sir John! one of us must die this +night--here, upon this spot; here are two pistols, take one of them, +and it will be soon seen which is the fated one." + +Sir John mechanically took the pistol; cocking my own, I retired a few +paces, and turning, exclaimed, + +"Are you ready?" + +My words recalled him to himself; flinging his pistol far into the +wood, he exclaimed, + +"I will not fire at my brother." + +"Coward!" + +"The name belongs not to our race; fire at me if you will, I will not +at you." + +Enraged beyond expression, yet even in my madness ashamed to fire at +an unarmed man, I hesitated. + +My brother spoke. + +"Come, William, let us go home." + +"Home!--ha! ha! ha! my home is the wood and the cave! Here, take my +good-night." + +Thus speaking I flung my pistol full at his face with all my strength; +it struck him lengthwise, and being cocked, went off in consequence of +the concussion. + +Sir John fell upon the cold snow. I rushed up to him, and beheld the +blood flowing in torrents from a ghastly wound; the ball had taken a +downward direction, and penetrated the abdomen. + +"William," he said, faintly, "you have murdered me. God forgive you!" + +It seemed as if my reason came back to me at that terrible moment as +suddenly as it had left me. At the report of my pistol, I had heard a +loud scream in the parsonage, and almost at the same time with myself +Helen rushed up to the side of my brother. + +"Oh!" she cried, in accents of agony, "who has done this?" + +"Who!" said I, bitterly, "do you ask? You have done it; but no, Helen, +I do not mean it--let us carry him into the parsonage." + +With difficulty we lifted the body of my brother, and bearing him into +the house, laid him upon a bed. Helen, who had up to this time been +sustained by the necessity of exertion, fainted beside the body. I +stood gazing upon them in stupid despair. The worthy pastor opened the +door of the room; he had heard an unusual noise, and left his books to +learn the cause. + +I stopped not to converse with him, I could not trust myself to speak, +but stooping to the lifeless form of Helen, I imprinted a last kiss +upon her pale lips, and burst from the chamber. I do not know the +result of that fatal night. It may be that my brother and Helen were +both restored to life and happiness. God grant that it was so. It may +be that the spirits of both had already passed to another world when I +broke from the room, leaving the pale and astonished pastor gazing +upon the lifeless bodies of his only daughter and the young lord of +the manor. Years have passed since then, and not a happy hour have +their long ages borne to me; yet methinks if I could but know that my +brother and Helen are living in happiness in the mansion of my +fathers, much that is dark and despairing in the remnant of life would +be taken from the future. + +That night I bade farewell to the haunts of boyhood, and the next day +I was out upon the broad ocean. I had jumped aboard of a little vessel +which was just weighing anchor, without asking its destination or +caring where it bore me. I made brief reply to all interrogatories, +merely showing a purse of gold, which was sufficient answer, inasmuch +as it showed I was not to be an unprofitable part of the cargo. + +Seated upon the companion-way, that evening I watched the receding +shores of my native isle, and as the sunlight went out on its white +cliffs, leaving them in sombre shade, I felt that so had the light of +my life gone out, leaving the darkness of despair forever. Reckless as +I was of the future, and dark as was the past, I was not yet dead to +all emotion, and I could not witness my native land fading from my +view without experiencing those melancholy feelings which the +endearing recollections of former years excite, embittered as they +were with me by the thought that even if I ever should return to the +home of my fathers, I should find no kindred to welcome me back. No +wonder, then, that I felt a chilling sickness of the heart as I caught +a last glimpse of the Wicklow Mountains gleaming in the warm colorings +of the evening sun, as they mingled their hoary summits with the "dewy +skies" of my native isle. + +The vessel on which I had chanced to take passage was bound for the +West Indies. It was a small merchantman, and fell an easy prey to the +first pirate that gave chase. We were boarded and all consigned to +death. When the command was given to the pirates to shoot us all +through the head, I stepped forward with a smile, and a heart +partaking more of gladness than it had felt for long months, a pistol +was at my temple, when the stern voice of the pirate captain commanded +his man to stay his hand. He stepped forward and gazed into my face. + +"My fine fellow, are you not afraid to die?" + +"I have nothing to live for--blow away, and I will thank you." + +"By heaven, you are just the man for us! Now take your choice, I have +no objection to shoot you, indeed it would be rather pleasant than +otherwise, but one of my lieutenants was killed yesterday, and you can +fill his place if you will. I give you five minutes to decide while we +are dispatching these dogs." I gazed upon the cruel work--it did not +shock me; I even smiled at their agony, and had determined to share +their fate, when a momentary thought of the unknown, mysterious +hereafter restrained my advancing step. Am I ready, thought I, to +plunge into its mysteries. I shuddered at the thought. It was not the +beautiful blue sky unrolled above me, nor the broad, playful sea +around that wooed me to life. No, it was that fear of the "something +after death." + +"Are you ready to answer?" + +"I am thine." + +"It is well, throw these carcasses into the sea, and set all sail for +the Bermudas. Well, lieutenant," continued he, as the ship fell off +before the wind, "give us your name, or it will be awkward work +hailing you." + +"William--" I stopped, the pride of my race arose within me. + +"Well?" + +"I will not give my name--call me William, I'll answer to that." + +"Very well--lieutenant William, my lads, your second lieutenant." + +The men seemed to like me from the first, and as I gazed upon them +with a proud, fearless eye, a hearty cheer arose that endorsed my +command. + +Since then my home has been the pirate's deck; my heart has grown +harder and harder with the lapse of time. I love the sight of blood +better than I love the flowing wine--the agonizing shriek of death +better than the sweetest music--like an emissary of evil I gloat over +the tortures of man. I have learned to hate the land of my birth, and +all who first drew breath upon her detested soil. I have been foremost +in every conflict, yet have I not met death--the only foe whom I +cannot conquer by my fierce will and dark heart. + +I could not long remain a subordinate in command. I had become the +idol of our lawless crew, and a single blow from my sword laid our +captain low in death upon his own deck; and I filled his place, +smiling with a fiendish pleasure, as I saw his body thrown into the +waves, and the hungry sharks severing the limbs yet throbbing with +life. I have no feeling for my kind--yet I was not meant for this. +Under happier auspices, I might have been a leader in the ranks of God +as I am now in those of Satan; my sword might have been drawn for my +native land with the purest and loftiest feelings of patriotism, +instead of being turned against her and her children. Even now, in the +midst of my crimes and desolation, my heart throbs when I think of the +great and good of earth, and I feel that, like them, I might have left +a name of boast and pride to mankind; now, I shall perish, unknown and +unwept; the annals of my house shall never record that one of its +scions led a pirate crew to deeds of bloody cruelty and death. Long +since I have buried my name in oblivion--I am dead to my kindred, dead +to the world; the caves of ocean are yawning for the body of the +pirate-chief, and there will he sleep with the howling ocean and the +shrieking storm to sing his requiem and his dirge. + + [_To be continued._ + + + + +DREAMS. + + + Yes, there were pleasant voices yesternight, + Humming within mine ear a tale of truth, + Reminding me of days ere the sad blight + Of care had dimmed the brightness of my youth: + Yes, they were pleasant voices; but, forsooth, + They threw a kind of melancholy charm + Around my heart; as if in vengeful ruth, + Our very dreams have knowledge of the harm + Ourselves do to ourselves, without the least alarm! + + I love such dreams, for at my couch there stood + One who, in other lands, with magic spell, + Had taught my untaught heart to love the good, + The pure, the holy, which in her did dwell. + It was a lovely image, and too well + I do remember me the fatal hour, + When that bright image--but I may not tell + How deep the thraldom, absolute the power-- + My very dreams decide it was her only dower. + + _Sandwich Islands._ + + What are our dreams? A sort of fancy sketches, + Limned on the mind's retina, with a grace + More subtle than the wakeful artist catches, + And tinted with a more ethereal trace. + Our dreams annihilate both time and space, + And waft us, with magnetic swiftness, back + O'er an oblivious decade to the place + Where youth's fond visions clustered o'er our track; + Of youth's fond hopes decayed, alas! there is no lack! + + I love such dreams, for they are more than real; + They have a passion in them in whose birth + The heart receives again its beau ideal-- + Its Platonized embodiment of worth. + Call ye them dreams! then what a mortal dearth + Throws its gaunt shadow o'er our little life! + Our very joy is mockery of mirth, + And our quiescence agony of strife: + If dreams are naught but dreams, what is our real life? + + E. O. H. + + + + +A LEAF IN THE LIFE OF LEDYARD LINCOLN. + +A SKETCH. + +BY MARY SPENCER PEASE. + +It was in the joyous leaf-giving, life-giving month of June, of 18--, +after an absence of six years, that I found myself once more among my +own dearly loved native hills. + +An intense worshiper of Nature, I had gratified to the utmost my +passion and curiosity by exploring all the accessible regions of the +old world. I had studied every scene that was in any way famous, or +_in_famous I might say with regard to some, if the necessity of +clambering down or up unclimbable precipices, or wading through +interminable swamps, could render them so. + +With all the fatigue and hardships I had undergone my reward was +great, and had more than repaid me for the perilous dangers I had +courted and conquered. I had gazed, and dreamed, and raved by turns. I +had been melted into tears of tenderness by the perfect harmony and +loveliness of some scenes, and had been frozen into awe by the +magnificent grandeur and terrible sublimity of others. And, after +those six years of travel in foreign lands, I had returned, my brain +one endless panorama of hills, valleys and cloud-capped mountains, +earth, skies, wood and water. Not one of those gorgeous scenes, +however, had moved me as I was moved when once again I beheld my +boyhood's home--the stately mansion of my fathers. Half hidden, it +rose majestically amid the noble elms that surrounded it; there lay +the velvet-green sloping lawn in front--down which, as a boy, I had +rolled in the summer and sledded in the winter--there the wild, +night-dark ravine in the rear--fit haunt for elves and gnomes--that +terminated amid jagged rocks and tangled trees, in a rushing, roaring +brook of no mean dimensions, almost as large as many of the so-called +rivers of the mother country. Just at this point, at the turn of the +old time-worn stage-road, where the venerable, picturesque old +homestead of my sires burst thus suddenly into view, an opening in the +trees, whether by accident or design, revealed one of the very +merriest, maddest of musical water-falls, that went foaming and +tumbling its snow-white, sparkling waters over a bed of huge rocks, +and then, by a sudden wilful bend, that same loud-uttering brook was +lost to view. + +As the rattling stage neared my home, my heart leaped within me, and +every fibre of it trembled with emotion. I could have hugged and +kissed each familiar sturdy old tree, looking so grand and natural. My +soul warmed and yearned toward the well remembered scene; and as I +thought upon my fond, doting mother and my loving, lovely sisters, and +my ever-indulgent father, I could have wept in the intensity of my +joy at finding myself so near them, and breathing the same free, pure, +health-giving air that had nurtured my childhood. But was there not +sitting directly opposite to me one of the most exquisitely beautiful +of God's lovely women; and did not her saucy, demure eyes seem to read +my very soul? I therefore restrained a display of my feelings, for it +would not have appeared in the least dignified or proper in a +fine-looking young man (such as I imagined myself to be) of +four-and-twenty, to be seen with eyes streaming like a young girl. + +More than once, during our short stage-coach ride had our eyes met; +and hers had revealed to me a living well of spiritual beauty; and +although they were withdrawn as soon as they encountered mine--not +coquettishly, but with true feminine modesty--still they were not +turned away until our mutual eyes had flashed one electrical spark of +mutual understanding and mutual sympathy, that whole volumes of dull +words could never express either as vividly or as truly. What a +heaven-born mystery is contained in the glance of an eye: it can kill +and can make alive; it can fill the heart with a sudden and delicious +ecstasy, and it can plunge it into the deepest, darkest despair. + +I gave her one last look as the stage stopped before my father's door, +and if it expressed one tithe of what I felt, it told her of my warm +admiration of her glorious beauty, and of my sorrow at leaving her, +perhaps forever, without knowing more of her. + +For the time the matchless image of my stage-coach companion was lost +in the loving embraces and tender greetings of my family. I felt it +truly refreshing, after six years of exile from my own kith and kin, +to be caressed and made much of; to be told by three deliciously +beautiful, exquisitely graceful sisters, hanging around one, and +kissing one every other word, to be told how much the few last years +had improved one, how handsome, &c. one was grown; was it not enough +to somewhat turn one's brain, and make one a little vain and +considerably happy. + +In the still hush of the night, after finding myself once more in my +own room--_my_ room, with its cabinets of shells and mosses, that I +had collected when a boy in my various trips to the seashore, all +religiously left arranged as I had left them, its guns, fishing-rods, +stuffed rabbits and birds, its preserved rattle-snakes and cases of +insects, all of which had stood for so long a time in their respective +places that they had become a part of the room--in the still hush of +the night the divine image of my most beautiful stage-coach companion +arose before me. The evening was warm and soft, and gleaming in the +gorgeous moonlight lay that wild, weird ravine, and the ever downward, +foaming water-fall. Its musical utterings, the delicious moonlight, +and my own newly awakened and hitherto invulnerable heart, all +conspired to make me poetical and inspired, or at least to imagine +myself to be so; and pardon me if I gave utterance in verse to some of +my feelings. But do not in the least imagine that you are going by any +means to be presented with a fatiguing copy of my passionate numbers; +in the first place I am very diffident, and in the next--but never +mind the next, I will tell you in plain prose that I felt convinced in +my heart, I felt a rapturous presentiment that the unutterably lovely +being I had that day beheld would ere long be my own dear little wife, +forever and forever. An indistinct dream of having somewhere, at some +time before, known her haunted me and tormented me, but I racked my +brains in vain to recollect the spot or time, and finally came to the +conclusion that it had been in another state of existence we had met. + +I had been home but a few days when business letters came, demanding +the presence of my father or myself in Philadelphia. My father +expressed a desire that I should go, and a certain internal prompting +urged me to comply with his request. The next morning bright and early +found me seated in the same stage-coach in which I had met her. The +due progress of steamboat and cars deposited me safely the day after +in the goodly city of Squareruledom. + +The first leisure moment at my command, I paid my respects to the +family of my father's brother. I found my good uncle and aunt at home; +but my little pet Emily--their only child--whom I had last seen a rosy +romping little imp of twelve--was unfortunately out. My uncle urged me +very hard to make his house my home during my stay in Philadelphia; +but I had taken up my abode in the family of an old college chum of +mine, who had lately commenced the practice of the art of healing, and +who I knew would be none the worse from a little of my help in a +pecuniary way. I therefore declined my kind uncle's request, with a +promise to come and see them often. + +Judge of my inexpressible joy when, turning a corner of a street, +after leaving my uncle's, who should I chance upon but the very being +of whom my brain and heart were full! Yes, there was the identical +she, and bless her dear little heart! she gave me a bright half smile +of recognition, which I returned with as profound a bow as ever +courtier bowed to queen, or devotee to Pope's sublime imperial toe. + +An omnibus came rolling by, which she, with a motion of her neat +little gloved hand, bid stop. She stepped lightly into it, while I, +with my usual impetuosity, without knowing exactly what I was doing, +sprang after her. I consoled myself for my apparent rudeness by +throwing the entire blame upon the elective affinities. + +On we went, and from time to time as I stole a glance at her sweet +face, I thought I detected a sly, mischievous little devil playing +around the corners of her small dimpled mouth, and about the pure lids +of her downcast long-fringed eyes. She never vouchsafed me a look, +however; and as we went on, and as I still watched her lovely face, a +dread vision arose up before me of a six-foot and well proportioned +youth, with fierce whiskers and a moustache of undisputable cut and +style, that I remembered to have seen with the young lady during our +stage-coach ride together--that I remembered, with a terrible +heart-sinking, was impressively attentive to her. I inwardly resolved +to let nature have her way, and let all the hair grow on my face that +would; what if it did grow a little reddish or so--why I should +resemble the rising sun, with my glory like a halo around me. +Seriously, I have long been of the opinion that a shaved face is as +much of a disgrace, and ought to be so considered, as a shaved head +fresh from prison. Why do we not finish the half completed work and +actually shave off the hair of our heads, our eye-brows and lashes, as +well as our beards, and thus go cool and comfortable through the +world? There would be this advantage in it, the disciples of Spurzheim +would have no trouble of making a map of our bumps at sight; and then +think what an immense saving it would be in combs and brushes, to say +nothing of pomatum, which some so freely use. I rejoice sincerely to +see the sudden rise in crops of hair, and most truly hope they will +not have as rapid a fall. Shaving is artificial and injurious, +exposing parts to cold that Nature never meant should be exposed. +Black, white or red--hair is a protection and ornament that no manly +face or head should be without. Rejoice ye, therefore, over every +repentant sinner who tarrieth in Jericho and letteth his beard to +grow. + +But to return to my little omnibus companion, who by this time was +gracefully moving over the smooth gravel-walks of Fairmount--for there +we had stopped--and exceedingly refreshing were its cool shades and +splashing fountains on that sultry June day. I kept as near her as I +could without appearing rude, especially as I had received one or two +half glances from her bright eyes, that nearly annihilated me, such an +unearthly fluttering and bumping in the region of my heart did they +create. Mercy upon me! what would a whole glance do? And for a whole +glance I courageously resolved to strive, let the consequences be what +they might. + +Now do you not expect an earthquake, or a roaring bull, or at least a +rabid dog? It was nothing more however than a refreshing shower of +rain--truly refreshing to my thirsty soul, for it gave me that coveted +_whole_ glance. Heavens! I actually staggered, and would undoubtedly +have fallen had it not been for a friendly sappling--you will sneer at +witless I--that grew near me. But just try the effect upon yourself--a +shock of electricity is nothing in comparison to a shock from a pair +of bright eyes--such eyes as hers. The truth of the case was here, of +a sudden, apparently from out the clear sky, came down, with not a +moment's warning, a perfect avalanche of rain-drops--all expressly got +up, or down, for my benefit, else why did I happen to have an umbrella +in my hand? "A Wise man--" you remember the rest. My beautiful +incognito was away up those long stairs, and walking leisurely around +the immense basin, when the rain came down. I was not very far from +her, and in less than an instant my umbrella was over her pretty +little blue bonnet, with-- + +"Be kind enough to accept my umbrella, Miss"--in the most insinuating +manner of which I was master. + +"Thank you! but I will not deprive you of its shelter," with that +whole glance of which I spoke. So on we went together, and somehow +after we found ourselves under shelter, it was the easiest and most +natural thing in the world to fall into a pleasant conversation. After +talking about the scenery, weather, &c., we had mutually enjoyed +during our short stage ride, I spoke of the beauty around us, and +asked her if she often visited this lovely spot. + +"Not very often," replied she. "It is very beautiful though, in spite +of all they have done to spoil it." + +"To spoil it!" + +"Yes, by making it as much like a chess-board as possible, all +straight lines and stiffness. That is Philadelphia however." + +"Then you are not a Philadelphian, or it is not a favorite city with +you?" + +"There you are mistaken. It is my native place, and a city I love +dearly--with all its formalities and inhospitalities toward strangers. +Philadelphia is a prim matron, with a warm heart but a most frigid, +repulsive exterior, until you become acquainted with her--one of her +particular children." + +"I have been told that there is a finer collection of works of art +here than in any other city in the Union." + +"I believe you have been told correctly. We have more time in our +quiet way to look after and admire the productions of the great +masters. Our taste has wonderfully improved within a few years." + +"I have not been in town long enough to visit any of your show places +yet." + +"How I _should_ like to see that lovely water-fall and the whole of +that beautiful scene on canvas. Do you know I almost envied you a home +in that beautiful house with all its picturesque surroundings." + +"I am truly thankful you had the kind grace to think of me at all." + +"How could I help it? I had a feeling the first moment I saw you that +you and I were destined to be friends. Is there not a certain +mysterious something--call it magnetism or instinct--that either draws +us toward or repels us from every person we meet in either a greater +or less degree? With me this instinct is very strong, and I obey it +implicitly, never in one instance having found it to fail. I know at +once who to trust and who to love. And would know, by the same +unerring law of my nature, who to hate if ever I felt the least +inclination to hate. The only feeling of hate I ever experienced is a +strong desire to avoid all persons or things that are disagreeable to +me. I love harmony the most perfect, and discord is a thing for me to +flee from. I felt toward you a most decided drawing, and I felt a +conviction then, as I do now, that we are to be very near and dear +friends." + +The little angel! I could have hugged and kissed her on the spot; but +I hugged her in my soul, and inwardly vowed to consecrate my life to +her, if the "drawing" she felt for me could be rendered sufficiently +strong to admit of such a thing. On a sudden I bethought me of the +whiskered incognito, her stage attendant. I mustered courage to ask +her in a half laughing way, if that fine-looking fellow she had called +Charles were her brother. + +Instantly her manner changed from that of sweet and almost tender +seriousness to an arch, quizzical one that puzzled me. + +"Oh no, not my brother," said she. + +"_Not_ her brother--a sharp pang of pain shot through me--I was +getting dreadfully jealous--I looked all manner of curiosity and all +manner of questions; she took pity on me and said--a smile still +lurking in the corner of her eye-- + +"He is no more nor less than the intended future husband of the one +you see before you." + +"The future devil! I sincerely beg your pardon, but--you take me by +surprise--I regret--but really I do not feel that it can be so." + +"And why not?" + +"Truly, why not!" + +"He is very handsome." + +"That is as one thinks." + +"And very accomplished." + +"In flattery, most like." + +"And a most profound scholar." + +"In the art of making love, it would seem." + +"But I do not love him." + +"Not love him!" + +"No, nor never can." + +"Then why, my dearest young lady, do you marry him?" + +"You may well ask; why indeed?" + +"You seemed very friendly with him the day I saw you together, and +happier than I could have wished you." + +"That was before I knew I was to be his wife. It has only been decided +upon a few days." + +"And now?" + +"It is a long story, that I may tell you if we should meet again. I +never can love him, though I greatly esteem him, and--" + +"_Esteem!_" + +"A sad substitute for love; but what is love without esteem?" + +"What is esteem without love?" + +"Very true. It was not my own doing, although I reluctantly gave my +consent. If I can with honor release myself from this unfortunate +engagement--I have thought more and more every day since, that love, +true heart-love, is the only tie that should sanction the union of two +beings--but why should I talk in this way to you, a stranger? I cannot +feel, however that you are a stranger; we have surely met before in +some other state of being. I am a firm believer in the beautiful faith +of the transmigration of souls--of pre-existence. What is it that +brings two congenial souls together, uniting them in one hour in more +perfect harmony than whole years could effect among ordinary +acquaintances?" + +"Something unexplainable," I answered, "as it is mysterious. We can +call it elective affinity, and can talk very learnedly upon the +singular attraction of the magnet, as applied to the poles as well as +souls, and we can make vast and wise experiments, and in the end be as +far from the real cause as we were before the Solomonic experiments +were made. The school-boy's reasoning was more to the point-- + + "I do not like you, Dr. Fell, + The reason why I cannot tell." + +I love you dearly, Dr. Fell, the reason why, &c., would be just as +conclusive. We are so accustomed to seeing drops of water drawing near +to meet each other, and mingling in a loving embrace of perfect unity, +that we cease to wonder at the occurrence, as we do also at the fact +that oil and water will not mingle." + +"Just as my soul will _not_ mingle with the souls of some. There is an +antagonism more or less decided between my inner self and many persons +I know; people, too, that I am compelled to be friendly with, and wish +to be friendly with, many of them my cousins and aunts. Then again +toward some am I as irresistibly attracted." + +Her beautiful eyes sought mine frequently during our conversation, and +her glorious soul looked through them--earnest, simple and pure. + +"Just so," resumed she, after a pause, during which her sweet, soft +eyes had been gazing on the dreamy waters. "Just so have I felt +attracted toward you. I could sit down beside you and tell my whole +soul to you as freely as though you were my own brother." + +The word _brother_ sent a disagreeable shiver through me that all her +sweet confidence could not banish. + +"But," exclaimed she, starting up, "what am I doing? The rain has +stopped, and the waning sun warns me that it is time to be at home. +And what _must_ you think of me? I hardly dare to ask the--" + +"That you are the most lovely, most glorious of all Heaven's glorious +creatures; that you--" + +"There, there! if you talk in that way, I shall truly repent having +said all I have to you." + +"Forgive me; though I spoke sincerely, I hope--" + +"I will forgive on condition of good behavior in future. But I must +not stay for another word. Promise me that you will not leave this +spot until ten minutes after the omnibus I shall be in is out of +sight." + +"I promise," said I, reluctantly. + +She gave me her little, soft, ungloved hand at parting; its gentle +pressure sent a thrill of ecstasy through me, and I looked all the +unutterable things that my full soul felt into her warm brown eyes. +And, by the way, I may as well say that my own eyes are--they are a +dark, deep blue, and strangely expressive, if I believe my sisters +and my friends, and--my own glass. + +For one week did I wander up and down the streets, and watch every +omnibus, and stare into the windows and doors of every house I passed. +I peered under every pretty bonnet I met, and was, on the eighth day, +giving full chase to a coquettish little blue one, in the earnest hope +of finding the sweet face of my beautiful incognita hidden under it, +when some one laid a strong grasp on my shoulder, and looking around, +I beheld the generous face of my good uncle. + +"Bless the boy! why, Led, what is your hurry? Your business must have +been _very_ urgent this last week. Why, in the name of all the saints, +have you kept away so studiously? There is poor little Emily actually +dying with anxiety to see you. Bless my soul! is this the way to treat +your friends? But now that I have fairly captured you, I do not intend +to let you go." + +And he did not, and would not; so I had to go with him. And what do +you think? The first object that met my bewildered gaze, as my uncle +led me into the drawing-room, was--herself! her very self! but so +altered, looking so cold and stately. My uncle introduced me to her as +"My daughter Emily, nephew Ledyard." "My daughter Emily" inclined her +beautiful head most graciously, and sweetly smiled, but not one +recognizing glance did she deign to bestow on poor "nephew Ledyard." +Lovely she was, and proud and majestic as a queen. What could it mean? +I made several well-planned alluions to omnibuses and stages, &c., not +one of which did she seem to comprehend. + +Her exceeding beauty still charmed me in spite of her coldness; and I +stayed to tea and then the evening. My cousin sung for me; her voice +was highly cultivated and exceedingly sweet, and full of feeling. Song +after song she poured forth into the listening air, and each song +entranced me more than the last. + +We conversed gayly on several topics, and she grew more and more +familiar with me, alluded playfully to our childish intimacy; still, +to the very close of the evening, did she refuse to remember by look +or word that we had met since children. She evidently wished to +forget, and wished me to forget the whole of that pleasant interview +that had afforded _me_, at least, such soul-felt delight; yet she +acted her part so well, was so careless and unconscious, and withal so +cold and full of queenly dignity, that I went home in a perfect +bewilderment of amazement. + +As I lay tossing on a sleepless bed, and in my heart bitterly railing +against the perversity and incomprehensibility of women, I found +myself incessantly repeating to myself, "Am I Giles, or am I not;" the +truth flashed upon me that I was the unhappy victim of an optical +illusion, that the Cousin Emily I had but a little before left was +simply my Cousin Emily, and not the beautiful being of whom my heart +and life were full--that incessant thinking of her, and seeking her, +had crazed my brain. I relighted my lamp and made my way into the +doctor's study. I read all I could find on the subject of optical +delusion and maniacal hallucination until I convinced myself that I +was laboring under a very alarming attack of one or both, and resolved +on seriously consulting my friend, the doctor, early the next morning. + +I went back to bed with the decided opinion that I was exceedingly to +be pitied--how would it appear in the papers? for I must undoubtedly +grow worse, and it must undoubtedly end in suicide. "Sad occurrence," +"nice young man," "brilliant prospects," "only son of--," and +"promising talents," "laboring under incipient insanity," "fatal cause +unknown," &c., &c. I sympathized with myself until near morning, then +fell into a sleep, which lasted until the bell rung for breakfast. I +dressed in a hurry, and got down before the muffins were quite cold. I +ate a hearty breakfast, read a newspaper or two, and determining on +seeing my cousin again before I made up my mind to ask advice, I soon +found myself at her door. The fresh morning air and the walk had so +invigorated me, that I laughed at my last night's fears, especially as +my lovely cousin came into the drawing-room to receive me, radiant +with health and beauty. I found her just the same as she was the night +before, gay, witty and charming, and as cold as marble. Still I could +not be mistaken; for, with all her feigned coldness--for some good +reason of her own undoubtedly--there was no doubting her identity with +that of my glorious Fairmount vision. + +The day was a lovely one, soft and mild as a June morning could make +it. After conversing on indifferent subjects for a time, I asked her, +remarking on the deliciousness of the morning, if she would not like +to go out with me to Fairmount. She assented with a quiet smile, as +innocently as though she had never in her life before heard of such a +place as Fairmount. + +"The little-deceiver!" thought I. "Which way shall we go?" said I, +aloud, and very significantly, "shall we take the omnibus?" + +"I will order the carriage," replied she, with a slight shrug; "I +never ride in those omnibusses, one meets with such odd people." + +"_Never?_" asked I, emphatically. + +"Certainly, never!" answered she, with much apparent surprise. + +My drive was a delightful one. How could it be otherwise, with a +glorious day surrounding me, and a gloriously beautiful cousin sitting +beside me, with whom I could not exactly make up my mind whether to +fall desperately _in_ love, or desperately _out_ of love. I, too, such +an enthusiastic lover of beauty. But she chose to be so different from +what she was at our first meeting--so reserved, that I could not +decide whether I most loved or was most indifferent to her. + +We rode all the morning, and I left her, promising to call again in +the evening. I walked the streets until dark, the whole affair vexed +me so much--I, such a hater of all mysteries, the most impatient of +all breathing mortals. I determined to come at once to an +understanding with my perverse little cousin, and to decide at once +the puzzling question whether to love or not to love. + +In the evening I found myself alone with my little tormentor. + +"Now, sweet Cousin Emily," said I, playfully, "you have been teazing +me long enough with your pretty affectation of ignorance and +innocence--not but that you are as ignorant as the rest of your sweet +sex, and as innocent too--but, I beseech you, lay by this +masquerading, you have played possum long enough. I humbly implore of +you to be the same to me that you were in our first visit to +Fairmount--the earnest, simple-hearted Cousin Emily you then were." + +"Mr. Lincoln speaks in enigmas; I must confess I do not understand his +meaning, nor his elegant allusion to 'playing possum.'" + +This she said with so much haughtiness, that I was taken all aback. +Rallying, however, in a moment I determined not to give up the point. + +"I beseech of you to pardon the inelegance of my expression, and also +my pertinacity in insisting upon some explanation of your manner +toward me. It will all do very well for the stage," continued I, +bitterly, "but in real life, among cousins, and two that have met so +frankly, and in such sincerity, I feel that our acquaintanceship must +at once end, pleasant as it has been, as it might be to me, unless you +lay aside this assumed coldness. It harasses me more than I can +express. Emily, after seeing you in the stage-coach, I thought I had +never met with one half so lovely, and I could think of nothing but +you. After remaining at home but one week, business called me to +Philadelphia. Judge of my delight when almost the first object that +met my view was your beautiful, unforgotten little self. You were just +stepping into one of those very omnibusses you have since seen fit to +decry. What followed you must remember as distinctly as I--no _not_ as +distinctly, for the whole of that delicious interview is engraven on +my heart--one of the sun-bright scenes of my life that I can never +forget. And now, after that beautiful interchange of thought and soul +that promised--every thing, do I find you cold, impassive. If you +repent the trust you so freely reposed in me, in all frankness, say +so; but for the sweet love of heaven, do not pretend to such--" + +"For the sweet love of heaven what is the man raving about? Are you +mad, dear cousin, insane? Poor Cousin Ledyard! Or is it--?" her whole +manner changed, her brilliant eyes lighted up with intense fire. How +beautiful she looked! I could have knelt and worshiped her, though, +strange to say, my restless, ardent love for her had entirely abated. +"Yes!" exclaimed she, "it must be so;" and with that she clasped her +small white hands, and throwing back her fine head, laughed with all +her heart, and strength, and soul. + +This was very pleasant for me; still I had to join her laugh, it was +so genuine and infectious. + +"Forgive me, dear cousin, forgive me for my rude laughter; forgive me +also for my folly in attempting to deceive you. You will hereafter +find me the same you found me in our first pleasant interview. Here is +my hand--I will not explain one other word to-night; I hear voices on +the stairs. Come here to-morrow evening at eight, and you shall know +all--all my reasons." + +"And why not to-morrow morning, cruel cousin?" + +"I am engaged all of the day to-morrow. I go with mamma and papa out +of town, ten miles or so, to dine; a stupid affair, but mamma wishes +it." + +"But before you go--just after breakfast." + +"No, no--come in the evening." + +By this time the voices heard on the stairs had entered the room in +the shape of a merry half-dozen of my cousin's young friends. Feeling +too agitated for society, I withdrew. + +And now another night and a whole day more of suspense--that pale +horror, that come in what shape it will, even in the shape of a +beautiful cousin, always torments the very life from my heart. + +All the clocks in town were striking eight as I rung my uncle's bell. +I found the drawing-room full of company, at which I felt vexed and +disappointed. + +My lovely cousin came up to me and placed her arm within mine, and led +me through the next room into the conservatory, and there, seated amid +the rare eastern flowers, herself the queen of them, was, gracious +heaven! I dared scarcely breathe, so great was my fear of dispelling +the beautiful illusion. It was she! none other; my stage-coach +companion--my Fairmount goddess. The musical, measured voice of my +statue-like Cousin Emily brought me to myself. + +"Allow me. Cousin Ledyard, to introduce you to _my_ Cousin Emily." + +There they both stood, one Cousin Emily, calm, stately, serene; the +other trembling and in blushes. + +I looked from one to the other in the most ludicrous bewilderment, yet +each glance showed me more and more what a wonderful fool I had been +making of myself for the last few days. Still they were strangely +alike; their own kindred could not at times distinguish one from the +other. My heart could feel the difference. _My_ Emily was a child of +nature, the other bred in a more conventional school. My Emily was a +shade less tall, less stately, less Grecian, and exquisitely more +lovely, and loving. + +But that double wedding _was_ a grand one. By what means my Emily +contrived to disentangle herself from that handsome-whiskered +"Charles," and to entangle him fast in the chains of the other Emily, +any one who wishes to know, and will take the trouble, can have all +due information on the subject, and can also learn how I wooed my +peerless Emily and won her, by coming to our lovely picturesque +dwelling, situate in one of the most romantic spots in the country. I +write you all to come, one by one, and spend a month with me, and you +shall know all the particulars. You will find my little Emily a +pattern housekeeper; you will also find a ready welcome. Bless her +sweet face! There she sits, at the moment that I am writing this to +you, with her willow arms twined around the exquisite form of her +little lily-bud boy, and bending low her graceful form over him, +hushing to sleep the very bravest, noblest, merriest little specimen +of babyhood--the exact image of his enraptured father. + + + + +THE DEFORMED ARTIST. + +BY MRS. E. N. HORSFORD. + + + The twilight o'er Italia's sky + Had wove a shadowy veil, + And one by one the solemn stars + Looked forth serene and pale; + As quickly the waning light + Through a high casement stole, + And fell on one with silver hair, + Who shrived a passing soul. + + No costly pomp and luxury + Relieved that chamber's gloom, + But glowing forms, by limner's art + Created, thronged the room: + And as the low winds echoed far + The bell for evening prayer, + The dying painter's earnest tones + Fell on the languid air. + + "The spectral form of Death is nigh, + The thread of Life is spun, + Ave Maria! I have looked + Upon my latest sun. + And yet 'tis not with pale disease + This frame is worn away, + Nor yet--nor yet with length of years-- + A child but yesterday" + + "I found within my father's hall + No fervent love to claim-- + The curse that marked me from my birth + Devoted me to shame. + I saw upon my brother's brow + Angelic beauty lay, + The mirror gave me back a form + That thrilled me with dismay." + + "And soon I learned to shrink from all, + The lowly and the high; + To see but scorn on every lip, + Contempt in every eye. + And for a time e'en Nature's smile + A bitter mockery wore, + For beauty stamped each living thing + The wide creation o'er;" + + "And I alone was cursed and loathed; + 'Twas in a garden bower + I knelt one eve, and scalding tears + Fell fast on many a flower; + And as I rose I marked with awe + And agonizing grief, + A frail mimosa at my feet + Fold close each fragile leaf." + + "Alas! how dark my lot if thus + A plant could shrink from me; + But when I looked again I marked + That from the honey-bee, + The falling leaf, the bird's gay wing, + It shrunk with pain and fear, + A kindred presence I had found, + Life waxed sublimely clear." + + "I climbed the lofty mountain height + And communed with the skies, + And felt within my grateful heart + Strange aspirations rise. + Oh! what was this humanity + When every beaming star + Was filled with lucid intellect, + Congenial, though afar." + + "I mused beneath the avalanche, + And traced the sparkling stream, + Till Nature's face became to me + A passion and a dream:" + Then thirsting for a higher lore + I left my childhood's home, + And stayed not till I gazed upon + The hills of fallen Rome. + + "I stood amid the forms of light, + Seraphic and divine, + The painter's wand had summoned from + The dim Ideal's shrine; + And felt within my fevered soul + Ambition's wasting fire, + And seized the pencil with a vague + And passionate desire" + + "To shadow forth, with lineaments + Of earth, the phantom throng + That swept before my sight in thought, + And lived in storied song. + Vain, vain the dream--as well might I + Aspire to build a star, + Or pile the gorgeous sunset clouds + That glitter from afar." + + "The threads of life have worn away, + Discordantly they thrill, + But soon the sounding chords will be + Forever mute and still. + And in the spirit-land that lies + Beyond, so calm and gray, + I shall aspire with truer aim-- + Ave Maria! pray!" + + + + +A FAREWELL TO A HAPPY DAY. + +BY FRANCES S. OSGOOD. + + + Good-bye--good-bye, thou gracious, golden day: + Through luminous tears, thou smilest, far away + In the blue heaven, thy sweet farewell to me, + And I, through _my_ tears, gaze and smile with thee. + + I see the last faint, glowing, amber gleam + Of thy rich pinion, like a lovely dream, + Whose floating glory melts within the sky, + And now thou'rt passed forever from mine eye! + + Were we not friends--_best_ friends--my cherished day? + Did I not treasure every eloquent ray + Of golden light and love thou gavest me? + And have I not been true--most true to thee? + + And _thou_--thou earnest like a joyous bird, + Whose sacred wings by heaven's own air were stirred. + And lowly sang me all the happy time + Dear, soothing stories of that blissful clime! + + And more, oh! more than this, there came with thee, + From Heaven, a stranger, rare and bright to me, + A new, sweet joy--a smiling angel-guest, + That softly asked a home within my breast. + + For talking sadly with my soul alone, + I heard far off and faint a music-tone, + It seemed a spirit's call--so soft it stole + On fairy wings into my waiting soul. + + I _knew_ it summoned me to something sweet, + And so I followed it with faltering feet; + And found--what I had prayed for with wild tears-- + A rest, that soothed the lingering grief of years! + + So for that deep, perpetual joy, my day! + And for all lovely things that came to play + In thy glad smile--the pure and pleading flowers + That crowned with their frail bloom thy flying hours-- + + The sunlit clouds--the pleasant air that played + Its low lute-music 'mid the leafy shade-- + And, dearer far, the tenderness that taught + My soul a new and richer thrill of thought-- + + For these--for all--bear thou to Heaven for me + The grateful thanks with which I mission thee! + Then should thy sisters, wasted, wronged, upbraid, + Speak _thou_ for me--for thou wert not betrayed! + + 'Twas little--true--I could to thee impart-- + I, with my simple, frail and wayward heart; + But that I strove the diamond sands to light, + In Life's rich hour-glass, with _Love's_ rainbow flight; + + And that one generous spirit owed to me + A moment of exulting ecstasy; + And that I won o'er wrong a queenly sway-- + For this, thou'lt smile for me in Heaven, my Day! + + + + +SAM NEEDY. + +A TALE OF THE PENITENTIARY. + +BY LOUIS FITZGERALD TASISTRO. + + +Several years ago, a man of the name of Samuel Needy, a poor artisan, +was living in London. He had with him a wife, and a child by this +wife. This artisan was skillful, quick, intelligent, very ill-treated +by education, very well-treated by nature--able to think, but not to +read. One winter his work failed him--there was neither fire nor food +in his garret; the man, the woman, and the child were cold and hungry; +he committed a theft; it is unnecessary to state what he stole, or +whence he stole it. Suffice it to know, that the consequences of this +theft were three days' food and fire to the wife and child, and five +years of imprisonment to the man. + +Sam Needy, lately an honest man, now and henceforth a thief, was +dignified and grave in appearance; his high forehead was already +wrinkled, though he was still young; some gray lines lurked among the +black and bushy tufts of his hair; his eye was soft, and buried deep +beneath his lofty and well-turned eye-brow; his nostrils were open, +his chin advancing, his lip scornful; it was a fine head--let us see +what society made of it. + +He was a man of few words--more frequent gestures--somewhat imperious +in his whole manner, and one to make himself obeyed; of a melancholy +air--rather serious than suffering; for all that he had suffered +enough. + +In the place where he was confined there was a director of the +work-rooms--a kind of functionary peculiar to prisons, who combined in +himself the offices of turnkey and tradesman, who would at the same +time issue an order to the workman and threaten the prisoner--put +tools in his hand and irons on his feet. This man was a variety of his +own species--a man peremptory, tyrannical, governed by his fancies, +holding tight the reins of his authority, and yet, on occasion, a boon +companion, jovial and condescending to a joke--rather hard than +firm--reasoning with no one--not even himself--a good father, and +doubtless a good husband--(a duty, by the way, and not a virtue;) in +short, evil but not bad. The principal, the diagonal line of this +man's character was obstinacy; he was proud of it, and therein +compared himself to Napoleon, when he had once fixed what he called +_his will_ upon an absurdity, he went to its furthest length, holding +his head high, and despising all obstacles. Such violence of purpose +without reason, is only folly tied to the tail of brute force, and +serving to lengthen it. For the most part, whenever a catastrophe, +whether public or private, happens amongst men, if we look beneath the +rubbish with which it strews the earth, to find in what manner the +fallen fabric had been propped, we shall, with rare exceptions, +discover it to have been blindly put together by a weak and obstinate +man, trusting and admiring himself implicitly. Many of the smaller of +these strange fatalities pass in the world for providences. Such was +he who was the director of the work-rooms in the House of Correction +where poor Sam Needy was sent to undergo his sentence. Such was the +stone with which society daily struck its prisoners to draw sparks +from them. The sparks which such stones draw from such flints often +kindle conflagrations. + +In a short time Sam found the prison air natural to him, and appeared +to have forgotten every thing; a certain severe serenity, which +belonged to his character, had resumed its mastery. + +In about the same time he had acquired a singular ascendency over all +his companions, as if by a sort of silent agreement, and without any +one knowing wherefore, not even himself. All these men consulted him, +listened to him, admired and imitated him, (the last point to which +admiration can mount.) It was no slight glory to be obeyed by all +these lawless natures; the empire had come to him without his own +seeking--it was a consequence of the respect with which they beheld +him. The eye of a man is a window, through which may be seen the +thoughts which enter into and issue from his heart. + +Place an individual who possesses ideas among those who do not, at the +end of a given time, and by a law of irresistible attraction, all +their misty minds shall draw together with humility and reverence +round his illuminated one. There are men who are iron, and there are +men who are loadstone. Sam Needy was loadstone. In less than three +months he had become the soul, the law, the order of the work-room; he +was the dial, concentrating all rays; he must even himself have +sometimes doubted whether he were king or prisoner--it was the +captivity of a pope among his cardinals. + +By as natural a reaction, accomplished step by step, as he was loved +by the prisoners, so was he detested by the jailers. It is always +thus, popularity cannot exist without disfavor--the love of the slaves +is always exceeded one degree by the hate of their masters. + +Sam Needy was, by his particular organization, a great eater; his +stomach was so formed, that food enough for two common men would +hardly have sufficed for his nourishment. Lord Slickborough had one of +these large appetites, and laughed at it; but that which is a cause of +gayety for a British peer, with a rent-roll of fifty-thousand pounds +a year, is a heavy charge to an artisan, and a misfortune to a +prisoner. + +Sam Needy, free in his own loft, worked all day, earned his four +pounds of bread, and ate it; Sam Needy, in prison, worked all day, +and, for his pains, received invariably one pound and a half of bread, +and four ounces of meat; the ration admits of no change. Sam was +therefore constantly hungry whilst in the House of Correction; he was +hungry, and no more--he did not speak of it because it was not his +nature so to do. + +One day Sam, after devouring his scanty pittance, had returned to his +work, thinking to cheat his hunger by it--the rest of the prisoners +were eating cheerily. A young man, pale, fair, and feeble-looking, +came and placed himself near him; he held in his hand his ration, as +yet untouched, and a knife; he remained in that situation, with the +air of one who would speak, and dares not. The sight of the man, and +his bread and meat annoyed Sam. + +"What do you want?" said he, rudely. + +"That you would do me a service," said the young man, timidly. + +"What?" replied Sam. + +"That you would help me to eat this--it is too much for me." + +A tear stood in the proud eye of Sam; he took the knife, divided the +young man's ration into two equal parts, took one of them, and began +eating. + +"Thank you," said the young man; "if you like, we will share together +every day." + +"What is your name?" said Sam. + +"Heartall." + +"Wherefore are you here?" + +"I have committed a theft." + +"And I too," said Sam. + +Henceforth they did thus share together every day. Sam Needy was +little more than thirty years old, but at times he appeared fifty, so +stern were his thoughts usually. Heartall was twenty--he might have +been taken for seventeen, so much innocence was there in his +appearance. A strict friendship was knit up between the two, rather of +father to son than brother to brother, Heartall being still almost a +child, Sam already nearly an old man. They wrought in the same +work-room--they slept under the same vault--they walked in the same +airing-ground--they ate of the same bread. Each of these two friends +was the universe to the other--it would seem that they were happy. + +Mention has already been made of the director of the work-rooms. This +man, who was abhorred by the prisoners, was often obliged, in order to +enforce obedience, to have recourse to Sam Needy, who was beloved by +them. On more than one occasion, when the question was, how to put +down a rebellion or a tumult, the authority without title of Sam Needy +had given powerful aid to the official authority of the director; in +short, to restrain the prisoners, ten words from him were as good as +ten turnkeys. Sam had many times rendered this service to the +director, wherefore the latter detested him cordially. He was jealous +of him; there was at the bottom of his heart a secret, envious, +implacable hatred against Sam--the hate of a titular for a real +sovereign--of a temporal against a spiritual power; these are the +worst of all hatreds. + +Sam loved Heartall greatly, and did not trouble himself about the +director. One morning when the turnkeys were leading the prisoners, +two by two, from their dormitory to the work-room, one of them called +Heartall, who was by the side of Sam, and informed him that the +director wished to see him. + +"What does he want with you?" said Sam. + +"I do not know," replied the other. + +The turnkey took Heartall away. + +The morning past; Heartall did not return to the work-room. When the +dinner hour arrived, Sam expected that he should rejoin Heartall in +the airing-ground--but no Heartall was there. He returned into the +work-room, still Heartall did not make his appearance. So passed the +day. At night, when the prisoners were removed to their dormitory, Sam +looked out for Heartall, but could not see him. It would seem that he +must have suffered much at that moment, for he addressed the +turnkey--a thing which he had never done before. + +"Is Heartall sick?" was his question. + +"No," replied the turnkey. + +"Why is it, then, that he has not again made his appearance to-day?" + +"Ah," replied the turnkey, carelessly, "they have put him in another +ward." + +The witnesses who deposed to these facts at a later period, remarked, +that at this answer, Sam's hand, in which was a lighted candle, +trembled a little. He again asked, calmly, + +"Whose order was this?" + +The turnkey said "Mr. Flint's." + +The name of the director of the work-rooms was Flint. + +The next day went by like the last, but no news of Heartall. + +That evening, when the day's work ended, Mr. Flint came to make his +usual round of inspection. As soon as Sam Needy saw him, he took off +his cap of coarse wool, buttoned his gray vest, sad livery of the +work-house, (it is a principle in prisons, that a vest, respectfully +buttoned, bespeaks the favor of the superior officers,) and placed +himself at the end of his bench, waiting till the director came by. He +passed. + +"Sir," said Sam. + +The director stopped and turned half round. + +"Sir," said Sam, "is it true that Heartall's ward has been changed?" + +"Yes," returned the director. + +"Sir," continued Sam, "I cannot live without Heartall; you know that +with the ration of the house I have not enough to eat, and that +Heartall shared his bread with me." + +"That was his business," replied the director. + +"Sir, is there no means of getting Heartall replaced in the same ward +as myself?" + +"Impossible! it is so decided." + +"By whom?" + +"By myself." + +"Mr. Flint," persisted Sam, "the question is my life or death, and it +depends upon you." + +"I never revoke my decisions." + +"Sir, is it because I have given you offence?" + +"None." + +"In that case," said Sam, "why do you separate me from Heartall?" + +"_It is my will_" said the director. + +With this explanation he went away. + +Sam Needy stooped his head and made no answer. Poor caged lion, from +whom they had taken his dog! + +The grief of this separation in no way changed the prisoner's almost +disease of voracity. Nor was he, in other respects, obviously altered. +He did not speak of Heartall to any of his comrades. He walked alone +in the airing-ground, in the hours of recreation, and suffered +hunger--nothing more. + +Nevertheless, those who knew him well, remarked something of a +sinister and sombre expression which daily overspread his countenance +more and more. In other respects he was gentler than ever. Many wished +to share their ration with him, but he refused with a smile. + +Every evening, after the explanation which the director had given him, +he committed a sort of folly, which, in so grave a man, was +astonishing. At the moment when the director, in the progress of his +habitual duty, passed by Sam Needy's working-frame, he would raise his +eyes, gaze steadily upon him, and then address to him, in a tone full +of distress and anger, combining at once menace and supplication, +these two words only--"_remember Heartall_!" the director would either +appear not to hear, or pass on, shrugging his shoulders. + +He was wrong. It became evident to all the lookers on of these strange +scenes, that Sam Needy was inwardly determined on some step. All the +prison awaited with anxiety the result of this strife between +obstinacy and resolution. + +It has been proved, that once Sam said to the director, "Listen, sir, +give me back my comrade; you will do well to do it, I assure you. Take +notice that I tell you this." + +Another time, one Sunday, when he had remained in the airing-ground +for many hours in the same attitude, seated on a stone, his elbows on +his knees, and his forehead buried in his hands, one of his +fellow-convicts approached him, and cried out, laughing, + +"What are you about here, Sam?" + +Sam raised his stern head slowly, and said, "_I am sitting in +judgment!_" + +At last, on the evening of the 1st of November, 1833, at the moment +when the director was making his round, Sam Needy crushed under his +foot a watch-glass, which he had that morning found in the corridor. +The director inquired whence that noise proceeded. + +"It is nothing," said Sam. "It is I, Mr. Flint--give me back my +comrade." + +"Impossible!" said his master. + +"It must be done though," said Sam, in a low and steady voice, and +looking the director full in the face, added, "reflect, this is the +first of November, I give you till the 10th." + +A turnkey made the remark to Mr. Flint that Sam Needy threatened him, +and that it was a case for solitary confinement. + +"No, nothing of the kind," said the director, with a disdainful smile, +"we must be gentle with these sort of people." + +On the morrow, another convict approached Sam Needy, who walked by +himself, melancholy, leaving the other prisoners to bask in a patch of +sunshine at the further corner of the court. + +"What now, Sam--what are you thinking of? You seem sad." + +"_I am afraid_," said Sam, "_that some misfortune will happen soon to +this gentle Mr. Flint_." + +There are nine full days from the 1st to the 10th of November. Sam +Needy did not let one pass without gravely warning the director of the +state, more and more miserable, in which the disappearance of Heartall +placed him. The director, worn out, sentenced him to four-and-twenty +hours of solitary confinement, because his prayer was too like a +demand. This was all that Sam Needy obtained. + +The 10th of November arrived. On this day Sam arose with such a serene +countenance as he had not worn since the day when _the decision_ of +Mr. Flint had separated him from his friend. When risen, he searched +in a white wooden box, which stood at the foot of his bed, and +contained his few possessions. He drew thence a pair of sempstress's +scissors. These, with an odd volume of Cowper's poems, were all that +remained to him of the woman he had loved--of the mother of his +child--of his happy little home of other days. Two articles, totally +useless to Sam; the scissors could only be of service to a woman--the +book to a lettered person. Sam could neither sew nor read. + +At the time when he was traversing the old hall, which serves as the +winter walk for the prisoners, he approached a convict of the name of +Dawson, who was looking with attention at the enormous bars of a +window. Sam was holding the little pair of scissors in his hands; he +showed them to Dawson, saying, "To-night I will divide those bars with +these scissors." + +Dawson began to laugh incredulously. Sam joined him. + +That morning he worked with more zeal than usual--faster and better +than ever before. A little past noon he went down on some pretext or +other to the joiner's workshop, on the ground-floor, under the story +in which was his own. Sam was beloved there as every where else; but +he entered it seldom. Thus it was--"Stop, here's Sam!" They got round +him; it was a perfect holyday. He cast a quick glance around the room. +Not one of the overlookers was there. + +"Who has a hatchet to lend me?" said he. + +"What to do?" was the inquiry. + +"Kill the director of the work-rooms." + +They offered him many to choose from. He took the smallest of those +which were very sharp, hid it in his trowsers, and went out. There +were twenty-seven prisoners in that room. He had not desired them to +keep his secret; they all kept it. They did not even talk of it among +themselves. Every one separately awaited the result. The thing was +straight-forward--terribly simple. Sam could neither be counseled nor +denounced. + +An hour afterward he approached a convict sixteen years old, who was +lounging in the place of exercise, and advised him to learn to read. +The rest of the day was as usual. At 7 o'clock at night the prisoners +were shut up, each division in the work-room to which they belonged, +and the overseers went out, as it appears was the custom, not to +return till after the director's visit. Sam was locked in with his +companions like the rest. + +Then there passed in this work-room an extraordinary scene, one not +without majesty and awe, the only one of the kind which is to be told +in this story. There were there (according to the judiciary deposition +afterward made) four-and-twenty prisoners, including Sam Needy. As +soon as the overseers had left them alone, Sam stood up upon a bench, +and announced to all the room that he had something to say. There was +silence. + +Then Sam raised his voice, and said, "You all know that Heartall was +my brother. Here they do not give me enough to eat; even with the +bread which I can buy with the little I earn, it is not sufficient. +Heartall shared his ration with me. I loved him at first because he +fed me, then because he loved me. The director, Mr. Flint, separated +us; our being together could be nothing to him--but he is a +bad-hearted man, who enjoys tormenting others. I have asked him for +Heartall back again. You have heard me. He will not do it. I gave him +till the 10th, which is to-day, to restore Heartall to me. He ordered +me into solitary confinement for telling him so. I, during this time, +have sat in judgment upon him, and condemned him to death. In two +hours he will come to make his round. I warn you that I am about to +kill him. Have you any thing to say on the matter?" All continued +silent. + +He went on; he spoke (so it appears) with a peculiar eloquence, which +was natural to him. He declared that he knew he was about to do a +violent deed, but could not think it wrong. He appealed to the +conscience of his four-and-twenty listeners. He was placed in a cruel +extremity; the necessity of doing justice to himself was a strait into +which every man found himself driven at one time or other; he could +not, in truth, take the director's life without giving his own for it; +but it was right to give his life for a just end. He had thought +deeply on the matter, and that alone, for two months; he believed he +was not carried away by passion, but if it were so, he trusted they +would warn him. He honestly submitted his reasons to the just men whom +he addressed. He was about to kill Mr. Flint; but if any one had any +objection to make, he was ready to hear it. + +One voice alone was raised to say, that before killing the director, +Sam ought to make one last attempt to soften him. + +"It is fair," said Sam. "I will do so." + +The great clock struck the hour--it was eight. The director would make +his appearance at nine. + +No sooner had this extraordinary court of appeal ratified the sentence +he had submitted to it, than Sam resumed his former serenity. He +placed upon the table all the linen and garments he possessed--the +scanty property of a prisoner--and calling to him, one after the +other, those of his companions whom he loved best after Heartall, he +divided all amongst them. He only kept the little pair of scissors. +Then he embraced them all. Some of them wept--upon these he smiled. + +There were moments in this last hour, when he chatted with so much +tranquillity, and even gayety, that many of his comrades inwardly +hoped, as they afterward declared, that he might perhaps abandon his +resolution. + +He perceived a young convict who was pale, who was gazing upon him +with fixed eyes, and trembling doubtless from expectation of what he +was about to witness. "Come, courage, young man," said Sam to him, +softly, "it will be only the work of a moment." + +When he had distributed all his goods, made all his adieux, pressed +all their hands, he interrupted the restless whisperings which were +heard here and there in the dim corners of the work-room, and +commanded that they should return to their labor. All obeyed him in +silence. + +The apartment in which this passed was an oblong hall, a +parallelogram, lighted with windows on its two longer sides, and with +two doors opposite each other at the two ends of the room. The +working-frames were ranged on each side near the windows, the benches +touching the wall at right angles, and the space left free between the +two rows of frames formed a sort of avenue, which went straight from +one door to the other, crossing the hall entirely. It was this which +the director traversed in making his inspection; he was to enter at +the south door, and go out by the north, after having looked at the +workmen on the right and left. Commonly he passed through quickly and +without stopping. + +Sam Needy had reseated himself on his bench, and had betaken himself +to his work. All were in expectation--the moment approached; on a +sudden they heard the clock strike. Sam said, "It is the last +quarter." Then he rose, crossed gravely a part of the hall, and placed +himself, leaning on his elbow, on the first frame on the left hand +side, close to the door of entrance; his countenance was perfectly +calm and benign. + +Nine o'clock struck--the door opened--the director came in. + +At that moment the silence of the work-room was as of a chamber full +of statues. + +The director was alone as usual; he entered with his jovial, +self-satisfied, and stubborn air, without noticing Sam, who was +standing at the left side of the door, his right hand hidden in his +trowsers, and passed rapidly by the first frames, tossing his head, +mumbling his words, and casting his glance, which was law, here and +there, not perceiving that the eyes of all who surrounded him were +fixed upon him as upon a fearful phantom. On a sudden he turned +sharply round, surprised to hear a step behind him. + +It was Sam Needy, who for some instants followed him in silence. + +"What are you about there?" said the director. "Why are you not in +your place?" + +Sam Needy answered respectfully, "Because I have something to say to +you, Mr. Flint." + +"What about?" + +"Concerning Heartall." + +"Still Heartall!" exclaimed the director. + +"Always," replied Sam. + +"Be quiet," said the director, walking on again. "You are not content, +then, with your four-and-twenty hours of solitary confinement?" + +Sam followed him--"Mr. Flint, give me back my comrade." + +"Impossible!" + +"Sir," said Sam, in a tone which might have softened the heart of a +fiend, "I entreat you, restore Heartall to me. You shall see how well +I will work. To you who are free, it is no matter--you do not know +what the worth of a friend is; but I have only the four walls of my +prison. You can come and go, I have nothing but Heartall--give him +back to me. Heartall fed me--you know it well. It will only cost you +the trouble of saying yes. What can it be to you that there should be +in the same room one man called Sam Needy, another called +Heartall?--for the thing is simply that, Mr. Flint; good Mr. Flint, I +beseech you earnestly, for Heaven's sake!" + +Sam had probably never before said so much at one time to a jailer; +exhausted with the effort, he paused. The director replied, with an +impatient gesture, + +"Impossible--I have said it; speak to me no more about it, you wear me +out." + +Then, as if in a hurry, he stepped on more quickly, Sam following. +Thus speaking, they had reached the door of exit; the prisoners looked +after them, and listened breathlessly. + +Sam gently touched the director's arm. "At least let me know why I am +condemned to death--tell me why you have separated him from me?" + +"I have told you," answered the director; "_it is my will_." + +He turned his back upon Sam, and was about to take hold of the latch +of the door. + +On this answer Sam had retreated a step; the assembled statues who +were there saw him bring out his right hand, and the hatchet with it; +it was raised, and ere the victim could utter one cry, three blows, +one upon the other, had cleft his skull. At the moment, when he fell +back, a fourth blow laid his face open; then, as if his frenzy, once +let loose, _could not stop_, Sam struck a fifth blow; it was +useless--he was dead. + +"Now for the other!" cried the murderer, and threw away the hatchet. +That other was himself. They saw him draw from his bosom the small +pair of scissors, and before any one could attempt to hinder him, bury +them in his breast. The blade was too short to penetrate. He struck +them in again and again, so many as twenty times. "Accursed heart! +cannot I then reach you?" and finally fell in a dead swoon, bathed in +his blood. + +Which of these men was the victim of the other? + +When Sam returned to consciousness, he was in bed, well attended, his +wounds carefully bandaged; a humane nurse was about his pillow, and +more than one magistrate, who asked him, with the appearance of great +interest, "Are you better?" + +He had lost a great quantity of blood, but the scissors with which he +had wounded himself, had done their duty ill--none of the wounds were +dangerous. + +The examinations commenced. They asked him if it were he who had +killed the director of the work-rooms. He replied, "It was." They +asked him why he had done it. He answered--_it was his will._ + +After this the wounds festered. He was seized with a severe fever, of +which he only did not die. November, December, January, and February, +went over in recovering him and preparing for his trial; physicians +and judges alike made him the object of their care--the former healed +his wounds, the latter made ready his scaffold. To be brief, on the +5th of April, 1834, he appeared, being perfectly cured, before the +Court of Sessions. + +Sam made a good appearance before the court; he had been carefully +shaved, his head was bare; he was dressed in the sad prison livery of +two shades of gray. + +When the trial was entered upon, a singular difficulty presented +itself. Not any of the witnesses of the events of the 10th of +November, would make a deposition against Sam. The presiding judge +threatened them with his discretionary power in vain. Sam then +commanded them to give evidence. All their tongues were loosed. They +related what they had seen. + +Sam Needy listened with profound attention. When one of them, out of +forgetfulness, or affection for him, omitted some of the circumstances +chargeable upon the accused, Sam supplied them. By this means the +chain of facts which has been related was unfolded before the court. + +There was one moment when some of the females present wept. The clerk +of the court summoned the convict, Heartall. It was his turn to come +forward. He entered, staggering with emotion--he wept. The police +could not prevent his falling into the arms of Sam. Sam raised him, +and said with a smile to the attorney-general, "Here is a villain who +shares his bread with those who are hungry." Then he kissed Heartall's +hand. + +The list of witnesses having been gone through, the attorney-general +rose and spoke in these words: "Gentlemen of the jury, society would +be shaken to its foundation if public vengeance did not overtake such +great criminals as this man, who, etc., etc." + +After this memorable discourse, Sam's advocate spoke. The pleader +against, and the pleader for, made each in due order, the evolutions +which they are accustomed to make in the arena which is called a +criminal court. + +Sam did not think that all was said that might be said. He arose in +his turn. He spoke in a manner which must have amazed all the +intelligent persons present on the occasion. It appeared as if there +were more of the orator than the murderer in this poor artisan. He +spoke in an upright attitude, with a penetrating and well-managed +voice; with an open, sincere, and steadfast gaze, with a gesture +almost always the same, but full of command. There were moments in +which his genuine, lofty eloquence stirred the crowd to a murmur, +during which Sam took breath, casting a bold gaze upon the bystanders. +Then again, this man, who could not read, was as gentle, polished, +select in his language, as a well-informed person--at other moments +modest, measured, attentive, going step by step over the irritating +parts of the argument, courteous to his judges. Once only he gave way +to a burst of passion. The attorney-general had proved in his speech +that Sam Needy had assassinated the director without any violence on +his part, and consequently _without provocation_. + +"What!" exclaimed Sam Needy, "I have not been provoked! Ay--it is very +true--I understand you. A drunken man strikes me with his dagger--I +kill him, I have been provoked; you show mercy to me, you send me to +Botany Bay. But a man who is not drunk, who has the perfect use of his +reason, wrings my heart for four years, humbles me for four years, +pierces me with a weapon every day, every hour, every minute, in some +unexpected point for four years. I had a wife, for whose sake I became +a thief--he tortures me through that wife; a child for whom I +stole--he tortures me through that child. I have not bread enough to +eat--a friend gives it me; he takes away my friend and my food. I ask +for my friend back--he condemns me to solitary confinement. I speak to +him--him, the spy--respectfully; he answers me in dog's language. I +tell him I am suffering--he tells me I wear him out. What would you, +then, that I should do? I kill him. It is well--I am a monster; I have +murdered this man; I have not been provoked. You take my life for +it--be it so." + +The debates being closed, the presiding judge made his impartial and +luminous summing up. The results were these: a wicked life--a wretch +in purpose. Sam Needy had begun by stealing--he then murdered. All +this was true. + +When the jury were about being conducted to their apartment, the judge +asked the accused if he had any thing to say upon the questions before +them. + +"Little," replied Sam, "only this; I am a thief and an assassin. I +have stolen, and have slain a man. But why have I stolen? Why have I +murdered? Add these two questions to the rest, gentleman of the jury." + +After a quarter of an hour's deliberation on the part of the twelve +individuals whom he had addressed as _gentlemen of the jury_, Sam +Needy was condemned to death. + +Their decision was read to Sam, who contented himself with saying, "It +is well--but why has this man stolen? Why has this man murdered? These +are questions to which they make no answer." + +He was carried back to prison--he supped almost gayly. + +He had no wish to make an appeal against his sentence. The old woman +who had nursed him entreated him with tears to do so. He complied out +of kindness to her. It would appear as if he had resisted till the +very last moment, for when he signed his petition in the register, the +legal delay of three days had expired some minutes before. The +benevolent old nurse gave him a crown. He accepted the money and +thanked her. + +While his appeal was pending, offers of escape were made him. There +was thrown, one after the other, in his dungeon, through its air-hole, +a nail, a bit of iron file, and the handle of a bucket. Any of these +three tools would have been sufficient to so skillful a man as Sam +Needy to cut through his irons. He gave up the nail, the file, and the +handle to the turnkey. + +On the 10th of June, 1834, seven months after the deed, its expiation +arrived. That day, at seven o'clock in the morning, the recorder of +the tribunal entered Sam Needy's dungeon, and announced to him that he +had not more than an hour to live. His petition was rejected. + +"Come," said Sam, coldly, "I have this night slept well, without +troubling myself that I should sleep still better the next." + +It would appear as if the words of strong men always receive a certain +dignity from approaching death. + +The chaplain arrived--then the executioner. He was humble to the one, +gentle to the other. + +He maintained a perfect ease of spirit. He listened to the chaplain +with extreme attention, accusing himself of many things, and +regretting that he had not been instructed in religion. + +At his request they had given him back the scissors with which he had +wounded himself. One blade, which had been broken in his breast, was +wanting. He entreated the jailor to have these scissors taken to +Heartall as from himself. + +He besought those who bound his hands to place in his right hand the +crown-piece which the good nurse had given him--the only thing which +was now remaining to him. + +At a quarter to eight he was led out of his prison, with the customary +mournful procession which attends the condemned. He was pale; his eyes +were fixed on the chaplain--but he walked with a firm step. + +He ascended the scaffold gravely. He shook hands with the chaplain +first, then the executioner, thanking the one, forgiving the other. +The executioner _pushed him back gently_, says one account. At the +moment when the assistant put the hideous rope round his neck, he made +a sign to the chaplain to take the crown-piece which he had in his +right hand, and said to him, "_For the poor_." At that moment the +clock was striking eight, the sound from the steeple drowned his +voice, and the chaplain answered that he could not hear him. Sam +waited for an interval between two of the strokes, and repeated with +gentleness, "_For the poor_." + +The eighth stroke had scarcely sounded when this noble and intelligent +criminal was launched into eternity. + + + + +THE ANGEL OF THE SOUL. + +BY J. BAYARD TAYLOR. + + + Una stella, una notte, ed una croce. _Antonio Bisazza._ + + + Silence hath conquered thee, imperial Night! + Thou sit'st alone within her void, cold halls, + Thy solemn brow uplifted, and thy soul + Paining the space with dumb and mighty thought. + The dreary wind ebbs, voiceless, round thy form, + Following the stealthy hours, that wake no stir + In the hushed velvet of thy mantle's fold. + Thy thoughts take being: down the dusky aisles + Go shapes of good, and beckoning ghosts of crime, + And dreams of maddening beauty--hopes, that shine + To darken, and in cloudy height sublime, + The spectral march of some approaching Doom! + Nor these alone, oh! Mother of the world, + People thy chambers, echoless and vast; + Their dewy freshness like ambrosial cools + Life's fever-thirst, and to the fainting soul + Their porphyry walls are touched with light, and gleams + Of shining wonder dazzle through the void, + Like those bright marvels which the travele'rs torch + Wakes from the darkness of three thousand years, + In rock-hewn sepulchres of Theban kings. + Prophets, whose brows of pale, unearthly glow + Reflect the twilight of celestial dawns, + And bards, transfigured in immortal song, + Like eager children, kneeling at thy feet, + Unclasp the awful volume of thy lore. + + My soul goes down thy far, untrodden paths, + To the dim verge of being. There its step + Touches the threshold of sublimer life, + And through the boundless empyrean leaps + Its prayer, borne like a faint, expiring cry, + To angel-warders, listening as they pace + The crystal walls of Heaven. Down the blue fields + Of the untraveled Infinite, they come: + Beneath their wings one sweet, dilating wave + Thrills the pure deep, and bears my soul aloft, + To walk amid their shining groups, and call + Its guardian spirit, as an orphan calls + His vanished brother, taken in childhood home: + + "White through my cradled dreams thy pinions waved, + Lost Angel of the Soul! thy presence led + The babe's faint gropings through the glimmering dark + And into Being's conscious dawn. Thy hand + Held mine in childhood, and thy beaming cheek + Lay close, like some fond playmate's, to mine own. + Up to that boundary, whence the heart leaps forth + To life, like some wild torrent, when the rains + Pour dark and full upon the cloudy hills, + Thy gentle footsteps wandered near to mine. + Be with me now! Oh, in the starry hush + Of the deep night, that holds the earthly down + In all my nature, bring to me again + The early purity, which kept thy hand + From the entrancing harp it held in Heaven! + Through the warm starting of my hoarded tears, + Let me behold thine eyes divine, as stars + Gleam through the twilight vapors of the sea! + + "Not yet hast thou forsaken me. The prayer + Whose crowning fervor lifts my nature up + Midway to God, may still evoke thy form. + Thou hast been with me, when the midnight dew + Clung damp upon my brow, and the broad fields + Stretched far and dim beneath the ghostly moon; + When the dark, awful woods were silent near, + And with imploring hands toward the stars + Clasped in mute yearning, I have questioned Heaven + For the lost language of the book of Life. + Oh, then thy face was glorious, and thy hair + On the white moonbeam floating, veiled thy brow, + But in the holy sadness of thine eye + Which held my spirit, tremblingly I saw, + Through rushing tears, the sign of angel-grief + O'er the false promise of diviner years. + From the far glide of some descending strain + Of tenderest music I have heard thy voice; + And thou hast called amid the stormy rush + Of grand orchestral triumph, with a sound + Resistless in its power. I feel the light, + Which is thine atmosphere, around my soul, + When a great sorrow gulfs it from the world. + + "Come back! come back! my heart grows faint, to know + How thy withdrawing radiance leaves more dim + The twilight borders of the night of Earth. + Now when the bitter truth is learned; when all + That seemed so high and good but mocks its seeming-- + When the warm dreams of youth come shivering back, + In the cold chambers of the heart to die-- + When, with the wrestling years, familiar grows + The merciless hand of pain, desert me not! + Come with the true heart of the faithful Night, + When I have cast away the masquing garb + Of hollow Day, and lain my soul to rest + On her consoling bosom! From the founts + Of thine exhaustless light, make clear the road + Through toil and darkness, into God's repose!" + + + + +SCOUTING NEAR VERA CRUZ. + +A SKETCH OF THE LATE CAMPAIGN. + +BY ECOLIER. + + +Hours before day, Lieutenant Rolfe and his party were threading the +mazes of the chapparal. The moon glistened upon their bayonets and +bright barrels. Their path lay in a southwesterly direction, near the +old road to Orizava. Here it passed through a glade or opening, where +the moonbeams fell upon a profusion of flowers, there it reentered +dark alleys among the clustering trees, where the "trail arms" was +given in a half whisper. The boughs met and locked overhead, and the +thick foliage hid the moon from sight. Now a bright beam escaping +through some chance opening in the leaves, quivered along the path, +and scared the wolf in his midnight wanderings. Out again upon the +open track through the soft grass, and winding around the wild maguey, +or under the claw-shaped thorns of the musquit. A deer sprung from his +lair among the soft flowers--looked back for a moment at the strange +intruders, and frightened at the gleaming steel, dashed off into the +thicket. The woods are not silent by night, as in the colder regions +of the north. The southern forest has its voices, moonlit or dark. All +through the livelong night sings the mock-bird--screams the "loreto." +From dark till dawn, you hear the hoarse baying of the "coyote," and +the dismal howl of the gaunt gray wolf. The cicada fills the air with +its monotonous and melancholy notes. In all these sounds there is a +breathing, a wild voluptuousness that tells you you are wandering in +the clime of the sun--amidst scenes like those rendered classical by +the pen of St. Pierre. They who have read the sweet French romance, +will recognize his faithful painting of tropical pictures. The sunny +glades--and shady arbors--the broad green and yellow leaves--the tall +palm-trees, with their long, lazy feathers and clustering fruits +waving to the slightest breeze, and looking the same as in that sea +island where they flung their changing shadows over the loves of Paul +and Virginia. Scouting at night, and to strangers (as were Rolfe and +his men) in the land, was not without its perils. Objects of alarm +were near and around. The nopal rose before you like the picket of an +enemy. Its dark column gleaming under the false light of the moon is +certainly some sentinel on the outpost. A halt is the consequence, and +silent and cat-like one of the party, on his hands and knees, steals +nearer and nearer, through the thorny brambles, until the true nature +of the apparition betrays itself, in the shape of a huge column of +prickly pear. He then returns to his comrades, and the obstacle is +passed, some one as he passes, with a muttered curse, slashing his +sabre through the soft trunk of the harmless vegetable. + +The wild maguey grasps you by the leg, as though some hideous monster +had sprung from the bushes. You start and rush forward, only to be +dragged back among the elastic leaves. It is useless to struggle. You +must either return and unwind yourself by gentle means, or leave the +better part of your cloth inexpressibles in the ruthless fangs of the +plant. The ranchero fences his limbs with leather, or with leggings of +tiger-skin. It is not fancy or choice to wear leather breeches in +Mexico. Necessity has something to say in fixing the fashion of your +small clothes. + +When day broke, Rolfe and his party were ten miles from camp--ten +miles from the nearest American picket, and with only thirty men! They +were concealed in a thicket of aloes and musquit. This thicket crowned +the only eminence for miles in any direction. It commanded a view of +the whole country southward to the Alvarado. + +As the sun rose the forest echoed with sounds and song. The leaves +moved with life, as a thousand bright-plumed birds flashed from tree +to tree. The green parrot screamed after his mate, uttering his wild +notes of endearment. They are seen in pairs flying high up in the +heavens. The troupiale flashed through the dark foliage like a ray of +yellow light. Birds seemed to vie with each other in their songs of +love. Amidst these sounds of the forest, the ear of Rolfe caught the +frequent crowing of cocks, the barking of dogs, and the other +well-known sounds of the settlement. These were heard upon all sides. +It was plain that the country was thickly settled, though not a house +was visible above the tree-tops. The thin column of blue smoke as it +rose above the green foliage proved the existence of dwellings. + +At some distance, westward, an open plain lay like an emerald lake. +The woods that bordered it were of a darker hue than the meadow-grass +upon its bosom. In this plain were horses feeding, and Rolfe saw at a +glance that they were picketed. Some of them had dragged their +laryettes and were straying from the group. There appeared to be in +all about an hundred horses. It was plain that their owners were not +far off. A thin blue smoke that hung over the trees on one side of the +meadow gave evidence of a camp. The baying of dogs came from this +direction, mingled with the sounds of human voices. It was evidently a +camp of the "Jarochos," (guerilleros.) + +Suddenly a bugle sounded, wild and clear above the voices of the +singing-birds, a few notes somewhat resembling the dragoon +stable-call. The horses flung up their heads and neighed fiercely, +looking toward the encampment. Presently a crowd of men were seen +running from the woods, each carrying a saddle. The few strays that +had drawn their pickets during the night, came running in at the +well-known voices of their masters. The saddles were flung on and +tightly girthed--the bits adjusted and the laryettes coiled and hung +to the saddle-horns, in less time than an ordinary horseman would have +put on a bridle. Another flourish of the bugle, and the troop were in +their saddles and galloping away over the greensward of the meadow in +a southerly direction. The whole transaction did not occupy five +minutes, and it seemed to Rolfe and his party, who witnessed it, more +like a dream than a reality. The Jarochos were just out of musket +range. A long shot might have reached them, but even had Rolfe +ventured this, it would have been with doubtful propriety. Rumor had +fixed the existence of a large force of the enemy in this +neighborhood. It was supposed that at least a thousand men were on the +Alvarado road, with the intention of penetrating our lines, with +beeves for the besieged Veracruzanos. + +"They got off in good time, sergeant," muttered Rolfe, "had they but +waited half an hour longer--Oh! for a score of Harney's horses!" + +"Lieutenant, may I offer an opinion?" asked the sergeant, who had +raised himself and stood peering through the leafy branches of a +cacuchou-tree. + +"Certainly, Heiss, any suggestion--" + +"Wal, then--thar's a town," the sergeant lifted one of the leafy +boughs and pointed toward the south-east--a spire and cross--a white +wall and the roofs of some cottages were seen over the trees. "Raoul +here, who's French, and knows the place, says it's Madalin--he's been +to it--and there's no good road for horses direct from here--but the +road from Vera Cruz crosses that meadow far up--now, lieutenant, it's +my opinion them thieving Mexicans is bound for that 'ere place--Raoul +says it's a good sweep round--if we could git acrosst this yere strip +we'd head 'em sure." + +The backwoodsman swept his broad hand toward the south, to indicate +the strip of woods that he desired to cross. The plan seemed feasible +enough. The town, although seemingly near, was over five miles +distant. The road by which the guerrilleros had to reach it was much +farther. Could Rolfe and his party meet them on this road, by an +ambuscade, they would gain an easy victory, although with inferior +numbers, and Rolfe wished to carry back to camp a Mexican prisoner. +This was the object of the scout, to gain information of the force +supposed to be in the rear of our lines. The men, too, were eager for +the wild excitement of a fight. For what came they there? + +"Raoul," said Rolfe, "is there any path through these woods?" + +"Zar is, von road I have believe--oui--Monsieur Lieutenant." + +Raoul was a dapper little Frenchman, who had joined the army at Vera +Cruz, where we found him. He had been a sort of market-gardener for +the plaza, and knew the back country perfectly. He had fallen into bad +odor with the rancheros of the _Tierra Caliente_, and owed them no +good-will. The coming of the American army had been a perfect godsend +to Raoul, who was now an American volunteer, and, as circumstances +afterward proved, worthy of the title. + +"Close teecket, monsieur," continued the Frenchman, "but there be von +road, I make ver sure, by that tree, vot you call him, big tree." + +Raoul pointed to some live-oaks that formed a dark belt across the +woods. + +"Take the lead, Raoul." + +The little Frenchman sprung out in front and commenced descending into +the dark woods beneath. The party was soon winding through the shadowy +aisles of a live-oak forest. The woods were at first open and easy. +After a short march they came to a small stream, bright and silvery. +But what was the surprise of Rolfe to find that the path here gave +out, and on the opposite bank of the rivulet the trees grew closer +together, and the woods were almost woven into a solid mass, by the +lianas and other creeping plants. These were covered with blossoms. In +some places a wall of snow-white flowers rose up before you. Pyramidal +forms of foliage, green and yellow, over which hung myriads of +vine-blossoms, like a scarlet mantle. Still there was no path--at +least to be trodden by human foot. Birds flew around, scared in their +solitary haunts. The armadilla and the wolf stood at a distance with +glaring eyes. The fearful-looking guana scampered off upon the +decaying limbs of the live-oak, or the still more fearful cobra di +capella glided almost noiselessly over the dry leaves and brambles. + +Raoul confessed that he had been deceived. He had never traveled this +belt of timber. The path was lost. + +This was strange. A path had conducted them thus far, but on reaching +the stream had suddenly stopped. Soldiers went up and down the +water-course, and peeped through the trellis of vines, but to no +purpose. In all directions they were met by an impenetrable chapparal. + +Chafing with disappointment, the young officer was about to retrace +his way, when an exclamation from Heiss recalled him. The backwoodsman +had found a clew to the labyrinth. An opening led into the thicket. +This had been concealed by a perfect curtain of closely woven vines, +covered with thick foliage and flowers. It appeared at first to be a +natural door to the avenue which led from this spot, but a slight +examination showed that these vines had been trained by human hands, +and that the path itself had been kept open by the same agency. +Branches were here and there lopped off and cast aside, and the ground +had the marks of human footsteps. The track was clear and beaten, and +Rolfe ordering his men to follow noiselessly, in Indian file, took the +lead. For at least two miles they traced the windings of this forest +road, through dark woods, occasionally opening out into green flowery +glades. The bright sky began to gleam through the trees. Farther on +and the breaks became larger and more frequent. An extensive clearing +was near at hand. They reached it, but to their astonishment, instead +of a cultivated farm, which they had been expecting to see, the +clearing had more the appearance of a vast flower-garden. The roofs +and turrets of a house were visible near its centre. The house itself +appeared of a strange oriental style, and was buried amidst groves of +the brightest foliage. Several huge old trees spread their branches +over the roof, and their leaves hung around the fantastic turrets. + +What should have been fields were like a succession of huge +flower-beds--and large shrubs, covered with sheets of pink and white +blossoms that resembled wild roses. This shrubbery was high enough to +conceal the approach of Rolfe and his party as they followed the +path--apparently the only one which led to the house. + +On nearing this, the officer halted his men in a little glade, and +taking with him Heiss and the boy Gerry, (who might return for the men +in case of a surprise,) proceeded to reconnoitre the strange-looking +habitation. + +A wall of ivy, or some perennial vine, lay between him and the house. +A curtain of green leaves covered the entrance through this wall. This +appeared to have grown up by neglect. As Rolfe lifted this festoon, to +pass through, the sound of female voices greeted him. These voices +reached his ear in tones of the lightest mirth. At intervals came a +clear ringing laugh from some throat of silver, and then a plunging, +splashing sound of water. Rolfe conjectured that some females were in +the act of bathing, and not wishing to intrude upon them sat down for +a moment outside the wall. The sounds of merriment were still heard, +and among the soft tones the officer imagined that he could +distinguish the coarser voice of a man. Curiosity now prompted him to +enter. Moreover, he reflected that if there were men there already +there could not be much impropriety in his taking a share in the +amusement. + +Drawing aside the curtain of leaves he looked in. The interior was a +garden, but evidently in a neglected state. It appeared the ruin of a +once noble garden and shrubbery. Broken fountains and statues +crumbling among weeds, and untrained rose-trees, met the eye. The +voices were more distinct, but those who uttered them were hidden by +a hedge of jessamines. Rolfe stepped silently up to this hedge and +peeped through an opening. The picture presented was indeed an +enchanting one. + +A large fountain lay between him and the house filled with crystal +water. In this fountain two young girls were plunging and diving about +in the wildest abandon of mirth. The water was not more than waist +deep, and the arms and bosoms of the young girls appeared above its +surface. They were strikingly alike, in all except color. In this +there was a marked contrast. The neck, arms and bosom of one seemed +carved from snow-white marble, while the other's complexion was almost +as dark as mahogany. There was the same cast of features, the same +expression in both countenances, and their forms, just emerging from +the slender figure of girlhood, were exactly alike. Their long hair +trailed after them, black and luxuriant, on the surface of the water, +as they plunged and swam from one side of the basin to the other. A +huge negress sat upon the edge of the fountain, seemingly enjoying the +bath as much as those who partook of it. It was the voice of this +negress that Rolfe had mistaken for that of a man. + +The young officer did not hesitate a moment, but stole gently back and +regained his comrades. + +Then striking through the flowery fields that stretched away toward +the wood in the rear, he commenced searching for the path that led +from the woods in a direction opposite to that whence he had come, +without disturbing the inmates of this peaceful mansion. Finding this +path on the other side, the party entered and hastily kept on, in +order to intercept the guerilleros, whom they still hoped to fall in +with. In these hopes they were not disappointed, for emerging from the +woods near Medellin they came upon the guerilleros, with whom they had +a sharp skirmish. Rolfe and his party were successful, killing two of +the guerrilla and taking the same number prisoners. + +The young girls continued their pleasant pastime, little dreaming how +near to them had been these strange and warlike visiters. + + + + +I WANT TO GO HOME + +BY RICHARD COE, JR. + + + "I want to go home!" saith a weary child, + That hath lost its way in straying; + Ye may try in vain to calm its fears, + Or wipe from its eyes the blinding tears, + It looks in your face, still saying-- + "I want to go home!" + + "I want to go home!" saith a fair young bride, + In anguish of spirit praying; + Her chosen hath broken the silver cord-- + Hath spoken a harsh and cruel word, + And she now, alas! is saying-- + "I want to go home!" + + "I want to go home!" saith the weary soul, + Ever earnest thus 'tis praying; + It weepeth a tear--heaveth a sigh-- + And upward glanceth with streaming eye + To its promised rest, still saying-- + "I want to go home!" + + + + +THE HUMBLING OF A FAIRY. + +BY G. G. FOSTER. + + +The Princess Dewbell was confessed to be the queen of the ball, +notwithstanding that the beauty and grace and wit of the whole realm +were there, for it was the birth-night festival of the fairy princess, +and her royal father, with all a parent's fond pride, had exhausted +invention, and impoverished extravagance, to give _eclat_ to the +occasion. The walls of his ancestral palace were sparkled all over +with dew-drops, which a troop of early bees had spent all the summer +mornings in collecting and preserving in the royal patent +dew-preserver, invented by one of the native geniuses of the realm. +These brilliant mirrors, flashing in the light of ten thousand +fire-flies of the royal household, whose whole lives had been expended +in learning how to carry their dainty lamps about so as to produce the +finest effects, reflected the forms of the ladies and the dazzling +military trappings of the handsome cavaliers, (there was war at that +time between the glorious empire of Fairydom and the weak and +infatuated republic of Elfland on its southern borders, and the +epaulette and spurs were the only pass to the hearts of the fair,) +imbuing them with an infinitude of prismatic hues, all softened into a +kind of timed starlight, exquisite as the dying voice of music. In +this gorgeous saloon, at the head of which sat, well pleased, the +benevolent old King Paterflor and his modest and still lovely queen +Sweetbine, all were noble and accomplished and beautiful and gay; but +the charms of the Princess Dewbell, just bursting into the richness of +full-grown fairyhood, were so surpassing that none had ever been found +to question, even in their own hearts, her supremacy. This, perhaps, +may appear strange to many of my pretty readers, but they must +remember that mine is a faithful chronicle of fairies--not of women. +The princess was standing lightly touching--it could not be said that +she leaned against--the slender stalk of a garden lily, that rose like +an emerald column of classic mould above her lovely form, and expanded +into a graceful dome of transparent and crimson-veined cornelian above +her head. Her eyes were cast pensively (at the Musical Fund Hall it +would have been called coquettishly) upon the ground, and ever and +anon she tossed her proud head with an imperious gesture, until the +streaming curls waved and parted around her cheek and neck, like +vine-leaves about a marble column as the south wind creeps among them +soliciting for kisses. The lady Dewbell, amid all this scene of +enchantment, which spread out before and around her, as if her own +loveliness had breathed it into existence, still was discontented; +sad, perhaps, at the total absence of care in her bosom, and sighing +for a sorrow. Unhappy lady Dewbell! She had so many hundred times been +told, what she herself believed full well, that she was absolutely +the most beautiful creature in existence, that the tale had lost its +interest. The champagne of flattery, its creaming foam long ago melted +into the brain, stood untasted before her, dull and flat as the +subsided fountain poured by the last rain-shower into the tulip's cup. +And so the fairy princess stood listless and apart from the joyous +revel, her little form swaying lightly to and fro, with the +undulations of the lily-stem against which she more perceptibly +rested. It is well for Root and Collins and Plumbe that the royal +daguerreotyper was laid up in a cowslip, with a broken skylight which +he had received in a rough-and-tumble with a gnat, about the ownership +of a particular ray of light, at last sunsetting. + +But if the lady Dewbell were queen of the ball, the noble knight Sir +Timothy Lawn was as undisputedly worthy of the post of honor among her +gallant train of admirers. Indeed, it was universally known, of course +as a profound secret among the gossips of the palace, that Sir Timothy +was the declared lover of the proud Dewbell, and it was even whispered +that she had actually been seen hanging around his neck one bright +June morning, in a sweet clover-nook by the brook-side, while he bent +tenderly over her, his eyes filled with tears of rapture. But as this +story could only be traced to a rough beetleherd, who said he saw the +lovers thus as he was driving his herd of black cattle to water, it +was not generally believed. At any rate, all the ladies were decidedly +of opinion that Sir Timothy was in every way a match for the haughty +beauty, and that if she did not accept him while he was in the humor +she would be very likely to go farther and fare worse. In fact, +several old maids and bluestockings, over their dishes of scandal and +marsh-fog, (both of which they made uncommonly strong,) openly avowed +it as their opinion, that he was a great deal too good for her, and +that, if the truth must be told, the princess was an impertinent, +saucy and irreverent creature, who hadn't the slightest respect for +her superiors. "As to her beauty," said one of these crones, whose +little face was very much of the size and complexion of a dried +camomile-flower, and who was shrewdly suspected of qualifying her +marsh-fog with pale pink-brandy--"As for her beauty, that is all in my +eye. I have seen plenty of your plump, smooth-skinned pieces of paint +and affectation fade in my time, little as I have yet seen of life. +Mark my words--before we have reached our prime, my great lady +princess will be as ugly as--" + +"As ugly as yourself, granny! Ha, ha, ha! ho, ho, ho! haw, haw, haw!" +shouted a mirthful voice, while an indescribably comic face, half cat +and half baby, appeared for a single glimpse above the burdock leaf +behind which the spinsters were holding their _conversazione_. + +"There's that imp Puck again, as sure as I am a woman!" exclaimed the +gentle Mrs. Mullenstalk, rising hastily and spilling a dish of fog all +over the front of her new green and yellow striped grass dress, as she +ran toward the spot whence the voice had proceeded. "I'll to the +palace this very night, and lay my complaint against that wretch. +We'll see whether virtuous ladies are to be insulted in this manner, +and their helplessness trampled under foot!" + +The intruder had already disappeared; but as the amiable Mrs. +Mullenstock got her spectacles adjusted, she just caught sight of him +throwing a somerset into a pumpkin-flower; while his laugh still +sounded faintly upon the air, mingled with snatches of a wild refrain, +of which she could only distinguish these lines: + + "Oh ho, Granny Mullenstock, how envious you be; + I'll plague you to death, or the hornets catch me!" + +The spinster shook her fist and grinned horribly at the broad-mouthed, +innocent yellow flower, down whose throat the varlet had leaped--but +chancing at that moment to catch a glimpse of her own face in a little +bit of mica, which served her for a toilet-mirror, she uttered the +least bit of a little shriek in the world and fainted--her companions, +who had by this time gathered round her, exchanging sly winks and +malicious looks of gratification as she went off. + +But we must return to the ball-room, where the fire-flies have got +sleepy, and many of them had already put out their lamps and retired, +and the brilliant company of dancers and promenaders has dwindled down +to a few sets, composed of those ladies who had not been asked to +dance in the height of the evening, and some sour-looking gentlemen in +very tight coats and pants, who had "got the mitten" from their +sweethearts at the door, and were desperately trying to do the amiable +out of sheer revenge. At length even these disappeared; the saloons +were entirely deserted, save by the beautiful mother moonbeam, who +slept upon the fragrant turf, her babe, the silver starlight, folded +lovingly within her bosom. + +Yet no, the scene is not quite solitary. Carefully bending aside the +tall, slender spears of diamond-tipped grass that perpetually guarded +the sacred domain of the imperial palace, a cavalier in full armor +appears, making way for a lady, whose long veil of the finest spider's +web completely conceals her head and form, making her seem like an +exhalation, taking, as its highest gift of grace, the shape of woman. +The two advance slowly and cautiously to the centre of the saloon, and +then the cavalier, throwing himself on his knees, (that's the way +fairies invariably make love,) beseeches his companion to have pity +upon him. The lady throws back her veil with a motion of indescribable +grace, and looking down into the upturned face of her lover, seriously +a moment, then lightly, utters a low laugh, and replies, + +"Very well, Sir Timothy Lawn, upon my word! Quite prettily done, +indeed! You must have been taking lessons of Signor Sweetbriar, the +royal parson. Now do run and bring me a glass of geranium-dew--I +protest I have drank scarcely a drop all the evening." + +"Not one word, then, for your poor lover and true knight," sighed Sir +Timothy, in a tone of the deepest despondence. + +"I did not come here to listen to school-boy nonsense," said the lady +Dewbell, with a haughty and impatient motion of the head. "I came to +get a glass of geranium-water. But, as you decline obliging me to that +extent, I suppose I must e'en get it for myself. Good-night to you, +Sir Timothy! Pleasant dreams!" and she disappeared. + +The knight was for a moment confounded; then rising slowly, he pointed +to a bright star that shone directly above him, winking and winking +with all its might, as much as to say, "what a green-horn you are!" +and swore an oath that no fairy should ever henceforth have power over +his heart, till she who had so wantonly scorned and insulted him +should beg to be forgiven. As he was turning sadly away, to seek his +solitary chamber in the upper branch of a bachelor's button, on the +other side of the brook, the elf-clown Puck stood before him, looking +as demure as puss herself. + +"Well, fool," said the knight, somewhat impatiently, "how long hast +thou been listening here?" + +"As long as my ears, your worship," replied the urchin, undauntedly, +"and they were long enough to hear that your worship's valiancy is a +very much over-praised commodity--since a maiden's dainty veil of +knitted night-air has proved too strong for him. + + The knight he sued, and the knight he sighed, + But he went away without supper or bride." + +"Silence, imp! or I 'll make thine ears, of which thou hast had such +pestilent service, shorter by a span." + +"No, I thank your valiancy! my ears do very well as they are. And I +came to do you a good turn by offering you the use of them. But as +your worship is so high and dry in Dundrum Bay, as we say at sea, I'll +e'en get back to my nap in the hazle copse again." + +"Nay, good Puck, I meant thee no harm, as thou knowest well enough. +Since thou knowest my innermost grief, let me hear thy fool's advice +in the matter." + +"If I gave thee advice, I were in truth a fool. But I'll very +willingly forgive thee this time, and tell thee what I overheard +to-night at the palace." + +"Ah, that's a good Puck!" + +"That depends on circumstances, your valiancy. I am somewhat like a +dish of toasted gallinippers--whether it is palatable or not depending +very much in the way it is served. But this is what I heard his +majesty say to her majesty. 'Sweetbine, my dear,' said he, 'don't you +think Dewbell has a fancy for our brave and noble knight, Sir Timothy +Lawn?' 'Why, my love,' replied her majesty, 'I have long been almost +certain that she loved him. But she is such a confirmed flirt I am +afraid she can never be brought to say so. I haven't the least idea +that she would not reject Sir Timothy, were he to propose.' 'We must +cure her of this fatal pride and folly,' replied his majesty, 'and I +think that, with a little of your assistance, I can manage it +capitally.' And then the dear old people passed into the royal +bed-chamber, in the japonica wing, and I heard no more." + +"I'll to the king." + +"And I'll to a better friend than he; if you permit me, your worship, +I take my _bough_ and _leave_." + +"Avaunt, vile punning Puck! Thou hast been to Philadelphia, where all +the streets rhyme, and every corner is a pun upon the next. May the +fiend unquip thee! Away!' + +"If thou I kest not jokes, thou hadst best stick to thy +bachelor's-buttonhood. I tell thee, marriage is a capital joke." + +"What knowest thou of marriage?" + +"I am one of its fruits." + +"A bitter jest, indeed, and plucked ere half ripened. St. Bulwer! but +thou wilt be a mother's blessing when thou art fully grown!" + +"Better save thy wits, sir knight! Thou wilt have a plentiful lack of +them ere the honeymoon be out of the comb. A pleasant roost in thy +bachelor's hall, and many of them!" and the vagabond sprung upon the +back of a green lizard creeping silently through the grass, and +sticking his heels into his astonished charger, dragoon-fashion, +disappeared down the bank of the brook. + +The old king and his good wife, Sweetbine, were very much grieved at +the foolish trifling of their daughter, Dewbell--for they were well +assured that Dewbell loved the noble knight, Sir Timothy, and that it +was only a spirit of mere wantonness that led her to vex and torment +him. Long into the night did the royal couple converse, striving to +devise some means of bringing their wayward daughter to her senses. +They at last hit upon a plan, which they fondly hoped might be the +means of securing the happiness of their child, and settling her +comfortably in life. + +The next morning his majesty sent for the dwarf, Puck, to his private +cabinet, and received him with an unusually grave and troubled aspect. + +"Venerable sire," said Puck, making a mock reverence, and scarcely +able to suppress a chuckle at the solemn looks of his master, "what +facetious dream hath been playing its mad pranks about thy sacred +pillow? Never saw I kingly face so mirthfully beprankt." + +"Come hither, good Puck," said the king, patiently, "and when thou +hast made thy breakfast of fun upon thy poor master, listen to him +seriously." + +"Dear prince", said the dwarf, suddenly running up to the king and +casting himself weeping at his feet, "art thou, then, really troubled? +Forgive thy poor slave!" and he began blubbering in the most pitiable +manner, while he looked up into the face of the king with such a look +of wo-begone and ludicrous despair, that Paterflor himself could +scarce refrain from bursting into laughter. + +"Thou hast done nothing wrong, good Puck--handsome Puck," said the +king, chucking his favorite under the chin. "I have need of thee. +Here is my signet-ring. Bring me straight hither a young and handsome +peasant, one who has never been seen by the court, nor any inhabitant +of the palace. He must be intelligent, conscientious, and trustworthy. +Dost thou know of such a one?" + +"Yes, your majesty, I think I do. My friend, young Paudeen O'Rafferty, +the son of the old forest-keeper, has just returned from Ireland, +where he was carried by the fairies at his christening, and has been +kept ever since until now, trying to get through the rent made by Mr. +O'Connell in the pockets of his relatives. He's as tight an Irish lad +as your majesty ever saw; and as for his honesty, I'll endorse it with +both hands. The O'Raffertys are constitutionally honest." + +"Well, bring him hither at once. I shall be ready to receive him." + +Puck, with his funny face entirely restored to good humor, left the +palace by a private gate, and running across a beautiful meadow, +disappeared in the dark green forest. Idle lingerer as he was, he felt +a strong inclination, at every hazel-copse he passed, to stop and have +a chat with the rabbits he knew were hid beneath it; and more than +once he was on the point of running up to a friendly deer and kissing +his cold, black nose, just for auld lang syne. But, for a wonder, he +was constant to his errand, and ran straight on--not stopping even to +throw stones at a squirrel by the way--till he came to the forester's +hut. + +He found the old forester and his wife alone. They received him +kindly, for, notwithstanding his mad pranks, Puck was a favorite every +where, and especially among the poor and humble, who were always safe +from his mischievous propensities. The young Paudeen was out a little +bit in the forest, but would return directly. + +"And what brings good Master Puck from among the great lords and +beautiful ladies of the coort to our poor little shieling, not bigger +nor betther than the mud cabins of ould Ireland itself?" inquired the +old woman, who had grown, with age and toil, wrinkled deaf and sour. + +"I'll explain all that as soon as Paudeen comes home," replied the +grave and mysterious Puck; "but, in the meantime, how do you get on +Mr. O'Rafferty, and what is the news in the forest?" + +"We get on but poorly," said the old forester, "and the news is, that +the people at the other side of the forest, where the potatoes have +all rotted, and the land is wore down to its bare bones, for want of +rest like, are very bad. Some of the women and childhers have already +starved, and the men have for the most part took to dhrinken and +fighten, till things is in a mighty bad way." + +"Yes," chimed in the old woman, who seemed to have caught by instinct +the subject of conversation, "and the poor stharven people say, too, +that there is plenty of money squandhered upon extravagance by the +king and his coort to give them all bread; and that the forests that +is kept for the deers and craythurs to be killed for the spoort of the +big folks, would give every man a bit of fresh land, and that the +potatoes would grow well enough then." + +"Auch, Peggy, will ye have us hung for parjery, out and out!" +exclaimed the terrified husband, casting a deprecating look at Puck. +"Poor craythur, she doesn't know what she is saying." + +At this juncture the young Paudeen made his appearance, and put a stop +to a conversation that was becoming decidedly stupid. He made his +respects cordially to Puck; and when he heard his errand, seemed +amazed and delighted. After a good deal of difficulty, the old lady +was made to understand what was the desire of the king. + +"Hooh!" exclaimed the old crone, leaping from her seat and dancing +about the room, "the dhrame's come true at last! Och, hullybaloo! +didn't I know that the pretty Paudeen wasn't born for the pig-stye! +Bedad, but he'll ruffle the gentles! Wont you, darlint?" and the old +woman fell upon her son's neck, smothering him with kisses, while the +poor youth could hardly keep his legs under the vigor of her maternal +caresses. + + +PART II. + +In a few days after the interview of Puck and Paudeen in the hut of +the forester, there was great excitement at the court of Fairyland. +The fashionable milliners and dress-makers never had seen such a +time--orders from the aristocracy poured in upon them by scores, and +their doors were beset by fashionable carriages, and little fairy +footmen caparisoned in long coats with many capes, and broad, red +bands fastened with shining buckles round their hats. The great +_artistes_ who were at the head of these establishments saw themselves +amassing fortunes from the sudden influx of fashionable custom. But +the poor little fairy seamstresses, who sat up all night, sometimes +without time to eat or sleep, from sunset to sunset, so that all these +splendid dresses might be finished in time--they did not fare so well. +They grew pale and sick, and sat swaying and swinging about as they +worked, until one might have thought them the ghosts of fairy workers, +come back for a ghostly midnight frolic in their old haunts. It was +melancholy enough, truly; but then nobody knew any thing about it. The +rich ladies, when their splendid robes came home, did not stop to +think that good, earnest, faithful fairy hearts had embroidered the +roses that adorned the skirts from their own cheeks, and spangled them +with the broken fragments of their youth's faded dreams. If they had-- + +Well, and if they had? + +That is not at all to the purport of my story; and so I will proceed +to let the reader into the secret of all this flutter and fluster. A +great prince had made his appearance at the court of Paterflor, and +had created almost as great an excitement in Fairyland as a new prima +donna with bright eyes and a _sfogato_ voice among mere mortals. +Nobody knew exactly who he was, but he came from a great way off, and +had a name as long as a province, and, beside being incalculably +wealthy, it was universally voted (ladies vote in Fairyland) that he +was the very handsomest love of a fairy knight that ever jingled +spurs, or sighed at the feet of beauty. He had come to court evidently +with the "highest recommendations" to the king, such as would have +procured him immediate access into the first "circles," even in +Philadelphia, where society lives behind barred doors, and goes about +armed cap-a-pie against encroachment or intrusion. He had been at once +received at the royal table, and a splendid suite of apartments had +been assigned him in the palace itself. Such extraordinary attentions +from the imperial family, of course, made the stranger a favorite and +a welcome guest wherever he appeared; and there was not a lady at +court who would not have given her eyes--if it would not have spoiled +her beauty--for a smile from his magnificent mouth. + +It was discovered, however, at a very early stage of the proceedings, +that the chief object of the prince's admiration was the lady Dewbell, +who, proud as she was, could not help feeling flattered by the evident +and special devotion of one for whom the whole of her sex were dying. +Sir Timothy Lawn, who, from pique or melancholy, or from some unknown +cause, had left the court the very day after the arrival of the new +prince, was not entirely forgotten, but was laid away carefully on a +back shelf of her heart; and the lady Dewbell never had been so +beautiful, so fascinating, so joyous and irresistible. Courts are as +fickle as coquettes; and before the month had passed, in a series of +brilliant _fetes_ and entertainments, at all of which the prince and +princess were the reigning toast, it was regarded as a settled thing +that there would, ere the maple leaves grew red in the dying gaze of +the year, be a royal marriage in Fairyland. + +But while to all around the beautiful Dewbell was ever the same +careless, saucy and happy creature as ever, in her heart she nursed a +bitter sorrow. After many and severe struggles, she was forced at last +to make to herself the humiliating acknowledgment that she deeply and +truly loved Sir Timothy Lawn, that noble and chivalric spirit, whom +her unworthy trifling had driven--so her frightened heart interpreted +it--in disgust from her. Compelled in common courtesy to receive the +devoted attentions of the stranger prince, and to hear every day and +every hour repeated the earnest solicitations of her father that she +should school herself to regard the stranger as her future husband, +her little fairy heart was quite broken with its ceaseless struggles. +Her pride and self-will were entirely vanquished, and she felt herself +truly the most miserable of fairy maidens. Suicide is of course a +thing strictly prohibited among immortals; but had it been otherwise, +I sadly fear that one of the lady Dewbell's spider-web silk hose would +some morning have been found without a garter, and she herself hanging +like a beauteous exhalation among the elm-leaves in the morning +sunshine. Oh, had Sir Timothy been there then, he would have found, +instead of his imperious and tantalizing coquette, the tenderest and +truest of disconsolate maidens, ready to melt into his arms between +the delicious pause of a sigh and a kiss. "Naughty, cruel Sir Timothy! +Horrid creature! to take all my nonsense for real earnest, and to go +away and leave me to be persecuted to death!" exclaimed the lady +Dewbell, with an uncontrollable burst of tears, as she threw herself, +her toilet half finished, and her hair all strewn over her face and +shoulders, upon her little praying cushion. "What will become of poor +Bell!" + +"What ails my daughter?" said the sweet, soft voice of the queen +mother, as she knelt tenderly over her child, and pressed her head to +her bosom. "Tell your sorrows to your mother." + +"Oh, mother, _I_ am the most wretched fairy that ever existed. I don't +want to marry that odious, red-haired stranger; and my father has made +me promise that the wedding shall take place on Halloween--and I--I +have consented. But I love Sir Timothy; and I wont marry any body but +him," sobbed the poor creature, convulsively, as she cast herself upon +the floor, and looked up to her mother, terrified and half frantic. + +"But, dearest, you know you laughed at poor Sir Timothy's vows--and he +is so sensitive." + +"Oh, yes, I know I did, but I'll never do so any more. _If_ Sir +Timothy will only come back and forgive me, and marry me, just this +once, I will never, never offend him again as long as I live--never, +never, never! Do, mamma, do make him come back!" + +"Poor child! I will certainly do all I can. But you have promised to +be married on Halloween." + +"Oh, yes, but that is a good fortnight off, and you can bring Sir +Timothy back before then, you know, and he can kill this horrid +stranger, and then every body will be _so_ happy!" and the face of the +volatile creature began already to re-clothe itself in smiles. + +"I fear you are mistaken, love," said her mother, solemnly, and +shaking her head in an impressive manner, she added, "do not deceive +yourself with such fallacies, my daughter; your princely word is +passed, your father's royal honor is pledged, and you must be married +on Halloween." + +The lady Dewbell, sobbing hysterically, again looked up. She was +alone; at the same moment the cat-and-baby face of Puck glanced by the +window, and a wild, mischievous laugh melted away into a song, of +which the lady only caught the two last lines: + + "He rideth fast, and he rideth well, + But his heart still clings to the pretty Bell." + +"Oh, bless thee, dear Puck!" sighed the haply wondering lady, rising +and leaning from the window. "May thy sweet prophecy come true!" + + +PART III. + +'T is Halloween midnight. Through the tall windows of the venerable +church streamed in the broad moonlight, in bright silver floods, that +lost themselves in the profound recesses of the distant aisles, or +fell like many-colored snow-flakes upon the marble floor. Entering +without sound, came up the middle aisle the royal wedding-procession. +First walked the father, the royal Paterflor, looking stern and +determined, yet, it must be confessed, a little roguish about the +crowsfeet. Upon his arm leaned his pale and stricken daughter, the +once proud, joyous and imperious Princess Dewbell. She was pale as a +lily's cup, and drooping as its stem. She never raised her head from +her bosom, and her eyes, once sparkling like fountains of light, were +hidden beneath their willowy lids. Next comes the "red-haired prince," +as the lady Dewbell had scornfully denominated him, (his head _was_ a +little inclined to flame, dear reader, between you and me,) +respectfully conducting the ever sweet and placid Queen Woodbine; and +after them a troop of merry and gayly-dressed fairies, both ladies and +gentlemen, but very demure and solemn; while Puck, in the united +capacity of Hymen and Grand Usher, was dodging about with his flaming +torch, now in front, now in rear, now here, now there, and every where +imparting an air of grotesqueness to the whole affair. + +At the altar the party stopped, and ranging themselves in the approved +order for such occasions, the priest--a grave and reverend bullfrog, +whose surplice was scrupulously neat and tidy--proceeded with the +ceremony. When he came to the question, "dost thou, my daughter, +freely and voluntarily bestow thy hand and thy affections upon this +man, Paudeen O'Rafferty, commonly called Pat?" + +The pale and shrinking lady raised her head and opened her great +ox-like eyes; the bridegroom looked sheepish and hung his head; King +Paterflor seemed suddenly troubled with a severe fit of coughing, and +the priest could scarcely forbear a chuckle. + +"Father, dear father, what is the meaning of this cruel joke?" +exclaimed the poor lady Dewbell, running to her father and catching +hold of his arm. But the old king's cough was still very troublesome. +She then appealed to the priest, but he seemed deaf, and only made a +grum kind of noise in his throat, that sounded a good deal like "Pat +O'Rafferty." + +"Who, then, are you, sir?" demanded she, at last, of the groom, +turning suddenly and imperiously upon him her piercing gaze. + +"So plaze yer ladyship, I am Paudeen O'Rafferty, the son of the +forester--at yer ladyship's sarvice." + +The fairy princess was about to faint, in the most approved manner, +and had already selected a convenient cushion upon which to fall, when +a tall and noble form crossed the moon-ray, and Sir Timothy Lawn stood +before her. + +"Beloved princess," said he, kneeling, and respectfully taking her +hand, "I hope my presence is not disagreeable to the queen of my +heart, for whose love I have so long pined. Speak to me frankly, sweet +lady Dewbell, tell me, can you love me? Will you permit me to call you +mine forever?" + +The lady Dewbell changed her intention respecting the cushion upon +which she had intended to faint, and, somehow, found herself before +she was half conscious of it, in her lover's arms. An explanation +ensued; the prince Paudeen gave up his post of honor to Sir Timothy; +the ceremony was concluded on the spot; and as the gay and joyous +party left the church, Puck was seen sitting at the organ accompanying +himself in a sort of wild yet sweet chant, of which the lady Dewbell +easily distinguished-- + + "Oh, a merry tale will the gossips tell, + Of the happy mishap of the proud lady Bell." + + + + +A NIGHT THOUGHT. + +BY THOMAS BUCHANAN READ. + + + Long have I gazed upon all lovely things, + Until my soul was melted into song, + Melted with love till from its thousand springs + The stream of adoration, swift and strong, + Swept in its ardor, drowning brain and tongue, + Till what I most would say was borne away unsung. + + The brook is silent when it mirrors most + Whate'er is grand or beautiful above; + The billow which would woo the flowery coast + Dies in the first expression of its love; + And could the bard consign to living breath + Feelings too deep for thought, the utterance were death! + + The starless heavens at noon are a delight; + The clouds a wonder in their varying play, + And beautiful when from their mountainous height + The lightning's hand illumes the wall of day:-- + The noisy storm bursts down--and passing brings + The rainbow poised in air on unsubstantial wings. + + But most I love the melancholy night-- + When with fixed gaze I single out a star + A feeling floods me with a tender light-- + A sense of an existence from afar, + A life in other spheres of love and bliss, + Communion of true souls--a loneliness in this! + + There is a sadness in the midnight sky-- + An answering fullness in the heart and brain, + Which tells the spirit's vain attempt to fly + And occupy those distant worlds again. + At such an hour Death's were a loving trust, + If life could then depart in its contempt of dust. + + It may be that this deep and longing sense + Is but the prophecy of life to come; + It may be that the soul in going hence + May find in some bright star its promised home; + And that the Eden lost forever here + Smiles welcome to me now from yon suspended sphere. + + There is a wisdom in the light of stars, + A wordless lore which summons me away-- + This ignorance belongs to earth which bars + The spirit in these darkened walls of clay, + And stifles all the soul's aspiring breath;-- + True knowledge only dawns within the gales of Death. + + Imprisoned thus, why fear we then to meet + The angel who shall ope the dungeon-door, + And break these galling fetters from our feet, + To lead us up from Time's benighted shore? + Is it for love of this dark cell of dust, + Which, tenantless, awakes but horror and disgust? + + Long have I mused upon all lovely things; + But thou, oh Death! art lovelier than all; + Thou sheddest from thy recompensing wings + A glory which is hidden by the pall-- + The excess of radiance falling from thy plume + Throws from the gates of Time a shadow on the tomb. + + + + +THE BARD. + +BY S. ANNA LEWIS. + + + Why should my anxious heart repine + That Wealth and Power can ne'er be mine, + And Love has flown-- + That Friendship changes as the breeze? + Mine is a joy unknown to these; + In Song's bright zone, + To sit by Helicon serene, + And hear the waves of Hippocrene + Lave Phoebus' throne. + + Here deathless lyres the strains prolong, + That gush from living founts of song, + Without a cross; + Here spirits never feel the weight + Of Wrong, or Envy, or of Hate, + Or earthly loss; + The pomp of Pelf--the pride of Birth-- + The gilded trappings of this earth + Return to dross. + + Oh, ye! who would forget the ills + Of earth, and all the bosom fills + With agony! + Come dwell with me in Fancy's dream, + Beside this lovely fabled stream + Of minstrelsy; + And let its draughts celestial roll + Into the deep wells of thy soul + Eternally. + + God always sets along the way + Of weary souls some beacon ray + Of light divine; + And only when my spirit's wings + Are weary in the quest of springs + Of Song, I pine; + If I could always heavenward fly, + And never earthward turn mine eye, + Bliss would be mine. + + + + +THE WILL. + +BY MISS E. A. DUPUY + + +PART I. + + There is peace in the Night of the Early Dead-- + It will yield to a glorious morrow! _Clarke_. + +Amid all the brightness and bloom which the imagination conjures up, +when we think of the sunny islands lying within the tropics, many +mournful associations arise and cast a sadness over the picture. Very +few have not had within the circle of their relatives, or friends, +some cherished one, who has vainly sought the balmy breezes of those +favored spots, with the feverish hope that amid their loveliness Death +would forget to launch his arrows for them. + +Alas! to die among strangers is usually the fate of those who are thus +lured from their homes by a deceitful hope. There, where Nature wears +a perpetual verdure--where the fervid sun brings forth a luxuriance of +vegetation unknown in more northern regions, the wearied spirit sinks +to repose, soothed, or saddened, by the glow of existence around. + +A spacious apartment on the southern side of a highly ornamented +villa, opened into a magnificent garden, filled with orange-trees, +oleanders, and many other gorgeous flowers peculiar to the climate of +Cuba; while in the distance the sunlight gleamed upon a row of +towering palms, whose stately columns, crowned by their verdant +coronal, resembled the pillars of some mighty temple, which found a +fitting canopy in the blue arch of heaven, glowing with the gorgeous +hues of a tropical sunset. + +The floor of this room was inlaid with marble of different colors, and +the couch and windows were draped with snowy lace, lightly embroidered +at the edges, and looped with cords of blue and silver--tables with +marble tops, supporting porcelain vases filled with flowers, were +placed between the windows, for these ephemeral children of sunshine +were dear to the heart of the dying one. Beside one of these stood a +large cushioned chair, in which reclined a young man of delicate +features and wasted form. He appeared in the last stages of his fell +disease, and the friends who had received him beneath their roof to +die, wondered that he should have been deluded with the hope that +health could ever again reanimate his bowed and shrunken form. There +was an expression of care upon his sharpened features--a feverish +restlessness in his manner, which betrayed the spirit's unrest. + +At his feet sat a young girl, whose brilliant complexion and +pale-brown hair betrayed her Saxon origin; the finely rounded figure, +the delicately formed feet and hands, and the gracefully turned head +and bust, were all evidences of the grade of life to which she +belonged. She held the burning hand of the invalid between her own +soft, cool palms, and sung in a sweet low voice an old ballad which +told of the ancient greatness of the Saxon race. At a short distance +from them sat an elderly lady, clad in deep mourning, and her saddened +countenance corresponded well with her weeds. + +The young man made an impatient movement, and said--"Sing not to me +England's former prowess, dear Edith. What to the dying can such +themes be but a bitter mockery? Take your guitar, my sister, and throw +your soul into its vibrating strings, while you sing me such a lay as +I can fancy the angels of Heaven to be pouring forth around the throne +of God." + +"Shall I sing the chants of our church, dearest Edgar?" said Edith in +a subdued voice. + +"Yes--yes--they breathe peace and resignation into my restless soul. +When I am dying, my sister, stifle your own feelings as you love me, +and pour into my failing senses those magnificent strains. If God sees +fit to tear me from you before I can legally provide for you and my +beloved mother, I shall be enabled to forget the bitter truth in +listening to your sweet voice. You promise me this, Edith?" + +"I do--Heaven will sustain me even then, my darling brother, and give +me power to forget my own anguish in soothing your last moments." + +Edith Euston pressed his hand to her lips, and raising from the floor +a guitar which lay beside her, she poured forth a strain of melody +which seemed to soothe the senses of the invalid to rest. His eyes +closed, and an expression of repose rested on his worn features. + +Twilight deepened over the earth--a single ray of light, from the +reddened sky, fell through the open window upon the figure of the +young girl, and the mother, who sat silent and abstracted, thought as +she glanced upon her that even in a higher world her beloved Edith +could wear no lovelier outward semblance than was now hers. There was +an expression of elevated feeling, of pure tenderness in her upturned +face which revealed the high and noble soul within. One fitted to +suffer and conquer in the dark struggle which she felt awaited her. + +Hers were not the only eyes which contemplated that lovely picture of +sisterly devotion upon that twilight eve. Another stood without, +beneath the shadow of a high hedge, and gazed upon the unconscious +musician with even deeper admiration; and his dark, expressive +features lighted up with an emotion almost of reverence. The stars +came forth in the translucent depths of ether; the young moon cast her +tremulous light over the garden, yet still the intruder lingered in +his place of concealment. Twice he put the boughs aside, as if to +approach the room and announce his presence, but again receded, as if +irresolute and uncertain as to the effect his presence might produce. + +At length all became silent. The tones of the instrument died slowly +away, and the voice of the singer ceased to pour forth its song. The +windows were still unclosed, for the invalid had reached that +distressing stage in his malady, when his oppressed breathing required +a constant circulation of free air. A lamp burning beneath an +alabaster shade was swung from the centre of the ceiling, and its +mellow lustre diffused a faint moonlight radiance throughout the +apartment. + +With suppressed breathing the two ladies watched the sleep of the sick +youth, and he who had so earnestly observed every movement of Edith, +ventured to approach so near the open window that the heavy and +interrupted respiration of young Euston was distinctly audible to him; +while his eagle eye sought to penetrate the shadow in which his +features reposed, that he might read upon them the ravages made by +approaching dissolution. + +As he stood thus, the moonlight revealed a tall, well proportioned +figure, clad in a suit of black, well fitted to his form. His +prominent features and flashing black eyes were half concealed by a +large straw hat, which was carelessly placed upon his head. As he +gazed upon the sleeping form, his lips curled, and a strange +expression of exultation came to his face; his eye wandered +triumphantly to the fair brow of Edith. + +"Twice rejected," he muttered half audibly--"twice rejected, and with +scorn, by yon dainty girl; now methinks my vengeance is almost within +my grasp. I hold her future destiny in my power; for this boy _cannot_ +drag out his existence another week. Yes, Edith--to labor you have not +been bred--to beg you will be ashamed, and he who vainly hopes that +time will be granted him to deprive me of my inheritance, will perish +from my path, just as he believes himself on the verge of consummating +his hatred to me." + +Edith softly arose, and making a sign to her mother, glided +noiselessly from the room by a distant window, which opened to the +floor. The intruder hesitated a moment, and then followed her with +light and rapid steps. The flutter of her white dress guided him to +the retreat she had chosen, and she had scarcely thrown herself upon a +rustic seat beneath the shelter of some orange-boughs, and given vent +to her painfully repressed emotion, by a burst of tears, when the dark +stranger stood before her. She started up and would have fled, but he +spoke, and the sound of his voice seemed to bind her to the spot as by +a spell. + +"Why would you fly from me, Edith?" he asked. "I come in the spirit of +good-will to you and yours." + +A struggle seemed to be passing in the mind of the young girl. She +wiped her tears away, and after a pause answered in a tone which +faltered at first, but grew firm, and even haughty as she proceeded, + +"What has brought you hither, Mr. Barclay? Yet why do I ask? To exult +in the fate of your unfortunate victim; to watch each painful breath +which brings him nearer to his grave, with the certainty that the +very eagerness with which he desires a few more days of existence, +that he may fulfill a sacred duty, is fast wearing away the faint +thread that yet binds him to life. Oh false, unfeeling man! depart, I +pray you, if one human instinct yet remains within your callous heart, +and leave my unhappy brother to die in peace." + +She turned to depart, but Barclay stepped forward and placed his hand +on her arm, as if to detain her. She shrunk from his touch with an +expression of loathing, which called the crimson to his cheek, but he +suppressed his emotion, and said calmly-- + +"I knew that you would soon need a protector, Miss Euston, and I came +hither with the faint hope that I might be able to overcome your cruel +prejudices against me--that I might become to you a friend at least, +if no dearer title were allowed me." + +"You a friend to _me_!" exclaimed Edith impetuously. "You, who lured +my brother from his home, to wreck his existence in the life of +dissipation to which you tempted him. Ever feeble from his boyhood, +you knew that little was needed to destroy his frail constitution--yet, +because he stood between you and the possession of wealth, his life +was offered as the sacrifice to your criminal cupidity. And now you +come hither to watch the last fluttering throes of existence, fearful +that Death may delay his arrows until he shall have passed that hour +which entitles him to dispose of his property--and disappoint your +hopes, by bequeathing his wealth to those who are dearest to him." + +"You are excited, Edith. You judge me too severely. Edgar's own +headlong passions destroyed him. I merely urged him to do as others of +his years and station, without foreseeing such fatal results. My love +for you would have prompted me to save your brother." + +"Speak not to me of love--dare not approach the sister of your victim +with proffers of affection. The death of Edgar may leave me +penniless--nearly friendless--I have been tenderly nurtured, but I +would sooner embrace a life of sternest self-denial, of utter poverty, +than link myself with infamy in your person. Leave me--and dare not +approach the room of my brother, to imbitter his last hours by your +presence." + +"And your mother, my fair heroine?" said Barclay, in a tone of sarcasm +bordering on contempt. "What will become of her if you persist in the +rejection of the only person in the wide world on whom you have any +claim? She is old, feeble, broken in health and spirit. Ah! will not +your proud heart faint when you behold her sharing this life of +poverty and self-denial, which seems to you so much more attractive +than the home and protection I offer you?" + +Edith stifled the tears that sprung anew to her eyes, and after a +brief struggle said with composure-- + +"My mother is too honorable--she has too bitter a disdain of meanness +ever to wish her child to sacrifice the truth and integrity of her +soul, by accepting the hand of one for whom she has no respect." + +"By Heaven!" said Barclay passionately, "you force me to throw away +the scabbard and declare war to the knife. Be it so, then. Yonder weak +boy cannot survive five of the ten days yet required to complete his +majority. Then comes to me--yes to _me_--all his wealth; and only as +_my_ wife shall one ray of my prosperity shine upon you. The gray +hairs of your only parent may be brought to the grave by want and +sorrow, and unless you relent toward me my heart shall be steeled to +her sufferings." + +At this picture, which was only too likely to be realized, the courage +of the unhappy Edith forsook her, and she exclaimed in faltering +tones-- + +"My dear, dear mother! for her sake any other sacrifice might be +borne--but not this--not this. My brother yet lives, and Heaven may in +pity prolong his existence beyond the hour he so anxiously prays to +see. Then we escape your power." + +Barclay laughed mockingly. + +"This is the fifteenth, and he is not of age until the twenty-fifth, +exactly at the second hour of the morning. One moment only before that +time should Death claim his victim the estate is mine, and you +dependent on my bounty. Think you that the frail and wasted ghost of a +man who struggles for breath in yonder room can live through another +week? Hope--yes, hope for the best, for despair will come soon enough. +I feel as secure of my inheritance as though it were already mine." + +Edith proudly motioned him from her path, and fled toward the house, +with his mocking words still ringing in her ears. Her brother yet +slept, and as she gazed upon his sunken features it seemed to her as +if death were already stamped upon them, and she bent her head above +his still face, to convince herself that he yet breathed. + +Barclay and Euston were distantly related, and had both been educated +by an eccentric kinsman, with the belief among their connections that +he designed dividing his ample fortune between them. To the surprise +and chagrin of Barclay, he found on the death of Colonel Euston that +the whole of his estate was bequeathed to his young cousin, encumbered +with an annuity to himself, which appeared to one of his expensive +tastes, and lavish prodigality, as absolute poverty. + +Edgar Euston was then but seventeen years of age, and of a delicate +bodily organization, which did not promise length of days. A clause in +Colonel Euston's will offered a temptation to Barclay, which he had +not sufficient principle to resist. If Euston died before attaining +his majority the estate was to pass into the hands of his kinsman, and +no mention was made of the mother or sister of the young heir. Barclay +reflected that if he could remove Euston from his path, before he +attained his twenty-first year, the coveted wealth would yet be his. + +From that hour he made every effort to win the confidence and +affection of young Euston. He was his senior by nearly ten years, and +possessed a knowledge of the world, and a fascination of manner which +was extremely attractive to a youth who had passed the greater portion +of his life, at a country residence, in the society of his mother and +sister. Euston entered one of our Northern colleges, and under the +auspices of his kinsman he soon achieved a reputation which was far +more applauded by the wild students than agreeable to the professors. +He blindly followed wherever Barclay led, and before he entered his +twenty-first year he returned to his early home, with a constitution +completely broken by the reckless life he had led, and the symptoms of +early decay in his flushed cheek and hollow cough. Vain had been the +entreaties and remonstrances of his mother and sister; under the +influence of his tempter, they were utterly disregarded--until the +hand of disease was laid upon him, and he felt that the only atonement +he could offer for all the suffering he had inflicted upon them would +probably be denied to him. + +He earnestly desired to live, that he might reach that age which would +entitle him to make a legal transfer of his property to those who were +deservedly dear to him, for in the event of his death without a will, +his mother and sister would be left entirely dependent on the tender +mercies of his successor. An unfortunate lawsuit had deprived his +mother of the property which had become hers on the death of his +father, and his own reckless extravagance had dissipated more than the +annual revenue of his own property since it came into his possession. + +Too late he discovered the baseness of Barclay's motives, and +renounced all intercourse with him--but he would not thus be cast off. +He had seen and loved the noble-hearted Edith, and he forced his +hypocritical offers of service upon the afflicted family, until Edith +distinctly assured him that he need never hope for a return to his +passion. + +Euston had long since abandoned all hope of recovery, but he sought +the mild climate of Cuba, trusting that the fatal day might be +deferred until he had secured independence to his family, but his +physician feared that the very eagerness of his wishes would +eventually defeat them. It was mournful, and deeply touching, to +witness that clinging to existence in one so young, not from love of +life itself, but from a desire to perform an act of justice. That +completed, his mission on earth was ended, and Death might claim him +without a murmur. + +The hours dragged heavily on toward the desired day, and each one as +it passed appeared to hurry the poor invalid with rapid strides toward +the grave, that seemed eager to claim its prey. Barclay had not again +ventured to intrude on Edith, but he nightly hovered around the room +of the dying youth, and gloated on the wasted and death-like form +which held his earthly fortunes in his hands. + +A skillful physician had accompanied Euston from his native land, and +his unremitting attention, aided by the tender nursing of his +affectionate sister, seemed as if they would eventually reap their +reward in the preservation of life beyond the hour of his majority. + +In pain and weariness time slowly waned, but it still left him life +and an unclouded mind; and the bold, bad heart, that nightly watched +him, feared that the wealth he so ardently coveted, might yet elude +his grasp. + +The evening of the twenty-fifth at last arrived. Euston reclined in +his chair as we first beheld him, wrapped in a brocade dressing-gown, +whose brilliant colors made his extreme pallor the more remarkable; a +table was drawn close beside him, and on it, at his own desire, was +placed his repeater, from which his eyes scarcely wandered. His breath +came slowly and gaspingly, and at brief intervals his physician +moistened his parched lips with a restorative cordial, and murmured +words of encouragement in his ear. + +As before, Edith sat at his feet, with her guitar, ready to stifle her +deep emotion, and fulfill her promise to sing to him while his parting +soul was struggling for release from its earthly tenement. His mother +leaned over his chair, and bathed his cold brow with her burning +tears; in the back-ground sat a clergyman, gazing on the scene with +absorbing interest. + +Each one in that hushed room felt the approach of the stern tyrant, +and all prayed fervently that his dart might be stayed yet a few +hours. + +"My sister, sing to me. Soothe me into quietness by the loved tones of +your voice. It is my _only_ hope for life beyond the desired hour," +murmured the dying youth. + +With tremulous fingers Edith touched the chords, and poured forth the +solemn strains to which he loved to listen, and he sunk back and +closed his eyes. At first her voice faltered, but she gradually +regained her self-command, and never had those clear, rich tones +uttered a sweeter strain, than that which floated around the +fluttering spirit, which struggled to release itself from the +attenuated form of the early doomed. + +Barclay stood without, watching the scene with breathless interest, +and a terrible struggle was passing in his dark and stormy soul. +Euston might live beyond the hour of two, and he would then be a +beggar. His eye wandered toward Edith, so nobly devoted, so purely +beautiful; and the tempter whispered, + +"She might save you--ennoble you; the love, the sweet influence of +such a woman are all powerful. Once yours, you could surround her with +such an atmosphere of care and tenderness, that her heart must be won +to love you--to forget the past. Without her, you are doomed--doomed. +What matters a few more moments of existence to one like him, when the +eternal welfare of a human being hangs trembling in the balance? +Deprived of the means of living, Edith will have no choice--she must +marry you, or debase her pride of soul before the iron sway of +poverty. Her mother is old--infirm; and for her sake, the daughter +will listen to your proffers of love. Take your destiny into your own +hands. Cowardly soul! why falter now? It is but completing your own +work. He is _your_ victim--you know it, and feel it in every pulse of +your throbbing heart. Years of usefulness might have been his, but for +you; then complete the sacrifice without hesitation. What avails it +to have accomplished so much, if the reward escapes you at the last +moment?" + +Such were the wild thoughts that oppressed his soul during those +terrible hours. He saw that the parchment which disinherited him was +placed beside Euston, and the pen stood in the inkstand, ready to do +its service, so soon as the hand of the watch pointed to the hour of +two; and he ground his teeth in impotent rage, as the moments flitted +by, and Euston yet continued to breathe. + +Terrible is the watch of love beside the flitting soul which parts in +peace; but how much more awful was that vigil, in which the anguish of +bereavement was doubly embittered by the fear of future want to those +who had been reared amid all the refinements of luxury. The mother +looked upon her remaining child, and felt that she was not formed to +struggle with poverty and neglect, and the daughter bent her earful +eyes on that venerable form, and in the depths of her soul, prayed +that her old age might be spared the grinding cares of want. + +The watch struck the half hour--then the quarter--and a feeble motion +of Euston stopped the hand of Edith as she swept it over the strings +of her instrument. She arose and stood beside him; a breathless +silence reigned throughout the apartment, only broken by the +monotonous ticking of the watch, which struck upon the excited nerves +of those around with a sound as distinct as the reverberations of +thunder. + +Not a word was uttered until the hand pointed to the hour, then, as if +endued with sudden energy, the dying man stretched forth his hand, and +grasping the pen, said in a firm, distinct voice, + +"Now let me sign my name, and yield up my spirit to the angel that has +been beckoning me away for hours. My mother--my sister, God has +vouchsafed to me a mercy I did not deserve. Thank Heaven! your +interests are safe. You are free from _his_ power." + +At that instant a strange cry was heard; a bird flew into the room, +and, dazzled by the light, flapped his wings against the shade of the +lamp, overturned it, and left the apartment in utter darkness. In the +confusion of the moment, a figure glided through the open window, and +stood beside the chair of Euston. He noiselessly placed his firm grasp +upon his laboring breast, and held it there a single instant. A faint +rattling sound was heard, and Edith wildly called for lights. + +Noiselessly as he had entered glided that dark form from the side of +his victim, and buried itself in the shadows of the trees without. +Many lights flashed into the room--they glared coldly on the face of +the dead, and the mother sunk senseless in the arms of her daughter. + + +PART II. + +Several months have passed away, and Mrs. Euston and her daughter have +returned to their native land. A single room in an obscure +boarding-house in the heart of a southern city was occupied by both. +The expenses of their voyage to New Orleans, and a few months sojourn +in their present abode, humble as it was, had nearly exhausted their +slender resources. Edith had made many efforts to procure a few +scholars to instruct in music and drawing, but the departure of the +greater portion of the wealthy, during the unhealthy season, had +deprived her of those she had been able to obtain. She thought of +going out as a daily governess, but the feeble health and deep +dejection of her mother, offered an insuperable objection to such an +arrangement. When she left her alone even for an hour, she usually +found her in such a state of nervous excitement on her return, as was +painful to behold. + +Edith is seated near the only window of their sordid apartment in the +afternoon of a sultry summer day; the sun is shining without with +overpowering splendor; a heated vapor rises from the paved streets and +seems to shimmer in the breathless atmosphere. Edith had lost all the +freshness and roundness of youth; her cheek was deadly white, and her +emaciated form seemed to indicate the approach of the terrible disease +of which her brother had died. She was sewing industriously, and her +air of weariness and lassitude betrayed the strong mastery of the +spirit over the body, in the continuance of her employment. + +Mrs. Euston was lying on the bed; and twenty years seemed to have +passed over her since the night of her son's death. The oppressive +heat had induced her to remove her cap, and her long hair, white as +the snows of winter, lay around her wasted and furrowed features. From +infancy the respect and observance due to one of high station had been +bestowed upon her, and the reverse in their fortunes was more than she +could bear. At first, her high-toned feelings had shrunk from +obligations to the new heir, and she approved of Edith's rejection; +but as time passed, amid privations to which she had never been +accustomed, her very soul revolted against their miserable mode of +living. + +To a woman of refined feelings and vivid imagination, the coarse and +sordid realities around her were sufficiently heart-sickening, without +having the terrible fear forced upon her that her only child was +hurrying to the grave through her exertions to keep them literally +from starvation. Her daughter now thought she slept, but her mind was +far too busily occupied to permit the sweet influences of slumber to +soothe her into a momentary forgetfulness of her bitter grief. +Suddenly she unclosed her eyes, and spoke. + +"Edith, my child, lay aside that work--such constant employment is +destroying you. Is it not time that we heard from Robert Barclay? +Surely he will not be relentless, when he hears that your health is +failing. After all, Edith, you need not be so averse to receiving +assistance from him; the property he holds is rightfully ours." + +"Mother," replied Edith, a faint flush mounting to her cheek, "for +your sake I have submitted to humiliate myself before our ruthless +kinsman, but I fear it will be in vain. Only as his wife will my +claims on his humanity and justice be acknowledged. Would you not +shrink, dearest mother, from condemning your child to such a doom? +Could you not better bear to stand above my grave, and know me at +peace within it, than to behold me wedded to this unprincipled man, to +whose pernicious example my brother owed his early doom?" + +"Speak not of dying, my daughter," said the poor mother, hysterically, +"I cannot bear it; I am haunted by the fear that I shall at last be +left on earth alone. I daily behold you fading before my eyes without +the power to avert the fate I see written upon your pale cheek and +wasted form. As Robert's wife you would have a luxurious home, the +means of gratifying refined tastes, and of contributing to the +happiness of others. He may atone to me, by the preservation of one +child, for the destruction of the other." + +"Mother, your fears for me blind you to the truth. Are not mental +griefs far more difficult to bear than the privations of poverty, +galling as they are? As Mr. Barclay's wife, I should loathe myself for +the hypocrisy I should be compelled to practice toward him; and the +wealth for which I had sold myself, would allow me leisure to brood +over my own unworthiness, until madness might be the result. No, no, +mother--come what may, I never can be so untrue to myself as to become +the wife of Robert Barclay." + +"God help us, then!" said Mrs. Euston, despondingly. + +A carriage drove to the door, and a gentleman alighted from it. Edith +heard the bustle, but she did not look out to see what occasioned it, +and she was startled from her painful reverie by a knock on the door. +She opened it, and started back with a faint cry as she recognized +Barclay. + +"The landlady told me to come up," he said, as he glanced around the +wretched apartment, and a slight twinge of remorse touched his heart +as he remarked the changed appearance of Edith. She motioned him to +enter, while Mrs. Euston arose from the bed, and offered him a seat. + +"I concluded it would be best to reply to your communication in +person," said he to Mrs. Euston, as he took the offered chair. "I come +with the most liberal intentions, provided Miss Euston will listen to +reason. I am grieved to see you in a place so unsuited to your former +station as this wretched apartment." + +"And yet," said Edith, "I have passed some pleasant hours in this +room, comfortless as it looks. So long as I had the hope of being able +to provide for our wants by my own exertions, I found contentment in +its humble shelter." + +"Your happiness must then be truly independent of outward +circumstances," replied Barclay, with a touch of his old sarcasm. "I +supposed, from the tenor of your mother's petition, that you had begun +to repent of your high-toned language to me in our last interview, and +would now accede to terms you once spurned, as the price of my +assistance to you and yours." + +Edith curbed her high spirit, and calmly replied, "You misunderstood +my mother's words. As the mother of the late heir, she justly +considers herself entitled to a pittance from your estate, and she +claimed from your humanity, what she was hopeless of obtaining from +your sense of justice. For myself, I hoped for nothing from either, +but I acquiesced in her application. I am sorry that you have founded +on it expectations which must prove fallacious." + +"Then, madam, I need remain no longer," said Barclay, addressing Mrs. +Euston. "Your daughter remembers our interview previous to, and after, +the death of her brother; the only terms on which I would assist you +were then explicitly expressed." + +Mrs. Euston caught his hand, and bowed her venerable head upon it. + +"Have mercy, Robert, upon my gray hairs--my daughter; look at her--she +is dying by inches--she is stifling in this wretched spot. The money +that was my son's should surely buy a shelter for us. Leave us not +helpless, hopeless. My God! my God! give me eloquence to plead for my +child!" and she threw herself upon the floor, and raised her clasped +hands to heaven. + +"Madam," said Barclay, "it only rests with your daughter to have mercy +upon you and herself. Where, I ask you, is her filial piety, when she +beholds you suffer thus, and relents not toward one who offers her a +love that has survived coldness, contempt, contumely." + +Edith approached her mother, and assisted her to rise. + +"My dearest mother, calm yourself. Humble not yourself thus before our +oppressor. God is just--is merciful. He will not forget the widow and +the orphan in their extremity. Leave us, Mr. Barclay; had my wishes +alone been consulted, you never would have been called on thus to +witness our misfortunes." + +Barclay bowed, and haughtily strode from the room. + +"Another month of privation," he muttered, "and she will surely be +mine or Death's. It does not much matter to which she belongs. Ah, if +she only knew all!" and he sprung into his cabriolet, and dashed off +toward the more aristocratic portion of the city. + +In the hope that Edith would be forced to relent, Barclay had remained +in New Orleans thus late in the season, and he resolved to linger yet +a little longer, until want and suffering should leave her no choice. +His passion for her was one of those insanities to which men of his +violent character are often liable. He desired her as the one great +gift, which was to purify, to exalt him in the scale of humanity. The +delicate beauty of her person, the sensibility of her soul, the grace +of her manner, rendered her irresistibly attractive to him; but so +selfish was his love, that he would sooner have seen her perish at his +feet, than have rendered her assistance, except at the price proposed. + +Another month passed by, and still there was no news of Edith or her +mother. He grasped the daily paper, almost with a sensation of fear, +and glanced at the column of deaths, which at that season usually +contains a goodly array. Their names were not yet among them, or +perchance in their poverty and obscurity they would not find +admittance even among the daily list of mortality. + +The yellow fever had commenced its annual ravages, and Barclay +retreated to a country-house in the vicinity, owned by a friend, and +dispatched a confidential servant to inquire concerning Mrs. Euston +and her daughter. They were still in the same place, but the mother +had been ill, and was still confined to her bed. + +One morning, about two weeks afterward, Barclay was seated in a +delightful little saloon, over a late breakfast. The room was +furnished with every appliance of modern luxury, and the morning air +stirred the branches of noble trees without, whose verdant shade +completely shut out the glare of the sun. A servant entered, and +presented to him a letter which had just been left. The irregular hand +with which it was directed, prevented him from recognizing the writing +of Edith, and when he opened the missive, which had evidently been +blotted with her bitter tears, a flush of triumph mounted to his +cheek, and he exclaimed with an oath, + +"Mine at last!--I knew it must end thus!" + +The letter contained the following words: + + "After a night of such suffering as casts all I have + previously endured into the shade, I address you. My + mother now lies before me in that heavy and death-like + sleep which follows utter exhaustion. Her state of + health for the last month has demanded my constant + care, and the precarious remuneration I have been able + to obtain for sewing, I have thus been compelled to + give up. We have parted with every souvenir of our + better days--even our clothing has been sacrificed, + until we have but a change of garments left; and now + our landlady insists on being paid the small sum we owe + her, or we must leave her house to-day. She came into + our room last evening, and the scene which ensued threw + my mother into such a state of nervous excitement, that + she has not yet recovered from it. + + "I cannot disguise from myself that she is very ill. If + she awakes to a renewal of the same anguish, I dare not + contemplate the consequences. You know that I do not + love you, Mr. Barclay. I make no pretension to a change + in my feelings; repugnant as it must be to a heart of + sensibility, I must view this transaction as a matter + of bargain and sale. I will accept your late offer, to + save my mother from further suffering, and to gain a + home for her declining years. + + "For myself, I will endeavor to be to you--but why + should I promise any thing for myself. God alone can + give me strength to live after the sacrifice is + completed. + + "EDITH." + +There was much in this letter that was wounding to his vanity, and +bitter to his feelings; but he had triumphed! The stately pride of +this girl was humbled before him--her spirit bowed in the dust before +the gaunt spectre she had thought herself capable of braving. She +would be his--the fair, the pure in heart, would link herself to vice, +infamy and crime, for money. Money! the world's god! See the countless +millions groveling upon the earth before the great idol--the golden +calf, which so often brings with it as bitter a curse as was denounced +against the people of old, when they forsook the living and true God +for its worship. + +Can it not buy every thing--even woman's love, or the semblance of it, +which would serve him just as well? He, the murderer of the brother, +would purchase the compliance of the sister with this magical agent; +but--and his heart quailed at the thought--could it buy self-respect? +Could it enable him to look into the clear eye of that woman he would +call his wife, and say, "My soul is worthy to be linked with thine in +the realms of eternity." + +No--he felt that the sacrilegious union must be unblessed on earth, +and severed in heaven, yet he shrunk not from his purpose. + +He lost no time in seeking Edith; Mrs. Euston was yet buried in the +leaden slumber produced by a powerful narcotic. The unhappy girl +received him alone, and he remarked that his words of impassioned love +brought no color to her marble cheek--no emotion to her soul; she +seemed to have steeled herself for the interview, and it was not until +he pressed the kiss of betrothal upon her pallid lips, that she +betrayed any sensibility--then a thrill, a shudder pervaded her whole +frame, and he supported her nearly insensible form several moments +before she regained power to sustain herself. Could he have looked +into that breaking heart, and have read there all the bitter loathing, +the agonized struggles for self-control, would he have persisted in +his suit? Yes--for this was a part of his vengeance for the slights +she had put upon him; and in the future, if she did not play the part +he thus forced upon her, with all the devotion he should exact, had he +not bitter words at his command to taunt her with the scene of that +morning? + +A physician was called in, who advised the removal of Mrs. Euston +while she slept; and arrangements were soon made to accomplish it. The +family to whom Barclay's present retreat belonged, were spending the +summer at the north, and their house had been left at his disposal. He +determined to remove Mrs. Euston and her daughter thither, while he +took up his own abode, until the day of his marriage, with a bachelor +friend in the neighborhood. + +Edith demanded an interval of a week before their union took place, +which he reluctantly granted. Naturally prodigal, he employed the time +in ordering the most elegant _trousseau_ for his bride. She who so +lately was struggling with bitter want, was now surrounded by servants +eager to anticipate every wish, while Barclay played the devoted +lover. Edith prayed earnestly for power to regard him with such +feelings as alone could hallow the union they were about to form. Vain +were her lonely struggles--her tearful supplications; a spectral form +seemed to rise ever between them, and reproach her that she had been +so untrue to herself, even for the preservation of a mother. + +The only thing that consoled her for her great sacrifice, was that her +beloved mother seemed to revive to some sense of enjoyment, when she +again found herself surrounded by that comfort to which she had been +accustomed. Weakened in mind as in body, Mrs. Euston fondly flattered +herself that her daughter might yet be happy amid the splendors of +wealth; and the poor mother welcomed the arbiter of their future fate +with smiles and courteous words, to which he listened with politeness, +and scorned as the hollow offspring of necessity. + +The dreaded day at length arrived, and with the calmness of exhausted +emotion, Edith prepared herself for the ceremony which was to consign +her to the protection of Barclay. She believed her earthly fate +sealed, and resignation was all she could command. + +Amid all her suffering, there was one thought which arose perpetually +before her; there was one human being on earth who would have risked +his life to serve or save her, and she knew that a heart worthy of her +love would hear the history of her enforced marriage with bitter +disappointment and anguish. + +Near the home of her infancy dwelt a family of sons and daughters with +whom she had been reared in habits of intimacy. Between herself and +the eldest son a strong attachment had grown up; it had never been +expressed in words, yet each felt as well assured of the affection of +the other, as if a thousand protestations had been uttered. About the +time that Mrs. Euston and her daughter left their own home to travel +with their beloved invalid, Walter Atwood bade adieu to his paternal +home, on a tour to Europe, where he was to complete his professional +education as a medical man. + +Mrs. Euston's place passed into the hands of strangers, and after a +few months all intercourse by letter ceased between their former +friends and themselves. After the death of her son, the bereaved +mother would not consent to return to their former neighborhood, and +thus all trace of them was lost to the Atwoods; but Edith knew in her +deep heart that Walter would return--would seek her; and it was this +conviction which gave her firmness to resist so long the overtures of +Barclay. + +Now all was at an end; another hour and the right even to think of him +would no longer be hers. Her mother entered her room, folded her to +her breast, and whispered, + +"The hour has arrived, my child. Robert is here with the clergyman. Do +not keep them waiting." + +"I am quite ready, mother," said Edith, calmly, and she advanced +without hesitation toward the door, for she heard an impatient step +without, which she well knew. Barclay awaited her in the hall--he +impetuously seized her hand and drew it beneath his arm. + +At that moment the door-bell was violently pulled, and both turned +impulsively to see who made so imperious a demand for admittance. + +At the open door stood two figures, one of a young man, who appeared +deeply agitated, for his features, beneath the light of the lamps, +seemed white and rigid, as if cut from marble. Over his shoulder +appeared a swarthy face, with a pair of bright, keen eyes, gleaming +from beneath overhanging brows. + +Edith and Barclay both uttered an exclamation--but they were very +different in their character. In the impulse of the moment, the former +drew her hand forcibly from him who sought to retain it, and with one +bound, was in the arms of the foremost stranger, as she exclaimed, + +"Walter--my saviour--my preserver! you have come at last!" + +The face of Atwood lost its unnatural rigidity as he pressed her to +his heart, and said, + +"Thank Heaven! I am not then too late!" + +Barclay advanced threateningly, + +"What does this mean, sir? Are you aware that such conduct in my house +is not to be tolerated--that you shall answer for it to me with your +life?" + +"It means, Mr. Barclay, that I come with authority to prevent the +unholy alliance you were about to force upon this helpless and +unprotected girl, to place the seal upon your crimes, by clasping in +wedlock the hand of the sister with that which is red with the +brother's blood." + +"'T is false--the boy killed himself, as Edith herself knows full +well. Am I to be held accountable for the dissipation of a young fool, +who, when once the curb was removed, went headlong to destruction +without the necessity of any prompting from me." + +"We will waive that part of the question, if you please, Mr. Barclay. +I have brought with me one who can prove much more than that. Come +forward, Antoine." + +The Frenchman advanced, and Barclay grew pale as he recognized him. + +"Let us retire to a private room," continued Atwood, in a lower +tone--"I would not have Mrs. Euston and her daughter hear too +suddenly the developments I am prepared to make." + +Then turning to Edith he said-- + +"You are saved, my dear Edith. Retire with your mother, while I settle +with Mr. Barclay." + +Mechanically Barclay led the way into an adjoining room. When there, +he turned haughtily and said-- + +"Now, sir, explain yourself--tell me why my privacy is thus invaded, +and--" + +Atwood interrupted him. + +"It is useless to attempt bravado with me, sir. Your whole career is +too intimately known to me to render it of any avail. You know that +from my boyhood I have loved Miss Euston, for you may remember a +conversation which took place between us several years since, when you +were received as a visiter at her mother's house. Jealousy enabled you +to penetrate what had been carefully veiled from others, and you taxed +me with what I would not deny. Do you remember the words you used to +the boy you then spoke to? That you would move heaven and earth to win +Edith Euston." + +"To what does all this tend?" asked Barclay, in an irritated tone. + +"Patience, and you will see. I returned from Europe and found that +Mrs. Euston's family had left for Havanna. Her lawsuit had gone +against her, and she had lost her home. Nothing more was known of her. +I lost no time in following her. I reached Cuba, and after many +inquiries, traced her to the house of the family which had received +her beneath their roof. There I heard the history of her son's unhappy +death, at the moment he was about to confer independence upon his +mother and sister. _You_ were mentioned as a visiter after his death; +your _generous_ offer to share with Miss Euston as your wife the +wealth which should have been hers was dwelt on. All this aroused a +vague suspicion in my mind. I made minute inquiries, and traced you +through all the orgies of your dissipation. One night I was following +up the inquiry, and I entered a tavern much frequented by foreigners. +A man sat apart in gloomy silence. One of his comrades said-- + +"'Antoine grieves over the loss of his bird. All the money the +American paid him does not make him forget that he sold his best +friend!' + +"By an electric chain of thought, the incident which attended poor +Euston's last moments, occurred to me. I approached the man, and +addressed him in French, for I saw that he was a native of that +country. I spoke of his bird. He shook his head and said-- + +"'It is not the loss of the bird, monsieur, but the use that was made +of him, that troubles my conscience.' + +"In short, to condense a long story, I learned from Antoine, that he +remained in your lodgings several days, until the mackaw he sold to +you became sufficiently accustomed to you to be caressed without +biting. During that time you had a room darkened, and required him to +train the bird to fly at a light and overturn it. When he was +dismissed, his curiosity was excited, and he watched your movements. +He nightly dogged your steps, and traced you to the garden of the +villa. He stood within a few feet of you on the night of Euston's +death, and beheld the use to which you put his bird. His eyes, +accustomed to the gloom without, beheld your dark form glide to the +side of your victim. He saw your murderous hand pressed upon the +breast of the dying youth." + +"'T is false--false. I defy him to prove it." + +"It is true, sir--the evidence is such as would condemn you in any +court; and now listen to me. I offer you lenient terms, in +consideration of the ties of relationship which bind you to those you +have so cruelly oppressed. One third of the fortune for which you have +paid so fearful a price shall be yours, if you will sign a paper I +have with me, which will restore the remainder to Mrs. Euston. If you +refuse, I have in my pocket a writ of arrest, and the officers are in +the shrubbery awaiting my orders to execute it. Comply with my terms +and I suffer you to escape." + +Thus confronted by imminent danger, Barclay seemed to lose his courage +and presence of mind. He measured the floor with rapid steps a few +moments, and then turning to Atwood motioned for the paper, to which +he affixed his signature without uttering a word. + +"There is yet another condition," said Atwood. + +"Leave this country within forty-eight hours. If, after that time, I +am made aware of your presence within the jurisdiction of the United +States, I will have you arrested as a murderer. The peace of mind of +those I have rescued from your power shall not be periled by your +presence within the same land they inhabit." Barclay ground his teeth +with rage. + +"I _shall_ leave it, be assured, but not to escape from this absurd +charge." + +"Go then. I care not from what motive." + +Another instant, and Barclay had passed from the room. Edith and her +mother traveled to their former home in the beautiful land of Florida, +under the protection of Atwood, and there, amid rejoicing friends, +surrounded by all the happy associations of her bright youth, she gave +her hand to her faithful lover. + +Barclay perished in a street brawl, in a foreign land, and the whole +of her brother's estate finally devolved upon her. + + + + +A VOICE FOR POLAND. + +BY WM. H. C. HOSMER. + + + Up, for encounter stern + While unsheathed weapons gleam; + The beacon-fires of Freedom burn, + Her banners wildly stream; + Awake! and drink at purple springs-- + Lo! the "White Eagle" flaps his wings + With a rejoicing scream, + That sends an old, heroic thrill + Through hearts that are unconquered still. + + Leap to your saddles, leap! + Tried wielders of the lance, + And charge as when ye broke the sleep + Of Europe, at the call of France: + The knightly deeds of other years + Eclipse, ye matchless cavaliers! + While plume and penon dance-- + That prince, upon his phantom steed, + In Ellster lost your ranks shall lead. + + Flock round the altar, flock! + And swear ye will be free; + Then rush to brave the battle shock + Like surges of a maddened sea; + Death, with a red and shattered brand + Yet clinging to the rigid hand, + A blissful fate would be, + Contrasted with that darker doom + A branded brow--a living tomb. + + Speed to the combat, speed! + And beat oppression down, + Or win, by martrydom, the meed + Of high and shadowless renown; + Ye weary exiles, from afar + Came back! and make the savage Czar + In terror clutch his crown; + While wronged and vengeful millions pour + Defiance at his palace-door. + + Throng forth with souls to dare, + From huts and ruined halls! + On the deep midnight of despair + A beam of ancient glory falls: + The knout, the chain and dungeon cave + To frenzy have aroused the brave; + Dismembered Poland calls, + And through a land opprest, betrayed, + Stalks Kosciusko's frowning shade. + + + + +TO HER WHO CAN UNDERSTAND IT. + +BY MAYNE REID. + + + They tell me, lady, that thy heart is changed-- + That on thy lip there is another name; + I'll not believe it--though for life estranged-- + I know thy love's lone worship is the same. + The bee that wanders on the summer breath, + May wanton safely among leaves and flowers, + But by the honied jar it clings till death-- + There is no change for hearts that loved like ours. + + You may not mock me--'tis an idle game-- + The lip may lie, the eye with bright beguiling + May, from the world, conceal a suffering flame, + But 'tis the eye and not the heart is smiling; + And I, too, have that power of deceiving, + By the strong pride of an unfeeling will, + The cold and cunning world in its believing-- + What boots it all? The heart will suffer still. + + Comes there not o'er thy spirit, when 'tis dreaming + In the lone hours of the voiceless night, + When the sweet past like a new present seeming, + Brings back those rosy hours of love and light? + Comes there not o'er thy dreaming spirit then + Delicious joy--although 'tis but a vision-- + That we have met, caressed and kissed again, + And revel still among those sweets Elysian? + + Comes there not o'er thy spirit when it wakes, + And finds, with sleep, the vision too hath parted + A lone depression, till thy proud heart aches, + And from thy burning orb the tear hath started? + And with sad memories through thy bosom thronging, + Within thy heart's most secret deep recesses + Feel'st thou not then an agony of longing + To dream again of those divine caresses? + + To dream them o'er and o'er, or deem them real, + While penitence is speaking in thy sighs-- + For this, unlike thy dream, is not ideal-- + It brings the pallid cheek, the moistened eyes: + Then, lady, mock not love so deeply hearted, + With that light seeming which deceit can give-- + The love I promised thee, when last we parted, + Shall never be another's while _you_ live. + + +[Illustration: Engraved by W. E. Tu +A PIC NIC ON OLDEN TIME. +Engraved Expressly for Graham's magazine] + + + + +A PIC-NIC IN OLDEN TIME. + +BY QUEVEDO. + +[SEE ENGRAVING.] + + +Joy is as old as the universe, yet as young as a June rose: and a +pic-nic has of all places been its delight, since the little quiet +family _fetes champetres_ of Adam and Eve in the garden of Eden. So it +is of no especial consequence in what reign of what kingdom our clever +artist has laid his scene--and sooth to say, from the diversified and +pleasantly incongruous costume and accessories of the picture, it +might puzzle an uninitiated to tell. But we, who are in the secrets of +Maga, and to whom the very brain-workings of her poets and painters +are as palpable as the crystal curdling of the lake beneath the filmy +breath of the Frost King, of course know all about it, and will +whisper in your ear the key to the pretty harmonies of wood and sky +and happy faces which he has spread out in a sort of visible cavatina, +or dear little love-song, beneath your eye. + +It was a gay time at Sweetbriar Lodge--for the fair Alice Hawthorn had +just been married to the Squire of Deerdale, and the happy pair +(new-married people were even in those times happy, although they were +not so set down in the newspapers,) had determined to spend the +honeymoon quietly at home, like sensible people, instead of posting +off to Bath or Brighton; or mewing themselves up in some outlandish +corner of the country, where they could see and hear nothing but +themselves, until they were ready to commence the married life by +being cloyed with each other's society. The season was mid-summer, and +the weather so balmy and beautiful that after wandering about in the +woods and fields all day, and watching the moon creep stealthily up +the sky to view herself in the fountain, one felt a longing to make +his bed on the fresh turf under the katydid's bower, and sleep there. +Of course I don't mean the young and happy bridegroom. He never +dreamed of being absent from his Alice; and he even felt quite jealous +of her little sister Emma, who used sometimes to come and put her +laughing, roguish face and curly head between the lovers, as they were +sitting on the sofa or reclining on the green turf by the little +fountain. + +But Alice had another sister, older than herself, and who had already +refused several excellent offers of marriage--declaring that she +intended to live and die single, unless she should fall in love with +some wandering minstrel or prince in disguise, like Lalla Rookh. Her +name was Hortensia; but on account of her proud indifference to the +attentions and compliments which were every where offered to her +wonderful beauty, she was usually called Haughty Hawthorn--a name +which seemed to please her better than all the flatteries of which she +was the object. She was already twenty-two, and ripening into the full +magnificence of glorious womanhood--her heart yet untouched by the +electric dart of love, and her fancy free as the birds of air. + +Now it was quite natural that the gentle Alice, whom love had made so +happy, should willingly enter into a conspiracy with her husband and a +parcel of the young people of the neighborhood against the peace and +comfort of her haughty sister--deeming of course--as I myself am also +of opinion--that a young lady out of love ought to be supremely +miserable, whatever she herself may think about it. + +Keeping in view the peculiar requisites required by Haughty in a +lover, the plan was to get up an old-fashioned pic-nic, at which a +young friend of Squire Deerdale, who was studying for an artist, and +had just returned from Italy, where he had picked up a little music as +well as painting, should be introduced after a mysterious fashion, +which would be sure to inflame the imagination of the loveless lady. +The artist, according to the squire, was handsome as a prince and +eloquent as a minstrel, and his extensive practice in Rome had made +him perfect master of the fine arts, the art of making love included. +So the pic-nic was proposed that very evening, to take place the next +day. Hortensia, who was fond of frolick and fun as the best of them, +albeit not yet in love, fell at once into the snare; and the squire +carelessly led the conversation to turn upon the sudden and unexpected +arrival of the young Duke of St. James upon his magnificent estate +adjoining Sweetbriar Lodge, which he said had taken place that very +day. + +"The duke," said the squire, "is, as you all have heard, one of the +most romantic and sentimental youths in the world, and quite out of +the way of our ordinary extravagant, matter-of-fact young nobility. I +had the pleasure of meeting him when I was in Rome, and could not help +being charmed with him. He read and wrote poetry divinely, played the +mandolin like St. Cecilia, and sung like an improvisatore. I met him +to-day, as he was approaching home in his carriage, and found him, as +well as I could judge from a five minutes' conversation, the same as +ever. I say nothing--but should a fresh-looking, golden-haired, +dreamy-eyed youth be seen at our pic-nic to-morrow, I hope he will be +greeted with the courtesy and welcome due not only to a neighbor but a +man of genius." + +This adroitly concocted speech was drank in like wine by the +unsuspicious Hortensia. A duke! a poet! a romantic man of genius! What +was it made her heart beat so rapidly?--_her_ heart, that had never +beat out of time save over the page of the poet or the novelist--or +may be in the trance of some beautiful midnight dream, such as love to +hover around the pillows of fair maidens, and who can blame them? + +The next morning, as Willis says of one of his fine days, was astray +from Paradise; and bright and early our pic-nickers, comprising a +goodly company of young people, married and single, with several +beautiful children, including of course the roguish Emma, were on the +field selected for the day's campaign. It was a lovely spot. Under a +noble oak whose limbs, rounded into a leafy dome, shed a palpitating +shadow around a sweet little fountain, guarded by a marble naiad, +gathered the merry company upon the green velvet ottoman, +daisy-spangled, that ran around this splendid natural saloon, bower +and drawing-room combined. The day had fulfilled the golden promise of +the early morning; the air, impregnated with a sparkling, effervescing +sunshine, was as bewitching as the breath of champagne foam, and our +adventurers were in the liveliest and gayest spirits. + +Noon was culminating, and the less excitable and more worldly portion +of the company began to be thinking seriously of the bountiful +refection which had been provided for the grand occasion. Hortensia, +it was observed by Squire Deerdale and his wife, and the others who +were in the secret, had seemed absent and thoughtful, all the morning, +and little Emma had teased her sufficiently for not playing with her +as usual. At this moment a young man was seen coming down the broad +sloping glade at the foot of which the party were seated. The squire +immediately rose and welcomed the stranger, introducing him to his +bride and sister-in-law, and expressing his pleasure that he had come. +"We almost began to fear," he added, "that you had forgotten our +humble festival." + +"A _fete_ thus embellished," replied the stranger, bowing with +peculiar grace to the ladies, and glancing admiringly at Hortensia, +"is not an affair to be so easily forgotten by a wanderer who comes, +after years of exile, to revive beneath the blue skies and bluer eyes +of his native land." + +"But your mandolin, Signor Foreigner; I hope you have not forgotten +that?" + +"Oh no indeed," returned the stranger with a musical laugh, "I never +forget my little friend, whose harmonies have often been my only +company. Here it comes," pointing to a lad who just then came up, +bearing a handsome though outlandish-looking guitar gingerly across +his arm. + +Another of the party had also brought his guitar, and the two were +soon tinkling away at different parts of the grounds--the latter +surrounded by half a dozen young men and women, and several beautiful +children; while the stranger, throwing himself on the grass at the +feet of Hortensia, upon whose lap nestled the little Emma, began a +simple ballad of the olden time--while the squire and his bride stood +against the old oak behind Hortensia. At length the strain of the +young musician changed, subsiding into low and plaintive undulations. + +"It is time for us to go," whispered Alice to her husband; "we are +evidently _de trop_ here"--and the wedded pair glided noiselessly off, +casting mischievous glances at the haughty Hortensia, who sat +absorbed in the music, and tears of sympathy and rapture ready to fall +from her eyes. It was a clear case of love at first sight. + +From this pleasant reverie both musician and listener were suddenly +roused by little Emma, who, raising her head and shaking back the long +ringlets from her face, exclaimed, + +"Oh, sister, hear that! There goes the champagne, and I am so hungry. +Come, let us go to dinner." + +"Excuse me, madam," exclaimed the stranger, ceasing to play and +springing to his feet, "your beautiful little monitor is right. I was +already forgetting myself and venturing to dream as of old;" and he +offered his arm to Hortensia, with that polite freedom not only +permitted, but enjoined, by the etiquette of the pic-nic. + +"And do you call it forgetfulness to dream?" inquired Hortensia. + +"With so fair a reality before me, yes; but at other times to dream is +to live." + +"Oh, yes, it _is_ nice to dream!" broke in the little Emma. "Almost as +nice as a wedding. Now last night I dreamt that you were married, +Haughty, like sister Alice." + +A lambent rosy flame seemed to envelop for an instant the beautiful +Hortensia, disappearing instantly, yet leaving its scarlet traces on +cheek and brow. + +"What say you, my pretty one," said the stranger, patting the lovely +child upon the head, "what say you to a sandwich and a glass of wine +with me, here on the greensward? (They had now approached the +_table_--if a snow-white damask spread upon the velvet grass, and +loaded with tempting viands could be called so.) Is not that better +than dreams?" + +"I love wine, sir, but mamma and sister say I shouldn't drink it, +because it makes my eyes red. Now _your_ eyes are as bright as stars. +Do you drink wine?" + +It was the stranger's turn to blush. And this little childish prattle +seemed to have removed the barrier of strangership from between the +two young people, who exchanged glances of a sort of merry vexation, +and seemed to understand each other as if they were old friends. + +That was a merry meal, "all under the greenwood tree," and on the +margin of that sweet little fountain, whose waters came up to the very +lip of the turf, which it refreshed with a sparkling coolness that +ever renewed the brightness of the flowers upon its bosom. After the +dinner was over, a dance was proposed, and the services of the +handsome stranger, as musician, were cheerfully offered and promptly +accepted. It was observed, however, that Hortensia, usually crazy for +dancing, strolled pensively about with little Emma at her side, and at +length seated herself on a little grassy bank, remote from the +dancers, yet where she could overlook the scene. + +There was a little pause in the dance, and Squire Deerdale approached +the stranger and whispered, + +"Do you like her?" + +"She's as beautiful as Juno, but I dare not hope that she would ever +love a poor vagabond like me. She deserves a prince of the blood, at +the very least." + +"Never mind!--_Vedremo_, as we say in Italy;" and with a laugh the +young man bounded again into the dance, while the stranger redoubled +his attention to his guitar. + +The day began to wane, and the shadows of a neighboring mountain to +creep slowly across the lea; and yet, so absorbed was that gay company +in the merry pleasures of the day, that hours glided by unnoticed; and +it was not until the round, yellow moon rose over the eastern hills, +as if peeping out to see the sun set, that they thought of breaking up +a scene of little less than enchantment. + +The stranger scarcely left the side of Hortensia, who seemed +completely subdued and fascinated by the serious eloquence, the +inexhaustible brilliancy of his conversation, as well as enthralled by +the classic beauty of his face, and the respectful yet tender glances +which he from time to time cast upon her face. It may also be supposed +that the hints casually dropped by the squire the night before, +respecting his distinguished acquaintance, the young Duke of St. +James, had not been without their effect. Sooth to say, however, that +the hitherto cold and impassive Hortensia was really in love, and that +she had too much self-respect to make any conditions in the bestowal +of her admiration. She was haughty, proud and ambitious--yet at the +same time high-minded and generous where her feelings were really +interested. + +Much may be accomplished in an afternoon between two congenial hearts +that meet for the first time; and it is not at all surprising that on +their way home the stranger and Hortensia should have lingered a +little behind the rest of the party, engaged in deep and earnest talk. + +"Beautiful being," whispered the stranger, "I have at length found my +heart's idol, whom in dreams I have ever worshiped. What need of long +acquaintanceship between hearts made for each other? Lady, I love +you!" + +"Sir, sir, I beg you to pause. You know not what you are saying--you +cannot mean that--" + +"But I tell you he does mean it, though," exclaimed a merry voice +close at the lady's elbow; and turning round, she saw her mischievous +brother-in-law, who had been demurely following their tardy footsteps. + +"Brother! you here! I--really--am quite astonished!" + +"And," interrupted the stranger, while a dark flush came over his +face, "allow me to say, Squire Deerdale, that I also am astonished at +this violation of the rights of a friendship even so old and sincere +as ours." + +"Well, well, I beg your pardon, fair lady; and as for you, sir, after +you have heard my explanation, I shall be prepared to give you any +satisfaction you may require. You must know, then, my dear old friend, +that from a few careless words I dropped last evening, by way of joke, +this young lady has imbibed the idea that you are the young Duke of +St. James in disguise; and for the purpose of preventing any +misunderstandings for the future, it is requisite that my sister and +my friend Walter Willie, the artist, should comprehend one another's +position fully." + +"Good heavens! madam, you cannot believe that I was accessory to this +mad prank of your brother's? Do not believe it for the world." + +"No, no, I acquit you and every body but myself. I am sure I intended +no harm by my thoughtless joke. Come, come, make up the matter at +once, so that I may hasten back to Alice, who will begin to grow +jealous, directly." + +"Madam, dear madam, (Hortensia turned away her head with an imperious +gesture,) I have only to beg your pardon for having too long intruded +upon your attention, and to take my leave. The poor artist must still +worship his ideal at a distance. For him there is but the world of +imagination. No such bright reality as being beloved rests in his +gloomy future. Farewell!" and the young man, bowing for a moment over +the hand of Hortensia, withdrew. + +"Brother, brother, what have you done!" passionately exclaimed the +beauty, in a voice choked by sobs. "For a foolish joke you have driven +away the only being who has ever interested my lonely heart. And now I +can never, never be happy again." + +"But, dear Hortensia, would you stoop to love a mere artist?" + +"Stoop, sir,--stoop! I know not what you mean. Think you so meanly of +me as to believe I would sell myself for wealth and a title? Proud I +may be--but not, I thank God, mercenary nor mean. And what a lofty, +noble spirit is that of your friend! What lord or duke could match the +height of his intellect or the gorgeousness of his imagination. Oh, +too soon my beautiful dream is broken!" and the young lady, all power +of her usual self-restraint being lost, wept like a child upon the +shoulder of her brother. + +"Nay, nay, sister dear, weep not," at length said the squire, tenderly +raising her head and leading her homeward. "All is not lost that is in +danger. And so that you really _have_ lost your hard little heart to +my noble, glorious friend, I'll take care that it is soon +recovered--or at any rate another one quite as good. Come, come, cheer +up! All will go well." + +The squire, although not usually rated as a prophet, predicted rightly +for once; for the very next day saw young Walter Willie at Sweetbriar +Lodge, with a face as handsome and happy as the morning. Hortensia was +ill, and must not be disturbed; and at this information his features +suddenly became overcast, as you may have seen a spring sky by a thick +cloud, springing up from nobody knows where. However, the squire +entered directly after, and whispered a few words to his guest, which +seemed to restore in a measure the brightness of his look. + +"And you really think, then, that I may hope?" + +"Nay, my friend, you may do as you like about that. All men may hope, +you know Shakspeare says. But I tell you that Hortensia has fallen in +love with your foolish face--it's just like her!--and that's all about +it. Come in and take some breakfast. Oh, I forgot--you've no appetite. +Of course not. Well, you'll find some nice fresh dew in those +morning-glories yonder, and I will rejoin you in a minute. We 'll make +a day of it." + +That evening the moon shone a million times brighter, the sky was a +million times bluer, and the nightingale sung a million times sweeter +than ever before. At least so thought the beautiful Hortensia and her +artist-lover, as they strolled, arm-in-arm, through the woody lawn +that skirted the garden of Sweetbriar Lodge, and held sweet converse +of immortal things by gazing into each other's eyes. And so ends our +veracious history of the Pic-Nic in Olden Time. + + + + +TO THE VIOLET. + +BY H. T. TUCKERMAN. + + + Sweet trophy of life's morning, fresh and calm, + Dropped from the gleanings of relentless time, + How from thy dainty chalice steals the balm + That hung like incense o'er its dewy prime! + + The lily's stateliness thou dost not own, + Nor glow voluptuous of the damask rose, + Thou canst not emulate the laurel's crown, + Nor, like the Cereus, watch while all repose. + + And these gay rivals of parterre and field + May freely drink the sunshine and the dew, + But only unto thee does heaven yield + The pure reflection of her cloudless blue. + + Thy tint will sometimes darken till it wear + A purple such as decked the eastern kings, + And yet, like innocence, all unaware + Its tribute to the wind thy blossom flings. + + Symbol of what is cherished and untold, + Thy fragrance oft reveals thee to the sight, + Peering in beauty from the common mould, + As casual blessings the forlorn requite. + + Thy image upon Laura's robe was wrought, + O'er which her poet with devotion mused, + And gentle souls, I ween, have ever caught + From thee a solace that the world refused. + + The Tuscan flower-girls delight to cheer + Each pensive exile with thy scented leaves, + Fit largess of a clime to fancy dear, + Which a new blandishment from thee receives. + + Grief's frenzy, when it melts, of thee will rave, + As of a thing too winsome to decay, + And thus Laertes at his sister's grave + Bids violets spring from her unsullied clay. + + Lowly incentive to celestial thought! + We ne'er with listless step can pass thee by, + For thou with tender embassies art fraught, + Like the fond beaming of a northern eye. + + Hence thou art sacred to our human needs; + Laid on the maiden's white and throbbing breast + Thy delicate odor for the absent pleads, + And mourners strew thee where their idols rest. + + In those wild hours when feeling chafed its bound, + And deepened more that utterance was denied, + In thee persuasive messengers I found + That reached the haven of love's wayward tide. + + And I have borne thee to the couch of death + When naught remained to do but wait and pray, + And marked the sudden flush and quickened breath + That proved thee dear though all had passed away! + + + + +THEY MAY TELL OF A CLIME. + +TO ---- ----. + +BY CHARLES E. TRAIL. + + + They may tell of a clime more delightful than this, + The land of the orange, the myrtle and vine; + Where the roses blush red beneath Zephyr's warm kiss, + And the bright beams of summer unceasingly shine. + But I know a sweet valley, a beautiful spot, + Where the turf is so green, and the breezes are bland; + And methinks, if you'll share there my ivy-crowned cot, + There'll be no place on earth like my own native land. + + A palace 'neath Italy's star-covered sky, + Unblest by thy presence would desolate be; + But cheered by the light of thy soft beaming eye, + Ah! sweet were a tent in the desert with thee. + For 'tis love--O! 'tis love which thus hallows the ground, + And brightens the gloom of the anchorite's cell; + And the Eden of earth--wheresoe'er it be found-- + Is the spot where the heart's cherished idol doth dwell. + + Then come to my cottage--though cool be the shade, + And verdant the sod 'neath the wide-spreading bough-- + Where the wood-dove its nest 'mid the foliage hath made, + Yet lone is that cottage, and desolate now. + For as the green forest, bereft of the dove, + No more with sweet echoes would musical be-- + Even so is the rose-mantled bower of love, + Unblest and uncheered, if not gladdened by thee. + + + + +A DREAM WITHIN A DREAM + +BY C. A. WASHBURN. + + +I dreamed that for a long time I courted Charlotte--what need of +dreaming? It was true. Nevertheless I dreamed that for a long time I +courted Charlotte, and at last, which was not true, married her. And I +thought that Charlotte and I lived very happily together. + +She loved me better than she ever thought she could before we were +married, for I loved her exceedingly, and was very kind to her. + +I remember how long it was that I wooed her. Always hoping, though +sometimes fearing that she would never love me so as to marry me; how, +when at last we were married, and I carried her home to my pretty +cottage, I could hardly contain myself for joy; and when I saw her +seated in our own parlor on the wedding eve, I could not keep a tear +from trickling down my cheek; and how she kissed away the tear, and +when she knew the cause, how she burst into a flood of tears, and said +she would love me the better for my having loved her so; and how that +we were from that time wholly united in heart and sympathy. + +Then, in the course of time, we had two darling children, which we +both loved--and I thought my cup of happiness completed. I had been an +ambitious man in my youth, and had experienced much of the +disappointment incident to a life for fame. But when God had given us +two such lovely children, I thought it was abusing his mercy to +neglect them for the applause of the world--and so devoted myself +entirely to their welfare. If I worked hard and was inclined to feel +peevish and cross, I thought how that I was laboring to make happy, +and good, and great, the dear boys, and I forgot every thing else. If +I became tired of the turmoil of life, I was the more happy when I got +home, for the children were always waiting and glad to see me, and +their presence immediately banished all anxiety and care. They seemed +so happy when I came--for Charlotte used to teach them to prize my +presence by dating their pleasures by my arrival; that I thought it +joy enough for one mortal to have looked upon the impersonation of +innocence and joy in his own children. + +Then, when the boys were asleep, how we used to talk about them; how +anxious we were when either of them was restless or unquiet! How we +used to reckon on the joy they would give us in age, and how in the +happiness of our lot we shed tears of happines and joy! With what +fervor did we unite in prayer for their health and preservation, and +wish all the world as happy as we were. We became selfish in our joy, +and felt to care little for any thing but home, and in our enjoyment +of the gift we had like to have forgotten the Giver. + +But at length Charlie, the younger boy, was sick, and we feared he +would die. We then remembered in whose hands his life was, and, I +believe, ever after regarded our treasures as trusts committed to our +keeping. Charlie suffered great pain, but he complained not. His very +submission smote our hearts, and though we could not think he was to +die, yet we thought he was too good to live. Benny could no longer +smile upon us, but watched by his brother's bed without speaking or +moving, unless to do him some service. We felt anxious about Charles, +yet forbore to speak of our anxiety, though when he was asleep we +could no longer conceal our sorrow and fears. And when one day the +physician imprudently said in his hearing that he feared Charles would +die, he looked at him in surprise, as if he had not thought of that; +and kissing the fevered brow of his sick brother, he came and stood by +his mother's side, and looking in her face as much as to say you wont +let brother die, he saw a tear in the clear blue eye of his mother, +and he sobbed aloud; and Charlotte could contain herself no longer, +but dropped hot tears on his face faster than she could kiss them +away. Then I feared if Charlie should die lest Benny should die too; +and then I knew that Charlotte could not bear all this, and I prayed +in my heart to God for Charles. And the next day, when the good +physician said the danger was past, we felt to thank God that he had +so chastened our affections, and ever loved him the more. + +So we lived in love and happiness for many years, and all that time +not a shade of discord passed between us; and I often thought what a +dreary world this had been to me if Charlotte had never been mine. I +used to pity my bachelor neighbor, and, as I thought, I could see the +tear of disappointment in his eye when he witnessed my happy lot. I +saw it was a vision, and only the figure of Margaret, my once loved +and pretty sister, who existed then but in the land of spirits, was +before me. + +And I told Margaret of the vision, and could not repress a sigh that +it was not reality; and musing long on what I was, and what I might +have been had nature dealt with me more kindly, until the vision +returned. Again I lived the life of youth's fancy. + +But the boys now began to mingle a little with the world, and we +feared we were not equal to the task of educating them. We trembled +when we thought of the dangers before them, though we could not +believe it possible that they should ever do wrong. Alas! what trouble +was before us! + +I had carried home a box of strawberries, and set them in the pantry, +and setting myself down in the library, waited for Charlotte to come +home from shopping. I saw Charlie come from the pantry, but thought +nothing at the time, and when Benny came in, bade him bring them to me +that I might divide them between them--they were gone; Charles must +have taken them, for no one else had been in the pantry. I called him +to me, and asked if he had taken them. I asked without concern, for I +knew if he had, he did it supposing it to be right. He said, "No, +sir." "Ah," said I, "you did." He then inquired what ones I meant, and +I told him, and told him he must confess it, or I must punish him. But +when I talked so seriously of punishment, he seemed confounded. He +turned pale, and only said, "I did not do it." That was a trying +moment; and when Charlotte came in, we considered long and anxiously +what we ought to do. Should we let the theft go unpunished, and the +falsehood to be repeated. Again we urged him to confess. The answer +was still the same. There was no alternative but a resort to what I +had prayed Heaven might spare me. I punished him severely, but he +confessed not. I wished I had not begun, but now I must go on. I still +increased the castigation, and it was only when I told him that I +would stop when he owned the theft, and not before, that he confessed +he had taken the berries. + +After this cruel punishment he went out and found Benny, who had been +crying piteously all the time, and then my two boys went and hid +themselves. I would have suffered the rack to have recalled that hour. +It was too late. On going into the kitchen shortly after, I found a +poor woman of the neighborhood with the box, which she said her +thievish son had confessed he stole from the pantry. Perhaps some +parents imagine the feelings of Charlotte and myself when we made this +discovery. But they are few. The boys both shunned us, and we dreaded +to see them. But at last we sent for them to come in, and they dared +not refuse to obey. I took Charles in my arms. I asked him to forgive +me; I told him who took the berries; I shed tears without measure; I +begged him to forgive me--to kiss me as he was wont. He could not do +it. It was cold and mechanical. His little heart seemed broke. Had he +died I thought I could have borne it, but I could not endure this. +When he slept he was fitful and troubled; ah! his troubles could not +be greater than mine. I slept not that night; no, nor for many nights +after that; but I watched him in his sleep, and many a hot tear did I +drop on his cheek, which he wiped off as poison; and for many weeks I +would rise several times every night, and go and gaze on his yet +pretty face, on which was stamped the curse for my own cruel haste. + +In the midst of these sore trials, the lovely face of Margaret again +appeared before me, and again the vision vanished into nothing. And I +told her this part of the dream, and even then could not suppress a +tear that it was a dream, and that the children of W---- could never +have an existence or a name. + +Then the kind Margaret spoke words of comfort to me, and made me +repress the half-formed feeling of discontent. + +"Have you not," said she, "said you would be satisfied for only one +hour of the love of Charlotte?" + +"True," I replied, "and that dream was worth more than all my life +before." + +"Have you not known in that the joys of a parent, and have you not +seen what sorrows and trials might have been yours, from which you +have now escaped? And do you now complain of your lot, W----? You know +not the designs of Providence. Will not Charlotte be yours in the +world to come?" + +"God grant it!" said I; "but where will be Benny and Charles? They can +never be, and I shall die, and the flame of parental love will burn in +me, and never can it have an object." + +"Hush you!" said Margaret, "cannot God give you in the other world +those spirits of fancy? Did you not enjoy them in the dream, and +cannot the same power make you enjoy them in Elysium? Is it nothing +that God has done for you in showing you what might have been, and +what can be _there_? Are you still ungrateful, and do you still +distrust his goodness? Is it nothing that he has kept you from +temptation, and that you have so clear a conscience? Will you not be +worthy of Charlotte in heaven; and have you no gratitude for all this? +Have you not dear friends still; and will not Margaret be a +guardian-angel to you so long as you sojourn in this valley of tears?" + +"Ah!" said I, "I am blest beyond my deserts, and I will no more +complain, but thank my heavenly Father for the dream-children he hath +given me." + +I felt reproved by the words of Margaret, for I felt I had often +indulged in useless repinings; and I determined I would do so no more, +but patiently await my time to enjoy the loved ones, both real and +ideal, in heaven. I again turned to speak to Margaret--but Margaret +had vanished to the land of spirits, and I was alone, the solitary man +I had long been. It was but a dream within a dream. + + + + +PASSED AWAY. + +BY W. WALLACE SHAW. + + + With wearied step, and heavy heart, + O'erburdened with life's woes-- + My soul bowed down with grief and care + The orphan only knows-- + I strayed along old ocean's shore, + Where I had wandered oft before, + My grief to hide from men; + + I listened--something seemed to say-- + The joys that once did fill thy breast + Where, oh! where are they? + A voice that mingled with the roar + Of dashing waves against the shore, + In hollow tone, replied-- + "They _bloomed_; and _died_!" + + + + +AN EVENING SONG, + +BY PROFESSOR WM. CAMPBELL. + +[AN EXTRACT.] + + + Lyre of my soul, awake--thy chords are few, + Feeble their tones and low, + Wet with the morning and the evening dew + Of ceaseless wo. + The time hath been to me and thee, my lyre, + When soul of fire + Was ours, and notes and aspirations bold + Of higher hopes and prouder promise told-- + Those days have flown-- + Now we are old, + Old and alone! + + Old in our youth--for sorrow maketh old, + And disappointment withereth the frame, + And harsh neglect will smother up the flame, + That else had proudly burned--and the cold + Offcasting of affection will repel + The warm life-current back upon the heart, + And choke it nigh to bursting--yet 't is well, + And wise-intended, that the venomed dart + Shall bear its sure and speedy remedy. + Why should the wretched wish to live? to be + One in this cold wide world--ever to feel + That others feel not--wounds that will not heal-- + A bruised, though yet unbroken spirit's strife-- + A waning and a wasting out of life-- + A longing after loving--and the curse + To know + One's self unknown-- + In secrecy a hopeless hope to nurse-- + Down to the grave to go + Unloved--alone! + + Yet not alone! Pardon, thou gentle breeze, + That comest o'er the waters with the tread + Of beauty stealing to the sufferer's bed, + To cool the burning brow, and whisper peace. + Pardon, ye sweet wild flow'rets, that each morn + Woo us to brush the dew-drop from the lid + Of tearful innocence, and meekly warn + Of worth in garb of lowliest texture hid. + Beings of gentlest life, ye murmuring streams, + Lull of our waking, music of our dreams, + Ye things of artless merriment, that throw + Around you gladness, wheresoe'er ye flow-- + And ye dark mountains, down whose changeful sides + The mystic guardian, giant shadow strides, + Whose kindly frown, howe'er the storms prevail, + Peace and repose ensureth to the vale-- + Ye tall proud forests, that forever sway + In kingly fury, or in graceful play-- + Ye bright blue waters whose untiring drip + Against this island shore doth lightly break, + Gentle and noiseless as the parting lip + Of dreaming infant on its mother's cheek, + Pardon my rash averment--pardon, ye + Flow'rets and streamlets, mountains, woods and waves, + That pour into the soul a melody, + Like to the far down music of the caves + Of ocean, heard not, felt not, save within, + Seeking to joy the darker depths to win-- + Oh! while your sweet and sacred voices steal + Into my spirit, as the joyous fall + Of the warm sunbeam on the frozen rill, + To wake the voice that slumbereth, and call + To bear you company + In your glad hymnings, let the wretched own + He cannot be + Alone! + + Never alone!--awake, my soul--on high + The glorious sun his thousand rays has flung + Athwart the vaulted sky-- + Lo! there the heavens their mighty harp have strung, + The gold, the silver and the crimson chord, + To hymn their evening hymn unto the Lord. + Hark! heard ye not that glorious burst of song, + Which, touched by hands unseen, those chords sent forth, + Bidding the attuned spheres the notes prolong + Deeper and louder, till the trembling earth + Catcheth the thrilling strain-- + Echoeth back again-- + From the bosom of ocean a voice + Pealeth forth, and the mountains rejoice + And the plains and the woods and the valleys rebound, + And the Universe all is a creature of sound, + That runneth his race + Through the infinite regions of infinite space, + Till arrived at the throne + Of HIM who alone + Is worthy of honor and glory and praise. + + And it is ever thus--morn, noon and eve, + And in the still midnight, undying + Choirs of creation's minstrels weave + Sweet symphony of incense, vying + In wrapt intricacy of endless songs. + Ever, oh ever thus they sing, + But to our soul's dull ear belongs + Seldom the trancing sense + To list the universal worshiping, + Thrill with the glorious theme, and drink its eloquence. + + Mocking all our soul's desiring, + Distant now the notes are stealing, + And the minstrels high reining, + Drapery blue their forms concealing. + + + + +THE OCEAN-BURIED. + +COMPOSED, AND DEDICATED TO MISSES HARRIET AND MARY HALSEY, + +Of Blooming Grove, O. C., N. Y., + +BY MISS AGNES H. JONES. + + +=Andantino Soave=. + + +[Illustration: music] + + "Bury me not in the deep, deep sea." The words came faint and mournfully, + From the pallid lips of a youth who lay On the cabin couch where, + +[Illustration: music] + + day by day, He had wasted and pined, till o'er his brow The death shade + had slowly pass'd, and now, When the land and his fond loved home were + nigh, They had gath'rd around to see him die. + + + Let my death-slumber be where a mother's prayer + And sister's tears can be blended there. + Oh, it will be sweet ere the heart's throb is o'er, + To know, when its fountain shall gush no more, + That those it so fondly has yearn'd for will come, + To plant the first wild-flower of spring on my tomb. + Let me lie where lov'd ones can weep over me-- + Bury me not in the deep, deep sea! + + And there is another, her tears would be shed + For him who lays far in an ocean bed; + In hours that it pains me to think of now, + She has twin'd these locks and kiss'd this brow-- + In this hair she has wreathed shall the sea-snake hiss? + The brow she has press'd shall the cold wave kiss? + For the sake of that bright one that wails for me, + Bury me not in the deep, deep sea! + + "She hath been in my dreams"--his voice failed short, + They gave no heed to his dying prayer.-- + They have lowered him o'er the vessel's side-- + Above him hath closed the solemn tide. + Where to dip her wing the wild fowl rests-- + Where the blue waves dance with their foamy crests-- + Where the billows bound and the winds sport free, + They have buried him there, in the deep, deep sea. + + + + +REVIEW OF NEW BOOKS. + + + _Calaynos: A Tragedy. By George H. Boker, E. H. Butler + & Co. Philadelphia, pp. 218._ + +The spirit of English poetry has been for years eminently lyric; the +few attempts at the epic or dramatic having been laid aside, if not +permanently, at least for a time. The age has been too busy in working +out, with machinery and steam, its own great epic thought, to find +leisure to listen to any thing longer than a single bugle-blast +encouraging its advancement. We cannot but believe, however, if we may +be allowed an analogical inference, that the age is fast approaching +the climax of its utilitarian inventions, and that man, instead of +chasing through unknown regions every will-o-wisp of his brain, in the +hope of bringing it a captive to the Patent-office, will sit modestly +down to apply to their various uses the discoveries already made. Then +will the healthy feast of literature once more begin, and the public +cease to be surfeited by the watery hash which has been daily set +steaming before them. In the volume under consideration we think we +can discern the promise of the return of the good old spirit of +English poetry--of solid honest thought expressed in straight forward +Saxon. The story, which is one of the chivalrous days of Spain, while +it is devoid of trick is full of thrilling interest, and its style, +while it is eminently poetical, neither swells into bombast nor +descends to the foppery so common among the verse-makers of our day. +There is a stately, old-fashioned tread in the diction, as of a man in +armor, who, should he attempt to gather flowers of mere prettiness, +would crush them at the first touch of his iron gauntlet, and who, if +he seems to move ungracefully at times, owes his motion to his weight +of mail. Calaynos, the hero, is in every respect a nobleman, not only +in blood, but what is better, in mind. He is a scholar, one who, in +the words of Dona Alda his wife, + + --uses time as usurers do their gold, + Making each moment pay him double interest. + +He is a philosopher-- + + Things nigh impossible are plain to him; + His trenchant will, like a fine-tempered blade, + With unturned edge, cleaves through the baser iron. + +He is generous and has + + --a predetermined trust in man; + +and holds that + + He who hates man must scorn the Source of man, + And challenge as unwise his awful Maker. + +The character of Dona Alda is noble and womanly--her chief trait being +her great pride and jealous care of her honor. She conceives that no +one will brave the + + --peril, such as he must brook, + Who dares to love the wife of great Calaynos. + +Her maid, Martina, tells her that + + --Queens of Spain + Have had their paramours-- + +and she replies, + + --So might it be, + _Yet never hap to bride of a Calaynos_! + +Don Luis, the villain of the plot, thus paints his own picture: + + --I was not formed for good: + To what Fate orders I must needs submit: + The sin not mine, but His who made me thus-- + Not in my will but in my nature lodged. + + * * * * * + + I will grasp the stable goods of life, + Nor care how foul the hand that does the deed. + +Martina is admirably drawn; her wit is excellent, and as exhaustless +as it is keen. She says of Calaynos-- + + He looks on pleasure as a kind of sin, + Calls pastime waste-time---- + + * * * * * + + I heard a man, who spent a mortal life + In hoarding up all kinds of stones and ores, + Call one, who spitted flies upon a pin, + A fool to pass his precious lifetime thus. + +She says of Oliver, Calayno's secretary, + + Yes, there he goes-- + Backward and forward, like a weaver's shuttle, + Spinning some web of wisdom most divine. + +She addresses him thus-- + + Our clay, the preachers say, was warmed to life; + But yours, your dull, cold mud, was froze to being. + _I would not be the oyster that you are + For all the pearls of wisdom in your shell!_ + +All the persons of the play are vivid and life-like. With the +beginning of the third act the interest becomes intense, and nothing +could be more vigorous and touching than the action and depth of +pathos toward the close of the piece. Every page teems with fine +thoughts and images, which lead us to believe that the mine from which +this book is a specimen, contains a golden vein of poetry which will +go far to enrich our native literature. + + + _Literary Sketches and Letters: Being the Final + Memorials of Charles Lamb, Never before Published. By + Thomas Noon Talfourd. New York: D. Appleton & Co. 1 + vol. 12mo._ + +The present work is important in more respects than one. It was needed +to clear up the obscurity which rested on several points of Lamb's +life, and it was needed to account for some of the peculiarities of +his character. The volume proves that this most genial and kindly of +humorists was tried by as severe a calamity as ever broke down the +energies of a great spirit, and the frailties commonly associated with +his name seem almost as nothing compared with the stern duties he +performed from his early manhood to his death. The present volume is +calculated to increase that personal sympathy and love for him, which +has ever distinguished the readers of Lamb from the readers of other +authors, and also to add a sentiment of profound respect for his +virtues and his fortitude. The truth is that Lamb's intellect was one +of the largest and strongest, as well as one of the finest, among the +great contemporary authors of his time, and it was altogether owing to +circumstances, and those of a peculiarly calamitous character, that +this ample mind left but inadequate testimonials of its power and +fertility. He is, and probably will be, chiefly known as an original +and somewhat whimsical essayist, but his essays, inimitable of their +kind, were but the playthings of his intellect. + +Talfourd has performed his editorial duties with his usual taste and +judgment, and with all that sweetness and grace of expression which +ever distinguishes the author of Ion. His sketches of Lamb's +companions are additions to the literary history of the present +century. Lamb's own letters, which constitute the peculiar charm of +the book, are admirable--the serious ones being vivid transcripts of +his moods of mind, and some of them almost painful in their direct +expression of agony, and the semi-serious rioting in mirth, mischief +and whim, full of wit and meaning, and full also of character and +kindliness. One of his early letters he closes, as being from his +correspondent's "afflicted, headachey, sore-throatey, humble servant." +In another he calls Hoole's translation of Tasso "more vapid than +smallest small beer, 'sun-vinegared.'" In speaking of Hazlitt's +intention to print a political pamphlet at his own expense, he comes +out with a general maxim, which has found many disciples: "The first +duty of an author, I take it, is never to pay any thing." When Hannah +More's Coelebs in Search of a Wife appeared, it was lent to him by a +precise lady to read. He thought it among the poorest of common +novels, and returned it with this stanza written in the beginning: + + If ever I marry a wife + I'd marry a landlord's daughter, + For then I may sit in the bar, + And drink cold brandy-and-water. + +In speaking of his troubles toward the close of his life, he has a +strange, humorous imagination, in every way worthy of his peculiar +genius: "My bedfellows are cough and cramp; _we sleep three in a +bed_." + +The present volume is elegantly printed, and will doubtless have a +run. It is full of matter, and that of the most interesting kind. No +reader of Lamb, especially, will be without it. + + + + _Modern French Literature. By L. Raymond de Vericour. + Edited by W. S. Chase, A. M. Boston: Gould, Kendall & + Lincoln. 1 vol. 12mo._ + +This work is the English production of a native Frenchman, and was +written for one of Chambers's series of books for the people. It is +edited, with notes alluding particularly to writers prominent in the +late French Revolution, by a young American scholar, who has recently +resided in France. The book, though deficient and sometimes incorrect +in details, deserves much praise for its general correctness and +accuracy. The author, though by no means a critic of the first class, +is altogether above the herd of Grub street hacks who commonly +undertake the popularizing of literary history. He is no Winstansley +and no Cibber. The range of his reading appears to be extensive. His +judgments are somewhat those of a school-master, but one of the +highest grade. There are several amusing errors relating to the +position of English authors, to some of which we cannot help alluding, +as they seem to have escaped the vigilant eye of the editor. Speaking +of Guizot and Sismondi as the leaders of the school of French +philosophical historians, he remarks that "the English language +possesses some good specimens of this class of history; the most +remarkable are Gibbon's Decline and Fall and the works of Mr. Millar." +This is as if the author had said that England possessed some good +specimens of the Romantic Drama, the most remarkable being +Shakspeare's Macbeth and the works of Mr. Colman. + +Again, in speaking of the novels of Paul de Kock, and protesting +against those English critics who call him the first writer of his +time and country, he says that it is as ridiculous as it would be in +Frenchmen to exalt the novels of Charles Dickens above Ivanhoe, +_Philip Augustus_ and Eugene Aram, The idea of a Frenchman thinking it +a paradox to rank Dickens above James, or even Bulwer, shows how +difficult it is for a foreigner, especially a Frenchman, to pass +beyond the external form of English literature. + +The author deserves the praise of being a sensible man, in the English +meaning of the phrase. There is one sentence in his introductory +which proves that his mind has escaped one besetting sin of the French +intellect, which has prevented its successful cultivation of politics +as a practical science. In speaking of the histories of Thiers and +Mignet, he says that they "have hatched a swarm of _Jeunes Prances_, +vociferating in their wild aberrations, emphatic eulogies on Marat, +Coulhon and Robespierre, and breathing a love of blood and +destruction, which they call the progressive march of events." + + + _Rise and Fall of Louis Philippe, Ex-King of the + French, Giving a History of the French Revolution from, + its Commencement in 1789. By Benj. Perley Poore, + Boston: Wm. D. Ticknor & Co. 1 vol. 12mo._ + +Of all the publications we have seen relating to Louis Philippe this +is the most complete and the most agreeable. The author, from his long +residence in Paris, and from his position as Historical Agent of the +State of Massachusetts, was enabled to collect a large mass of matter +relating to French history, and also to learn a great deal respecting +the Orleans dynasty, which would not naturally find its way into +print. The present volume, though it has little in relation to the +first French Revolution not generally known by students, embodies a +large number of important facts respecting Louis Philippe, which we +believe are now published for the first time. The biography itself has +the interest of a romance, for few heroes of novels ever were, in +imagination, subjected to the changes of fortune which Louis +encountered in reality. Mr. Poore's view of his character is not more +flattering than that which commonly obtains--on both sides of the +Atlantic. To sustain this disparaging opinion of his subject, however, +he is compelled to suppose policy and hypocrisy as the springs of many +actions which a reasonable charity would pronounce virtuous and +humane. It must be conceded that the conduct of the king during the +last few days of his reign was feeble, if not cowardly, but his +uniform character in other periods of his life was that of a man +possessing singular readiness and coolness in times of peril, and +encountering obstacles with a courage as serene as it was adventurous. + + + _The Tenant of Wildfield Hall. By Acton Bell, Author of + Wurthuring Heights.. New York: Harper & Brothers. 1 + vol. 12mo._ + +The appearance of this novel, so soon after the publication of +Wurthuring Heights, is an indication of Mr. Bell's intention to be a +frequent visiter, or visitation, of the public. We are afraid that the +personages he introduces to his readers will consist chiefly of one +class of mankind, and this class not the most pleasing. He is a +monomaniac on the subject of man's rascality and brutality, and crowds +his page with forcible delineations of offensive characters and +disgusting events. The power he displays is of a high but limited +order, and is exercised chiefly to make his readers uncomfortable. To +be sure the present novel is not so bad as Wurthuring Heights in the +matter of animal ferocity and impish diabolism; but still most of the +characters, to use a quaint illustration of an eccentric divine, "are +engaged in laying up for themselves considerable grants of land in the +bottomless pit," and brutality, blasphemy and cruelty constitute their +stock in trade. The author is not so much a delineator of human life +as of inhuman life. There are doubtless many scenes in The Tenant of +Wildfield Hall drawn with great force and pictorial truth, and which +freeze the blood and "shiver along the arteries;" but we think that +the author's process in conceiving character is rather logical than +imaginative, and consequently that he deals too much in unmixed +malignity and selfishness. The present novel, with all its peculiar +merits, lacks all those elements of interest which come from the +generous and gentle affections. His champagne enlivens, but there is +arsenic in it. + + + _Brothers and Sisters. By Frederika Bremer. Translated + by Mary Howitt. New York: Harper & Brothers._ + +This is by no means one of Miss Bremer's best productions, but it is +not on that account a commonplace production. The pathos, the +cheerfulness, the elevation, the sweet humane home-feeling of the +Swedish novelist, are here in much of their old power, with the +addition of universal philanthropy and the rights of labor. But we +fear that the original vein of our authoress is exhausted, and that +she is now repealing herself. It is a great mistake to suppose that a +new story, new names of characters, additional sentiments nicely +packed in new sentences, make a new novel, when the whole tone and +spirit of the production continually reminds the reader of the +authors previous efforts. It is no depreciation of Miss Bremer's +really fine powers to assert, that she lacks the creative energy of +Scott, or the ever active fancy and various observation of Dickens. + + + _Grantley Manor. By Lady Georgiana Fullerton. New York: + D. Appleton & Co. 1 vol. 12mo._ + +This is altogether one of the finest novels which have appeared for +many years. It is written with much beauty of style; evinces a +creative as well as cultivated mind, and contains a variety of +characters which are not only interesting in themselves, but have a +necessary connection with the plot and purpose. The mind of the author +has that combination of shrewdness and romantic fervor, of sense and +passion, so necessary to every novelist who desires to idealize +without contradicting the experience of common life. + + +EDITOR'S TABLE. + +To the readers of "Graham."--A series of misfortunes having bereft me +of any proprietory interest in this Magazine, the present publishers +have made a liberal arrangement with me, and for the future, the +editorial and pictorial departments of Graham's Magazine will be under +the charge of Joseph R. Chandler, Esq., J. Bayard Taylor, Esq., and +myself. + +It is due to the subscribers to "Graham" from me, to state, that from +the first hour I took charge of it, the warmest support and +encouragement were given me, and from two not very profitable +magazines "Graham" sprung at once into boundless popularity and +circulation. Money, as every subscriber knows, was freely expended +upon it, and an energy untiring and sleepless was devoted to its +business management, and had I not, in an evil hour, forgotten my own +true interests, and devoted that capital and industry to another +business which should have been confined exclusively to the magazine, +I should to-day have been under no necessity--not even of writing this +notice. + +I come back to my first love with an ardor undiminished, and an energy +not enervated, with high hopes and very bold purposes. What can be +done in the next three years, time, that great solver of doubts, must +tell. What a daring enterprize in business can do, I have already +shown in Graham's Magazine and the North American--and, alas! I have +also shown what folly can do, when business is forgotten--but I can +yet show the world that he who started life a poor boy, with but eight +dollars in his pocket, and has run such a career as mine, is hard to +be put down by the calumnies or ingratitude of any. Feeling, +therefore, that having lost one battle, "there is time enough to win +another," I enter upon the work of the "redemption of Graham," with +the very confident purposes of a man who never doubted his ability to +succeed, and who asks no odds in a fair encounter. + + GEO. R. GRAHAM. + + +An Acquisition.--Our readers will share in the pleasure with which it +is announced, that JOSEPH R. CHANDLER, Esq., the accomplished writer, +and former editor of "_The United States Gazette_," will hereafter be +"_one of us_" in the editorial management of Graham's Magazine. There +are few writers in the language who equal, and none excel Mr. Chandler +in graceful and pathetic composition. His sketches live in the hearts +of readers, while they are heart-histories recognized by thousands in +every part of the laud. An article from Mr. Chandler's pen may be +looked for in every number, and this will cause each number to be +looked for anxiously. + + +Editors Looking Up.--It is expected that an early number of "Graham" +will be graced with a portrait of our distinguished rival of the +"Lady's Book," that gentleman having "in the handsomest manner," as +they say in theatricals, sat for a picture of his goodly countenance +and proportions. At our command this has been transferred to steel, to +be handed over to the readers of "Graham," by Armstrong, an artist +whose ability is a fair warrant for a fine picture. Now if any of our +fair readers fall in love with Godey, we shall take it as a formal +slight, and shall insist upon having our face _run_ through an edition +of a magazine, to be gazed at and loved by thousands of as fine +looking people as can be crowded upon a subscription book. + + +W. E. TUCKER, ESQ.--We are very much gratified to be able to state, +that an arrangement has been made by the proprietors of "Graham" with +Mr. W. E. Tucker, whose exquisite title-pages and other gems in the +way of engraving are familiar to our readers, and that _for the year +1849, he engraves exclusively for Graham's Magazine_. + +This is but the beginning of arrangements proposed to revive the +original splendor of the pictorial department of this magazine, while +the literary arrangements are in the same style of liberality which +has ever distinguished "Graham." "There is a good time a-coming boys" +in 1849. + + +Sketches From Europe.--In the present absorbing state of affairs +abroad, it will please our readers to know, that we have engaged an +accomplished writer to furnish sketches of European manners, events +and society, such as escape the daily journals, for the pages of the +magazine. These sketches will occasionally be illustrated with +engravings of scenery and persons taken on the spot, and cannot fail +to add to the value of "Graham." + + +Gems From Late Readings.--We shall introduce into the next number of +Graham a department which we think cannot fail to be of interest, by +selections from authors which it is not possible for all the readers +of Graham to have seen. Culling such passages as may strike us in our +reading as worthy of wide circulation and preservation. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Graham's Magazine Vol XXXIII No. 4 +October 1848, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GRAHAM'S MAGAZINE, OCTOBER 1848 *** + +***** This file should be named 30116.txt or 30116.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/0/1/1/30116/ + +Produced by David T. Jones, Juliet Sutherland and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Canada Team at +http://www.pgdpcanada.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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