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diff --git a/30116-h/30116-h.htm b/30116-h/30116-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6af6b96 --- /dev/null +++ b/30116-h/30116-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,8400 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Transitional//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-transitional.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg Canada eBook of "Graham's Magazine", + Volume XXXIII, Issue No. 4, October 1848, by George R. 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 |
