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diff --git a/30116.txt b/30116.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..cf11c7d --- /dev/null +++ b/30116.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7166 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Graham's Magazine Vol XXXIII No. 4 October +1848, by Various + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Graham's Magazine Vol XXXIII No. 4 October 1848 + +Author: Various + +Editor: George R. Graham + Robert T. Conrad + +Release Date: September 28, 2009 [EBook #30116] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GRAHAM'S MAGAZINE, OCTOBER 1848 *** + + + + +Produced by David T. Jones, Juliet Sutherland and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Canada Team at +http://www.pgdpcanada.net + + + + + + + +[Illustration: Sir W. C. Rofs, R.A. A.B. Ross +THE UNMARRIED BELLE +Engraved Expressly for Graham's Magazine] + + +GRAHAM'S MAGAZINE. + +VOL. XXXIII. PHILADELPHIA, OCTOBER, 1848. No. 4. + + + + +THE UNMARRIED BELLE. + +BY ENNA DUVAL. + +[SEE ENGRAVING.] + + + Talk not of wasted affection, affection never was wasted; + If it enrich not the heart of another, its waters returning + Back to their springs, like the rain, shall fill them full of refreshment; + That which the fountain sends forth returns again to the fountain. + Patience; accomplish thy labor; accomplish thy work of affection! + Sorrow and silence are strong, and patient endurance is godlike; + Therefore accomplish thy labor of love, till the heart is made godlike, + Purified, strengthened, perfected, and rendered more worthy of heaven! + LONGFELLOW'S EVANGELINE. + + +I was loitering beside my mother's chair, in her drawing-room, one day +on my return from school, listening to the conversation between her +and some morning visiters; they were discussing most earnestly the +merits of a reigning belle. + +"She is, indeed, perfectly beautiful," exclaimed my mother. "I looked +at her the other evening, when I saw her at the last concert, and +thought a more lovely creature could not exist. The music excited her, +and her cheek was delicately flushed, which heightened the brilliancy +of her eyes; her lovely lips were just half apart and trembling with +feeling. Then she understands so well the art and mystery of dressing. +While other young ladies around her were in the full pride of +brilliant _costume_, the eye felt freshened and relieved when looking +at her--there was such a repose in her _demi-toilette_. The simple +white dress was so pure and chaste in its effect, displaying only her +lovely throat, and her beautiful chestnut-brown hair was gathered up +carelessly but neatly, while over one tiny ear fell a rich cluster of +ringlets; then, with all her beauty and exquisite taste, she is so +unconscious, so unstudied. That the world should call Mary Lee a +beauty, I do not wonder; but that society should pronounce her a +belle, is, indeed, a surprise to me--she is so unassuming, so free +from art and _affectation_." + +"So unlike her mother," exclaimed a lady, eagerly. "I think Mary's +success in society is as gratifying as unexpected to Mrs. Lee. She +delayed her _entree_ into society as long as she could, and used to +lament most piteously to me the trouble she expected to have with her, +from her total want of animation and spirit. But now she seems to have +entirely forgotten her former misgivings, for she takes many airs on +herself about Mary's popularity, talking all the while as though +scarcely any one was good enough for the husband of the daughter she +pronounced one year ago a stupid, inanimate creature." + +"Ah!" said a gentleman, laughing, "the tie now is between young Morton +and Langley, I believe. As Langley is the more _distingue_ of the two, +I suppose the mother will favor him; but if one can judge from +appearances, the daughter prefers Harry Morton." + +"I can assure you," interrupted Mr. Foster, an intimate friend of our +family, "the daughter has quite as much admiration for the rich Mr. +Langley as the mother. There is a little incident connected with that +same concert Mrs. Duval speaks of, that convinces me of the daughter's +powers of management." + +"Shame on you, Philip Foster!" said my mother, "you should not talk +thus of any lady, much less of Mary Lee." + +"What was the incident, Mr. Foster?" eagerly inquired the other +ladies. + +"Yes, do tell us, Phil," urged his gentleman friend. + +My mother looked reproachfully at Mr. Foster, but he shook his head +laughingly at her, as he said, + +"Hear me first, dear Mrs. Duval, before you judge. I was at Mrs. Lee's +two or three mornings since. Several visitors were in the +drawing-rooms, among them Harry Morton, as usual. I was looking at a +new and costly collection of engravings on the _commode_ table, when I +overheard Harry Morton ask Miss Lee if he should join their party at +the concert the next evening. She replied that she regretted they +were not going, for she had already promised her mother to dine and +spend the evening quietly with an old friend. The next evening at the +concert the whole Lee party were there, and our belle, Miss Mary, was +brought in by young Langley, just newly arrived from Europe. The +unconscious _demi-toilette_ Mrs. Duval speaks so admiringly of, had +the desired effect. Langley's taste has been chastened by a voyage +over the Atlantic; the noisy over-dressing of his countrywomen would, +of course, annoy his delicate sense--therefore was the simple home +costume adopted in preference, and the "_available_" Mr. Langley +secured as an admirer." + +"I do not believe any such thing, Philip!" exclaimed my mother, +indignantly. "I will answer for it, there was some mistake. Mary Lee +would scorn a falsehood, and is entirely above all artifice or design. +Mrs. Lee is said to be maneuvering and worldly; if she is, her +daughter is entirely free from such influences." + +"How did Morton take it, Phil?" asked the other friend, laughingly. + +"He was with me," replied Mr. Foster, evidently enjoying with some +little malice my kind mother's annoyance, "we had dropped into the +concert by chance together. He looked thunderstruck, but said nothing, +and did not approach her during the whole evening. She knew he was +there, however, for I saw her return his cold bow in a painfully +embarrassed manner." + +The entrance of some other visiters, connected with the Lees, put an +end to the conversation. That night, when my nurse was undressing me +for bed, I said, + +"What's a belle, Katy?" + +"A very rich and beautiful young lady," replied my nurse, "who has +plenty of lovers, and gets married very soon." + +"Will I ever be a belle?" I innocently inquired, as she gathered up my +rebellious hair under my cap. + +"No," she replied, in impatient tones, "your hair is too straight, and +your skin too yellow; but you must do as you're told to, or else +nobody will even love you; so go to sleep right away." + +I was silenced, and thus obedience was obtained by appealing to my +love of approbation. Many years passed, bringing me to womanhood, when +I discovered the truth of Nurse Katy's reason why I should not be a +belle. Other people decided that my "hair was too straight, and my +skin too yellow," to use Katy's homely, rough words; but her _brusque_ +admonition, that made me go to sleep so quickly when a child, acted +upon me as a woman. My approbativeness once roused, I managed, despite +my want of personal attractions, to secure a host of friends; and the +lesson I then learned, to please others rather than myself for the +sake of gaining their love, has caused my life thus far to be very +sunny and happy, even more so than if I had been the belle my childish +fancy desired. + +One of Nurse Katy's principal attributes of a belle, however, Mary Lee +was deficient in. She did not get married at all--and Mary Lee she +remained all her life. But she was one of the loveliest old maids in +the world, and quite as popular in our circle as she had been in her +own. She had been confined many years with an invalid mother and +paralytic father, but after their death some time, she re-entered +society; and her house was the favorite resort of the new set of young +people, as it had been in her young days. She gave the most delightful +parties, planned the most pleasant enjoyments for us, and although +acknowledging herself to be an old maid, she still retained her +youthful feelings unimpaired. + +Her mind remained in a fresh, healthy state, and her disposition was +still sweet and joyous. How we all loved her; she was our confidante, +adviser and friend. She was still pretty, and might have proved a very +formidable rival had she chosen to enter society as a young lady; but +she preferred being regarded by us as an elder friend. The young +ladies grouped around her as younger sisters; and one half the young +gentlemen would have married her _instanter_, notwithstanding she was +ten or fifteen years their senior. Old maid as she was, strange to +tell, she was a promoter of marriages. The ill-natured called Mary Lee +a match-maker. She certainly did interest herself very much with +lovers, fathoming all the little mysteries of their love-quarrels, and +setting every thing quite straight, even when they seemed in +inextricable confusion. + +Miss Lee had been very fond of my mother, and extended to me the same +regard, therefore I was, notwithstanding the difference in our ages, +on a more intimate footing with her than her other young friends. One +day, as we were discussing the merits of an approaching wedding, the +conversation assumed a confidential tone. + +"Indeed, Enna," she exclaimed, laughingly, "there is nothing more +interesting to me than a couple of lovers full of romance, poetry, and +perfectly blind and uncaring as to the future. I love to watch them in +courtship, lend them a helping hand in the quicksands of that +dangerous but delicious season; and then it makes me so happy to +congratulate them after their troubles are all over, and they are +happily married." + +"Ah! if they only could be sure of happiness," I replied. + +"Shame on you for that old maid's croak!" she said, with a bright +look; "those who are not happy in married life, would never be happy +in any situation. There should be no old maids or old bachelors, Enna; +we would all be happier married; we fail in fulfilling our missions +when we remain single. Hunt up a lover, Enna; let me watch your +courtship, and rejoice over your wedding. As a clever friend of mine +once said, we think poetry as lovers, but in married life we act true +poetry." + +I opened my eyes with astonishment, and innocently asked, "Why is it, +then, you have never married?" + +A shadow crossed over her face, and I felt a desire to recall the +question, for I feared I had called up disagreeable reminiscences, but +the next instant her countenance was as beaming and calm as before. + +"I will tell you, Enna," she said, as she caressingly rested her head +on my shoulder, "why I have never married; but to do that I must +relate the history of my rather uneventful life. My story has but +little interest, but it will gratify the curiosity of one who loves +me. My childhood was spent with an old aunt. She took me when I was a +delicate wee thing, and I remained with her until her death, which +took place when I was nearly grown. She was a dear, good old lady, and +with her my life passed most happily; my short visits home gave me +little pleasure, for my mother was a very worldly, ambitious woman, +and displayed but little tenderness for me, which, when contrasted +with my aunt's fondness and indulgence, made me feel quite as a +stranger in my family; and when Aunt Mary died, I wept as bitterly, +and felt as lonely and bereft of friends, as though I did not possess +a mother, father, and sisters. The two years after my aunt's death +were spent in close attention to those accomplishments which had been +neglected in my education as unnecessary, and which my mother deemed +so essential; and not a day passed without my poor mother's +exclamations of despair over me. + +"'One comfort there is, however,' she would say, 'your aunt's little +fortune of a few thousands will be exaggerated in society, and people +will forget your _mauvaise honte_ in giving you credit for being an +heiress.' + +"But the report of my being an heiress was not needed, for when I +entered society, to my mother's amazement, I created quite a +sensation. I had been looked upon as a pretty girl always; but my +mother had so often declared that I was so inanimate and innocent, she +never would be able to do any thing with me, and my pretty face would +be of no service to me, that I looked upon myself as quite an ordinary +person, and was as much surprised at my belle-hood as my family. I +wonder my little head was not turned with the attentions I received, +so unused as I had been to admiration; it might have been, however, +had not a disappointment--a bitter, heart-aching disappointment, +wearied me of all this adulation and attention. + +"Soon after my entrance into society, I became acquainted with a Mr. +Morton--agreeable, good-looking, and attentive he was, of +course--quite an acquisition to me in my circle of admirers. His +worldly qualifications were not of so brilliant a nature as to attract +my prudent mother's fancy, for he was only a young lawyer of slender +means and moderate practice. I do not think she ever dreamed of the +interest he excited in me, but looked upon him as one of the crowd of +attendants necessarily surrounding a belle. But how differently I +regarded him. The piles of costly bouquets I received daily, gained +but little attention from me, unless I discerned among them the tiny +bunch of sweet-violets, tea-roses, and mignonette, which he once in a +great while sent me. In my ball-tablets my eyes sought the dances +marked down for him; and when he was my partner, the dance, generally +so wearisome, was only too short, too delightful; the reminiscence of +that happy time makes a silly girl of me again. My mother never +imagined he aspired to my hand--she would have looked aghast at the +bare mention of such a probability; but she regarded him as a friend, +and he was a great favorite with her. She used to say young men like +Harry Morton, that knew their places, were invaluable acquaintances +for a belle; thus were we thrown a great deal together. She was so +blind to his real position with me, quick-sighted as she generally was +in other things, I was permitted to have him for my partner in +dancing, even for several quadrilles during an evening; he was my +constant attendant in my daily rides on horseback, and my mother never +hesitated to call upon him if we were at any time in need of an escort +to a ball or opera. He was upon the footing of a brother or cousin in +the family; but, ah! how dear was he to me. Without any actual +explanation, I felt sure of Harry Morton's love. I never had any +doubts or jealousies--we seemed to perfectly understand each other. I +never looked forward to our future--I was too quietly happy in the +present. I only dated from one meeting to another--from the dinner to +the party, when he would be ready to hand us from our carriage, to +take me off my father's arm in compliance with my mother's constant +inquiry and request of, 'Where's Harry Morton? Here, Harry, do take +charge of Mary,' a request which he always seemed delighted to obey. +Then, after the happy good-night, I would lie my head on the pillow to +dream of him and the morning ride we would take together. Why he never +spoke to me of his love I cannot tell. It might have been that +feelings of delicacy restrained him; my father was rich, while he was +but a poor young lawyer; then report had made me an heiress in my own +right, as well as a belle, to my worldly mother's great content. That +he loved me I am sure, though he never told me with his lips. + +"One morning my mother said to me, 'Do not make any engagement for +to-morrow, Mary; we must dine _en famille_ with dear old Mrs. Langley; +we have not been there for a month.' + +"Now this Mrs. Langley was a person of great consideration in my +mother's eyes. She was very wealthy, and, moreover, had been at the +head of the fashionable world for many years. Since my entrance into +society, she had been quite an invalid, and rarely appeared in public, +but it gratified her exceedingly to have her friends around her, for +she dreaded yielding up her command in the world. My mother was an +especial favorite of hers; and after I had taken such a prominent +situation in society, she expressed great regard for me. Once in a +month or so we spent a day with her. She lived in great style--a +stately dinner, and a stupid, grand, heavy evening was the amount of +the visit. How I used to dread the coming of the day; it was the only +time I was separated from Harry, for Mrs. Langley being very +exclusive, and making no new acquaintances, he had no _entree_ there. +I used to sing for her, arrange her worsteds, tell her of the parties +and different entertainments, and read to her her son's last letter. +She had only one son, and he had been in Europe for two or three +years. He was her idol, and she never tired talking of him. Dear old +lady, my conscience smote me many times for the feelings of impatient +weariness and _ennui_ I would give way to during one of her tedious +dinner parties. + +"The following morning after my mother had announced the visit of +penance, Harry Morton made his appearance in our drawing-rooms, as +usual, with the other morning visiters. Every one was talking of a new +singer who was to make her _debut_ on that evening. + +"'May I join your party at the concert this evening?' Harry asked me, +in a low voice. + +"'I regret exceedingly,' I replied, 'that we are not going to the +concert. I have already promised mamma to spend a quiet day and +evening with an old friend of hers. You must listen attentively to +this new _donna_, and tell me all about her voice if you go.' + +"'I do not think I shall go,' he replied, in low, earnest tones, 'for +I could not enjoy the concert if not with you.' A turn in the general +conversation drew us more into notice, and some ladies and gentlemen +entering, put an end to all further intercourse between us; how long I +remembered and cherished those last words of his. When I made my +appearance in my mother's room at 5 o'clock, shawl and hood in hand, +she regarded me from head to foot smilingly. + +"'What new caprice to-day?' she said, 'and yet I must confess it is +very becoming to you.' + +"I had felt too languid to dress much, and as the weather was warm, +spring being quite far advanced, I had chosen a simple white mull robe +for the visit to our old friend, knowing that we should meet with but +few visiters there. This I explained apologetically to my mother, who +tapped me with her fan good-naturedly, saying that beauties were +cunning creatures, they liked to show once in a while they could defy +the aid of ornament. The first few months of my entrance into society +my mother superintended, with great attention, all my _toilettes_; but +near the close of the season she fell into the general opinion, that +what ever I did was exactly right; and poor little me, that one short +half-year before had no right to express an opinion upon so grave a +subject as dress, was now constantly appealed to; and whatever style I +adopted was perfect in her eyes. Society had placed its stamp upon me, +I could pass current as a coin of high value to her. + +"When I reached Mrs. Langley's, I found the old lady attended by but +one gentleman, who, beside ourselves, was her only visiter. What was +my surprise to hear her introduce him as her son, Templeton Langley. +The dinner passed more pleasantly than usual, for Mr. Langley made +himself very agreeable. After dinner he proposed we should go to the +concert, as he felt an interest in the new _primadonna_, having heard +her at her _debut_ in Europe. I made an objection, which was overruled +by Mrs. Langley's expressing a desire--strange for her--to go +likewise; and we went. I had not been ten minutes in the room when, on +lifting my eyes, the first person I saw was Harry Morton looking +sternly at me. Foolishly, I grew embarrassed, my face burned, and my +whole frame trembled with nervous agitation. He did not approach me, +but gave me only a cold bow. 'He thinks me guilty of falsehood,' I +said to myself. How wretchedly passed the evening, and yet I have no +doubt I was an object of envy to many of my young lady friends. The +rich _distingue_, Templeton Langley showed himself my devoted admirer, +while his mother, the acknowledged leader of _ton_, sat beside us +smiling approvingly. My indifferent, cold manner, my simple costume, +and my beautiful face, completed that evening the conquest of the +fastidious, fashionable young man. You cannot imagine the delight of +my mother, when day after day found Templeton Langley constantly +beside me, she could scarcely restrain her exultation; while I, poor +child, listened with aching, throbbing senses for the approach of one +who never came near me. Two or three weeks passed in a whirl of +gayety. It was the close of the season, and one or two brides in our +circle made the parties very constant. Mrs. Langley proposed that our +family should join her son and herself in their summer visit to the +Lakes; accordingly we did so, and we spent more than three months +traveling. Ere the close of those three months, Templeton Langley +offered himself to me. I could not describe to you the scene that +ensued between my mother and myself when I rejected him. She was a +worldly woman, and my conduct seemed perfectly wild to her. She +remonstrated, persuaded, then reproached me in impatient, angry tones. +My father was a quiet, amiable man, and rarely interfered with my +mother in her management, but he fortunately shook off enough of his +lethargy to come to my rescue at this time. + +"'If Mary does not love Mr. Langley,' he said, 'why urge her to marry +him? Do not scold the poor child,' and he drew me toward him tenderly. + +"Templeton Langley was rather an indifferent person in every way. His +wealth, combined with his situation in the fashionable world, placed +him in a fictitious light; but he had little intelligence, no +originality, and only a passable personal appearance. I was constantly +drawing the comparison between him and Harry Morton. Harry was so +handsome, so brilliant in conversation--and this thought rendered poor +Mr. Langley, with all his fastidious, elegant manners, quite +unbearable to me. To think of being tied to such a man for life was +perfect martyrdom for me; and although hitherto so yielding, I showed +myself on this occasion obstinate. Floods of tears I shed, and my +mother fancied at first she could overcome my 'ridiculous +sentimentality,' as she called it, but in vain; and finding a friend +in my father, I remained firm. I felt more sorry for old Mrs. Langley, +who was, indeed, terribly distressed, but she treated me very kindly, +and exonerated me from all blame. She was, however, really very fond +of me, and had set her heart upon having me for a daughter. Mr. +Langley returned to Europe, and for many months our circle of friends +were quite at a loss to know whether he had offered, been accepted, +or refused, or whether he had only flirted with me. My mother felt too +disappointed to boast of the rejection; and, moreover, she was so +occupied in bringing out my sister, Emma, as to have little time to +think of me or my affairs. My sister was but seventeen, three years +younger than I, but much nearer my age in appearance. I found myself +now of but secondary consideration in my mother's eyes. I fear she +really disliked me then. She was an ambitious woman, and had set her +heart upon my making a brilliant match; this favorite hope of hers I +had blighted, and feeling little interest in society, I became of less +consequence, for my sad, absent manner made me, of course, +uninteresting; therefore, as my reign as a belle was over, my poor +mother now sought to dismiss me from her mind and occupy herself with +other objects. + +"Harry Morton had gone to the Southwest ere we returned from our +summer's journey, and we never met again. A year or so afterward I +heard of his marriage with a dashing southern belle, and he is now a +distinguished man at the South. After these perplexing, unfortunate +misunderstandings, my health failed, and for a long while I was an +invalid, rarely appearing in society. My two sisters, Emma and Alice, +were more lucky than I, for they married happily, and with my mother's +gratified approbation--for they each made the 'best match of their +season.' Neither one was so pretty as I had been, and as my mother +used to ejaculate, + +"'Thank Heaven! neither Emma nor Alice are belles; they at least will +not trouble me with their exaggerated notions about love and all that +nonsense.' + +"I passed a miserable, wretched existence for a year or more after +Harry and I were separated. How earnestly I prayed for death, so +completely prostrated was my spirit by my disappointment. I felt as +lonely as I had at the time of dear Aunt Mary's death. In time, +however, I aroused myself from my morbid feelings, and in reading and +study found at first occupation, then strength and content. + +"The week after my youngest sister was married my father was stricken +down with paralysis. I was the only one at home with my parents, for +my bride sister had sailed for Europe the day after her wedding, and +Emma was far distant in her Southern home, having married a wealthy +South Carolinian two years before. Faithfully I devoted myself to my +father, and when my mother, a year afterward, was seized with a +painful, lingering disease, I made myself so necessary to her comfort, +that she at last acknowledged, that what had appeared to be her +greatest trouble had proved her greatest blessing. She altered very +much before her death, and lost entirely all those worldly feelings +which had actuated her during her early life. She suffered for many +years at times agonizing pain, and during this time I was sole +companion and nurse to my parents. Often I thanked Providence for +having denied to me my early love, granting to me in lieu an +opportunity of fulfilling the most holy of duties. See, Enna, to what +an unromantic and yet enviable state of mind I at last attained. +Believe me, dearest, we never should grieve over unavoidable troubles, +for many times they are but the rough husk of that sweet kernel--a +hidden blessing." + + + + +ZENOBIA. + +BY MYRON L. MASON. + + + 'Twas holyday in Rome. Her sevenfold hills + Were trembling with the tread of multitudes + Who thronged her streets. Hushed was the busy hum + Of labor. Silent in the shops reposed + The implements of toil. A common love + Of country, and a zeal for her renown, + Had warmed all hearts, and mingled for a day + Plebian ardor with patrician pride. + The sire, the son, the matron and the maid, + Joined in bestowing on their emperor + The joyous benedictions of the state. + Alas! about that day's magnificence + Was spread a web of _shame_! The victor's sword + Was stained with cowardice--his dazzling fame + Tarnished by insult to a fallen woman. + Returning from his conquests in the East, + Aurelian led in his triumphant train + Palmyra's beauteous queen, Zenobia, + Whose only crime had been the love she bore + To her own country and her household gods. + + Long had the Orient owned the sovereign sway + Of Rome imperial, and in forced submission + Had bowed the neck to the oppressor's yoke. + The corn of Syria, her fruits and wares, + The pearls of India, Araby's perfumes, + The golden treasures of the mountains, all + Profusely poured in her luxurious lap, + Crowned to the full her proud magnificence. + Rome regal, throned on her eternal hills, + With power supreme and wide-extended hand, + Plundered the prostrate nations without stint + Of all she coveted, and, chiefly thou, + O Liberty, the birthright boon of Heaven. + But Rome had passed her noon; her despotism + Was overgrown; an earthquake was at work + At her foundations; and new dynasties, + Striking their roots in ripening revolutions, + Were soon to sway the destinies of realms. + + The East was in revolt. The myriad seeds + Of dark rebellion, sown by tyranny, + And watered by the blood of patriots slain, + Were springing into life on every hand. + Success was alternating in this strife + 'Twixt power and _right_, and anxious Victory, + With balance poised, the doubtful issue feared. + Amid the fierce contention, 'mid the din + Of war's sublime encounter, and the crash + Of falling systems old, Palmyra's queen + Followed her valiant lord, Palmyra's king. + Ever beside him in the hour of peril, + She warded from his breast the battle's rage; + And in the councils of the cabinet + Her prudent wisdom was her husband's guide. + + Domestic treason, with insidious stab, + Snatched from Zenobia's side her gallant lord, + And threw into her hand the exigencies + Of an unstable and capricious throne. + Yet was her genius not inadequate. + The precepts of experience, intertwined + With intellectual power of lofty grade, + Combined to raise Palmyra's beauteous queen + High in the golden scale of moral greatness. + Under the teachings of the good Longinus + The streams of science flowed into her mind; + And, like the fountain-fostered mountain lake, + Her soul was pure as its ethereal food. + The patronage bestowed on learned men + Declared her love for letters. The rewards, + Rich and unnumbered, she conferred on merit + Her own refined, exalted taste betrayed. + Her graceful and majestic figure, crowned + With beauty such as few but angels wear, + Like the rich casing that surrounds the gem, + Heightened the splendor of her brilliant genius. + Equally daring on the battle-field + And in the chase, her prudence and her courage, + Displayed in many a hot emergency, + Had twined victorious laurel round her brow. + Under her rule Palmyra's fortunes rose + To an unequalled altitude, and wealth + Flowed in upon her like a golden sea, + Her wide dominion, stretching from the Nile + To the far Euxine and Euphrates' flood-- + Her active commerce, whose expanded range + Monopolized the trade of all the East-- + Her stately capital, whose towers and domes + Vied with proud Rome in architectural grace-- + Her own aspiring aims and high renown-- + All breathed around the Asiatic queen + An atmosphere of greatness, and betrayed + Her bold ambition, and her rivalry + With the imperial mistress of the world. + + But 't is the gaudiest flower is soonest plucked; + The sturdiest oak first feels the builder's axe. + Palmyra's rising greatness had awaked + The jealousy of Rome, and Fortune looked + On her prosperity with envious eye. + Under the golden eagles of the empire, + Aurelian's soldiers swept the thirsty sands, + And poured into Palmyra's palmy plains, + A mighty host hot for the battle-field. + Borne on her gallant steed, the warrior queen + The conflict sought, and led her eager troops + Into the stern encounter. Like the storm + Of their own desert plain, innumerable, + They rushed upon the foe, and courted danger. + Amid the serried ranks, whose steel array + Glowed in the noonday sun, and threw a flood + Of wavy sheen into the fragrant air, + Zenobia rode; and, like an angry spirit, + Commissioned from above to chastise men, + Where'er she moved was death. There was a flash + Of scorn that lighted up her fiery eye, + A glance of wrath upon her countenance-- + There was a terror in her frenzied arm + That struck dismay into the boldest heart. + Alas for her, Fortune was unpropitious! + Her fearless valor found an overmatch + In the experienced prudence of Aurelian; + And scarcely could the desert's hardy sons + Cope with the practiced legions of the empire. + The battle gained, Palmyra taken, sacked-- + Its queen a captive, hurled from off a throne, + Stripped of her wide possessions, forced to sue + In humblest attitude for even life-- + The haughty victor led his weary legions + Back to Italia's shores, and in his train + His fallen rival, loaded with chains of gold, + Forged from the bullion of her treasury. + + 'T was holyday in Rome. The morning sun, + Emerging from the palace-crested hills + Of the Campagna, poured a flood of light + Upon the slumbering city, summoning + Its teeming thousands to the festival. + A playful breeze, rich-laden with perfume + From groves of orange, gently stirred the leaves, + And curled the ripples on the Tiber's breast, + Bearing to seaward o'er the flowery plain + The rising peans' joyful melodies. + Flung to the wind, high from the swelling dome + That crowned the Capitol, the imperial banner, + Broidered with gold and glittering with gems, + Unfurled its azure field; and, as it caught + The sunbeams and flashed down upon the throng + That filled the forum, there arose a shout + Deep as the murmur of the cataract. + In that spontaneous outburst of applause + _Rome spoke_; and as the echo smote the hills + It woke the slumbering memory of a time + When Rome was _free_. + + A trumpet from the walls + Proclaimed the day's festivities begun. + Preceded by musicians and sweet singers, + A long procession passed the city-gate, + And, traversing the winding maze of streets, + Climbed to the Capitol. Choice victims, dressed + With pictured ornaments and wreaths of flowers, + An offering to the tutelary gods, + Led the advance. Then followed spoils immense, + Baskets of jewels, vases of wrought gold, + Paintings and statuary, cloths and wares, + Of costliest manufacture, close succeeded + By the rich symbols of Palmyra's glory, + Torn from her temples and her palaces, + To grace a triumph in the streets of Rome. + With toilsome step next walked the captive queen; + And then the victor, in his car of state, + With milk-white horses of Thessalian breed, + And in his retinue a splendid train + Of Rome's nobility. In one long line + The army last appeared in bright array, + With banners high displayed, filling the air + With songs of victory. The pageant proud + Quickened remembrance of departed days, + And warmed the bosoms of the multitude + With deep devotion to the commonwealth. + + High in his gilded chariot, decked in robes + Of broidered purple, and with laurel crowned, + Rode the triumphant conqueror, in his hand + The emblems of his power. The capital + Of his wide empire was inflamed with zeal + To do him honor and exalt his praise. + The world was at his feet; his sovereign will + None dared to question, and his haughty word + Was law to nations. Yet his heart was troubled. + In the dim distance he discerned the flight + Of Freedom, on swift pinions heralding + Enfranchisement to the oppressed of earth. + He knew the feeble tenure of dominion + Based on allegiance with reluctance paid; + And read the future overthrow of Rome + In the unyielding spirit of his victim. + Uncovered in the sun, weary and faint, + Bowed to the earth with chains of ravished gold, + With feet unsandaled, walked Zenobia, + Slave to the craven tyrant's cruelty. + Neither her peerless beauty, nor her sex, + Nor yet her grievous sufferings could melt + The despot's stony heart. She, who surpassed + Her conqueror in all the qualities + Of head or heart which crown humanity + With nobleness and high preeminence-- + She, whose _misfortunes_ in a glorious cause, + And not her _errors_, had achieved her ruin-- + Burdened with ignominy and disgrace + For her resplendent _virtues_, not her _crimes_-- + She who had graced a palace, and dispensed + Pardon to penitence, reward to worth, + And tempered justice with benevolence-- + Wickedly torn from her exalted station, + Now walked a captive in the streets of Rome, + E'en at the feet of the oppressors steeds. + Yet was her spirit all untamed. Disdain + Still sat upon her countenance, and breathed + Unmeasured scorn upon her persecutors. + The blush of innocence upon her cheek, + The burning pride that flashed within her eye, + The majesty enthroned upon her brow, + Told, in a language which the tyrant _felt_, + That her unconquered spirit soared sublime + In a pure orbit whither _his_ sordid soul + Could ne'er attain. Had he a captive led + Some odious wretch, whose sanguinary crimes, + Long perpetrated under sanction of a strength + No arm could reach, had spread a pall of mourning + Over a people's desolated homes, + He then had _right_ to triumph o'er his victim. + But 't was not thus. Insatiable ambition + Had led him to unsheath his victor sword + Against a monarch whose distinctive sway + Ravished from Rome no tittle of her _right_; + And, to augment the aggregate of wrong, + _That monarch was a woman_, whose renown, + Compared with his, was gold compared with brass. + As o'er the stony street the captive paced + Her weary way before the victor's steeds, + And marked the multitudes insatiate gaze, + The look of calm defiance on her face + Told that she bowed not to her degradation. + Her thoughts were not at Rome. Unheeded all, + The billows of the mad excitement dashed + About her, and broke harmless at her feet. + Dim reminiscences of former days + Burst like a deluge on her errant mind; + Leading her backward to the buried past, + When in the artless buoyancy of youth + She sat beneath Palmyra's fragrant shades + And gleaned the pages of historic story, + Red with Rome's bloody catalogue of wrong. + Little she dreamed Palmyra's palaces + Should e'er be scenes of Roman violence; + Little she dreamed that _hers_ should be the lot + (A captive princess led in chains) to crown + The splendor of a Roman holyday. + Alas! the blow she thought not of had fallen. + A bloody struggle, like a dreadful dream, + Had briefly raged, and all to her was lost, + Save the poor grace of a degraded life. + Her sun of glory was gone down in blood-- + The glittering fabric of her power despoiled + To swell the triumph of her conqueror. + But in the wreck of her magnificence, + With eye prophetic, she foresaw the ruin + Of the proud capital of all the world. + She saw the quickening symptoms of rebellion + Among the nations, and she caught their cry + For _freedom_ and for _vengeance_! + + * * * * * + + Hark! the Goth + Is thundering at the gate, His reckless sword + Leaps from the scabbard, eager to vindicate + The cause of the oppressed. A thousand years + The sun has witnessed in his daily course + The tyranny of Rome, now crushed _forever_. + The mighty mass of her usurped dominion, + By its own magnitude at last dissevered, + Is crumbling into fragments; and the shades + Of long-forgotten generations shriek + With fiendish glee over the yawning gulf + Of her perdition. + + + + +TEMPER LIFE'S EXTREMES. + +BY GEORGE S. BURLEIGH. + + + 'Tis wise, in summer-warmth, to look before, + To the keen-nipping winter; it is good, + In lifeful hours, to lay aside some store + Of thought, to leaven the spirit's duller mood; + To mould the sodded dyke, in sunny hour, + Against the coming of the wasteful flood; + Still tempering Life's extremes, that Wo no more + May start abrupt in Joy's sweet neighborhood. + If Day burst sudden from the bars of Night, + Or with one plunge leaped down the sheer abyss, + Painful alike were darkness and the light, + Bearing fixed war through shifting victories; + But sweet their bond, where peaceful twilight lingers, + Weaving the rosy with the sable fingers. + + + + +THE CRUISE OF THE RAKER. + +A TALE OF THE WAR OF 1812-15. + +BY HENRY A. CLARK. + +(_Continued from page 136._) + +CHAPTER V. + +_The Revenge._ + + +The report of the pistol fired by Julia had also been heard upon the +pirate brig. To Florette it gave assurance of the safety of the fair +fugitive. The pirate sprang to his feet, forgetful of his wound, but +fell back helpless upon the companion-way, and soon relapsed into his +former thoughtful state, supposing the sound had come from the deck of +the Raker, though it had seemed much too near and distinct to appear +possible that such was the case. + +The escape of Julia was not discovered until the following morning. +The wrath of the pirate was fearfully vindictive. Even Florette became +alarmed when he fiercely accused her of some share in the +disappearance of the captive girl. This she tremblingly denied, +suggesting the opinion that Julia must have jumped overboard, in her +despair, induced by the threats of the pirate. The loss of the boat +was also noticed, but not connected with the escape of Julia, it being +supposed that it had been carelessly fastened. As a very natural +consequence of his anger, the pirate sought some person on whom he +could vent its fury. + +"Call aft the other woman," shouted he, "unless she, too, has jumped +overboard." + +A grim smile was interchanged between the men who heard this order. +John's true sex had not been long kept concealed after he had reached +the pirate brig, and he had nearly fallen a victim to the rage the +unpleasant discovery excited in the men, but his ludicrous and abject +expressions of terror, though they awoke no emotions of pity, yet +excited the merriment of his captors, and turned their anger into +laughter. A man's garments were thrown to him, in which he speedily +equipped himself, being indeed in no slight degree relieved by the +change. Since that time he had kept himself as much aloof as possible +from the crew, anxiously and fearfully expectant of some sudden +catastrophe, either that his brains would be blown out without +affording him an opportunity to expostulate, or that he would be +called upon to walk the plank. + +He was roused by a heavy hand laid upon his shoulder. + +"O dear, don't," cried John. + +"The captain has sent word for'ard arter you, and faith ye had betther +be in a hurry, for he's a savage when he's mad." + +"O! now I've got to do it." + +"Do what?" + +"Why walk the plank to be sure." + +"Arrah, jewel! don't be onaisy now." + +"Wont I's, don't you think?" + +"Not a bit of it, darling. I think he will be afther running you up to +the yard-arm." + +"But I can't run up it." + +"Ha! ha! but come along, honey." + +Half dragging John after him, the sailor led him to the quarter-deck. + +"Here's the lady, captain, an' faith she's a swate one." + +The truth of the case had already been explained to the pirate. + +"You cowardly fool," said he, "did you expect to escape by such a +subterfuge? Pat, run him up to the yard-arm." + +"Yes, captain, and that will be a relaif to him, for he was mighty +afraid he'd have to walk the plank." + +"He was? well then he shall." + +The vindictiveness of the pirate commander, who had only changed the +mode of John's death because he thought that by so doing he should +render it more fearful and bitter to the victim, was the means of +saving the poor cockney's life. So do revenge and malice often +overreach themselves. + +A long plank was laid out over the side of the brig and John commanded +to walk out on it. He showed a strong disinclination to obeying, but a +huge pistol placed against his forehead quickly influenced his +decision, and with a cry of anguish he stepped out upon it. As the +board tipped he turned to spring back to the brig, but slipping up, +fell upon the board, which he pulled after him into the water. + +"Fool," cried the captain to one of his men, "what did you let the +board loose for, he will float now till the chase picks him up--fire +into him." + +A dozen balls were fired at John, and it seems he was hit, for he let +go the board and sunk. + +"There, captain, he's done for." + +The brig by this time had reached a considerable distance from the +place where John had been committed to the deep, and when he rose to +the surface, as he soon did, he was out of danger from their shot. + +"O dear!" cried he, "I shan't ever get ashore; I never could swim +much." + +The waves threw him against the plank. + +"O! a shark! a shark!" shouted John, "now don't;" and he grasped hold +of the plank in a frenzy of fear. He soon discovered the friendly aid +it would afford him, and held on to it with the tenacity of despair. + +In less than half an hour the Raker came up. John was noticed from its +deck, and a brawny tar seizing a rope and taking two or three turns of +it round his left arm sprang overboard to rescue the half unconscious +cockney. + +As the sailor seized him, John, supposing it to be a shark, uttered a +loud cry and lost all sensation. In this condition he was hauled up to +the deck of the privateer, where, upon recovering his senses, he found +to his great surprise and joy, that instead of being in the belly of +some voracious fish, like Jonah of old, he was in safety, and +surrounded by the crew of his former vessel, the Betty Allen, +including his master. + +The poor fellow was severely wounded by a pistol shot, in the arm, but +regardless of this he was wild in his demonstrations of joy, +especially when told that his young mistress had also escaped. + +Captain Greene found that he had gained little, if any, upon the +pirate during the night, and became convinced that he must again +commence firing upon her, trusting to some lucky ball to carry away a +spar, or failing, to allow the villains to escape the punishment they +so richly deserved, not only for their inhuman treatment of the crew +of the Betsy Allen, but doubtless for numerous other crimes committed +upon the seas, as savage in their conception, and more successful in +their execution. + +The long gun was again uncovered, and a shot dispatched from its huge +portals after the pirate brig. The first ball fired fell short of the +brig, striking the water directly in its wake, and ricochetting again +threw up the water beyond it. + +A succeeding ball, however, did some execution, crashing through her +top-gallant forecastle, but without in any degree lessening her speed. +As every fire from the Raker lessened her speed, Capt. Greene became +exceedingly anxious that no balls should be thrown away, and commanded +Lieut. Morris to point the gun, having more confidence in his skill +than in that of the gunner. The young officer aimed the gun carefully, +and as it was fired three cheers arose from his crew, as they +perceived the pirate's mizzen-mast fall away. + +"She is ours," cried the lieutenant. + +"Stand by, men, to take in sail," shouted the captain. "We will draw +near enough," continued he to Morris, "to fire into her at our +leisure, a pirate is not entitled to a more honorable warfare, and he +seems also to greatly outnumber us in men." + +As the privateer approached the pirate they could not but admire the +singular beauty of her build. She rose and fell upon the waters as +gracefully as a free and wild ocean bird. The long red lines of her +port-holes swept with a gentle curve from stem to stern, and her stem +was so sharp that the bowsprit seemed rather to terminate than to join +it. Twelve carronades occupied a double row of port-holes, and the +deck seemed crowded with men, all armed with cutlases and pistols. + +"A formidable looking set," said Captain Greene, as he laid aside his +glass, "keep the gun lively." + +An ineffectual fire opened upon the privateer from the pirate, but +though they had a swivel of pretty heavy calibre, turning on its axis +amidship in such a manner as to menace at will each point of the +horizon, it was evident that its force was far less than the long gun +of the privateer. + +A well aimed shot brought down the pirate's fore topsail-yard, which +hung in the slings, and succeeding shots did much injury to her masts +and rigging, and at length the main-topmast fell over the side. + +The scene on board the pirate, during this unequal warfare, was one +approaching perplexity and disorder. Their commander stood by the +helm, gazing at the privateer, his brow clouded with angry thought, +and giving little heed to the movements of his crew. He was aroused +from his abstraction by the voice of one of his officers. + +"Captain, this is bad business, what is to be done?" + +The captain gazed at him in silence. + +"The crew are alarmed, and demand of you some relief from this +harassing state. Our guns will not reach the chase, and we cannot +leave her in this crippled state." + +At this moment a heavy ball from the privateer whizzed by them and +buried itself in the main-mast of the brig. + +The captain seemed fully aroused. His eyes flashed with their wonted +fire. He turned toward his crew, and saw at a glance the state of +depression which had fallen upon them all. He even overheard some +muttered words of complaint. + +"Pat," says one, "this seems to be playing a rough game, where nothing +is to be won on our side." + +"Faith, an' ye may say that, but we stand a chance to gain one thing." + +"What may that be, Pat?" + +"O, a two-inch rope, and a run up to the fore yard-arm." + +"The devil! That's not a pleasant thought, Pat." + +"No, but they say it's an aisy death." + +"Silence, men," was heard in the deep tones of the captain's voice. + +In a moment all was still, and every eye turned toward the +companion-way, on which the captain stood, resting one hand upon the +main-boom, as he was exceedingly weak from the wound inflicted by the +ball of Captain Horton. + +"My brave fellows," said their leader, "do not be alarmed, we shall +not be hanged this time. Is our situation any worse than it has been +in times heretofore? Trust in me. Have I ever deceived you--have I +ever failed yet? You know I have not. Where we cannot conquer by fair +battle, we must use stratagem. Be watchful and ready, and we will yet +not only escape yonder vessel, but stand upon her deck as masters." + +The confidence with which he spoke inspired his followers with like +feeling, and with countenances relighted by hope, they returned to +their several stations. Their reliance upon their commander was +unbounded. He had so often triumphed when even greater difficulties +opposed, that they already felt sure of ultimate delivery, now that he +had been restored to his former energy--they had mistaken the lethargy +into which pain and weakness had thrown him for the torpor of despair. +Again the joke and laugh went round, and already they began to compute +their respective shares of booty in the vessel so soon to be theirs, +they knew not how. + +"Haul down the ensign, in token that we surrender," cried the captain. + +A murmur of indignation and surprise arose from the crew. + +"What, men, do you doubt me? 'Tis but a feint. Haul down the flag and +take in sail." + +The men obeyed with alacrity, for they already clearly comprehended +the plan of their leader. It was his intention to entice the privateer +alongside, and, well aware of his own superiority in numbers, to make +a sudden onset upon her deck, and thus, contrary to all laws of +honorable warfare, seize by foul means what could not be obtained in +any other way. + +These pacific indications were viewed with some surprise on board the +privateer. + +"By Heaven!" cried Lieut. Morris, "she's tired of this game soon." + +"Well, she had no other way to do; as it was we should have sunk her +without receiving a shot." + +"It was a losing game for her, true enough." + +"Lay the brig alongside of her," shouted Captain Greene to his men. + +As his men with a cheer began to unfurl all sail, Captain Horton +approached the commander of the privateer. He had up to this period +ventured no interference, both from matter of delicacy, and because he +saw nothing to disapprove of in the course pursued by Captain Greene. + +"My dear sir," said he, as he laid his hand upon the arm of the +captain of the privateer, "allow me to say a word." + +"Certainly, sir," replied the courteous commander. "I ought sooner +than this to have asked your advice." + +"I would not place too great confidence in the pirate's signal of +surrender." + +"Do you apprehend foul play?" + +"Recollect the savage brutality which the fiend has already evinced, +and judge for yourself whether he is worthy of being trusted at all." + +"You are right, sir. Lieut. Morris," continued he, turning to his +young officer. + +"Ay, ay, sir." + +"Load the long gun with grape and canister, and wheel it abaft--load +the larboard guns the same way. Now, my men, don't run too near her. +She must send a boat aboard." + +The privateer approached within half a cable's length of the pirate. + +"Ship ahoy!" cried Captain Greene. + +No answer came from the pirate, but her head was rounded to, so as to +bear directly down on the Raker. + +"Answer me, or I'll fire into you." + +"Fire and be d--d," came from the deck of the pirate, and at the same +time a broadside was poured into the Raker, which killed two or three +men at the guns, and severely wounded Captain Greene. + +"Lieut. Morris," cried he, "take the command of the vessel," and +falling on the deck he was immediately carried below. + +The young officer was fully equal to the emergency of the occasion. At +a glance he perceived that the pirate in the confusion which ensued +from his unexpected broadside, had fallen foul of the privateer's +rigging, and the crowd of his crew in his bow and fore-rigging, all +with cutlases drawn, and ready to spring aboard the privateer, plainly +announced the intention to board. + +"All hands to repel boarders," shouted Morris, and drawing his cutlas +he sprang forward, followed by his men. + +A well contested struggle ensued, the American seamen, indignant at +the foul deceit which had been practiced upon them, fought like +tigers, and for a time kept the pirates at bay--they had indeed, +notwithstanding their superior numbers, nearly driven them from the +deck, when the form of their commander appeared among them. In +consequence of his wound he had, contrary to his custom, entrusted the +command of the boarders to his first lieutenant, and had remained upon +his own vessel watching the fight. He sprung among his crew, with a +sword drawn, and a tight sash bound around his waist, from which the +dark blood was slowly oozing, his wound having burst away from its +ligaments. + +"Cowards!" he shouted, "do ye yield--ye are two to their one." + +Leaping to their front, he struck down a sailor and plunged into the +thickest of the fight. Reanimated by the presence of their leader, who +had so often led them to victory, a new spirit seemed to light up the +fainting courage of the pirates, and with a fierce yell they rushed +forward. The American crew were compelled to fall back before the +fierce assault. At the head of his men Lieut. Morris several times +crossed swords with the pirate captain, but the swaying of the fight +separated them. Perceiving that his men were slowly yielding, though +in good order, Lieutenant Morris, cool and collected, cheered their +courage, and at this moment thought of the long gun which had been +drawn up, loaded to the muzzle with grape and canister, against the +companion-way, and a man with a lighted match stationed by it. + +"Fall back to the quarter-deck," cried the young officer. + +They retreated in close array, and uncovered the mouth of the huge +gun. At the sight of this a cry of dismay broke from the foremost of +the pirates, who broke the front rank, and many of them escaped for +the time by leaping into the sea. + +"Fire," cried Lieut. Morris. In a moment he was obeyed. Wild cries of +agony arose amid the gathering smoke, which, as it rolled away, +revealed a horrible sight. Not a living pirate stood upon the deck of +the privateer. A dense mass of bodies, writhing in pain, lay upon the +fore-deck, and many of the pirates who had jumped into the sea were +seen scrambling up the sides of their own vessel; the pirate chief +lay dead at the head of his followers, foremost in death, as he had +been in life. It was a terrible and revolting scene--the scuppers +literally ran with blood, the bulwarks were bespattered with brains +and pieces of scalps; several limbs were strewn about, and the entire +deck covered with the dead or dying. + +While the crew of the Raker stood for a time awe-struck at the +desolation they had themselves made, the pirates, ferocious to the +last, had regained their own ship and cut her adrift, and as they paid +off fired a broadside into the Raker, which injured several of her +men. Roused by this, the privateersmen rushed to their guns. The +larboard guns, in obedience to the order of Captain Greene, were +already loaded with grape; while with the starboard Morris commanded +his men to keep up a steady fire at the masts and rigging. + +A fortunate shot from the Raker struck the helms-man on board the +pirate, shattering at the same time the tiller. In a moment the brig +was up in the wind, and taken aback, throwing the pirates into +confusion. + +"Ready about," cried Morris, leaping from the carronade-slide on which +he had raised himself, and taking in at a glance the exposed position +of the enemy--"head her round, and stand ready to give the rascals a +taste from our larboard quarter." + +The Raker ranged across the bows of the pirate, and before he could +regain his headway, raked him with a tremendous broadside of the same +deadly missiles which had already destroyed so many of their comrades. +The wild cries of anguish which arose from the clouds of smoke told +with what destructive effect the death-bolts had been hurled. + +The pirate now paid off and returned an ineffectual broadside, but +rendered ungovernable by the loss of her head-sails and tiller, he +immediately broached-to again, and the privateer poured in another +terrible discharge of grape and canister, raking him fore and aft, +then heaving-to and taking up a position on his bow, she fired +broadside after broadside into him in rapid and deadly succession. The +main-mast now fell over the side, and the pirate at the same time fell +off before the wind, and drew out of the deep mantle of smoke which +had for some time covered both vessels. As the smoke slowly curled up +from the deep it was seen that not a living man was visible upon the +deck of the pirate. Several of her guns were dismounted, and her masts +so cut away that she lay upon the waters a helpless and disabled +wreck. Yet the red ensign of death, though rent into ribbons, still +fluttered from the peak, and the young lieutenant hesitated to board, +having learned caution from the treachery of the pirate. + +While the crew of the Raker were thus occupied in watching their +enemy, a light female form was seen to issue from the hatchway and +gaze around the deck of the pirate. She passed from body to body, but +seemed not to find what she sought. At length she turned her eyes, +streaming with tears, toward the Raker, and pointing to the flag above +her, as if to indicate that there was no one to lower it, she knelt +upon the deck, bowing her head upon her hands. Her long hair fell +over her forehead and trailed upon the blood-stained deck, as she +knelt in mute despair among the dying and the dead. It was a mournful +and singular picture of wo, and there were eyes long unused to tears +that filled to overflowing as they gazed upon her. + +A boat was immediately lowered, and Lieutenant Morris with a dozen of +his crew were soon in possession of the pirate's deck. Upon examining +the brig it was found that she was fast filling with water, and after +conveying to the Raker all that they could lay hands on of value, +including a large amount of precious metal, she was left to her fate. +Not one of her crew was found living, so destructive had been the +continual discharge of grape from the Raker. Florette accompanied them +on board, and wept bitterly as she saw the dead body of the pirate +commander lying in front of his slaughtered followers, but suffered +herself to be led below by Julia, who received her with kindness and +gratitude. + +All sail was now set upon the privateer, and she bore away from the +sinking craft of the pirate upon her former course. The latter vessel, +traversed in every direction by the Raker's terrible fire, was rapidly +settling into the ocean. Suddenly, with a sound like the gushing of an +immense water-spout, a huge chasm opened in the waves--the doomed brig +seemed struggling as if with conscious life, and then lashing the +waters with her shattered spars and broken masts, went down forever +beneath the deep waters, over whose bosom she had so long rode as a +scourge and a terror, with blood and desolation following in her wake. + +Among the effects of the pirate captain which had been conveyed on +board the Raker, a manuscript was found, which seemed to be an +autobiography of his life. For what purpose he had written it can +never be known--most probably from an impulsive desire to give vent on +paper to thoughts and feelings which he could not breathe to any +living person, and which he doubtless supposed would never be perused +by human eye--they show that, savage, and lawless, and blood-thirsty +as he had become, strong and terrible motives had driven him into his +unnatural pursuit, and perchance a tear of pity may fall for him, as +the gentle reader peruses the private records of the scourge of the +ocean. + + +CHAPTER VI. + +_The Pirate's Story._ + +I am the youngest son of a gentleman of the northern part of England. +My father's family is as good as any in the county, for without laying +claim to any title of nobility, our blood is as pure and our lineage +as ancient as the most boasted in England. I had but one brother, who +succeeded at our father's death to the broad lands and rich heritage +of our name. The accursed law of primogeniture, to which I owe all the +evil that has befallen me, of course debarred me from all share in the +family estate. I had refused to enter the army, the church or the +navy, though my inclinations were in favor of the latter profession; +yet a stronger claim than ambition or a roving life kept me on the +paternal estate. It was not that I envied my brother the possession of +the wide bounds over which he ruled, or that I found less happiness in +witnessing his, for I loved my brother, as God is my witness, here, in +my lonely cabin, with this great sea around me, and this broad sky +above me; here, though no eye may ever see these lines, I write, do I +repeat it, I loved my brother dearly and proudly. It was love that +kept me idle at home while other young men of England, belonging to +the same position in society as myself, and in the same unfortunate +category of younger sons, were carving out for themselves fame and +wealth in the service of their country. + +Helen Burnett was the loveliest girl I have ever seen, and I loved her +with all the passionate devotedness of a young and ardent heart; she +was to me the light of life, for all was dark when I was not with her. +She was the only daughter of our village curate, and resided near our +family mansion. We had sported together beneath the venerable trees of +the park from the earliest days of childhood. Until I left home for +college she had seemed to me as a sister, and I had loved her as such +until, on returning home from a long absence at college, I found a +blushing and beautiful young woman where I had expected, forgetting +the rapid work of time, to meet with the same playful and lovely child +I had kissed at parting. She was, indeed, beautiful; tall, graceful, +and even commanding in figure, while the mildness of an angel reposed +in the glance of her deep-blue eyes, and the sweet smile that so often +visited her lips, while her pleasantly modulated voice was music +itself. + + "A lyre of widest range, + Touched by all passion--did fall down and glance + From tone to tone, and glided through all change of liveliest + utterance." + +Her hair was of the darkest shade of brown, resting in soft wave-like +smoothness above her high, pale forehead. Alas! that she was _so_ +lovely! had she been less so, either I might not have loved her, or I +might have been permitted by fortune to have been happy with her. + +After leaving college, my time was all devoted to Helen. She loved me +no less than I loved her; and I looked forward to a quiet and happy +life, picturing the future with colorings of the brightest hope and +joyfulness. + +It was at this time that my brother returned from a long tour of the +Continent. He was one of the handsomest men of the day, and had been +distinguished by the appellation which had accompanied him from court +to court, of "the handsome Englishman." He was of a medium stature, +and faultlessly proportioned; his expansive and intellectual forehead +seemed the seat of lofty thought, and his dark flashing eye, intensely +expressive, seemed to penetrate to the heart of all who met its +glance. I see him now--not in his glorious beauty, but pale--pale, +touched by the cold fingers of death. + +I had too much of the pride of my race to live as a dependent on my +brother's bounty, yet I could not bear the thought of leaving Helen. I +was in no situation to marry, and in an undecided state of mind I +suffered the days to glide away. + +My brother had just come back from a day's angling in the trout-stream +that flowed through his lands. He met me at the park-gate. + +"Well, John," said I, "what luck to-day?" + +"O, William," said he, without heeding my question, "I have seen the +most charming girl--the loveliest one that breathes. She outvies all I +have seen in my travels; do you know her. She is the curate's +daughter." + +I felt a sickness at heart, like the bitterness of death--was it a +presentiment, a warning of evil to come. + +"Say, William?" + +"Yes--yes, she is lovely." + +"She is an angel." + +Sir John passed into the park, and I proceeded, with a strange +melancholy I could not dispel, to meet Helen. She was at her father's +door, and greeted me with her accustomed kindness of voice and manner. + +"Why are you so sad this lovely evening William?" + +"Sad!--am I sad?" + +"You look so." + +"Well, I will be so no longer, then;" and I endeavored to shake off my +depression, but not succeeding, I bade her farewell at an earlier hour +than was my custom. + +From that day my brother's angling excursions became more +frequent--but he seldom returned with a full basket. He often spoke to +me of Helen, but I always replied carelessly, and changed the topic of +conversation to something else, yet when alone, I was in continual +torment from my thoughts. I endeavored to console myself with the +reflection that Helen's love was plighted to me, and that she would +not change, yet my thoughts were continually recurring to my brother's +great advantages over me in every respect, not only in fortune but in +personal appearance; and I had already, in my suspicions, placed him +in the light of a rival for the hand of Helen. I knew his high-minded +and honorable disposition too well to fancy for a moment that he would +attempt her ruin; and I also knew that there was nothing in the +inferior station of Helen's family that would prevent him from seeking +her hand in marriage, if she had compelled his love. + +All that followed might perhaps have been prevented had I at first +told my brother frankly of my love for Helen; but a foolish desire to +prove her love for me, and a certain feeling of self-respect kept me +silent. + +It was not a long time before I either saw, or fancied I saw, a change +in the manner of Helen toward me--the thought was torture. I was for +days undecided how to act, but at length determined to learn the true +state of things. I knew my brother was often at the parsonage, and I +trembled for the result. + +"Helen," I asked her, "is not my brother a frequent visitor here?" + +It was twilight, but I thought I observed a heightened color in her +cheek. + +"Yes, he has been here several times since his return." + +"Dear Helen, answer me frankly, has he ever spoken to you of love?" + +She hesitated, but at length replied, + +"He has." + +"And did you not tell him your vows were plighted to another?" + +"My father entered the room before I made any reply at all." + +"Helen, do you love me now the same as ever you have done?" + +"You have my plighted word, William." Yet there was something +bordering on coldness even in the sweet accents with which she spoke; +the nice instinct of love detects each gradation of feeling with an +unerring certainty. I was not satisfied, and when I left her, I was +more unhappy than ever. I longed to speak to my brother on the +subject, yet some indescribable feeling prevented me; and I allowed +the days to glide away, growing more and more troubled in mind as they +passed by. + +I was now convinced that Helen's affection for me was not what it had +been; and after a short interview with her, in which she had again +repeated her love for me, but in such chilling tones that I felt it +was not from the heart she spoke, I sought the chamber of my brother +in a state almost bordering on madness. All of our race have been of +ungovernable passions, but none more so than myself. I paused at his +door to regain in some degree my self-command, then lifting the latch, +I entered. + +"Ah, brother!" said Sir John, in a cheerful tone. + +"Yes, your younger brother," replied I, bitterly. + +Sir John started with wonder. + +"Why, William, what mean you?" + +I paid no heed to the interruption, but continued growing, if +possible, still more enraged as I proceeded. + +"Are not all the broad lands of our family estate yours--its parks, +its meadows, its streams; this venerable mansion, where the _elder +son_ has rioted for so many generations, leaving the younger to make +his way in the world as best he may." + +"Brother, are you mad? My purse is yours--I have nothing that is not +yours." + +"You have every thing, and not content with that, you have sought to +win away the love of my affianced bride." + +"Who mean you, William?" + +"Helen Burnett." + +My brother turned pale, and gazing upon me for a moment with +astonishment, he heaved a deep sigh, and covered his face with his +hands. + +I folded my arms, and stood looking upon him scornfully, for my +passion had made me consider him in the light of one who had knowingly +stolen away my bride. + +Sir John at length uncovered his face and spoke. + +"I would to God, William, you had told me this sooner." + +"Is it then too late?" I inquired, bitterly. + +"Too late--too late for my happiness, but not too late for justice and +honor. She is yours, William, I resign all pretensions to her hand, +and will cease to visit the parsonage." + +I was touched by the generous spirit of my brother, and by the +mournful shadow which clouded his noble brow. I have ever acted from +impulse, and seizing him by the hand, I said, + +"Not so, John--not so! She is, as I have told you, my affianced bride; +her solemn and oft-repeated vows are mine, and I have thought that her +love was forever mine; but this very night I plainly perceived that a +change has been wrought in her feelings. She treated me with coldness +instead of warmth, and maddened by my interview with her, I rushed +into your presence, and have blamed you unjustly." + +"My dear brother--" + +"No, no, John, I was wrong to accuse you. I should have better known +your nobleness. Henceforth let us stand on equal ground; I do not want +an unwilling bride, and if you can win her love from me, take her, +though it drive me mad." + +A gleam of pleasure passed over Sir John's countenance as he replied, + +"Be it so, my brother, it is but honorable; yet will I at once resign +all hope, and leave the country if you but will it so." + +"Sir John, have you reason to think that Helen loves you?" + +"She has never said so, but I did not think she looked coldly upon +me." + +"She is 'false, false as hell!'" + +"My dear William, however this suite terminate, any thing in my power +shall be done for you. If the estates were not entailed, I would at +once give you a deed for half of them, and then I should have no +advantage over you in wealth or position. Here is an order for a +hundred thousand pounds." + +"Sir John I will accept nothing; if I lose Helen, I shall have no more +to live for, and I warn you, if I become mad from disappointment, do +not cross my path, or I know not the consequence." + +"You do not threaten me." + +I felt the turbulent passions of my nature rising within me, and +fearing that I should lose all self-command, I rushed from the room, +and entering the silent park, I wandered from grove to grove till the +cool air of the night had calmed my raging spirit, when I sought my +own chamber. + +I had never told the worthy curate of my love for his daughter, and +Helen had never been accustomed to depend on him for advice or +consolation. It was to her mother that she had always turned for both, +and that mother had died but a year before the return of my brother. +Mr. Burnett was a quiet student, passionately fond of his books, as +innocent of the world as a child, only fretful and peevish when any +thing occurred to disturb the quiet monotony of his existence, and +apparently unconscious that his little Helen had grown from a child +to a woman. His mind was wholly wrapped up in his studies, even at his +meals it was abstracted, and he retired hastily to his closet. Helen +had no inclination to disturb the serenity of his life, until it +became absolutely necessary that he should be made acquainted with her +engagement to me; and I had been too thoughtless of all but my own +happiness to intrude upon his privacy, confident that his sanction to +our marriage would not be refused whenever demanded. + +I had yet to learn the lesson, bitter and agonizing, that no woman is +proof against the captivating temptations of ambition, and the glare +of wealth. I know but little of the sex; they are called angels, and I +had thought Helen was an angel--alas! I found my mistake. I read my +doom in the averted coldness of her glance; I felt it in the unwilling +pressure of her hand whenever we met, and I knew it when I gazed upon +the countenance of my brother, on which was a quiet glow of happiness +his expressive features could not conceal, even when he knew my +searching glance was upon him. O! the agony of feeling which oppressed +me in those bitter days; I felt all the savage passions of my nature +rising within me; there were moments when I felt as if I could gladly +see my brother and Helen stretched dead at my feet. Day by day these +vindictive thoughts increased within me. It wanted but the finishing +stroke to make me completely mad--it came. Though I had long dreaded +to make the trial, on which all my happiness for this world rested, I +at length determined to put it off no longer. + +The shadows of twilight were settling over the earth as I slowly and +sadly approached the parsonage. My head was bowed upon my breast as I +walked with a noiseless step upon the little path that led to the +unpretending dwelling. I was not aware how near I had come, till a ray +of light from the window fell across the path, and recalled me to +myself. As I stopped, I heard the tones of my brother's voice in low +and earnest conversation. I drew nearer, and beheld a sight which +rooted me to the spot, even though I was not wholly unprepared for +such a scene. + +My brother and Helen were seated in the little arbor before the +parsonage, as she and myself had often before sat when I fancied our +love was lasting as life. In the dim light I could see that my +brother's arm was round her waist, and that her head rested upon his +shoulder. I could hear their conversation. + +"And you do love me, then, Helen?" + +I heard no answer, but the long curls moved slightly upon my brother's +shoulder, and as he bent his head and kissed her, I felt that he was +answered--I was answered--that he _was_ loved. + +My brain burned as if on fire--and I sunk to the earth with a low +groan. How long I remained unconscious I do not know; when I +recovered, Helen and Sir John stood beside me. I sprung to my feet, +and gazed upon them with the glare of a maniac. It was so--my brain +was crazed. + +"William," said Helen. + +Her soft voice fell upon my ears with a singular cadence. With a +fierce laugh I struck my brother to the earth, and rushed forth into +the forest. All that night I must have wandered through its depths. I +found myself at the break of day miles from our mansion, lying beneath +an aged oak. I did not seem to know myself. I cannot now describe the +feelings and thoughts which raged within me. The wild storm which is +now lashing the ocean without my cabin is not more wild and +fierce--the black sky above me is not more dark and gloomy. They +seemed at length to settle into one stern, unchanging emotion, and +that was hatred toward my brother, and a stern determination to +revenge upon him the cruel wrong which had driven me mad. + +My path led along the course of a mountain torrent, whose sudden +descent as it hurried toward the river, formed successive water-falls +not unmusical in their cadence. A few purple beech and drooping +willows with here and there a mountain ash, skirted the ravine that +formed its bed; their leaves had fallen before the blasts of autumn, +they seemed emblematic of myself; like me their glory had +departed--they were shorn of their loveliness by the rough storm, left +bare and verdureless in the chilling breath of autumn; the seasons in +their round would restore to them their beauty and their bloom, +clothing their branches again in all the freshness of youth; but what +should give back to me the freshness and youth of the heart? what +restore the desolation of of the soul? + +Weak and exhausted, I flung myself down in a rude grotto, which +commanded a view of the foaming stream as it washed the rocks below; +it was a scene fitted to my mood, for I turned in disgust from the +beautiful landscape an opening in the forest revealed--the beauty of +earth had forever passed away from me. That same opening, however, +unfolded to the sight the gray towers of my family mansion, and at +once I started to my feet and bent my course toward them. + +At length I reached my home--how hateful every thing about the +venerable building seemed. I stole to my chamber, and falling upon my +couch, slept from pure exhaustion. + +It was night when I awoke. I arose, but did not leave my room; seated +by the window with the cold wind of November blowing upon my burning +brow, I nursed my thoughts of vengeance. I forgot that he against whom +I harbored such thoughts was my only brother; I forgot my self-offered +trial of our powers with Helen; I forgot every thing--every thing but +the fiery feeling of revenge. Yes, I was mad. + +Day after day I wandered around the old castle, shunning every one. My +brother strove to converse with me, but glaring upon him like a maniac +as I was, I rushed past him. I felt the poison of hatred working +within me, and I knew the time was coming when my revengeful spirit +would find its vent. + +I often wandered toward the parsonage, but never sought an interview +with Helen. At times I caught a glimpse of her light form as it passed +by a window or before the open door that led into the hall. One +evening I saw my brother enter, and drawing near the window, I saw +through the slightly-parted curtain, such evidence of their mutual +affection, that, if possible, I became more than ever crazy in my +anguish and despair. I waited for him to come out long hours, hours to +me of bitterest sorrow, to him of most intense delight. It was an +exceedingly cold night. A slight snow had fallen during the day, and +the landscape around me glistening in the moonlight, seemed wrapped in +a robe of the purest white. Yet as I gazed all seemed to turn into the +deep hue of blood--wherever I gazed, every thing presented the same +fearful coloring. It was but the shadowy reflection of a coming deed +that should forever stain my soul with a deeper red, that the years of +eternity could never efface. + +At length my brother opened the door of the parsonage and came forth. +Leaning against the trunk of an old tree but a little distance from +them, I saw and heard the parting acts of endearment. At that terrible +moment the determination of my soul was made, and I heard the dark +devil within me whisper one of you must die. I shuddered at the +thought, but when scarcely out of sight of the parsonage, almost as +soon as the door had closed upon the form of Helen, I confronted my +brother. Sir John started back, surprised. + +"What, William, is it you?" + +I laughed scornfully. + +"My poor brother!" + +"Do you dare to pity me--ha! ha! ha! Sir John! one of us must die this +night--here, upon this spot; here are two pistols, take one of them, +and it will be soon seen which is the fated one." + +Sir John mechanically took the pistol; cocking my own, I retired a few +paces, and turning, exclaimed, + +"Are you ready?" + +My words recalled him to himself; flinging his pistol far into the +wood, he exclaimed, + +"I will not fire at my brother." + +"Coward!" + +"The name belongs not to our race; fire at me if you will, I will not +at you." + +Enraged beyond expression, yet even in my madness ashamed to fire at +an unarmed man, I hesitated. + +My brother spoke. + +"Come, William, let us go home." + +"Home!--ha! ha! ha! my home is the wood and the cave! Here, take my +good-night." + +Thus speaking I flung my pistol full at his face with all my strength; +it struck him lengthwise, and being cocked, went off in consequence of +the concussion. + +Sir John fell upon the cold snow. I rushed up to him, and beheld the +blood flowing in torrents from a ghastly wound; the ball had taken a +downward direction, and penetrated the abdomen. + +"William," he said, faintly, "you have murdered me. God forgive you!" + +It seemed as if my reason came back to me at that terrible moment as +suddenly as it had left me. At the report of my pistol, I had heard a +loud scream in the parsonage, and almost at the same time with myself +Helen rushed up to the side of my brother. + +"Oh!" she cried, in accents of agony, "who has done this?" + +"Who!" said I, bitterly, "do you ask? You have done it; but no, Helen, +I do not mean it--let us carry him into the parsonage." + +With difficulty we lifted the body of my brother, and bearing him into +the house, laid him upon a bed. Helen, who had up to this time been +sustained by the necessity of exertion, fainted beside the body. I +stood gazing upon them in stupid despair. The worthy pastor opened the +door of the room; he had heard an unusual noise, and left his books to +learn the cause. + +I stopped not to converse with him, I could not trust myself to speak, +but stooping to the lifeless form of Helen, I imprinted a last kiss +upon her pale lips, and burst from the chamber. I do not know the +result of that fatal night. It may be that my brother and Helen were +both restored to life and happiness. God grant that it was so. It may +be that the spirits of both had already passed to another world when I +broke from the room, leaving the pale and astonished pastor gazing +upon the lifeless bodies of his only daughter and the young lord of +the manor. Years have passed since then, and not a happy hour have +their long ages borne to me; yet methinks if I could but know that my +brother and Helen are living in happiness in the mansion of my +fathers, much that is dark and despairing in the remnant of life would +be taken from the future. + +That night I bade farewell to the haunts of boyhood, and the next day +I was out upon the broad ocean. I had jumped aboard of a little vessel +which was just weighing anchor, without asking its destination or +caring where it bore me. I made brief reply to all interrogatories, +merely showing a purse of gold, which was sufficient answer, inasmuch +as it showed I was not to be an unprofitable part of the cargo. + +Seated upon the companion-way, that evening I watched the receding +shores of my native isle, and as the sunlight went out on its white +cliffs, leaving them in sombre shade, I felt that so had the light of +my life gone out, leaving the darkness of despair forever. Reckless as +I was of the future, and dark as was the past, I was not yet dead to +all emotion, and I could not witness my native land fading from my +view without experiencing those melancholy feelings which the +endearing recollections of former years excite, embittered as they +were with me by the thought that even if I ever should return to the +home of my fathers, I should find no kindred to welcome me back. No +wonder, then, that I felt a chilling sickness of the heart as I caught +a last glimpse of the Wicklow Mountains gleaming in the warm colorings +of the evening sun, as they mingled their hoary summits with the "dewy +skies" of my native isle. + +The vessel on which I had chanced to take passage was bound for the +West Indies. It was a small merchantman, and fell an easy prey to the +first pirate that gave chase. We were boarded and all consigned to +death. When the command was given to the pirates to shoot us all +through the head, I stepped forward with a smile, and a heart +partaking more of gladness than it had felt for long months, a pistol +was at my temple, when the stern voice of the pirate captain commanded +his man to stay his hand. He stepped forward and gazed into my face. + +"My fine fellow, are you not afraid to die?" + +"I have nothing to live for--blow away, and I will thank you." + +"By heaven, you are just the man for us! Now take your choice, I have +no objection to shoot you, indeed it would be rather pleasant than +otherwise, but one of my lieutenants was killed yesterday, and you can +fill his place if you will. I give you five minutes to decide while we +are dispatching these dogs." I gazed upon the cruel work--it did not +shock me; I even smiled at their agony, and had determined to share +their fate, when a momentary thought of the unknown, mysterious +hereafter restrained my advancing step. Am I ready, thought I, to +plunge into its mysteries. I shuddered at the thought. It was not the +beautiful blue sky unrolled above me, nor the broad, playful sea +around that wooed me to life. No, it was that fear of the "something +after death." + +"Are you ready to answer?" + +"I am thine." + +"It is well, throw these carcasses into the sea, and set all sail for +the Bermudas. Well, lieutenant," continued he, as the ship fell off +before the wind, "give us your name, or it will be awkward work +hailing you." + +"William--" I stopped, the pride of my race arose within me. + +"Well?" + +"I will not give my name--call me William, I'll answer to that." + +"Very well--lieutenant William, my lads, your second lieutenant." + +The men seemed to like me from the first, and as I gazed upon them +with a proud, fearless eye, a hearty cheer arose that endorsed my +command. + +Since then my home has been the pirate's deck; my heart has grown +harder and harder with the lapse of time. I love the sight of blood +better than I love the flowing wine--the agonizing shriek of death +better than the sweetest music--like an emissary of evil I gloat over +the tortures of man. I have learned to hate the land of my birth, and +all who first drew breath upon her detested soil. I have been foremost +in every conflict, yet have I not met death--the only foe whom I +cannot conquer by my fierce will and dark heart. + +I could not long remain a subordinate in command. I had become the +idol of our lawless crew, and a single blow from my sword laid our +captain low in death upon his own deck; and I filled his place, +smiling with a fiendish pleasure, as I saw his body thrown into the +waves, and the hungry sharks severing the limbs yet throbbing with +life. I have no feeling for my kind--yet I was not meant for this. +Under happier auspices, I might have been a leader in the ranks of God +as I am now in those of Satan; my sword might have been drawn for my +native land with the purest and loftiest feelings of patriotism, +instead of being turned against her and her children. Even now, in the +midst of my crimes and desolation, my heart throbs when I think of the +great and good of earth, and I feel that, like them, I might have left +a name of boast and pride to mankind; now, I shall perish, unknown and +unwept; the annals of my house shall never record that one of its +scions led a pirate crew to deeds of bloody cruelty and death. Long +since I have buried my name in oblivion--I am dead to my kindred, dead +to the world; the caves of ocean are yawning for the body of the +pirate-chief, and there will he sleep with the howling ocean and the +shrieking storm to sing his requiem and his dirge. + + [_To be continued._ + + + + +DREAMS. + + + Yes, there were pleasant voices yesternight, + Humming within mine ear a tale of truth, + Reminding me of days ere the sad blight + Of care had dimmed the brightness of my youth: + Yes, they were pleasant voices; but, forsooth, + They threw a kind of melancholy charm + Around my heart; as if in vengeful ruth, + Our very dreams have knowledge of the harm + Ourselves do to ourselves, without the least alarm! + + I love such dreams, for at my couch there stood + One who, in other lands, with magic spell, + Had taught my untaught heart to love the good, + The pure, the holy, which in her did dwell. + It was a lovely image, and too well + I do remember me the fatal hour, + When that bright image--but I may not tell + How deep the thraldom, absolute the power-- + My very dreams decide it was her only dower. + + _Sandwich Islands._ + + What are our dreams? A sort of fancy sketches, + Limned on the mind's retina, with a grace + More subtle than the wakeful artist catches, + And tinted with a more ethereal trace. + Our dreams annihilate both time and space, + And waft us, with magnetic swiftness, back + O'er an oblivious decade to the place + Where youth's fond visions clustered o'er our track; + Of youth's fond hopes decayed, alas! there is no lack! + + I love such dreams, for they are more than real; + They have a passion in them in whose birth + The heart receives again its beau ideal-- + Its Platonized embodiment of worth. + Call ye them dreams! then what a mortal dearth + Throws its gaunt shadow o'er our little life! + Our very joy is mockery of mirth, + And our quiescence agony of strife: + If dreams are naught but dreams, what is our real life? + + E. O. H. + + + + +A LEAF IN THE LIFE OF LEDYARD LINCOLN. + +A SKETCH. + +BY MARY SPENCER PEASE. + +It was in the joyous leaf-giving, life-giving month of June, of 18--, +after an absence of six years, that I found myself once more among my +own dearly loved native hills. + +An intense worshiper of Nature, I had gratified to the utmost my +passion and curiosity by exploring all the accessible regions of the +old world. I had studied every scene that was in any way famous, or +_in_famous I might say with regard to some, if the necessity of +clambering down or up unclimbable precipices, or wading through +interminable swamps, could render them so. + +With all the fatigue and hardships I had undergone my reward was +great, and had more than repaid me for the perilous dangers I had +courted and conquered. I had gazed, and dreamed, and raved by turns. I +had been melted into tears of tenderness by the perfect harmony and +loveliness of some scenes, and had been frozen into awe by the +magnificent grandeur and terrible sublimity of others. And, after +those six years of travel in foreign lands, I had returned, my brain +one endless panorama of hills, valleys and cloud-capped mountains, +earth, skies, wood and water. Not one of those gorgeous scenes, +however, had moved me as I was moved when once again I beheld my +boyhood's home--the stately mansion of my fathers. Half hidden, it +rose majestically amid the noble elms that surrounded it; there lay +the velvet-green sloping lawn in front--down which, as a boy, I had +rolled in the summer and sledded in the winter--there the wild, +night-dark ravine in the rear--fit haunt for elves and gnomes--that +terminated amid jagged rocks and tangled trees, in a rushing, roaring +brook of no mean dimensions, almost as large as many of the so-called +rivers of the mother country. Just at this point, at the turn of the +old time-worn stage-road, where the venerable, picturesque old +homestead of my sires burst thus suddenly into view, an opening in the +trees, whether by accident or design, revealed one of the very +merriest, maddest of musical water-falls, that went foaming and +tumbling its snow-white, sparkling waters over a bed of huge rocks, +and then, by a sudden wilful bend, that same loud-uttering brook was +lost to view. + +As the rattling stage neared my home, my heart leaped within me, and +every fibre of it trembled with emotion. I could have hugged and +kissed each familiar sturdy old tree, looking so grand and natural. My +soul warmed and yearned toward the well remembered scene; and as I +thought upon my fond, doting mother and my loving, lovely sisters, and +my ever-indulgent father, I could have wept in the intensity of my +joy at finding myself so near them, and breathing the same free, pure, +health-giving air that had nurtured my childhood. But was there not +sitting directly opposite to me one of the most exquisitely beautiful +of God's lovely women; and did not her saucy, demure eyes seem to read +my very soul? I therefore restrained a display of my feelings, for it +would not have appeared in the least dignified or proper in a +fine-looking young man (such as I imagined myself to be) of +four-and-twenty, to be seen with eyes streaming like a young girl. + +More than once, during our short stage-coach ride had our eyes met; +and hers had revealed to me a living well of spiritual beauty; and +although they were withdrawn as soon as they encountered mine--not +coquettishly, but with true feminine modesty--still they were not +turned away until our mutual eyes had flashed one electrical spark of +mutual understanding and mutual sympathy, that whole volumes of dull +words could never express either as vividly or as truly. What a +heaven-born mystery is contained in the glance of an eye: it can kill +and can make alive; it can fill the heart with a sudden and delicious +ecstasy, and it can plunge it into the deepest, darkest despair. + +I gave her one last look as the stage stopped before my father's door, +and if it expressed one tithe of what I felt, it told her of my warm +admiration of her glorious beauty, and of my sorrow at leaving her, +perhaps forever, without knowing more of her. + +For the time the matchless image of my stage-coach companion was lost +in the loving embraces and tender greetings of my family. I felt it +truly refreshing, after six years of exile from my own kith and kin, +to be caressed and made much of; to be told by three deliciously +beautiful, exquisitely graceful sisters, hanging around one, and +kissing one every other word, to be told how much the few last years +had improved one, how handsome, &c. one was grown; was it not enough +to somewhat turn one's brain, and make one a little vain and +considerably happy. + +In the still hush of the night, after finding myself once more in my +own room--_my_ room, with its cabinets of shells and mosses, that I +had collected when a boy in my various trips to the seashore, all +religiously left arranged as I had left them, its guns, fishing-rods, +stuffed rabbits and birds, its preserved rattle-snakes and cases of +insects, all of which had stood for so long a time in their respective +places that they had become a part of the room--in the still hush of +the night the divine image of my most beautiful stage-coach companion +arose before me. The evening was warm and soft, and gleaming in the +gorgeous moonlight lay that wild, weird ravine, and the ever downward, +foaming water-fall. Its musical utterings, the delicious moonlight, +and my own newly awakened and hitherto invulnerable heart, all +conspired to make me poetical and inspired, or at least to imagine +myself to be so; and pardon me if I gave utterance in verse to some of +my feelings. But do not in the least imagine that you are going by any +means to be presented with a fatiguing copy of my passionate numbers; +in the first place I am very diffident, and in the next--but never +mind the next, I will tell you in plain prose that I felt convinced in +my heart, I felt a rapturous presentiment that the unutterably lovely +being I had that day beheld would ere long be my own dear little wife, +forever and forever. An indistinct dream of having somewhere, at some +time before, known her haunted me and tormented me, but I racked my +brains in vain to recollect the spot or time, and finally came to the +conclusion that it had been in another state of existence we had met. + +I had been home but a few days when business letters came, demanding +the presence of my father or myself in Philadelphia. My father +expressed a desire that I should go, and a certain internal prompting +urged me to comply with his request. The next morning bright and early +found me seated in the same stage-coach in which I had met her. The +due progress of steamboat and cars deposited me safely the day after +in the goodly city of Squareruledom. + +The first leisure moment at my command, I paid my respects to the +family of my father's brother. I found my good uncle and aunt at home; +but my little pet Emily--their only child--whom I had last seen a rosy +romping little imp of twelve--was unfortunately out. My uncle urged me +very hard to make his house my home during my stay in Philadelphia; +but I had taken up my abode in the family of an old college chum of +mine, who had lately commenced the practice of the art of healing, and +who I knew would be none the worse from a little of my help in a +pecuniary way. I therefore declined my kind uncle's request, with a +promise to come and see them often. + +Judge of my inexpressible joy when, turning a corner of a street, +after leaving my uncle's, who should I chance upon but the very being +of whom my brain and heart were full! Yes, there was the identical +she, and bless her dear little heart! she gave me a bright half smile +of recognition, which I returned with as profound a bow as ever +courtier bowed to queen, or devotee to Pope's sublime imperial toe. + +An omnibus came rolling by, which she, with a motion of her neat +little gloved hand, bid stop. She stepped lightly into it, while I, +with my usual impetuosity, without knowing exactly what I was doing, +sprang after her. I consoled myself for my apparent rudeness by +throwing the entire blame upon the elective affinities. + +On we went, and from time to time as I stole a glance at her sweet +face, I thought I detected a sly, mischievous little devil playing +around the corners of her small dimpled mouth, and about the pure lids +of her downcast long-fringed eyes. She never vouchsafed me a look, +however; and as we went on, and as I still watched her lovely face, a +dread vision arose up before me of a six-foot and well proportioned +youth, with fierce whiskers and a moustache of undisputable cut and +style, that I remembered to have seen with the young lady during our +stage-coach ride together--that I remembered, with a terrible +heart-sinking, was impressively attentive to her. I inwardly resolved +to let nature have her way, and let all the hair grow on my face that +would; what if it did grow a little reddish or so--why I should +resemble the rising sun, with my glory like a halo around me. +Seriously, I have long been of the opinion that a shaved face is as +much of a disgrace, and ought to be so considered, as a shaved head +fresh from prison. Why do we not finish the half completed work and +actually shave off the hair of our heads, our eye-brows and lashes, as +well as our beards, and thus go cool and comfortable through the +world? There would be this advantage in it, the disciples of Spurzheim +would have no trouble of making a map of our bumps at sight; and then +think what an immense saving it would be in combs and brushes, to say +nothing of pomatum, which some so freely use. I rejoice sincerely to +see the sudden rise in crops of hair, and most truly hope they will +not have as rapid a fall. Shaving is artificial and injurious, +exposing parts to cold that Nature never meant should be exposed. +Black, white or red--hair is a protection and ornament that no manly +face or head should be without. Rejoice ye, therefore, over every +repentant sinner who tarrieth in Jericho and letteth his beard to +grow. + +But to return to my little omnibus companion, who by this time was +gracefully moving over the smooth gravel-walks of Fairmount--for there +we had stopped--and exceedingly refreshing were its cool shades and +splashing fountains on that sultry June day. I kept as near her as I +could without appearing rude, especially as I had received one or two +half glances from her bright eyes, that nearly annihilated me, such an +unearthly fluttering and bumping in the region of my heart did they +create. Mercy upon me! what would a whole glance do? And for a whole +glance I courageously resolved to strive, let the consequences be what +they might. + +Now do you not expect an earthquake, or a roaring bull, or at least a +rabid dog? It was nothing more however than a refreshing shower of +rain--truly refreshing to my thirsty soul, for it gave me that coveted +_whole_ glance. Heavens! I actually staggered, and would undoubtedly +have fallen had it not been for a friendly sappling--you will sneer at +witless I--that grew near me. But just try the effect upon yourself--a +shock of electricity is nothing in comparison to a shock from a pair +of bright eyes--such eyes as hers. The truth of the case was here, of +a sudden, apparently from out the clear sky, came down, with not a +moment's warning, a perfect avalanche of rain-drops--all expressly got +up, or down, for my benefit, else why did I happen to have an umbrella +in my hand? "A Wise man--" you remember the rest. My beautiful +incognito was away up those long stairs, and walking leisurely around +the immense basin, when the rain came down. I was not very far from +her, and in less than an instant my umbrella was over her pretty +little blue bonnet, with-- + +"Be kind enough to accept my umbrella, Miss"--in the most insinuating +manner of which I was master. + +"Thank you! but I will not deprive you of its shelter," with that +whole glance of which I spoke. So on we went together, and somehow +after we found ourselves under shelter, it was the easiest and most +natural thing in the world to fall into a pleasant conversation. After +talking about the scenery, weather, &c., we had mutually enjoyed +during our short stage ride, I spoke of the beauty around us, and +asked her if she often visited this lovely spot. + +"Not very often," replied she. "It is very beautiful though, in spite +of all they have done to spoil it." + +"To spoil it!" + +"Yes, by making it as much like a chess-board as possible, all +straight lines and stiffness. That is Philadelphia however." + +"Then you are not a Philadelphian, or it is not a favorite city with +you?" + +"There you are mistaken. It is my native place, and a city I love +dearly--with all its formalities and inhospitalities toward strangers. +Philadelphia is a prim matron, with a warm heart but a most frigid, +repulsive exterior, until you become acquainted with her--one of her +particular children." + +"I have been told that there is a finer collection of works of art +here than in any other city in the Union." + +"I believe you have been told correctly. We have more time in our +quiet way to look after and admire the productions of the great +masters. Our taste has wonderfully improved within a few years." + +"I have not been in town long enough to visit any of your show places +yet." + +"How I _should_ like to see that lovely water-fall and the whole of +that beautiful scene on canvas. Do you know I almost envied you a home +in that beautiful house with all its picturesque surroundings." + +"I am truly thankful you had the kind grace to think of me at all." + +"How could I help it? I had a feeling the first moment I saw you that +you and I were destined to be friends. Is there not a certain +mysterious something--call it magnetism or instinct--that either draws +us toward or repels us from every person we meet in either a greater +or less degree? With me this instinct is very strong, and I obey it +implicitly, never in one instance having found it to fail. I know at +once who to trust and who to love. And would know, by the same +unerring law of my nature, who to hate if ever I felt the least +inclination to hate. The only feeling of hate I ever experienced is a +strong desire to avoid all persons or things that are disagreeable to +me. I love harmony the most perfect, and discord is a thing for me to +flee from. I felt toward you a most decided drawing, and I felt a +conviction then, as I do now, that we are to be very near and dear +friends." + +The little angel! I could have hugged and kissed her on the spot; but +I hugged her in my soul, and inwardly vowed to consecrate my life to +her, if the "drawing" she felt for me could be rendered sufficiently +strong to admit of such a thing. On a sudden I bethought me of the +whiskered incognito, her stage attendant. I mustered courage to ask +her in a half laughing way, if that fine-looking fellow she had called +Charles were her brother. + +Instantly her manner changed from that of sweet and almost tender +seriousness to an arch, quizzical one that puzzled me. + +"Oh no, not my brother," said she. + +"_Not_ her brother--a sharp pang of pain shot through me--I was +getting dreadfully jealous--I looked all manner of curiosity and all +manner of questions; she took pity on me and said--a smile still +lurking in the corner of her eye-- + +"He is no more nor less than the intended future husband of the one +you see before you." + +"The future devil! I sincerely beg your pardon, but--you take me by +surprise--I regret--but really I do not feel that it can be so." + +"And why not?" + +"Truly, why not!" + +"He is very handsome." + +"That is as one thinks." + +"And very accomplished." + +"In flattery, most like." + +"And a most profound scholar." + +"In the art of making love, it would seem." + +"But I do not love him." + +"Not love him!" + +"No, nor never can." + +"Then why, my dearest young lady, do you marry him?" + +"You may well ask; why indeed?" + +"You seemed very friendly with him the day I saw you together, and +happier than I could have wished you." + +"That was before I knew I was to be his wife. It has only been decided +upon a few days." + +"And now?" + +"It is a long story, that I may tell you if we should meet again. I +never can love him, though I greatly esteem him, and--" + +"_Esteem!_" + +"A sad substitute for love; but what is love without esteem?" + +"What is esteem without love?" + +"Very true. It was not my own doing, although I reluctantly gave my +consent. If I can with honor release myself from this unfortunate +engagement--I have thought more and more every day since, that love, +true heart-love, is the only tie that should sanction the union of two +beings--but why should I talk in this way to you, a stranger? I cannot +feel, however that you are a stranger; we have surely met before in +some other state of being. I am a firm believer in the beautiful faith +of the transmigration of souls--of pre-existence. What is it that +brings two congenial souls together, uniting them in one hour in more +perfect harmony than whole years could effect among ordinary +acquaintances?" + +"Something unexplainable," I answered, "as it is mysterious. We can +call it elective affinity, and can talk very learnedly upon the +singular attraction of the magnet, as applied to the poles as well as +souls, and we can make vast and wise experiments, and in the end be as +far from the real cause as we were before the Solomonic experiments +were made. The school-boy's reasoning was more to the point-- + + "I do not like you, Dr. Fell, + The reason why I cannot tell." + +I love you dearly, Dr. Fell, the reason why, &c., would be just as +conclusive. We are so accustomed to seeing drops of water drawing near +to meet each other, and mingling in a loving embrace of perfect unity, +that we cease to wonder at the occurrence, as we do also at the fact +that oil and water will not mingle." + +"Just as my soul will _not_ mingle with the souls of some. There is an +antagonism more or less decided between my inner self and many persons +I know; people, too, that I am compelled to be friendly with, and wish +to be friendly with, many of them my cousins and aunts. Then again +toward some am I as irresistibly attracted." + +Her beautiful eyes sought mine frequently during our conversation, and +her glorious soul looked through them--earnest, simple and pure. + +"Just so," resumed she, after a pause, during which her sweet, soft +eyes had been gazing on the dreamy waters. "Just so have I felt +attracted toward you. I could sit down beside you and tell my whole +soul to you as freely as though you were my own brother." + +The word _brother_ sent a disagreeable shiver through me that all her +sweet confidence could not banish. + +"But," exclaimed she, starting up, "what am I doing? The rain has +stopped, and the waning sun warns me that it is time to be at home. +And what _must_ you think of me? I hardly dare to ask the--" + +"That you are the most lovely, most glorious of all Heaven's glorious +creatures; that you--" + +"There, there! if you talk in that way, I shall truly repent having +said all I have to you." + +"Forgive me; though I spoke sincerely, I hope--" + +"I will forgive on condition of good behavior in future. But I must +not stay for another word. Promise me that you will not leave this +spot until ten minutes after the omnibus I shall be in is out of +sight." + +"I promise," said I, reluctantly. + +She gave me her little, soft, ungloved hand at parting; its gentle +pressure sent a thrill of ecstasy through me, and I looked all the +unutterable things that my full soul felt into her warm brown eyes. +And, by the way, I may as well say that my own eyes are--they are a +dark, deep blue, and strangely expressive, if I believe my sisters +and my friends, and--my own glass. + +For one week did I wander up and down the streets, and watch every +omnibus, and stare into the windows and doors of every house I passed. +I peered under every pretty bonnet I met, and was, on the eighth day, +giving full chase to a coquettish little blue one, in the earnest hope +of finding the sweet face of my beautiful incognita hidden under it, +when some one laid a strong grasp on my shoulder, and looking around, +I beheld the generous face of my good uncle. + +"Bless the boy! why, Led, what is your hurry? Your business must have +been _very_ urgent this last week. Why, in the name of all the saints, +have you kept away so studiously? There is poor little Emily actually +dying with anxiety to see you. Bless my soul! is this the way to treat +your friends? But now that I have fairly captured you, I do not intend +to let you go." + +And he did not, and would not; so I had to go with him. And what do +you think? The first object that met my bewildered gaze, as my uncle +led me into the drawing-room, was--herself! her very self! but so +altered, looking so cold and stately. My uncle introduced me to her as +"My daughter Emily, nephew Ledyard." "My daughter Emily" inclined her +beautiful head most graciously, and sweetly smiled, but not one +recognizing glance did she deign to bestow on poor "nephew Ledyard." +Lovely she was, and proud and majestic as a queen. What could it mean? +I made several well-planned alluions to omnibuses and stages, &c., not +one of which did she seem to comprehend. + +Her exceeding beauty still charmed me in spite of her coldness; and I +stayed to tea and then the evening. My cousin sung for me; her voice +was highly cultivated and exceedingly sweet, and full of feeling. Song +after song she poured forth into the listening air, and each song +entranced me more than the last. + +We conversed gayly on several topics, and she grew more and more +familiar with me, alluded playfully to our childish intimacy; still, +to the very close of the evening, did she refuse to remember by look +or word that we had met since children. She evidently wished to +forget, and wished me to forget the whole of that pleasant interview +that had afforded _me_, at least, such soul-felt delight; yet she +acted her part so well, was so careless and unconscious, and withal so +cold and full of queenly dignity, that I went home in a perfect +bewilderment of amazement. + +As I lay tossing on a sleepless bed, and in my heart bitterly railing +against the perversity and incomprehensibility of women, I found +myself incessantly repeating to myself, "Am I Giles, or am I not;" the +truth flashed upon me that I was the unhappy victim of an optical +illusion, that the Cousin Emily I had but a little before left was +simply my Cousin Emily, and not the beautiful being of whom my heart +and life were full--that incessant thinking of her, and seeking her, +had crazed my brain. I relighted my lamp and made my way into the +doctor's study. I read all I could find on the subject of optical +delusion and maniacal hallucination until I convinced myself that I +was laboring under a very alarming attack of one or both, and resolved +on seriously consulting my friend, the doctor, early the next morning. + +I went back to bed with the decided opinion that I was exceedingly to +be pitied--how would it appear in the papers? for I must undoubtedly +grow worse, and it must undoubtedly end in suicide. "Sad occurrence," +"nice young man," "brilliant prospects," "only son of--," and +"promising talents," "laboring under incipient insanity," "fatal cause +unknown," &c., &c. I sympathized with myself until near morning, then +fell into a sleep, which lasted until the bell rung for breakfast. I +dressed in a hurry, and got down before the muffins were quite cold. I +ate a hearty breakfast, read a newspaper or two, and determining on +seeing my cousin again before I made up my mind to ask advice, I soon +found myself at her door. The fresh morning air and the walk had so +invigorated me, that I laughed at my last night's fears, especially as +my lovely cousin came into the drawing-room to receive me, radiant +with health and beauty. I found her just the same as she was the night +before, gay, witty and charming, and as cold as marble. Still I could +not be mistaken; for, with all her feigned coldness--for some good +reason of her own undoubtedly--there was no doubting her identity with +that of my glorious Fairmount vision. + +The day was a lovely one, soft and mild as a June morning could make +it. After conversing on indifferent subjects for a time, I asked her, +remarking on the deliciousness of the morning, if she would not like +to go out with me to Fairmount. She assented with a quiet smile, as +innocently as though she had never in her life before heard of such a +place as Fairmount. + +"The little-deceiver!" thought I. "Which way shall we go?" said I, +aloud, and very significantly, "shall we take the omnibus?" + +"I will order the carriage," replied she, with a slight shrug; "I +never ride in those omnibusses, one meets with such odd people." + +"_Never?_" asked I, emphatically. + +"Certainly, never!" answered she, with much apparent surprise. + +My drive was a delightful one. How could it be otherwise, with a +glorious day surrounding me, and a gloriously beautiful cousin sitting +beside me, with whom I could not exactly make up my mind whether to +fall desperately _in_ love, or desperately _out_ of love. I, too, such +an enthusiastic lover of beauty. But she chose to be so different from +what she was at our first meeting--so reserved, that I could not +decide whether I most loved or was most indifferent to her. + +We rode all the morning, and I left her, promising to call again in +the evening. I walked the streets until dark, the whole affair vexed +me so much--I, such a hater of all mysteries, the most impatient of +all breathing mortals. I determined to come at once to an +understanding with my perverse little cousin, and to decide at once +the puzzling question whether to love or not to love. + +In the evening I found myself alone with my little tormentor. + +"Now, sweet Cousin Emily," said I, playfully, "you have been teazing +me long enough with your pretty affectation of ignorance and +innocence--not but that you are as ignorant as the rest of your sweet +sex, and as innocent too--but, I beseech you, lay by this +masquerading, you have played possum long enough. I humbly implore of +you to be the same to me that you were in our first visit to +Fairmount--the earnest, simple-hearted Cousin Emily you then were." + +"Mr. Lincoln speaks in enigmas; I must confess I do not understand his +meaning, nor his elegant allusion to 'playing possum.'" + +This she said with so much haughtiness, that I was taken all aback. +Rallying, however, in a moment I determined not to give up the point. + +"I beseech of you to pardon the inelegance of my expression, and also +my pertinacity in insisting upon some explanation of your manner +toward me. It will all do very well for the stage," continued I, +bitterly, "but in real life, among cousins, and two that have met so +frankly, and in such sincerity, I feel that our acquaintanceship must +at once end, pleasant as it has been, as it might be to me, unless you +lay aside this assumed coldness. It harasses me more than I can +express. Emily, after seeing you in the stage-coach, I thought I had +never met with one half so lovely, and I could think of nothing but +you. After remaining at home but one week, business called me to +Philadelphia. Judge of my delight when almost the first object that +met my view was your beautiful, unforgotten little self. You were just +stepping into one of those very omnibusses you have since seen fit to +decry. What followed you must remember as distinctly as I--no _not_ as +distinctly, for the whole of that delicious interview is engraven on +my heart--one of the sun-bright scenes of my life that I can never +forget. And now, after that beautiful interchange of thought and soul +that promised--every thing, do I find you cold, impassive. If you +repent the trust you so freely reposed in me, in all frankness, say +so; but for the sweet love of heaven, do not pretend to such--" + +"For the sweet love of heaven what is the man raving about? Are you +mad, dear cousin, insane? Poor Cousin Ledyard! Or is it--?" her whole +manner changed, her brilliant eyes lighted up with intense fire. How +beautiful she looked! I could have knelt and worshiped her, though, +strange to say, my restless, ardent love for her had entirely abated. +"Yes!" exclaimed she, "it must be so;" and with that she clasped her +small white hands, and throwing back her fine head, laughed with all +her heart, and strength, and soul. + +This was very pleasant for me; still I had to join her laugh, it was +so genuine and infectious. + +"Forgive me, dear cousin, forgive me for my rude laughter; forgive me +also for my folly in attempting to deceive you. You will hereafter +find me the same you found me in our first pleasant interview. Here is +my hand--I will not explain one other word to-night; I hear voices on +the stairs. Come here to-morrow evening at eight, and you shall know +all--all my reasons." + +"And why not to-morrow morning, cruel cousin?" + +"I am engaged all of the day to-morrow. I go with mamma and papa out +of town, ten miles or so, to dine; a stupid affair, but mamma wishes +it." + +"But before you go--just after breakfast." + +"No, no--come in the evening." + +By this time the voices heard on the stairs had entered the room in +the shape of a merry half-dozen of my cousin's young friends. Feeling +too agitated for society, I withdrew. + +And now another night and a whole day more of suspense--that pale +horror, that come in what shape it will, even in the shape of a +beautiful cousin, always torments the very life from my heart. + +All the clocks in town were striking eight as I rung my uncle's bell. +I found the drawing-room full of company, at which I felt vexed and +disappointed. + +My lovely cousin came up to me and placed her arm within mine, and led +me through the next room into the conservatory, and there, seated amid +the rare eastern flowers, herself the queen of them, was, gracious +heaven! I dared scarcely breathe, so great was my fear of dispelling +the beautiful illusion. It was she! none other; my stage-coach +companion--my Fairmount goddess. The musical, measured voice of my +statue-like Cousin Emily brought me to myself. + +"Allow me. Cousin Ledyard, to introduce you to _my_ Cousin Emily." + +There they both stood, one Cousin Emily, calm, stately, serene; the +other trembling and in blushes. + +I looked from one to the other in the most ludicrous bewilderment, yet +each glance showed me more and more what a wonderful fool I had been +making of myself for the last few days. Still they were strangely +alike; their own kindred could not at times distinguish one from the +other. My heart could feel the difference. _My_ Emily was a child of +nature, the other bred in a more conventional school. My Emily was a +shade less tall, less stately, less Grecian, and exquisitely more +lovely, and loving. + +But that double wedding _was_ a grand one. By what means my Emily +contrived to disentangle herself from that handsome-whiskered +"Charles," and to entangle him fast in the chains of the other Emily, +any one who wishes to know, and will take the trouble, can have all +due information on the subject, and can also learn how I wooed my +peerless Emily and won her, by coming to our lovely picturesque +dwelling, situate in one of the most romantic spots in the country. I +write you all to come, one by one, and spend a month with me, and you +shall know all the particulars. You will find my little Emily a +pattern housekeeper; you will also find a ready welcome. Bless her +sweet face! There she sits, at the moment that I am writing this to +you, with her willow arms twined around the exquisite form of her +little lily-bud boy, and bending low her graceful form over him, +hushing to sleep the very bravest, noblest, merriest little specimen +of babyhood--the exact image of his enraptured father. + + + + +THE DEFORMED ARTIST. + +BY MRS. E. N. HORSFORD. + + + The twilight o'er Italia's sky + Had wove a shadowy veil, + And one by one the solemn stars + Looked forth serene and pale; + As quickly the waning light + Through a high casement stole, + And fell on one with silver hair, + Who shrived a passing soul. + + No costly pomp and luxury + Relieved that chamber's gloom, + But glowing forms, by limner's art + Created, thronged the room: + And as the low winds echoed far + The bell for evening prayer, + The dying painter's earnest tones + Fell on the languid air. + + "The spectral form of Death is nigh, + The thread of Life is spun, + Ave Maria! I have looked + Upon my latest sun. + And yet 'tis not with pale disease + This frame is worn away, + Nor yet--nor yet with length of years-- + A child but yesterday" + + "I found within my father's hall + No fervent love to claim-- + The curse that marked me from my birth + Devoted me to shame. + I saw upon my brother's brow + Angelic beauty lay, + The mirror gave me back a form + That thrilled me with dismay." + + "And soon I learned to shrink from all, + The lowly and the high; + To see but scorn on every lip, + Contempt in every eye. + And for a time e'en Nature's smile + A bitter mockery wore, + For beauty stamped each living thing + The wide creation o'er;" + + "And I alone was cursed and loathed; + 'Twas in a garden bower + I knelt one eve, and scalding tears + Fell fast on many a flower; + And as I rose I marked with awe + And agonizing grief, + A frail mimosa at my feet + Fold close each fragile leaf." + + "Alas! how dark my lot if thus + A plant could shrink from me; + But when I looked again I marked + That from the honey-bee, + The falling leaf, the bird's gay wing, + It shrunk with pain and fear, + A kindred presence I had found, + Life waxed sublimely clear." + + "I climbed the lofty mountain height + And communed with the skies, + And felt within my grateful heart + Strange aspirations rise. + Oh! what was this humanity + When every beaming star + Was filled with lucid intellect, + Congenial, though afar." + + "I mused beneath the avalanche, + And traced the sparkling stream, + Till Nature's face became to me + A passion and a dream:" + Then thirsting for a higher lore + I left my childhood's home, + And stayed not till I gazed upon + The hills of fallen Rome. + + "I stood amid the forms of light, + Seraphic and divine, + The painter's wand had summoned from + The dim Ideal's shrine; + And felt within my fevered soul + Ambition's wasting fire, + And seized the pencil with a vague + And passionate desire" + + "To shadow forth, with lineaments + Of earth, the phantom throng + That swept before my sight in thought, + And lived in storied song. + Vain, vain the dream--as well might I + Aspire to build a star, + Or pile the gorgeous sunset clouds + That glitter from afar." + + "The threads of life have worn away, + Discordantly they thrill, + But soon the sounding chords will be + Forever mute and still. + And in the spirit-land that lies + Beyond, so calm and gray, + I shall aspire with truer aim-- + Ave Maria! pray!" + + + + +A FAREWELL TO A HAPPY DAY. + +BY FRANCES S. OSGOOD. + + + Good-bye--good-bye, thou gracious, golden day: + Through luminous tears, thou smilest, far away + In the blue heaven, thy sweet farewell to me, + And I, through _my_ tears, gaze and smile with thee. + + I see the last faint, glowing, amber gleam + Of thy rich pinion, like a lovely dream, + Whose floating glory melts within the sky, + And now thou'rt passed forever from mine eye! + + Were we not friends--_best_ friends--my cherished day? + Did I not treasure every eloquent ray + Of golden light and love thou gavest me? + And have I not been true--most true to thee? + + And _thou_--thou earnest like a joyous bird, + Whose sacred wings by heaven's own air were stirred. + And lowly sang me all the happy time + Dear, soothing stories of that blissful clime! + + And more, oh! more than this, there came with thee, + From Heaven, a stranger, rare and bright to me, + A new, sweet joy--a smiling angel-guest, + That softly asked a home within my breast. + + For talking sadly with my soul alone, + I heard far off and faint a music-tone, + It seemed a spirit's call--so soft it stole + On fairy wings into my waiting soul. + + I _knew_ it summoned me to something sweet, + And so I followed it with faltering feet; + And found--what I had prayed for with wild tears-- + A rest, that soothed the lingering grief of years! + + So for that deep, perpetual joy, my day! + And for all lovely things that came to play + In thy glad smile--the pure and pleading flowers + That crowned with their frail bloom thy flying hours-- + + The sunlit clouds--the pleasant air that played + Its low lute-music 'mid the leafy shade-- + And, dearer far, the tenderness that taught + My soul a new and richer thrill of thought-- + + For these--for all--bear thou to Heaven for me + The grateful thanks with which I mission thee! + Then should thy sisters, wasted, wronged, upbraid, + Speak _thou_ for me--for thou wert not betrayed! + + 'Twas little--true--I could to thee impart-- + I, with my simple, frail and wayward heart; + But that I strove the diamond sands to light, + In Life's rich hour-glass, with _Love's_ rainbow flight; + + And that one generous spirit owed to me + A moment of exulting ecstasy; + And that I won o'er wrong a queenly sway-- + For this, thou'lt smile for me in Heaven, my Day! + + + + +SAM NEEDY. + +A TALE OF THE PENITENTIARY. + +BY LOUIS FITZGERALD TASISTRO. + + +Several years ago, a man of the name of Samuel Needy, a poor artisan, +was living in London. He had with him a wife, and a child by this +wife. This artisan was skillful, quick, intelligent, very ill-treated +by education, very well-treated by nature--able to think, but not to +read. One winter his work failed him--there was neither fire nor food +in his garret; the man, the woman, and the child were cold and hungry; +he committed a theft; it is unnecessary to state what he stole, or +whence he stole it. Suffice it to know, that the consequences of this +theft were three days' food and fire to the wife and child, and five +years of imprisonment to the man. + +Sam Needy, lately an honest man, now and henceforth a thief, was +dignified and grave in appearance; his high forehead was already +wrinkled, though he was still young; some gray lines lurked among the +black and bushy tufts of his hair; his eye was soft, and buried deep +beneath his lofty and well-turned eye-brow; his nostrils were open, +his chin advancing, his lip scornful; it was a fine head--let us see +what society made of it. + +He was a man of few words--more frequent gestures--somewhat imperious +in his whole manner, and one to make himself obeyed; of a melancholy +air--rather serious than suffering; for all that he had suffered +enough. + +In the place where he was confined there was a director of the +work-rooms--a kind of functionary peculiar to prisons, who combined in +himself the offices of turnkey and tradesman, who would at the same +time issue an order to the workman and threaten the prisoner--put +tools in his hand and irons on his feet. This man was a variety of his +own species--a man peremptory, tyrannical, governed by his fancies, +holding tight the reins of his authority, and yet, on occasion, a boon +companion, jovial and condescending to a joke--rather hard than +firm--reasoning with no one--not even himself--a good father, and +doubtless a good husband--(a duty, by the way, and not a virtue;) in +short, evil but not bad. The principal, the diagonal line of this +man's character was obstinacy; he was proud of it, and therein +compared himself to Napoleon, when he had once fixed what he called +_his will_ upon an absurdity, he went to its furthest length, holding +his head high, and despising all obstacles. Such violence of purpose +without reason, is only folly tied to the tail of brute force, and +serving to lengthen it. For the most part, whenever a catastrophe, +whether public or private, happens amongst men, if we look beneath the +rubbish with which it strews the earth, to find in what manner the +fallen fabric had been propped, we shall, with rare exceptions, +discover it to have been blindly put together by a weak and obstinate +man, trusting and admiring himself implicitly. Many of the smaller of +these strange fatalities pass in the world for providences. Such was +he who was the director of the work-rooms in the House of Correction +where poor Sam Needy was sent to undergo his sentence. Such was the +stone with which society daily struck its prisoners to draw sparks +from them. The sparks which such stones draw from such flints often +kindle conflagrations. + +In a short time Sam found the prison air natural to him, and appeared +to have forgotten every thing; a certain severe serenity, which +belonged to his character, had resumed its mastery. + +In about the same time he had acquired a singular ascendency over all +his companions, as if by a sort of silent agreement, and without any +one knowing wherefore, not even himself. All these men consulted him, +listened to him, admired and imitated him, (the last point to which +admiration can mount.) It was no slight glory to be obeyed by all +these lawless natures; the empire had come to him without his own +seeking--it was a consequence of the respect with which they beheld +him. The eye of a man is a window, through which may be seen the +thoughts which enter into and issue from his heart. + +Place an individual who possesses ideas among those who do not, at the +end of a given time, and by a law of irresistible attraction, all +their misty minds shall draw together with humility and reverence +round his illuminated one. There are men who are iron, and there are +men who are loadstone. Sam Needy was loadstone. In less than three +months he had become the soul, the law, the order of the work-room; he +was the dial, concentrating all rays; he must even himself have +sometimes doubted whether he were king or prisoner--it was the +captivity of a pope among his cardinals. + +By as natural a reaction, accomplished step by step, as he was loved +by the prisoners, so was he detested by the jailers. It is always +thus, popularity cannot exist without disfavor--the love of the slaves +is always exceeded one degree by the hate of their masters. + +Sam Needy was, by his particular organization, a great eater; his +stomach was so formed, that food enough for two common men would +hardly have sufficed for his nourishment. Lord Slickborough had one of +these large appetites, and laughed at it; but that which is a cause of +gayety for a British peer, with a rent-roll of fifty-thousand pounds +a year, is a heavy charge to an artisan, and a misfortune to a +prisoner. + +Sam Needy, free in his own loft, worked all day, earned his four +pounds of bread, and ate it; Sam Needy, in prison, worked all day, +and, for his pains, received invariably one pound and a half of bread, +and four ounces of meat; the ration admits of no change. Sam was +therefore constantly hungry whilst in the House of Correction; he was +hungry, and no more--he did not speak of it because it was not his +nature so to do. + +One day Sam, after devouring his scanty pittance, had returned to his +work, thinking to cheat his hunger by it--the rest of the prisoners +were eating cheerily. A young man, pale, fair, and feeble-looking, +came and placed himself near him; he held in his hand his ration, as +yet untouched, and a knife; he remained in that situation, with the +air of one who would speak, and dares not. The sight of the man, and +his bread and meat annoyed Sam. + +"What do you want?" said he, rudely. + +"That you would do me a service," said the young man, timidly. + +"What?" replied Sam. + +"That you would help me to eat this--it is too much for me." + +A tear stood in the proud eye of Sam; he took the knife, divided the +young man's ration into two equal parts, took one of them, and began +eating. + +"Thank you," said the young man; "if you like, we will share together +every day." + +"What is your name?" said Sam. + +"Heartall." + +"Wherefore are you here?" + +"I have committed a theft." + +"And I too," said Sam. + +Henceforth they did thus share together every day. Sam Needy was +little more than thirty years old, but at times he appeared fifty, so +stern were his thoughts usually. Heartall was twenty--he might have +been taken for seventeen, so much innocence was there in his +appearance. A strict friendship was knit up between the two, rather of +father to son than brother to brother, Heartall being still almost a +child, Sam already nearly an old man. They wrought in the same +work-room--they slept under the same vault--they walked in the same +airing-ground--they ate of the same bread. Each of these two friends +was the universe to the other--it would seem that they were happy. + +Mention has already been made of the director of the work-rooms. This +man, who was abhorred by the prisoners, was often obliged, in order to +enforce obedience, to have recourse to Sam Needy, who was beloved by +them. On more than one occasion, when the question was, how to put +down a rebellion or a tumult, the authority without title of Sam Needy +had given powerful aid to the official authority of the director; in +short, to restrain the prisoners, ten words from him were as good as +ten turnkeys. Sam had many times rendered this service to the +director, wherefore the latter detested him cordially. He was jealous +of him; there was at the bottom of his heart a secret, envious, +implacable hatred against Sam--the hate of a titular for a real +sovereign--of a temporal against a spiritual power; these are the +worst of all hatreds. + +Sam loved Heartall greatly, and did not trouble himself about the +director. One morning when the turnkeys were leading the prisoners, +two by two, from their dormitory to the work-room, one of them called +Heartall, who was by the side of Sam, and informed him that the +director wished to see him. + +"What does he want with you?" said Sam. + +"I do not know," replied the other. + +The turnkey took Heartall away. + +The morning past; Heartall did not return to the work-room. When the +dinner hour arrived, Sam expected that he should rejoin Heartall in +the airing-ground--but no Heartall was there. He returned into the +work-room, still Heartall did not make his appearance. So passed the +day. At night, when the prisoners were removed to their dormitory, Sam +looked out for Heartall, but could not see him. It would seem that he +must have suffered much at that moment, for he addressed the +turnkey--a thing which he had never done before. + +"Is Heartall sick?" was his question. + +"No," replied the turnkey. + +"Why is it, then, that he has not again made his appearance to-day?" + +"Ah," replied the turnkey, carelessly, "they have put him in another +ward." + +The witnesses who deposed to these facts at a later period, remarked, +that at this answer, Sam's hand, in which was a lighted candle, +trembled a little. He again asked, calmly, + +"Whose order was this?" + +The turnkey said "Mr. Flint's." + +The name of the director of the work-rooms was Flint. + +The next day went by like the last, but no news of Heartall. + +That evening, when the day's work ended, Mr. Flint came to make his +usual round of inspection. As soon as Sam Needy saw him, he took off +his cap of coarse wool, buttoned his gray vest, sad livery of the +work-house, (it is a principle in prisons, that a vest, respectfully +buttoned, bespeaks the favor of the superior officers,) and placed +himself at the end of his bench, waiting till the director came by. He +passed. + +"Sir," said Sam. + +The director stopped and turned half round. + +"Sir," said Sam, "is it true that Heartall's ward has been changed?" + +"Yes," returned the director. + +"Sir," continued Sam, "I cannot live without Heartall; you know that +with the ration of the house I have not enough to eat, and that +Heartall shared his bread with me." + +"That was his business," replied the director. + +"Sir, is there no means of getting Heartall replaced in the same ward +as myself?" + +"Impossible! it is so decided." + +"By whom?" + +"By myself." + +"Mr. Flint," persisted Sam, "the question is my life or death, and it +depends upon you." + +"I never revoke my decisions." + +"Sir, is it because I have given you offence?" + +"None." + +"In that case," said Sam, "why do you separate me from Heartall?" + +"_It is my will_" said the director. + +With this explanation he went away. + +Sam Needy stooped his head and made no answer. Poor caged lion, from +whom they had taken his dog! + +The grief of this separation in no way changed the prisoner's almost +disease of voracity. Nor was he, in other respects, obviously altered. +He did not speak of Heartall to any of his comrades. He walked alone +in the airing-ground, in the hours of recreation, and suffered +hunger--nothing more. + +Nevertheless, those who knew him well, remarked something of a +sinister and sombre expression which daily overspread his countenance +more and more. In other respects he was gentler than ever. Many wished +to share their ration with him, but he refused with a smile. + +Every evening, after the explanation which the director had given him, +he committed a sort of folly, which, in so grave a man, was +astonishing. At the moment when the director, in the progress of his +habitual duty, passed by Sam Needy's working-frame, he would raise his +eyes, gaze steadily upon him, and then address to him, in a tone full +of distress and anger, combining at once menace and supplication, +these two words only--"_remember Heartall_!" the director would either +appear not to hear, or pass on, shrugging his shoulders. + +He was wrong. It became evident to all the lookers on of these strange +scenes, that Sam Needy was inwardly determined on some step. All the +prison awaited with anxiety the result of this strife between +obstinacy and resolution. + +It has been proved, that once Sam said to the director, "Listen, sir, +give me back my comrade; you will do well to do it, I assure you. Take +notice that I tell you this." + +Another time, one Sunday, when he had remained in the airing-ground +for many hours in the same attitude, seated on a stone, his elbows on +his knees, and his forehead buried in his hands, one of his +fellow-convicts approached him, and cried out, laughing, + +"What are you about here, Sam?" + +Sam raised his stern head slowly, and said, "_I am sitting in +judgment!_" + +At last, on the evening of the 1st of November, 1833, at the moment +when the director was making his round, Sam Needy crushed under his +foot a watch-glass, which he had that morning found in the corridor. +The director inquired whence that noise proceeded. + +"It is nothing," said Sam. "It is I, Mr. Flint--give me back my +comrade." + +"Impossible!" said his master. + +"It must be done though," said Sam, in a low and steady voice, and +looking the director full in the face, added, "reflect, this is the +first of November, I give you till the 10th." + +A turnkey made the remark to Mr. Flint that Sam Needy threatened him, +and that it was a case for solitary confinement. + +"No, nothing of the kind," said the director, with a disdainful smile, +"we must be gentle with these sort of people." + +On the morrow, another convict approached Sam Needy, who walked by +himself, melancholy, leaving the other prisoners to bask in a patch of +sunshine at the further corner of the court. + +"What now, Sam--what are you thinking of? You seem sad." + +"_I am afraid_," said Sam, "_that some misfortune will happen soon to +this gentle Mr. Flint_." + +There are nine full days from the 1st to the 10th of November. Sam +Needy did not let one pass without gravely warning the director of the +state, more and more miserable, in which the disappearance of Heartall +placed him. The director, worn out, sentenced him to four-and-twenty +hours of solitary confinement, because his prayer was too like a +demand. This was all that Sam Needy obtained. + +The 10th of November arrived. On this day Sam arose with such a serene +countenance as he had not worn since the day when _the decision_ of +Mr. Flint had separated him from his friend. When risen, he searched +in a white wooden box, which stood at the foot of his bed, and +contained his few possessions. He drew thence a pair of sempstress's +scissors. These, with an odd volume of Cowper's poems, were all that +remained to him of the woman he had loved--of the mother of his +child--of his happy little home of other days. Two articles, totally +useless to Sam; the scissors could only be of service to a woman--the +book to a lettered person. Sam could neither sew nor read. + +At the time when he was traversing the old hall, which serves as the +winter walk for the prisoners, he approached a convict of the name of +Dawson, who was looking with attention at the enormous bars of a +window. Sam was holding the little pair of scissors in his hands; he +showed them to Dawson, saying, "To-night I will divide those bars with +these scissors." + +Dawson began to laugh incredulously. Sam joined him. + +That morning he worked with more zeal than usual--faster and better +than ever before. A little past noon he went down on some pretext or +other to the joiner's workshop, on the ground-floor, under the story +in which was his own. Sam was beloved there as every where else; but +he entered it seldom. Thus it was--"Stop, here's Sam!" They got round +him; it was a perfect holyday. He cast a quick glance around the room. +Not one of the overlookers was there. + +"Who has a hatchet to lend me?" said he. + +"What to do?" was the inquiry. + +"Kill the director of the work-rooms." + +They offered him many to choose from. He took the smallest of those +which were very sharp, hid it in his trowsers, and went out. There +were twenty-seven prisoners in that room. He had not desired them to +keep his secret; they all kept it. They did not even talk of it among +themselves. Every one separately awaited the result. The thing was +straight-forward--terribly simple. Sam could neither be counseled nor +denounced. + +An hour afterward he approached a convict sixteen years old, who was +lounging in the place of exercise, and advised him to learn to read. +The rest of the day was as usual. At 7 o'clock at night the prisoners +were shut up, each division in the work-room to which they belonged, +and the overseers went out, as it appears was the custom, not to +return till after the director's visit. Sam was locked in with his +companions like the rest. + +Then there passed in this work-room an extraordinary scene, one not +without majesty and awe, the only one of the kind which is to be told +in this story. There were there (according to the judiciary deposition +afterward made) four-and-twenty prisoners, including Sam Needy. As +soon as the overseers had left them alone, Sam stood up upon a bench, +and announced to all the room that he had something to say. There was +silence. + +Then Sam raised his voice, and said, "You all know that Heartall was +my brother. Here they do not give me enough to eat; even with the +bread which I can buy with the little I earn, it is not sufficient. +Heartall shared his ration with me. I loved him at first because he +fed me, then because he loved me. The director, Mr. Flint, separated +us; our being together could be nothing to him--but he is a +bad-hearted man, who enjoys tormenting others. I have asked him for +Heartall back again. You have heard me. He will not do it. I gave him +till the 10th, which is to-day, to restore Heartall to me. He ordered +me into solitary confinement for telling him so. I, during this time, +have sat in judgment upon him, and condemned him to death. In two +hours he will come to make his round. I warn you that I am about to +kill him. Have you any thing to say on the matter?" All continued +silent. + +He went on; he spoke (so it appears) with a peculiar eloquence, which +was natural to him. He declared that he knew he was about to do a +violent deed, but could not think it wrong. He appealed to the +conscience of his four-and-twenty listeners. He was placed in a cruel +extremity; the necessity of doing justice to himself was a strait into +which every man found himself driven at one time or other; he could +not, in truth, take the director's life without giving his own for it; +but it was right to give his life for a just end. He had thought +deeply on the matter, and that alone, for two months; he believed he +was not carried away by passion, but if it were so, he trusted they +would warn him. He honestly submitted his reasons to the just men whom +he addressed. He was about to kill Mr. Flint; but if any one had any +objection to make, he was ready to hear it. + +One voice alone was raised to say, that before killing the director, +Sam ought to make one last attempt to soften him. + +"It is fair," said Sam. "I will do so." + +The great clock struck the hour--it was eight. The director would make +his appearance at nine. + +No sooner had this extraordinary court of appeal ratified the sentence +he had submitted to it, than Sam resumed his former serenity. He +placed upon the table all the linen and garments he possessed--the +scanty property of a prisoner--and calling to him, one after the +other, those of his companions whom he loved best after Heartall, he +divided all amongst them. He only kept the little pair of scissors. +Then he embraced them all. Some of them wept--upon these he smiled. + +There were moments in this last hour, when he chatted with so much +tranquillity, and even gayety, that many of his comrades inwardly +hoped, as they afterward declared, that he might perhaps abandon his +resolution. + +He perceived a young convict who was pale, who was gazing upon him +with fixed eyes, and trembling doubtless from expectation of what he +was about to witness. "Come, courage, young man," said Sam to him, +softly, "it will be only the work of a moment." + +When he had distributed all his goods, made all his adieux, pressed +all their hands, he interrupted the restless whisperings which were +heard here and there in the dim corners of the work-room, and +commanded that they should return to their labor. All obeyed him in +silence. + +The apartment in which this passed was an oblong hall, a +parallelogram, lighted with windows on its two longer sides, and with +two doors opposite each other at the two ends of the room. The +working-frames were ranged on each side near the windows, the benches +touching the wall at right angles, and the space left free between the +two rows of frames formed a sort of avenue, which went straight from +one door to the other, crossing the hall entirely. It was this which +the director traversed in making his inspection; he was to enter at +the south door, and go out by the north, after having looked at the +workmen on the right and left. Commonly he passed through quickly and +without stopping. + +Sam Needy had reseated himself on his bench, and had betaken himself +to his work. All were in expectation--the moment approached; on a +sudden they heard the clock strike. Sam said, "It is the last +quarter." Then he rose, crossed gravely a part of the hall, and placed +himself, leaning on his elbow, on the first frame on the left hand +side, close to the door of entrance; his countenance was perfectly +calm and benign. + +Nine o'clock struck--the door opened--the director came in. + +At that moment the silence of the work-room was as of a chamber full +of statues. + +The director was alone as usual; he entered with his jovial, +self-satisfied, and stubborn air, without noticing Sam, who was +standing at the left side of the door, his right hand hidden in his +trowsers, and passed rapidly by the first frames, tossing his head, +mumbling his words, and casting his glance, which was law, here and +there, not perceiving that the eyes of all who surrounded him were +fixed upon him as upon a fearful phantom. On a sudden he turned +sharply round, surprised to hear a step behind him. + +It was Sam Needy, who for some instants followed him in silence. + +"What are you about there?" said the director. "Why are you not in +your place?" + +Sam Needy answered respectfully, "Because I have something to say to +you, Mr. Flint." + +"What about?" + +"Concerning Heartall." + +"Still Heartall!" exclaimed the director. + +"Always," replied Sam. + +"Be quiet," said the director, walking on again. "You are not content, +then, with your four-and-twenty hours of solitary confinement?" + +Sam followed him--"Mr. Flint, give me back my comrade." + +"Impossible!" + +"Sir," said Sam, in a tone which might have softened the heart of a +fiend, "I entreat you, restore Heartall to me. You shall see how well +I will work. To you who are free, it is no matter--you do not know +what the worth of a friend is; but I have only the four walls of my +prison. You can come and go, I have nothing but Heartall--give him +back to me. Heartall fed me--you know it well. It will only cost you +the trouble of saying yes. What can it be to you that there should be +in the same room one man called Sam Needy, another called +Heartall?--for the thing is simply that, Mr. Flint; good Mr. Flint, I +beseech you earnestly, for Heaven's sake!" + +Sam had probably never before said so much at one time to a jailer; +exhausted with the effort, he paused. The director replied, with an +impatient gesture, + +"Impossible--I have said it; speak to me no more about it, you wear me +out." + +Then, as if in a hurry, he stepped on more quickly, Sam following. +Thus speaking, they had reached the door of exit; the prisoners looked +after them, and listened breathlessly. + +Sam gently touched the director's arm. "At least let me know why I am +condemned to death--tell me why you have separated him from me?" + +"I have told you," answered the director; "_it is my will_." + +He turned his back upon Sam, and was about to take hold of the latch +of the door. + +On this answer Sam had retreated a step; the assembled statues who +were there saw him bring out his right hand, and the hatchet with it; +it was raised, and ere the victim could utter one cry, three blows, +one upon the other, had cleft his skull. At the moment, when he fell +back, a fourth blow laid his face open; then, as if his frenzy, once +let loose, _could not stop_, Sam struck a fifth blow; it was +useless--he was dead. + +"Now for the other!" cried the murderer, and threw away the hatchet. +That other was himself. They saw him draw from his bosom the small +pair of scissors, and before any one could attempt to hinder him, bury +them in his breast. The blade was too short to penetrate. He struck +them in again and again, so many as twenty times. "Accursed heart! +cannot I then reach you?" and finally fell in a dead swoon, bathed in +his blood. + +Which of these men was the victim of the other? + +When Sam returned to consciousness, he was in bed, well attended, his +wounds carefully bandaged; a humane nurse was about his pillow, and +more than one magistrate, who asked him, with the appearance of great +interest, "Are you better?" + +He had lost a great quantity of blood, but the scissors with which he +had wounded himself, had done their duty ill--none of the wounds were +dangerous. + +The examinations commenced. They asked him if it were he who had +killed the director of the work-rooms. He replied, "It was." They +asked him why he had done it. He answered--_it was his will._ + +After this the wounds festered. He was seized with a severe fever, of +which he only did not die. November, December, January, and February, +went over in recovering him and preparing for his trial; physicians +and judges alike made him the object of their care--the former healed +his wounds, the latter made ready his scaffold. To be brief, on the +5th of April, 1834, he appeared, being perfectly cured, before the +Court of Sessions. + +Sam made a good appearance before the court; he had been carefully +shaved, his head was bare; he was dressed in the sad prison livery of +two shades of gray. + +When the trial was entered upon, a singular difficulty presented +itself. Not any of the witnesses of the events of the 10th of +November, would make a deposition against Sam. The presiding judge +threatened them with his discretionary power in vain. Sam then +commanded them to give evidence. All their tongues were loosed. They +related what they had seen. + +Sam Needy listened with profound attention. When one of them, out of +forgetfulness, or affection for him, omitted some of the circumstances +chargeable upon the accused, Sam supplied them. By this means the +chain of facts which has been related was unfolded before the court. + +There was one moment when some of the females present wept. The clerk +of the court summoned the convict, Heartall. It was his turn to come +forward. He entered, staggering with emotion--he wept. The police +could not prevent his falling into the arms of Sam. Sam raised him, +and said with a smile to the attorney-general, "Here is a villain who +shares his bread with those who are hungry." Then he kissed Heartall's +hand. + +The list of witnesses having been gone through, the attorney-general +rose and spoke in these words: "Gentlemen of the jury, society would +be shaken to its foundation if public vengeance did not overtake such +great criminals as this man, who, etc., etc." + +After this memorable discourse, Sam's advocate spoke. The pleader +against, and the pleader for, made each in due order, the evolutions +which they are accustomed to make in the arena which is called a +criminal court. + +Sam did not think that all was said that might be said. He arose in +his turn. He spoke in a manner which must have amazed all the +intelligent persons present on the occasion. It appeared as if there +were more of the orator than the murderer in this poor artisan. He +spoke in an upright attitude, with a penetrating and well-managed +voice; with an open, sincere, and steadfast gaze, with a gesture +almost always the same, but full of command. There were moments in +which his genuine, lofty eloquence stirred the crowd to a murmur, +during which Sam took breath, casting a bold gaze upon the bystanders. +Then again, this man, who could not read, was as gentle, polished, +select in his language, as a well-informed person--at other moments +modest, measured, attentive, going step by step over the irritating +parts of the argument, courteous to his judges. Once only he gave way +to a burst of passion. The attorney-general had proved in his speech +that Sam Needy had assassinated the director without any violence on +his part, and consequently _without provocation_. + +"What!" exclaimed Sam Needy, "I have not been provoked! Ay--it is very +true--I understand you. A drunken man strikes me with his dagger--I +kill him, I have been provoked; you show mercy to me, you send me to +Botany Bay. But a man who is not drunk, who has the perfect use of his +reason, wrings my heart for four years, humbles me for four years, +pierces me with a weapon every day, every hour, every minute, in some +unexpected point for four years. I had a wife, for whose sake I became +a thief--he tortures me through that wife; a child for whom I +stole--he tortures me through that child. I have not bread enough to +eat--a friend gives it me; he takes away my friend and my food. I ask +for my friend back--he condemns me to solitary confinement. I speak to +him--him, the spy--respectfully; he answers me in dog's language. I +tell him I am suffering--he tells me I wear him out. What would you, +then, that I should do? I kill him. It is well--I am a monster; I have +murdered this man; I have not been provoked. You take my life for +it--be it so." + +The debates being closed, the presiding judge made his impartial and +luminous summing up. The results were these: a wicked life--a wretch +in purpose. Sam Needy had begun by stealing--he then murdered. All +this was true. + +When the jury were about being conducted to their apartment, the judge +asked the accused if he had any thing to say upon the questions before +them. + +"Little," replied Sam, "only this; I am a thief and an assassin. I +have stolen, and have slain a man. But why have I stolen? Why have I +murdered? Add these two questions to the rest, gentleman of the jury." + +After a quarter of an hour's deliberation on the part of the twelve +individuals whom he had addressed as _gentlemen of the jury_, Sam +Needy was condemned to death. + +Their decision was read to Sam, who contented himself with saying, "It +is well--but why has this man stolen? Why has this man murdered? These +are questions to which they make no answer." + +He was carried back to prison--he supped almost gayly. + +He had no wish to make an appeal against his sentence. The old woman +who had nursed him entreated him with tears to do so. He complied out +of kindness to her. It would appear as if he had resisted till the +very last moment, for when he signed his petition in the register, the +legal delay of three days had expired some minutes before. The +benevolent old nurse gave him a crown. He accepted the money and +thanked her. + +While his appeal was pending, offers of escape were made him. There +was thrown, one after the other, in his dungeon, through its air-hole, +a nail, a bit of iron file, and the handle of a bucket. Any of these +three tools would have been sufficient to so skillful a man as Sam +Needy to cut through his irons. He gave up the nail, the file, and the +handle to the turnkey. + +On the 10th of June, 1834, seven months after the deed, its expiation +arrived. That day, at seven o'clock in the morning, the recorder of +the tribunal entered Sam Needy's dungeon, and announced to him that he +had not more than an hour to live. His petition was rejected. + +"Come," said Sam, coldly, "I have this night slept well, without +troubling myself that I should sleep still better the next." + +It would appear as if the words of strong men always receive a certain +dignity from approaching death. + +The chaplain arrived--then the executioner. He was humble to the one, +gentle to the other. + +He maintained a perfect ease of spirit. He listened to the chaplain +with extreme attention, accusing himself of many things, and +regretting that he had not been instructed in religion. + +At his request they had given him back the scissors with which he had +wounded himself. One blade, which had been broken in his breast, was +wanting. He entreated the jailor to have these scissors taken to +Heartall as from himself. + +He besought those who bound his hands to place in his right hand the +crown-piece which the good nurse had given him--the only thing which +was now remaining to him. + +At a quarter to eight he was led out of his prison, with the customary +mournful procession which attends the condemned. He was pale; his eyes +were fixed on the chaplain--but he walked with a firm step. + +He ascended the scaffold gravely. He shook hands with the chaplain +first, then the executioner, thanking the one, forgiving the other. +The executioner _pushed him back gently_, says one account. At the +moment when the assistant put the hideous rope round his neck, he made +a sign to the chaplain to take the crown-piece which he had in his +right hand, and said to him, "_For the poor_." At that moment the +clock was striking eight, the sound from the steeple drowned his +voice, and the chaplain answered that he could not hear him. Sam +waited for an interval between two of the strokes, and repeated with +gentleness, "_For the poor_." + +The eighth stroke had scarcely sounded when this noble and intelligent +criminal was launched into eternity. + + + + +THE ANGEL OF THE SOUL. + +BY J. BAYARD TAYLOR. + + + Una stella, una notte, ed una croce. _Antonio Bisazza._ + + + Silence hath conquered thee, imperial Night! + Thou sit'st alone within her void, cold halls, + Thy solemn brow uplifted, and thy soul + Paining the space with dumb and mighty thought. + The dreary wind ebbs, voiceless, round thy form, + Following the stealthy hours, that wake no stir + In the hushed velvet of thy mantle's fold. + Thy thoughts take being: down the dusky aisles + Go shapes of good, and beckoning ghosts of crime, + And dreams of maddening beauty--hopes, that shine + To darken, and in cloudy height sublime, + The spectral march of some approaching Doom! + Nor these alone, oh! Mother of the world, + People thy chambers, echoless and vast; + Their dewy freshness like ambrosial cools + Life's fever-thirst, and to the fainting soul + Their porphyry walls are touched with light, and gleams + Of shining wonder dazzle through the void, + Like those bright marvels which the travele'rs torch + Wakes from the darkness of three thousand years, + In rock-hewn sepulchres of Theban kings. + Prophets, whose brows of pale, unearthly glow + Reflect the twilight of celestial dawns, + And bards, transfigured in immortal song, + Like eager children, kneeling at thy feet, + Unclasp the awful volume of thy lore. + + My soul goes down thy far, untrodden paths, + To the dim verge of being. There its step + Touches the threshold of sublimer life, + And through the boundless empyrean leaps + Its prayer, borne like a faint, expiring cry, + To angel-warders, listening as they pace + The crystal walls of Heaven. Down the blue fields + Of the untraveled Infinite, they come: + Beneath their wings one sweet, dilating wave + Thrills the pure deep, and bears my soul aloft, + To walk amid their shining groups, and call + Its guardian spirit, as an orphan calls + His vanished brother, taken in childhood home: + + "White through my cradled dreams thy pinions waved, + Lost Angel of the Soul! thy presence led + The babe's faint gropings through the glimmering dark + And into Being's conscious dawn. Thy hand + Held mine in childhood, and thy beaming cheek + Lay close, like some fond playmate's, to mine own. + Up to that boundary, whence the heart leaps forth + To life, like some wild torrent, when the rains + Pour dark and full upon the cloudy hills, + Thy gentle footsteps wandered near to mine. + Be with me now! Oh, in the starry hush + Of the deep night, that holds the earthly down + In all my nature, bring to me again + The early purity, which kept thy hand + From the entrancing harp it held in Heaven! + Through the warm starting of my hoarded tears, + Let me behold thine eyes divine, as stars + Gleam through the twilight vapors of the sea! + + "Not yet hast thou forsaken me. The prayer + Whose crowning fervor lifts my nature up + Midway to God, may still evoke thy form. + Thou hast been with me, when the midnight dew + Clung damp upon my brow, and the broad fields + Stretched far and dim beneath the ghostly moon; + When the dark, awful woods were silent near, + And with imploring hands toward the stars + Clasped in mute yearning, I have questioned Heaven + For the lost language of the book of Life. + Oh, then thy face was glorious, and thy hair + On the white moonbeam floating, veiled thy brow, + But in the holy sadness of thine eye + Which held my spirit, tremblingly I saw, + Through rushing tears, the sign of angel-grief + O'er the false promise of diviner years. + From the far glide of some descending strain + Of tenderest music I have heard thy voice; + And thou hast called amid the stormy rush + Of grand orchestral triumph, with a sound + Resistless in its power. I feel the light, + Which is thine atmosphere, around my soul, + When a great sorrow gulfs it from the world. + + "Come back! come back! my heart grows faint, to know + How thy withdrawing radiance leaves more dim + The twilight borders of the night of Earth. + Now when the bitter truth is learned; when all + That seemed so high and good but mocks its seeming-- + When the warm dreams of youth come shivering back, + In the cold chambers of the heart to die-- + When, with the wrestling years, familiar grows + The merciless hand of pain, desert me not! + Come with the true heart of the faithful Night, + When I have cast away the masquing garb + Of hollow Day, and lain my soul to rest + On her consoling bosom! From the founts + Of thine exhaustless light, make clear the road + Through toil and darkness, into God's repose!" + + + + +SCOUTING NEAR VERA CRUZ. + +A SKETCH OF THE LATE CAMPAIGN. + +BY ECOLIER. + + +Hours before day, Lieutenant Rolfe and his party were threading the +mazes of the chapparal. The moon glistened upon their bayonets and +bright barrels. Their path lay in a southwesterly direction, near the +old road to Orizava. Here it passed through a glade or opening, where +the moonbeams fell upon a profusion of flowers, there it reentered +dark alleys among the clustering trees, where the "trail arms" was +given in a half whisper. The boughs met and locked overhead, and the +thick foliage hid the moon from sight. Now a bright beam escaping +through some chance opening in the leaves, quivered along the path, +and scared the wolf in his midnight wanderings. Out again upon the +open track through the soft grass, and winding around the wild maguey, +or under the claw-shaped thorns of the musquit. A deer sprung from his +lair among the soft flowers--looked back for a moment at the strange +intruders, and frightened at the gleaming steel, dashed off into the +thicket. The woods are not silent by night, as in the colder regions +of the north. The southern forest has its voices, moonlit or dark. All +through the livelong night sings the mock-bird--screams the "loreto." +From dark till dawn, you hear the hoarse baying of the "coyote," and +the dismal howl of the gaunt gray wolf. The cicada fills the air with +its monotonous and melancholy notes. In all these sounds there is a +breathing, a wild voluptuousness that tells you you are wandering in +the clime of the sun--amidst scenes like those rendered classical by +the pen of St. Pierre. They who have read the sweet French romance, +will recognize his faithful painting of tropical pictures. The sunny +glades--and shady arbors--the broad green and yellow leaves--the tall +palm-trees, with their long, lazy feathers and clustering fruits +waving to the slightest breeze, and looking the same as in that sea +island where they flung their changing shadows over the loves of Paul +and Virginia. Scouting at night, and to strangers (as were Rolfe and +his men) in the land, was not without its perils. Objects of alarm +were near and around. The nopal rose before you like the picket of an +enemy. Its dark column gleaming under the false light of the moon is +certainly some sentinel on the outpost. A halt is the consequence, and +silent and cat-like one of the party, on his hands and knees, steals +nearer and nearer, through the thorny brambles, until the true nature +of the apparition betrays itself, in the shape of a huge column of +prickly pear. He then returns to his comrades, and the obstacle is +passed, some one as he passes, with a muttered curse, slashing his +sabre through the soft trunk of the harmless vegetable. + +The wild maguey grasps you by the leg, as though some hideous monster +had sprung from the bushes. You start and rush forward, only to be +dragged back among the elastic leaves. It is useless to struggle. You +must either return and unwind yourself by gentle means, or leave the +better part of your cloth inexpressibles in the ruthless fangs of the +plant. The ranchero fences his limbs with leather, or with leggings of +tiger-skin. It is not fancy or choice to wear leather breeches in +Mexico. Necessity has something to say in fixing the fashion of your +small clothes. + +When day broke, Rolfe and his party were ten miles from camp--ten +miles from the nearest American picket, and with only thirty men! They +were concealed in a thicket of aloes and musquit. This thicket crowned +the only eminence for miles in any direction. It commanded a view of +the whole country southward to the Alvarado. + +As the sun rose the forest echoed with sounds and song. The leaves +moved with life, as a thousand bright-plumed birds flashed from tree +to tree. The green parrot screamed after his mate, uttering his wild +notes of endearment. They are seen in pairs flying high up in the +heavens. The troupiale flashed through the dark foliage like a ray of +yellow light. Birds seemed to vie with each other in their songs of +love. Amidst these sounds of the forest, the ear of Rolfe caught the +frequent crowing of cocks, the barking of dogs, and the other +well-known sounds of the settlement. These were heard upon all sides. +It was plain that the country was thickly settled, though not a house +was visible above the tree-tops. The thin column of blue smoke as it +rose above the green foliage proved the existence of dwellings. + +At some distance, westward, an open plain lay like an emerald lake. +The woods that bordered it were of a darker hue than the meadow-grass +upon its bosom. In this plain were horses feeding, and Rolfe saw at a +glance that they were picketed. Some of them had dragged their +laryettes and were straying from the group. There appeared to be in +all about an hundred horses. It was plain that their owners were not +far off. A thin blue smoke that hung over the trees on one side of the +meadow gave evidence of a camp. The baying of dogs came from this +direction, mingled with the sounds of human voices. It was evidently a +camp of the "Jarochos," (guerilleros.) + +Suddenly a bugle sounded, wild and clear above the voices of the +singing-birds, a few notes somewhat resembling the dragoon +stable-call. The horses flung up their heads and neighed fiercely, +looking toward the encampment. Presently a crowd of men were seen +running from the woods, each carrying a saddle. The few strays that +had drawn their pickets during the night, came running in at the +well-known voices of their masters. The saddles were flung on and +tightly girthed--the bits adjusted and the laryettes coiled and hung +to the saddle-horns, in less time than an ordinary horseman would have +put on a bridle. Another flourish of the bugle, and the troop were in +their saddles and galloping away over the greensward of the meadow in +a southerly direction. The whole transaction did not occupy five +minutes, and it seemed to Rolfe and his party, who witnessed it, more +like a dream than a reality. The Jarochos were just out of musket +range. A long shot might have reached them, but even had Rolfe +ventured this, it would have been with doubtful propriety. Rumor had +fixed the existence of a large force of the enemy in this +neighborhood. It was supposed that at least a thousand men were on the +Alvarado road, with the intention of penetrating our lines, with +beeves for the besieged Veracruzanos. + +"They got off in good time, sergeant," muttered Rolfe, "had they but +waited half an hour longer--Oh! for a score of Harney's horses!" + +"Lieutenant, may I offer an opinion?" asked the sergeant, who had +raised himself and stood peering through the leafy branches of a +cacuchou-tree. + +"Certainly, Heiss, any suggestion--" + +"Wal, then--thar's a town," the sergeant lifted one of the leafy +boughs and pointed toward the south-east--a spire and cross--a white +wall and the roofs of some cottages were seen over the trees. "Raoul +here, who's French, and knows the place, says it's Madalin--he's been +to it--and there's no good road for horses direct from here--but the +road from Vera Cruz crosses that meadow far up--now, lieutenant, it's +my opinion them thieving Mexicans is bound for that 'ere place--Raoul +says it's a good sweep round--if we could git acrosst this yere strip +we'd head 'em sure." + +The backwoodsman swept his broad hand toward the south, to indicate +the strip of woods that he desired to cross. The plan seemed feasible +enough. The town, although seemingly near, was over five miles +distant. The road by which the guerrilleros had to reach it was much +farther. Could Rolfe and his party meet them on this road, by an +ambuscade, they would gain an easy victory, although with inferior +numbers, and Rolfe wished to carry back to camp a Mexican prisoner. +This was the object of the scout, to gain information of the force +supposed to be in the rear of our lines. The men, too, were eager for +the wild excitement of a fight. For what came they there? + +"Raoul," said Rolfe, "is there any path through these woods?" + +"Zar is, von road I have believe--oui--Monsieur Lieutenant." + +Raoul was a dapper little Frenchman, who had joined the army at Vera +Cruz, where we found him. He had been a sort of market-gardener for +the plaza, and knew the back country perfectly. He had fallen into bad +odor with the rancheros of the _Tierra Caliente_, and owed them no +good-will. The coming of the American army had been a perfect godsend +to Raoul, who was now an American volunteer, and, as circumstances +afterward proved, worthy of the title. + +"Close teecket, monsieur," continued the Frenchman, "but there be von +road, I make ver sure, by that tree, vot you call him, big tree." + +Raoul pointed to some live-oaks that formed a dark belt across the +woods. + +"Take the lead, Raoul." + +The little Frenchman sprung out in front and commenced descending into +the dark woods beneath. The party was soon winding through the shadowy +aisles of a live-oak forest. The woods were at first open and easy. +After a short march they came to a small stream, bright and silvery. +But what was the surprise of Rolfe to find that the path here gave +out, and on the opposite bank of the rivulet the trees grew closer +together, and the woods were almost woven into a solid mass, by the +lianas and other creeping plants. These were covered with blossoms. In +some places a wall of snow-white flowers rose up before you. Pyramidal +forms of foliage, green and yellow, over which hung myriads of +vine-blossoms, like a scarlet mantle. Still there was no path--at +least to be trodden by human foot. Birds flew around, scared in their +solitary haunts. The armadilla and the wolf stood at a distance with +glaring eyes. The fearful-looking guana scampered off upon the +decaying limbs of the live-oak, or the still more fearful cobra di +capella glided almost noiselessly over the dry leaves and brambles. + +Raoul confessed that he had been deceived. He had never traveled this +belt of timber. The path was lost. + +This was strange. A path had conducted them thus far, but on reaching +the stream had suddenly stopped. Soldiers went up and down the +water-course, and peeped through the trellis of vines, but to no +purpose. In all directions they were met by an impenetrable chapparal. + +Chafing with disappointment, the young officer was about to retrace +his way, when an exclamation from Heiss recalled him. The backwoodsman +had found a clew to the labyrinth. An opening led into the thicket. +This had been concealed by a perfect curtain of closely woven vines, +covered with thick foliage and flowers. It appeared at first to be a +natural door to the avenue which led from this spot, but a slight +examination showed that these vines had been trained by human hands, +and that the path itself had been kept open by the same agency. +Branches were here and there lopped off and cast aside, and the ground +had the marks of human footsteps. The track was clear and beaten, and +Rolfe ordering his men to follow noiselessly, in Indian file, took the +lead. For at least two miles they traced the windings of this forest +road, through dark woods, occasionally opening out into green flowery +glades. The bright sky began to gleam through the trees. Farther on +and the breaks became larger and more frequent. An extensive clearing +was near at hand. They reached it, but to their astonishment, instead +of a cultivated farm, which they had been expecting to see, the +clearing had more the appearance of a vast flower-garden. The roofs +and turrets of a house were visible near its centre. The house itself +appeared of a strange oriental style, and was buried amidst groves of +the brightest foliage. Several huge old trees spread their branches +over the roof, and their leaves hung around the fantastic turrets. + +What should have been fields were like a succession of huge +flower-beds--and large shrubs, covered with sheets of pink and white +blossoms that resembled wild roses. This shrubbery was high enough to +conceal the approach of Rolfe and his party as they followed the +path--apparently the only one which led to the house. + +On nearing this, the officer halted his men in a little glade, and +taking with him Heiss and the boy Gerry, (who might return for the men +in case of a surprise,) proceeded to reconnoitre the strange-looking +habitation. + +A wall of ivy, or some perennial vine, lay between him and the house. +A curtain of green leaves covered the entrance through this wall. This +appeared to have grown up by neglect. As Rolfe lifted this festoon, to +pass through, the sound of female voices greeted him. These voices +reached his ear in tones of the lightest mirth. At intervals came a +clear ringing laugh from some throat of silver, and then a plunging, +splashing sound of water. Rolfe conjectured that some females were in +the act of bathing, and not wishing to intrude upon them sat down for +a moment outside the wall. The sounds of merriment were still heard, +and among the soft tones the officer imagined that he could +distinguish the coarser voice of a man. Curiosity now prompted him to +enter. Moreover, he reflected that if there were men there already +there could not be much impropriety in his taking a share in the +amusement. + +Drawing aside the curtain of leaves he looked in. The interior was a +garden, but evidently in a neglected state. It appeared the ruin of a +once noble garden and shrubbery. Broken fountains and statues +crumbling among weeds, and untrained rose-trees, met the eye. The +voices were more distinct, but those who uttered them were hidden by +a hedge of jessamines. Rolfe stepped silently up to this hedge and +peeped through an opening. The picture presented was indeed an +enchanting one. + +A large fountain lay between him and the house filled with crystal +water. In this fountain two young girls were plunging and diving about +in the wildest abandon of mirth. The water was not more than waist +deep, and the arms and bosoms of the young girls appeared above its +surface. They were strikingly alike, in all except color. In this +there was a marked contrast. The neck, arms and bosom of one seemed +carved from snow-white marble, while the other's complexion was almost +as dark as mahogany. There was the same cast of features, the same +expression in both countenances, and their forms, just emerging from +the slender figure of girlhood, were exactly alike. Their long hair +trailed after them, black and luxuriant, on the surface of the water, +as they plunged and swam from one side of the basin to the other. A +huge negress sat upon the edge of the fountain, seemingly enjoying the +bath as much as those who partook of it. It was the voice of this +negress that Rolfe had mistaken for that of a man. + +The young officer did not hesitate a moment, but stole gently back and +regained his comrades. + +Then striking through the flowery fields that stretched away toward +the wood in the rear, he commenced searching for the path that led +from the woods in a direction opposite to that whence he had come, +without disturbing the inmates of this peaceful mansion. Finding this +path on the other side, the party entered and hastily kept on, in +order to intercept the guerilleros, whom they still hoped to fall in +with. In these hopes they were not disappointed, for emerging from the +woods near Medellin they came upon the guerilleros, with whom they had +a sharp skirmish. Rolfe and his party were successful, killing two of +the guerrilla and taking the same number prisoners. + +The young girls continued their pleasant pastime, little dreaming how +near to them had been these strange and warlike visiters. + + + + +I WANT TO GO HOME + +BY RICHARD COE, JR. + + + "I want to go home!" saith a weary child, + That hath lost its way in straying; + Ye may try in vain to calm its fears, + Or wipe from its eyes the blinding tears, + It looks in your face, still saying-- + "I want to go home!" + + "I want to go home!" saith a fair young bride, + In anguish of spirit praying; + Her chosen hath broken the silver cord-- + Hath spoken a harsh and cruel word, + And she now, alas! is saying-- + "I want to go home!" + + "I want to go home!" saith the weary soul, + Ever earnest thus 'tis praying; + It weepeth a tear--heaveth a sigh-- + And upward glanceth with streaming eye + To its promised rest, still saying-- + "I want to go home!" + + + + +THE HUMBLING OF A FAIRY. + +BY G. G. FOSTER. + + +The Princess Dewbell was confessed to be the queen of the ball, +notwithstanding that the beauty and grace and wit of the whole realm +were there, for it was the birth-night festival of the fairy princess, +and her royal father, with all a parent's fond pride, had exhausted +invention, and impoverished extravagance, to give _eclat_ to the +occasion. The walls of his ancestral palace were sparkled all over +with dew-drops, which a troop of early bees had spent all the summer +mornings in collecting and preserving in the royal patent +dew-preserver, invented by one of the native geniuses of the realm. +These brilliant mirrors, flashing in the light of ten thousand +fire-flies of the royal household, whose whole lives had been expended +in learning how to carry their dainty lamps about so as to produce the +finest effects, reflected the forms of the ladies and the dazzling +military trappings of the handsome cavaliers, (there was war at that +time between the glorious empire of Fairydom and the weak and +infatuated republic of Elfland on its southern borders, and the +epaulette and spurs were the only pass to the hearts of the fair,) +imbuing them with an infinitude of prismatic hues, all softened into a +kind of timed starlight, exquisite as the dying voice of music. In +this gorgeous saloon, at the head of which sat, well pleased, the +benevolent old King Paterflor and his modest and still lovely queen +Sweetbine, all were noble and accomplished and beautiful and gay; but +the charms of the Princess Dewbell, just bursting into the richness of +full-grown fairyhood, were so surpassing that none had ever been found +to question, even in their own hearts, her supremacy. This, perhaps, +may appear strange to many of my pretty readers, but they must +remember that mine is a faithful chronicle of fairies--not of women. +The princess was standing lightly touching--it could not be said that +she leaned against--the slender stalk of a garden lily, that rose like +an emerald column of classic mould above her lovely form, and expanded +into a graceful dome of transparent and crimson-veined cornelian above +her head. Her eyes were cast pensively (at the Musical Fund Hall it +would have been called coquettishly) upon the ground, and ever and +anon she tossed her proud head with an imperious gesture, until the +streaming curls waved and parted around her cheek and neck, like +vine-leaves about a marble column as the south wind creeps among them +soliciting for kisses. The lady Dewbell, amid all this scene of +enchantment, which spread out before and around her, as if her own +loveliness had breathed it into existence, still was discontented; +sad, perhaps, at the total absence of care in her bosom, and sighing +for a sorrow. Unhappy lady Dewbell! She had so many hundred times been +told, what she herself believed full well, that she was absolutely +the most beautiful creature in existence, that the tale had lost its +interest. The champagne of flattery, its creaming foam long ago melted +into the brain, stood untasted before her, dull and flat as the +subsided fountain poured by the last rain-shower into the tulip's cup. +And so the fairy princess stood listless and apart from the joyous +revel, her little form swaying lightly to and fro, with the +undulations of the lily-stem against which she more perceptibly +rested. It is well for Root and Collins and Plumbe that the royal +daguerreotyper was laid up in a cowslip, with a broken skylight which +he had received in a rough-and-tumble with a gnat, about the ownership +of a particular ray of light, at last sunsetting. + +But if the lady Dewbell were queen of the ball, the noble knight Sir +Timothy Lawn was as undisputedly worthy of the post of honor among her +gallant train of admirers. Indeed, it was universally known, of course +as a profound secret among the gossips of the palace, that Sir Timothy +was the declared lover of the proud Dewbell, and it was even whispered +that she had actually been seen hanging around his neck one bright +June morning, in a sweet clover-nook by the brook-side, while he bent +tenderly over her, his eyes filled with tears of rapture. But as this +story could only be traced to a rough beetleherd, who said he saw the +lovers thus as he was driving his herd of black cattle to water, it +was not generally believed. At any rate, all the ladies were decidedly +of opinion that Sir Timothy was in every way a match for the haughty +beauty, and that if she did not accept him while he was in the humor +she would be very likely to go farther and fare worse. In fact, +several old maids and bluestockings, over their dishes of scandal and +marsh-fog, (both of which they made uncommonly strong,) openly avowed +it as their opinion, that he was a great deal too good for her, and +that, if the truth must be told, the princess was an impertinent, +saucy and irreverent creature, who hadn't the slightest respect for +her superiors. "As to her beauty," said one of these crones, whose +little face was very much of the size and complexion of a dried +camomile-flower, and who was shrewdly suspected of qualifying her +marsh-fog with pale pink-brandy--"As for her beauty, that is all in my +eye. I have seen plenty of your plump, smooth-skinned pieces of paint +and affectation fade in my time, little as I have yet seen of life. +Mark my words--before we have reached our prime, my great lady +princess will be as ugly as--" + +"As ugly as yourself, granny! Ha, ha, ha! ho, ho, ho! haw, haw, haw!" +shouted a mirthful voice, while an indescribably comic face, half cat +and half baby, appeared for a single glimpse above the burdock leaf +behind which the spinsters were holding their _conversazione_. + +"There's that imp Puck again, as sure as I am a woman!" exclaimed the +gentle Mrs. Mullenstalk, rising hastily and spilling a dish of fog all +over the front of her new green and yellow striped grass dress, as she +ran toward the spot whence the voice had proceeded. "I'll to the +palace this very night, and lay my complaint against that wretch. +We'll see whether virtuous ladies are to be insulted in this manner, +and their helplessness trampled under foot!" + +The intruder had already disappeared; but as the amiable Mrs. +Mullenstock got her spectacles adjusted, she just caught sight of him +throwing a somerset into a pumpkin-flower; while his laugh still +sounded faintly upon the air, mingled with snatches of a wild refrain, +of which she could only distinguish these lines: + + "Oh ho, Granny Mullenstock, how envious you be; + I'll plague you to death, or the hornets catch me!" + +The spinster shook her fist and grinned horribly at the broad-mouthed, +innocent yellow flower, down whose throat the varlet had leaped--but +chancing at that moment to catch a glimpse of her own face in a little +bit of mica, which served her for a toilet-mirror, she uttered the +least bit of a little shriek in the world and fainted--her companions, +who had by this time gathered round her, exchanging sly winks and +malicious looks of gratification as she went off. + +But we must return to the ball-room, where the fire-flies have got +sleepy, and many of them had already put out their lamps and retired, +and the brilliant company of dancers and promenaders has dwindled down +to a few sets, composed of those ladies who had not been asked to +dance in the height of the evening, and some sour-looking gentlemen in +very tight coats and pants, who had "got the mitten" from their +sweethearts at the door, and were desperately trying to do the amiable +out of sheer revenge. At length even these disappeared; the saloons +were entirely deserted, save by the beautiful mother moonbeam, who +slept upon the fragrant turf, her babe, the silver starlight, folded +lovingly within her bosom. + +Yet no, the scene is not quite solitary. Carefully bending aside the +tall, slender spears of diamond-tipped grass that perpetually guarded +the sacred domain of the imperial palace, a cavalier in full armor +appears, making way for a lady, whose long veil of the finest spider's +web completely conceals her head and form, making her seem like an +exhalation, taking, as its highest gift of grace, the shape of woman. +The two advance slowly and cautiously to the centre of the saloon, and +then the cavalier, throwing himself on his knees, (that's the way +fairies invariably make love,) beseeches his companion to have pity +upon him. The lady throws back her veil with a motion of indescribable +grace, and looking down into the upturned face of her lover, seriously +a moment, then lightly, utters a low laugh, and replies, + +"Very well, Sir Timothy Lawn, upon my word! Quite prettily done, +indeed! You must have been taking lessons of Signor Sweetbriar, the +royal parson. Now do run and bring me a glass of geranium-dew--I +protest I have drank scarcely a drop all the evening." + +"Not one word, then, for your poor lover and true knight," sighed Sir +Timothy, in a tone of the deepest despondence. + +"I did not come here to listen to school-boy nonsense," said the lady +Dewbell, with a haughty and impatient motion of the head. "I came to +get a glass of geranium-water. But, as you decline obliging me to that +extent, I suppose I must e'en get it for myself. Good-night to you, +Sir Timothy! Pleasant dreams!" and she disappeared. + +The knight was for a moment confounded; then rising slowly, he pointed +to a bright star that shone directly above him, winking and winking +with all its might, as much as to say, "what a green-horn you are!" +and swore an oath that no fairy should ever henceforth have power over +his heart, till she who had so wantonly scorned and insulted him +should beg to be forgiven. As he was turning sadly away, to seek his +solitary chamber in the upper branch of a bachelor's button, on the +other side of the brook, the elf-clown Puck stood before him, looking +as demure as puss herself. + +"Well, fool," said the knight, somewhat impatiently, "how long hast +thou been listening here?" + +"As long as my ears, your worship," replied the urchin, undauntedly, +"and they were long enough to hear that your worship's valiancy is a +very much over-praised commodity--since a maiden's dainty veil of +knitted night-air has proved too strong for him. + + The knight he sued, and the knight he sighed, + But he went away without supper or bride." + +"Silence, imp! or I 'll make thine ears, of which thou hast had such +pestilent service, shorter by a span." + +"No, I thank your valiancy! my ears do very well as they are. And I +came to do you a good turn by offering you the use of them. But as +your worship is so high and dry in Dundrum Bay, as we say at sea, I'll +e'en get back to my nap in the hazle copse again." + +"Nay, good Puck, I meant thee no harm, as thou knowest well enough. +Since thou knowest my innermost grief, let me hear thy fool's advice +in the matter." + +"If I gave thee advice, I were in truth a fool. But I'll very +willingly forgive thee this time, and tell thee what I overheard +to-night at the palace." + +"Ah, that's a good Puck!" + +"That depends on circumstances, your valiancy. I am somewhat like a +dish of toasted gallinippers--whether it is palatable or not depending +very much in the way it is served. But this is what I heard his +majesty say to her majesty. 'Sweetbine, my dear,' said he, 'don't you +think Dewbell has a fancy for our brave and noble knight, Sir Timothy +Lawn?' 'Why, my love,' replied her majesty, 'I have long been almost +certain that she loved him. But she is such a confirmed flirt I am +afraid she can never be brought to say so. I haven't the least idea +that she would not reject Sir Timothy, were he to propose.' 'We must +cure her of this fatal pride and folly,' replied his majesty, 'and I +think that, with a little of your assistance, I can manage it +capitally.' And then the dear old people passed into the royal +bed-chamber, in the japonica wing, and I heard no more." + +"I'll to the king." + +"And I'll to a better friend than he; if you permit me, your worship, +I take my _bough_ and _leave_." + +"Avaunt, vile punning Puck! Thou hast been to Philadelphia, where all +the streets rhyme, and every corner is a pun upon the next. May the +fiend unquip thee! Away!' + +"If thou I kest not jokes, thou hadst best stick to thy +bachelor's-buttonhood. I tell thee, marriage is a capital joke." + +"What knowest thou of marriage?" + +"I am one of its fruits." + +"A bitter jest, indeed, and plucked ere half ripened. St. Bulwer! but +thou wilt be a mother's blessing when thou art fully grown!" + +"Better save thy wits, sir knight! Thou wilt have a plentiful lack of +them ere the honeymoon be out of the comb. A pleasant roost in thy +bachelor's hall, and many of them!" and the vagabond sprung upon the +back of a green lizard creeping silently through the grass, and +sticking his heels into his astonished charger, dragoon-fashion, +disappeared down the bank of the brook. + +The old king and his good wife, Sweetbine, were very much grieved at +the foolish trifling of their daughter, Dewbell--for they were well +assured that Dewbell loved the noble knight, Sir Timothy, and that it +was only a spirit of mere wantonness that led her to vex and torment +him. Long into the night did the royal couple converse, striving to +devise some means of bringing their wayward daughter to her senses. +They at last hit upon a plan, which they fondly hoped might be the +means of securing the happiness of their child, and settling her +comfortably in life. + +The next morning his majesty sent for the dwarf, Puck, to his private +cabinet, and received him with an unusually grave and troubled aspect. + +"Venerable sire," said Puck, making a mock reverence, and scarcely +able to suppress a chuckle at the solemn looks of his master, "what +facetious dream hath been playing its mad pranks about thy sacred +pillow? Never saw I kingly face so mirthfully beprankt." + +"Come hither, good Puck," said the king, patiently, "and when thou +hast made thy breakfast of fun upon thy poor master, listen to him +seriously." + +"Dear prince", said the dwarf, suddenly running up to the king and +casting himself weeping at his feet, "art thou, then, really troubled? +Forgive thy poor slave!" and he began blubbering in the most pitiable +manner, while he looked up into the face of the king with such a look +of wo-begone and ludicrous despair, that Paterflor himself could +scarce refrain from bursting into laughter. + +"Thou hast done nothing wrong, good Puck--handsome Puck," said the +king, chucking his favorite under the chin. "I have need of thee. +Here is my signet-ring. Bring me straight hither a young and handsome +peasant, one who has never been seen by the court, nor any inhabitant +of the palace. He must be intelligent, conscientious, and trustworthy. +Dost thou know of such a one?" + +"Yes, your majesty, I think I do. My friend, young Paudeen O'Rafferty, +the son of the old forest-keeper, has just returned from Ireland, +where he was carried by the fairies at his christening, and has been +kept ever since until now, trying to get through the rent made by Mr. +O'Connell in the pockets of his relatives. He's as tight an Irish lad +as your majesty ever saw; and as for his honesty, I'll endorse it with +both hands. The O'Raffertys are constitutionally honest." + +"Well, bring him hither at once. I shall be ready to receive him." + +Puck, with his funny face entirely restored to good humor, left the +palace by a private gate, and running across a beautiful meadow, +disappeared in the dark green forest. Idle lingerer as he was, he felt +a strong inclination, at every hazel-copse he passed, to stop and have +a chat with the rabbits he knew were hid beneath it; and more than +once he was on the point of running up to a friendly deer and kissing +his cold, black nose, just for auld lang syne. But, for a wonder, he +was constant to his errand, and ran straight on--not stopping even to +throw stones at a squirrel by the way--till he came to the forester's +hut. + +He found the old forester and his wife alone. They received him +kindly, for, notwithstanding his mad pranks, Puck was a favorite every +where, and especially among the poor and humble, who were always safe +from his mischievous propensities. The young Paudeen was out a little +bit in the forest, but would return directly. + +"And what brings good Master Puck from among the great lords and +beautiful ladies of the coort to our poor little shieling, not bigger +nor betther than the mud cabins of ould Ireland itself?" inquired the +old woman, who had grown, with age and toil, wrinkled deaf and sour. + +"I'll explain all that as soon as Paudeen comes home," replied the +grave and mysterious Puck; "but, in the meantime, how do you get on +Mr. O'Rafferty, and what is the news in the forest?" + +"We get on but poorly," said the old forester, "and the news is, that +the people at the other side of the forest, where the potatoes have +all rotted, and the land is wore down to its bare bones, for want of +rest like, are very bad. Some of the women and childhers have already +starved, and the men have for the most part took to dhrinken and +fighten, till things is in a mighty bad way." + +"Yes," chimed in the old woman, who seemed to have caught by instinct +the subject of conversation, "and the poor stharven people say, too, +that there is plenty of money squandhered upon extravagance by the +king and his coort to give them all bread; and that the forests that +is kept for the deers and craythurs to be killed for the spoort of the +big folks, would give every man a bit of fresh land, and that the +potatoes would grow well enough then." + +"Auch, Peggy, will ye have us hung for parjery, out and out!" +exclaimed the terrified husband, casting a deprecating look at Puck. +"Poor craythur, she doesn't know what she is saying." + +At this juncture the young Paudeen made his appearance, and put a stop +to a conversation that was becoming decidedly stupid. He made his +respects cordially to Puck; and when he heard his errand, seemed +amazed and delighted. After a good deal of difficulty, the old lady +was made to understand what was the desire of the king. + +"Hooh!" exclaimed the old crone, leaping from her seat and dancing +about the room, "the dhrame's come true at last! Och, hullybaloo! +didn't I know that the pretty Paudeen wasn't born for the pig-stye! +Bedad, but he'll ruffle the gentles! Wont you, darlint?" and the old +woman fell upon her son's neck, smothering him with kisses, while the +poor youth could hardly keep his legs under the vigor of her maternal +caresses. + + +PART II. + +In a few days after the interview of Puck and Paudeen in the hut of +the forester, there was great excitement at the court of Fairyland. +The fashionable milliners and dress-makers never had seen such a +time--orders from the aristocracy poured in upon them by scores, and +their doors were beset by fashionable carriages, and little fairy +footmen caparisoned in long coats with many capes, and broad, red +bands fastened with shining buckles round their hats. The great +_artistes_ who were at the head of these establishments saw themselves +amassing fortunes from the sudden influx of fashionable custom. But +the poor little fairy seamstresses, who sat up all night, sometimes +without time to eat or sleep, from sunset to sunset, so that all these +splendid dresses might be finished in time--they did not fare so well. +They grew pale and sick, and sat swaying and swinging about as they +worked, until one might have thought them the ghosts of fairy workers, +come back for a ghostly midnight frolic in their old haunts. It was +melancholy enough, truly; but then nobody knew any thing about it. The +rich ladies, when their splendid robes came home, did not stop to +think that good, earnest, faithful fairy hearts had embroidered the +roses that adorned the skirts from their own cheeks, and spangled them +with the broken fragments of their youth's faded dreams. If they had-- + +Well, and if they had? + +That is not at all to the purport of my story; and so I will proceed +to let the reader into the secret of all this flutter and fluster. A +great prince had made his appearance at the court of Paterflor, and +had created almost as great an excitement in Fairyland as a new prima +donna with bright eyes and a _sfogato_ voice among mere mortals. +Nobody knew exactly who he was, but he came from a great way off, and +had a name as long as a province, and, beside being incalculably +wealthy, it was universally voted (ladies vote in Fairyland) that he +was the very handsomest love of a fairy knight that ever jingled +spurs, or sighed at the feet of beauty. He had come to court evidently +with the "highest recommendations" to the king, such as would have +procured him immediate access into the first "circles," even in +Philadelphia, where society lives behind barred doors, and goes about +armed cap-a-pie against encroachment or intrusion. He had been at once +received at the royal table, and a splendid suite of apartments had +been assigned him in the palace itself. Such extraordinary attentions +from the imperial family, of course, made the stranger a favorite and +a welcome guest wherever he appeared; and there was not a lady at +court who would not have given her eyes--if it would not have spoiled +her beauty--for a smile from his magnificent mouth. + +It was discovered, however, at a very early stage of the proceedings, +that the chief object of the prince's admiration was the lady Dewbell, +who, proud as she was, could not help feeling flattered by the evident +and special devotion of one for whom the whole of her sex were dying. +Sir Timothy Lawn, who, from pique or melancholy, or from some unknown +cause, had left the court the very day after the arrival of the new +prince, was not entirely forgotten, but was laid away carefully on a +back shelf of her heart; and the lady Dewbell never had been so +beautiful, so fascinating, so joyous and irresistible. Courts are as +fickle as coquettes; and before the month had passed, in a series of +brilliant _fetes_ and entertainments, at all of which the prince and +princess were the reigning toast, it was regarded as a settled thing +that there would, ere the maple leaves grew red in the dying gaze of +the year, be a royal marriage in Fairyland. + +But while to all around the beautiful Dewbell was ever the same +careless, saucy and happy creature as ever, in her heart she nursed a +bitter sorrow. After many and severe struggles, she was forced at last +to make to herself the humiliating acknowledgment that she deeply and +truly loved Sir Timothy Lawn, that noble and chivalric spirit, whom +her unworthy trifling had driven--so her frightened heart interpreted +it--in disgust from her. Compelled in common courtesy to receive the +devoted attentions of the stranger prince, and to hear every day and +every hour repeated the earnest solicitations of her father that she +should school herself to regard the stranger as her future husband, +her little fairy heart was quite broken with its ceaseless struggles. +Her pride and self-will were entirely vanquished, and she felt herself +truly the most miserable of fairy maidens. Suicide is of course a +thing strictly prohibited among immortals; but had it been otherwise, +I sadly fear that one of the lady Dewbell's spider-web silk hose would +some morning have been found without a garter, and she herself hanging +like a beauteous exhalation among the elm-leaves in the morning +sunshine. Oh, had Sir Timothy been there then, he would have found, +instead of his imperious and tantalizing coquette, the tenderest and +truest of disconsolate maidens, ready to melt into his arms between +the delicious pause of a sigh and a kiss. "Naughty, cruel Sir Timothy! +Horrid creature! to take all my nonsense for real earnest, and to go +away and leave me to be persecuted to death!" exclaimed the lady +Dewbell, with an uncontrollable burst of tears, as she threw herself, +her toilet half finished, and her hair all strewn over her face and +shoulders, upon her little praying cushion. "What will become of poor +Bell!" + +"What ails my daughter?" said the sweet, soft voice of the queen +mother, as she knelt tenderly over her child, and pressed her head to +her bosom. "Tell your sorrows to your mother." + +"Oh, mother, _I_ am the most wretched fairy that ever existed. I don't +want to marry that odious, red-haired stranger; and my father has made +me promise that the wedding shall take place on Halloween--and I--I +have consented. But I love Sir Timothy; and I wont marry any body but +him," sobbed the poor creature, convulsively, as she cast herself upon +the floor, and looked up to her mother, terrified and half frantic. + +"But, dearest, you know you laughed at poor Sir Timothy's vows--and he +is so sensitive." + +"Oh, yes, I know I did, but I'll never do so any more. _If_ Sir +Timothy will only come back and forgive me, and marry me, just this +once, I will never, never offend him again as long as I live--never, +never, never! Do, mamma, do make him come back!" + +"Poor child! I will certainly do all I can. But you have promised to +be married on Halloween." + +"Oh, yes, but that is a good fortnight off, and you can bring Sir +Timothy back before then, you know, and he can kill this horrid +stranger, and then every body will be _so_ happy!" and the face of the +volatile creature began already to re-clothe itself in smiles. + +"I fear you are mistaken, love," said her mother, solemnly, and +shaking her head in an impressive manner, she added, "do not deceive +yourself with such fallacies, my daughter; your princely word is +passed, your father's royal honor is pledged, and you must be married +on Halloween." + +The lady Dewbell, sobbing hysterically, again looked up. She was +alone; at the same moment the cat-and-baby face of Puck glanced by the +window, and a wild, mischievous laugh melted away into a song, of +which the lady only caught the two last lines: + + "He rideth fast, and he rideth well, + But his heart still clings to the pretty Bell." + +"Oh, bless thee, dear Puck!" sighed the haply wondering lady, rising +and leaning from the window. "May thy sweet prophecy come true!" + + +PART III. + +'T is Halloween midnight. Through the tall windows of the venerable +church streamed in the broad moonlight, in bright silver floods, that +lost themselves in the profound recesses of the distant aisles, or +fell like many-colored snow-flakes upon the marble floor. Entering +without sound, came up the middle aisle the royal wedding-procession. +First walked the father, the royal Paterflor, looking stern and +determined, yet, it must be confessed, a little roguish about the +crowsfeet. Upon his arm leaned his pale and stricken daughter, the +once proud, joyous and imperious Princess Dewbell. She was pale as a +lily's cup, and drooping as its stem. She never raised her head from +her bosom, and her eyes, once sparkling like fountains of light, were +hidden beneath their willowy lids. Next comes the "red-haired prince," +as the lady Dewbell had scornfully denominated him, (his head _was_ a +little inclined to flame, dear reader, between you and me,) +respectfully conducting the ever sweet and placid Queen Woodbine; and +after them a troop of merry and gayly-dressed fairies, both ladies and +gentlemen, but very demure and solemn; while Puck, in the united +capacity of Hymen and Grand Usher, was dodging about with his flaming +torch, now in front, now in rear, now here, now there, and every where +imparting an air of grotesqueness to the whole affair. + +At the altar the party stopped, and ranging themselves in the approved +order for such occasions, the priest--a grave and reverend bullfrog, +whose surplice was scrupulously neat and tidy--proceeded with the +ceremony. When he came to the question, "dost thou, my daughter, +freely and voluntarily bestow thy hand and thy affections upon this +man, Paudeen O'Rafferty, commonly called Pat?" + +The pale and shrinking lady raised her head and opened her great +ox-like eyes; the bridegroom looked sheepish and hung his head; King +Paterflor seemed suddenly troubled with a severe fit of coughing, and +the priest could scarcely forbear a chuckle. + +"Father, dear father, what is the meaning of this cruel joke?" +exclaimed the poor lady Dewbell, running to her father and catching +hold of his arm. But the old king's cough was still very troublesome. +She then appealed to the priest, but he seemed deaf, and only made a +grum kind of noise in his throat, that sounded a good deal like "Pat +O'Rafferty." + +"Who, then, are you, sir?" demanded she, at last, of the groom, +turning suddenly and imperiously upon him her piercing gaze. + +"So plaze yer ladyship, I am Paudeen O'Rafferty, the son of the +forester--at yer ladyship's sarvice." + +The fairy princess was about to faint, in the most approved manner, +and had already selected a convenient cushion upon which to fall, when +a tall and noble form crossed the moon-ray, and Sir Timothy Lawn stood +before her. + +"Beloved princess," said he, kneeling, and respectfully taking her +hand, "I hope my presence is not disagreeable to the queen of my +heart, for whose love I have so long pined. Speak to me frankly, sweet +lady Dewbell, tell me, can you love me? Will you permit me to call you +mine forever?" + +The lady Dewbell changed her intention respecting the cushion upon +which she had intended to faint, and, somehow, found herself before +she was half conscious of it, in her lover's arms. An explanation +ensued; the prince Paudeen gave up his post of honor to Sir Timothy; +the ceremony was concluded on the spot; and as the gay and joyous +party left the church, Puck was seen sitting at the organ accompanying +himself in a sort of wild yet sweet chant, of which the lady Dewbell +easily distinguished-- + + "Oh, a merry tale will the gossips tell, + Of the happy mishap of the proud lady Bell." + + + + +A NIGHT THOUGHT. + +BY THOMAS BUCHANAN READ. + + + Long have I gazed upon all lovely things, + Until my soul was melted into song, + Melted with love till from its thousand springs + The stream of adoration, swift and strong, + Swept in its ardor, drowning brain and tongue, + Till what I most would say was borne away unsung. + + The brook is silent when it mirrors most + Whate'er is grand or beautiful above; + The billow which would woo the flowery coast + Dies in the first expression of its love; + And could the bard consign to living breath + Feelings too deep for thought, the utterance were death! + + The starless heavens at noon are a delight; + The clouds a wonder in their varying play, + And beautiful when from their mountainous height + The lightning's hand illumes the wall of day:-- + The noisy storm bursts down--and passing brings + The rainbow poised in air on unsubstantial wings. + + But most I love the melancholy night-- + When with fixed gaze I single out a star + A feeling floods me with a tender light-- + A sense of an existence from afar, + A life in other spheres of love and bliss, + Communion of true souls--a loneliness in this! + + There is a sadness in the midnight sky-- + An answering fullness in the heart and brain, + Which tells the spirit's vain attempt to fly + And occupy those distant worlds again. + At such an hour Death's were a loving trust, + If life could then depart in its contempt of dust. + + It may be that this deep and longing sense + Is but the prophecy of life to come; + It may be that the soul in going hence + May find in some bright star its promised home; + And that the Eden lost forever here + Smiles welcome to me now from yon suspended sphere. + + There is a wisdom in the light of stars, + A wordless lore which summons me away-- + This ignorance belongs to earth which bars + The spirit in these darkened walls of clay, + And stifles all the soul's aspiring breath;-- + True knowledge only dawns within the gales of Death. + + Imprisoned thus, why fear we then to meet + The angel who shall ope the dungeon-door, + And break these galling fetters from our feet, + To lead us up from Time's benighted shore? + Is it for love of this dark cell of dust, + Which, tenantless, awakes but horror and disgust? + + Long have I mused upon all lovely things; + But thou, oh Death! art lovelier than all; + Thou sheddest from thy recompensing wings + A glory which is hidden by the pall-- + The excess of radiance falling from thy plume + Throws from the gates of Time a shadow on the tomb. + + + + +THE BARD. + +BY S. ANNA LEWIS. + + + Why should my anxious heart repine + That Wealth and Power can ne'er be mine, + And Love has flown-- + That Friendship changes as the breeze? + Mine is a joy unknown to these; + In Song's bright zone, + To sit by Helicon serene, + And hear the waves of Hippocrene + Lave Phoebus' throne. + + Here deathless lyres the strains prolong, + That gush from living founts of song, + Without a cross; + Here spirits never feel the weight + Of Wrong, or Envy, or of Hate, + Or earthly loss; + The pomp of Pelf--the pride of Birth-- + The gilded trappings of this earth + Return to dross. + + Oh, ye! who would forget the ills + Of earth, and all the bosom fills + With agony! + Come dwell with me in Fancy's dream, + Beside this lovely fabled stream + Of minstrelsy; + And let its draughts celestial roll + Into the deep wells of thy soul + Eternally. + + God always sets along the way + Of weary souls some beacon ray + Of light divine; + And only when my spirit's wings + Are weary in the quest of springs + Of Song, I pine; + If I could always heavenward fly, + And never earthward turn mine eye, + Bliss would be mine. + + + + +THE WILL. + +BY MISS E. A. DUPUY + + +PART I. + + There is peace in the Night of the Early Dead-- + It will yield to a glorious morrow! _Clarke_. + +Amid all the brightness and bloom which the imagination conjures up, +when we think of the sunny islands lying within the tropics, many +mournful associations arise and cast a sadness over the picture. Very +few have not had within the circle of their relatives, or friends, +some cherished one, who has vainly sought the balmy breezes of those +favored spots, with the feverish hope that amid their loveliness Death +would forget to launch his arrows for them. + +Alas! to die among strangers is usually the fate of those who are thus +lured from their homes by a deceitful hope. There, where Nature wears +a perpetual verdure--where the fervid sun brings forth a luxuriance of +vegetation unknown in more northern regions, the wearied spirit sinks +to repose, soothed, or saddened, by the glow of existence around. + +A spacious apartment on the southern side of a highly ornamented +villa, opened into a magnificent garden, filled with orange-trees, +oleanders, and many other gorgeous flowers peculiar to the climate of +Cuba; while in the distance the sunlight gleamed upon a row of +towering palms, whose stately columns, crowned by their verdant +coronal, resembled the pillars of some mighty temple, which found a +fitting canopy in the blue arch of heaven, glowing with the gorgeous +hues of a tropical sunset. + +The floor of this room was inlaid with marble of different colors, and +the couch and windows were draped with snowy lace, lightly embroidered +at the edges, and looped with cords of blue and silver--tables with +marble tops, supporting porcelain vases filled with flowers, were +placed between the windows, for these ephemeral children of sunshine +were dear to the heart of the dying one. Beside one of these stood a +large cushioned chair, in which reclined a young man of delicate +features and wasted form. He appeared in the last stages of his fell +disease, and the friends who had received him beneath their roof to +die, wondered that he should have been deluded with the hope that +health could ever again reanimate his bowed and shrunken form. There +was an expression of care upon his sharpened features--a feverish +restlessness in his manner, which betrayed the spirit's unrest. + +At his feet sat a young girl, whose brilliant complexion and +pale-brown hair betrayed her Saxon origin; the finely rounded figure, +the delicately formed feet and hands, and the gracefully turned head +and bust, were all evidences of the grade of life to which she +belonged. She held the burning hand of the invalid between her own +soft, cool palms, and sung in a sweet low voice an old ballad which +told of the ancient greatness of the Saxon race. At a short distance +from them sat an elderly lady, clad in deep mourning, and her saddened +countenance corresponded well with her weeds. + +The young man made an impatient movement, and said--"Sing not to me +England's former prowess, dear Edith. What to the dying can such +themes be but a bitter mockery? Take your guitar, my sister, and throw +your soul into its vibrating strings, while you sing me such a lay as +I can fancy the angels of Heaven to be pouring forth around the throne +of God." + +"Shall I sing the chants of our church, dearest Edgar?" said Edith in +a subdued voice. + +"Yes--yes--they breathe peace and resignation into my restless soul. +When I am dying, my sister, stifle your own feelings as you love me, +and pour into my failing senses those magnificent strains. If God sees +fit to tear me from you before I can legally provide for you and my +beloved mother, I shall be enabled to forget the bitter truth in +listening to your sweet voice. You promise me this, Edith?" + +"I do--Heaven will sustain me even then, my darling brother, and give +me power to forget my own anguish in soothing your last moments." + +Edith Euston pressed his hand to her lips, and raising from the floor +a guitar which lay beside her, she poured forth a strain of melody +which seemed to soothe the senses of the invalid to rest. His eyes +closed, and an expression of repose rested on his worn features. + +Twilight deepened over the earth--a single ray of light, from the +reddened sky, fell through the open window upon the figure of the +young girl, and the mother, who sat silent and abstracted, thought as +she glanced upon her that even in a higher world her beloved Edith +could wear no lovelier outward semblance than was now hers. There was +an expression of elevated feeling, of pure tenderness in her upturned +face which revealed the high and noble soul within. One fitted to +suffer and conquer in the dark struggle which she felt awaited her. + +Hers were not the only eyes which contemplated that lovely picture of +sisterly devotion upon that twilight eve. Another stood without, +beneath the shadow of a high hedge, and gazed upon the unconscious +musician with even deeper admiration; and his dark, expressive +features lighted up with an emotion almost of reverence. The stars +came forth in the translucent depths of ether; the young moon cast her +tremulous light over the garden, yet still the intruder lingered in +his place of concealment. Twice he put the boughs aside, as if to +approach the room and announce his presence, but again receded, as if +irresolute and uncertain as to the effect his presence might produce. + +At length all became silent. The tones of the instrument died slowly +away, and the voice of the singer ceased to pour forth its song. The +windows were still unclosed, for the invalid had reached that +distressing stage in his malady, when his oppressed breathing required +a constant circulation of free air. A lamp burning beneath an +alabaster shade was swung from the centre of the ceiling, and its +mellow lustre diffused a faint moonlight radiance throughout the +apartment. + +With suppressed breathing the two ladies watched the sleep of the sick +youth, and he who had so earnestly observed every movement of Edith, +ventured to approach so near the open window that the heavy and +interrupted respiration of young Euston was distinctly audible to him; +while his eagle eye sought to penetrate the shadow in which his +features reposed, that he might read upon them the ravages made by +approaching dissolution. + +As he stood thus, the moonlight revealed a tall, well proportioned +figure, clad in a suit of black, well fitted to his form. His +prominent features and flashing black eyes were half concealed by a +large straw hat, which was carelessly placed upon his head. As he +gazed upon the sleeping form, his lips curled, and a strange +expression of exultation came to his face; his eye wandered +triumphantly to the fair brow of Edith. + +"Twice rejected," he muttered half audibly--"twice rejected, and with +scorn, by yon dainty girl; now methinks my vengeance is almost within +my grasp. I hold her future destiny in my power; for this boy _cannot_ +drag out his existence another week. Yes, Edith--to labor you have not +been bred--to beg you will be ashamed, and he who vainly hopes that +time will be granted him to deprive me of my inheritance, will perish +from my path, just as he believes himself on the verge of consummating +his hatred to me." + +Edith softly arose, and making a sign to her mother, glided +noiselessly from the room by a distant window, which opened to the +floor. The intruder hesitated a moment, and then followed her with +light and rapid steps. The flutter of her white dress guided him to +the retreat she had chosen, and she had scarcely thrown herself upon a +rustic seat beneath the shelter of some orange-boughs, and given vent +to her painfully repressed emotion, by a burst of tears, when the dark +stranger stood before her. She started up and would have fled, but he +spoke, and the sound of his voice seemed to bind her to the spot as by +a spell. + +"Why would you fly from me, Edith?" he asked. "I come in the spirit of +good-will to you and yours." + +A struggle seemed to be passing in the mind of the young girl. She +wiped her tears away, and after a pause answered in a tone which +faltered at first, but grew firm, and even haughty as she proceeded, + +"What has brought you hither, Mr. Barclay? Yet why do I ask? To exult +in the fate of your unfortunate victim; to watch each painful breath +which brings him nearer to his grave, with the certainty that the +very eagerness with which he desires a few more days of existence, +that he may fulfill a sacred duty, is fast wearing away the faint +thread that yet binds him to life. Oh false, unfeeling man! depart, I +pray you, if one human instinct yet remains within your callous heart, +and leave my unhappy brother to die in peace." + +She turned to depart, but Barclay stepped forward and placed his hand +on her arm, as if to detain her. She shrunk from his touch with an +expression of loathing, which called the crimson to his cheek, but he +suppressed his emotion, and said calmly-- + +"I knew that you would soon need a protector, Miss Euston, and I came +hither with the faint hope that I might be able to overcome your cruel +prejudices against me--that I might become to you a friend at least, +if no dearer title were allowed me." + +"You a friend to _me_!" exclaimed Edith impetuously. "You, who lured +my brother from his home, to wreck his existence in the life of +dissipation to which you tempted him. Ever feeble from his boyhood, +you knew that little was needed to destroy his frail constitution--yet, +because he stood between you and the possession of wealth, his life +was offered as the sacrifice to your criminal cupidity. And now you +come hither to watch the last fluttering throes of existence, fearful +that Death may delay his arrows until he shall have passed that hour +which entitles him to dispose of his property--and disappoint your +hopes, by bequeathing his wealth to those who are dearest to him." + +"You are excited, Edith. You judge me too severely. Edgar's own +headlong passions destroyed him. I merely urged him to do as others of +his years and station, without foreseeing such fatal results. My love +for you would have prompted me to save your brother." + +"Speak not to me of love--dare not approach the sister of your victim +with proffers of affection. The death of Edgar may leave me +penniless--nearly friendless--I have been tenderly nurtured, but I +would sooner embrace a life of sternest self-denial, of utter poverty, +than link myself with infamy in your person. Leave me--and dare not +approach the room of my brother, to imbitter his last hours by your +presence." + +"And your mother, my fair heroine?" said Barclay, in a tone of sarcasm +bordering on contempt. "What will become of her if you persist in the +rejection of the only person in the wide world on whom you have any +claim? She is old, feeble, broken in health and spirit. Ah! will not +your proud heart faint when you behold her sharing this life of +poverty and self-denial, which seems to you so much more attractive +than the home and protection I offer you?" + +Edith stifled the tears that sprung anew to her eyes, and after a +brief struggle said with composure-- + +"My mother is too honorable--she has too bitter a disdain of meanness +ever to wish her child to sacrifice the truth and integrity of her +soul, by accepting the hand of one for whom she has no respect." + +"By Heaven!" said Barclay passionately, "you force me to throw away +the scabbard and declare war to the knife. Be it so, then. Yonder weak +boy cannot survive five of the ten days yet required to complete his +majority. Then comes to me--yes to _me_--all his wealth; and only as +_my_ wife shall one ray of my prosperity shine upon you. The gray +hairs of your only parent may be brought to the grave by want and +sorrow, and unless you relent toward me my heart shall be steeled to +her sufferings." + +At this picture, which was only too likely to be realized, the courage +of the unhappy Edith forsook her, and she exclaimed in faltering +tones-- + +"My dear, dear mother! for her sake any other sacrifice might be +borne--but not this--not this. My brother yet lives, and Heaven may in +pity prolong his existence beyond the hour he so anxiously prays to +see. Then we escape your power." + +Barclay laughed mockingly. + +"This is the fifteenth, and he is not of age until the twenty-fifth, +exactly at the second hour of the morning. One moment only before that +time should Death claim his victim the estate is mine, and you +dependent on my bounty. Think you that the frail and wasted ghost of a +man who struggles for breath in yonder room can live through another +week? Hope--yes, hope for the best, for despair will come soon enough. +I feel as secure of my inheritance as though it were already mine." + +Edith proudly motioned him from her path, and fled toward the house, +with his mocking words still ringing in her ears. Her brother yet +slept, and as she gazed upon his sunken features it seemed to her as +if death were already stamped upon them, and she bent her head above +his still face, to convince herself that he yet breathed. + +Barclay and Euston were distantly related, and had both been educated +by an eccentric kinsman, with the belief among their connections that +he designed dividing his ample fortune between them. To the surprise +and chagrin of Barclay, he found on the death of Colonel Euston that +the whole of his estate was bequeathed to his young cousin, encumbered +with an annuity to himself, which appeared to one of his expensive +tastes, and lavish prodigality, as absolute poverty. + +Edgar Euston was then but seventeen years of age, and of a delicate +bodily organization, which did not promise length of days. A clause in +Colonel Euston's will offered a temptation to Barclay, which he had +not sufficient principle to resist. If Euston died before attaining +his majority the estate was to pass into the hands of his kinsman, and +no mention was made of the mother or sister of the young heir. Barclay +reflected that if he could remove Euston from his path, before he +attained his twenty-first year, the coveted wealth would yet be his. + +From that hour he made every effort to win the confidence and +affection of young Euston. He was his senior by nearly ten years, and +possessed a knowledge of the world, and a fascination of manner which +was extremely attractive to a youth who had passed the greater portion +of his life, at a country residence, in the society of his mother and +sister. Euston entered one of our Northern colleges, and under the +auspices of his kinsman he soon achieved a reputation which was far +more applauded by the wild students than agreeable to the professors. +He blindly followed wherever Barclay led, and before he entered his +twenty-first year he returned to his early home, with a constitution +completely broken by the reckless life he had led, and the symptoms of +early decay in his flushed cheek and hollow cough. Vain had been the +entreaties and remonstrances of his mother and sister; under the +influence of his tempter, they were utterly disregarded--until the +hand of disease was laid upon him, and he felt that the only atonement +he could offer for all the suffering he had inflicted upon them would +probably be denied to him. + +He earnestly desired to live, that he might reach that age which would +entitle him to make a legal transfer of his property to those who were +deservedly dear to him, for in the event of his death without a will, +his mother and sister would be left entirely dependent on the tender +mercies of his successor. An unfortunate lawsuit had deprived his +mother of the property which had become hers on the death of his +father, and his own reckless extravagance had dissipated more than the +annual revenue of his own property since it came into his possession. + +Too late he discovered the baseness of Barclay's motives, and +renounced all intercourse with him--but he would not thus be cast off. +He had seen and loved the noble-hearted Edith, and he forced his +hypocritical offers of service upon the afflicted family, until Edith +distinctly assured him that he need never hope for a return to his +passion. + +Euston had long since abandoned all hope of recovery, but he sought +the mild climate of Cuba, trusting that the fatal day might be +deferred until he had secured independence to his family, but his +physician feared that the very eagerness of his wishes would +eventually defeat them. It was mournful, and deeply touching, to +witness that clinging to existence in one so young, not from love of +life itself, but from a desire to perform an act of justice. That +completed, his mission on earth was ended, and Death might claim him +without a murmur. + +The hours dragged heavily on toward the desired day, and each one as +it passed appeared to hurry the poor invalid with rapid strides toward +the grave, that seemed eager to claim its prey. Barclay had not again +ventured to intrude on Edith, but he nightly hovered around the room +of the dying youth, and gloated on the wasted and death-like form +which held his earthly fortunes in his hands. + +A skillful physician had accompanied Euston from his native land, and +his unremitting attention, aided by the tender nursing of his +affectionate sister, seemed as if they would eventually reap their +reward in the preservation of life beyond the hour of his majority. + +In pain and weariness time slowly waned, but it still left him life +and an unclouded mind; and the bold, bad heart, that nightly watched +him, feared that the wealth he so ardently coveted, might yet elude +his grasp. + +The evening of the twenty-fifth at last arrived. Euston reclined in +his chair as we first beheld him, wrapped in a brocade dressing-gown, +whose brilliant colors made his extreme pallor the more remarkable; a +table was drawn close beside him, and on it, at his own desire, was +placed his repeater, from which his eyes scarcely wandered. His breath +came slowly and gaspingly, and at brief intervals his physician +moistened his parched lips with a restorative cordial, and murmured +words of encouragement in his ear. + +As before, Edith sat at his feet, with her guitar, ready to stifle her +deep emotion, and fulfill her promise to sing to him while his parting +soul was struggling for release from its earthly tenement. His mother +leaned over his chair, and bathed his cold brow with her burning +tears; in the back-ground sat a clergyman, gazing on the scene with +absorbing interest. + +Each one in that hushed room felt the approach of the stern tyrant, +and all prayed fervently that his dart might be stayed yet a few +hours. + +"My sister, sing to me. Soothe me into quietness by the loved tones of +your voice. It is my _only_ hope for life beyond the desired hour," +murmured the dying youth. + +With tremulous fingers Edith touched the chords, and poured forth the +solemn strains to which he loved to listen, and he sunk back and +closed his eyes. At first her voice faltered, but she gradually +regained her self-command, and never had those clear, rich tones +uttered a sweeter strain, than that which floated around the +fluttering spirit, which struggled to release itself from the +attenuated form of the early doomed. + +Barclay stood without, watching the scene with breathless interest, +and a terrible struggle was passing in his dark and stormy soul. +Euston might live beyond the hour of two, and he would then be a +beggar. His eye wandered toward Edith, so nobly devoted, so purely +beautiful; and the tempter whispered, + +"She might save you--ennoble you; the love, the sweet influence of +such a woman are all powerful. Once yours, you could surround her with +such an atmosphere of care and tenderness, that her heart must be won +to love you--to forget the past. Without her, you are doomed--doomed. +What matters a few more moments of existence to one like him, when the +eternal welfare of a human being hangs trembling in the balance? +Deprived of the means of living, Edith will have no choice--she must +marry you, or debase her pride of soul before the iron sway of +poverty. Her mother is old--infirm; and for her sake, the daughter +will listen to your proffers of love. Take your destiny into your own +hands. Cowardly soul! why falter now? It is but completing your own +work. He is _your_ victim--you know it, and feel it in every pulse of +your throbbing heart. Years of usefulness might have been his, but for +you; then complete the sacrifice without hesitation. What avails it +to have accomplished so much, if the reward escapes you at the last +moment?" + +Such were the wild thoughts that oppressed his soul during those +terrible hours. He saw that the parchment which disinherited him was +placed beside Euston, and the pen stood in the inkstand, ready to do +its service, so soon as the hand of the watch pointed to the hour of +two; and he ground his teeth in impotent rage, as the moments flitted +by, and Euston yet continued to breathe. + +Terrible is the watch of love beside the flitting soul which parts in +peace; but how much more awful was that vigil, in which the anguish of +bereavement was doubly embittered by the fear of future want to those +who had been reared amid all the refinements of luxury. The mother +looked upon her remaining child, and felt that she was not formed to +struggle with poverty and neglect, and the daughter bent her earful +eyes on that venerable form, and in the depths of her soul, prayed +that her old age might be spared the grinding cares of want. + +The watch struck the half hour--then the quarter--and a feeble motion +of Euston stopped the hand of Edith as she swept it over the strings +of her instrument. She arose and stood beside him; a breathless +silence reigned throughout the apartment, only broken by the +monotonous ticking of the watch, which struck upon the excited nerves +of those around with a sound as distinct as the reverberations of +thunder. + +Not a word was uttered until the hand pointed to the hour, then, as if +endued with sudden energy, the dying man stretched forth his hand, and +grasping the pen, said in a firm, distinct voice, + +"Now let me sign my name, and yield up my spirit to the angel that has +been beckoning me away for hours. My mother--my sister, God has +vouchsafed to me a mercy I did not deserve. Thank Heaven! your +interests are safe. You are free from _his_ power." + +At that instant a strange cry was heard; a bird flew into the room, +and, dazzled by the light, flapped his wings against the shade of the +lamp, overturned it, and left the apartment in utter darkness. In the +confusion of the moment, a figure glided through the open window, and +stood beside the chair of Euston. He noiselessly placed his firm grasp +upon his laboring breast, and held it there a single instant. A faint +rattling sound was heard, and Edith wildly called for lights. + +Noiselessly as he had entered glided that dark form from the side of +his victim, and buried itself in the shadows of the trees without. +Many lights flashed into the room--they glared coldly on the face of +the dead, and the mother sunk senseless in the arms of her daughter. + + +PART II. + +Several months have passed away, and Mrs. Euston and her daughter have +returned to their native land. A single room in an obscure +boarding-house in the heart of a southern city was occupied by both. +The expenses of their voyage to New Orleans, and a few months sojourn +in their present abode, humble as it was, had nearly exhausted their +slender resources. Edith had made many efforts to procure a few +scholars to instruct in music and drawing, but the departure of the +greater portion of the wealthy, during the unhealthy season, had +deprived her of those she had been able to obtain. She thought of +going out as a daily governess, but the feeble health and deep +dejection of her mother, offered an insuperable objection to such an +arrangement. When she left her alone even for an hour, she usually +found her in such a state of nervous excitement on her return, as was +painful to behold. + +Edith is seated near the only window of their sordid apartment in the +afternoon of a sultry summer day; the sun is shining without with +overpowering splendor; a heated vapor rises from the paved streets and +seems to shimmer in the breathless atmosphere. Edith had lost all the +freshness and roundness of youth; her cheek was deadly white, and her +emaciated form seemed to indicate the approach of the terrible disease +of which her brother had died. She was sewing industriously, and her +air of weariness and lassitude betrayed the strong mastery of the +spirit over the body, in the continuance of her employment. + +Mrs. Euston was lying on the bed; and twenty years seemed to have +passed over her since the night of her son's death. The oppressive +heat had induced her to remove her cap, and her long hair, white as +the snows of winter, lay around her wasted and furrowed features. From +infancy the respect and observance due to one of high station had been +bestowed upon her, and the reverse in their fortunes was more than she +could bear. At first, her high-toned feelings had shrunk from +obligations to the new heir, and she approved of Edith's rejection; +but as time passed, amid privations to which she had never been +accustomed, her very soul revolted against their miserable mode of +living. + +To a woman of refined feelings and vivid imagination, the coarse and +sordid realities around her were sufficiently heart-sickening, without +having the terrible fear forced upon her that her only child was +hurrying to the grave through her exertions to keep them literally +from starvation. Her daughter now thought she slept, but her mind was +far too busily occupied to permit the sweet influences of slumber to +soothe her into a momentary forgetfulness of her bitter grief. +Suddenly she unclosed her eyes, and spoke. + +"Edith, my child, lay aside that work--such constant employment is +destroying you. Is it not time that we heard from Robert Barclay? +Surely he will not be relentless, when he hears that your health is +failing. After all, Edith, you need not be so averse to receiving +assistance from him; the property he holds is rightfully ours." + +"Mother," replied Edith, a faint flush mounting to her cheek, "for +your sake I have submitted to humiliate myself before our ruthless +kinsman, but I fear it will be in vain. Only as his wife will my +claims on his humanity and justice be acknowledged. Would you not +shrink, dearest mother, from condemning your child to such a doom? +Could you not better bear to stand above my grave, and know me at +peace within it, than to behold me wedded to this unprincipled man, to +whose pernicious example my brother owed his early doom?" + +"Speak not of dying, my daughter," said the poor mother, hysterically, +"I cannot bear it; I am haunted by the fear that I shall at last be +left on earth alone. I daily behold you fading before my eyes without +the power to avert the fate I see written upon your pale cheek and +wasted form. As Robert's wife you would have a luxurious home, the +means of gratifying refined tastes, and of contributing to the +happiness of others. He may atone to me, by the preservation of one +child, for the destruction of the other." + +"Mother, your fears for me blind you to the truth. Are not mental +griefs far more difficult to bear than the privations of poverty, +galling as they are? As Mr. Barclay's wife, I should loathe myself for +the hypocrisy I should be compelled to practice toward him; and the +wealth for which I had sold myself, would allow me leisure to brood +over my own unworthiness, until madness might be the result. No, no, +mother--come what may, I never can be so untrue to myself as to become +the wife of Robert Barclay." + +"God help us, then!" said Mrs. Euston, despondingly. + +A carriage drove to the door, and a gentleman alighted from it. Edith +heard the bustle, but she did not look out to see what occasioned it, +and she was startled from her painful reverie by a knock on the door. +She opened it, and started back with a faint cry as she recognized +Barclay. + +"The landlady told me to come up," he said, as he glanced around the +wretched apartment, and a slight twinge of remorse touched his heart +as he remarked the changed appearance of Edith. She motioned him to +enter, while Mrs. Euston arose from the bed, and offered him a seat. + +"I concluded it would be best to reply to your communication in +person," said he to Mrs. Euston, as he took the offered chair. "I come +with the most liberal intentions, provided Miss Euston will listen to +reason. I am grieved to see you in a place so unsuited to your former +station as this wretched apartment." + +"And yet," said Edith, "I have passed some pleasant hours in this +room, comfortless as it looks. So long as I had the hope of being able +to provide for our wants by my own exertions, I found contentment in +its humble shelter." + +"Your happiness must then be truly independent of outward +circumstances," replied Barclay, with a touch of his old sarcasm. "I +supposed, from the tenor of your mother's petition, that you had begun +to repent of your high-toned language to me in our last interview, and +would now accede to terms you once spurned, as the price of my +assistance to you and yours." + +Edith curbed her high spirit, and calmly replied, "You misunderstood +my mother's words. As the mother of the late heir, she justly +considers herself entitled to a pittance from your estate, and she +claimed from your humanity, what she was hopeless of obtaining from +your sense of justice. For myself, I hoped for nothing from either, +but I acquiesced in her application. I am sorry that you have founded +on it expectations which must prove fallacious." + +"Then, madam, I need remain no longer," said Barclay, addressing Mrs. +Euston. "Your daughter remembers our interview previous to, and after, +the death of her brother; the only terms on which I would assist you +were then explicitly expressed." + +Mrs. Euston caught his hand, and bowed her venerable head upon it. + +"Have mercy, Robert, upon my gray hairs--my daughter; look at her--she +is dying by inches--she is stifling in this wretched spot. The money +that was my son's should surely buy a shelter for us. Leave us not +helpless, hopeless. My God! my God! give me eloquence to plead for my +child!" and she threw herself upon the floor, and raised her clasped +hands to heaven. + +"Madam," said Barclay, "it only rests with your daughter to have mercy +upon you and herself. Where, I ask you, is her filial piety, when she +beholds you suffer thus, and relents not toward one who offers her a +love that has survived coldness, contempt, contumely." + +Edith approached her mother, and assisted her to rise. + +"My dearest mother, calm yourself. Humble not yourself thus before our +oppressor. God is just--is merciful. He will not forget the widow and +the orphan in their extremity. Leave us, Mr. Barclay; had my wishes +alone been consulted, you never would have been called on thus to +witness our misfortunes." + +Barclay bowed, and haughtily strode from the room. + +"Another month of privation," he muttered, "and she will surely be +mine or Death's. It does not much matter to which she belongs. Ah, if +she only knew all!" and he sprung into his cabriolet, and dashed off +toward the more aristocratic portion of the city. + +In the hope that Edith would be forced to relent, Barclay had remained +in New Orleans thus late in the season, and he resolved to linger yet +a little longer, until want and suffering should leave her no choice. +His passion for her was one of those insanities to which men of his +violent character are often liable. He desired her as the one great +gift, which was to purify, to exalt him in the scale of humanity. The +delicate beauty of her person, the sensibility of her soul, the grace +of her manner, rendered her irresistibly attractive to him; but so +selfish was his love, that he would sooner have seen her perish at his +feet, than have rendered her assistance, except at the price proposed. + +Another month passed by, and still there was no news of Edith or her +mother. He grasped the daily paper, almost with a sensation of fear, +and glanced at the column of deaths, which at that season usually +contains a goodly array. Their names were not yet among them, or +perchance in their poverty and obscurity they would not find +admittance even among the daily list of mortality. + +The yellow fever had commenced its annual ravages, and Barclay +retreated to a country-house in the vicinity, owned by a friend, and +dispatched a confidential servant to inquire concerning Mrs. Euston +and her daughter. They were still in the same place, but the mother +had been ill, and was still confined to her bed. + +One morning, about two weeks afterward, Barclay was seated in a +delightful little saloon, over a late breakfast. The room was +furnished with every appliance of modern luxury, and the morning air +stirred the branches of noble trees without, whose verdant shade +completely shut out the glare of the sun. A servant entered, and +presented to him a letter which had just been left. The irregular hand +with which it was directed, prevented him from recognizing the writing +of Edith, and when he opened the missive, which had evidently been +blotted with her bitter tears, a flush of triumph mounted to his +cheek, and he exclaimed with an oath, + +"Mine at last!--I knew it must end thus!" + +The letter contained the following words: + + "After a night of such suffering as casts all I have + previously endured into the shade, I address you. My + mother now lies before me in that heavy and death-like + sleep which follows utter exhaustion. Her state of + health for the last month has demanded my constant + care, and the precarious remuneration I have been able + to obtain for sewing, I have thus been compelled to + give up. We have parted with every souvenir of our + better days--even our clothing has been sacrificed, + until we have but a change of garments left; and now + our landlady insists on being paid the small sum we owe + her, or we must leave her house to-day. She came into + our room last evening, and the scene which ensued threw + my mother into such a state of nervous excitement, that + she has not yet recovered from it. + + "I cannot disguise from myself that she is very ill. If + she awakes to a renewal of the same anguish, I dare not + contemplate the consequences. You know that I do not + love you, Mr. Barclay. I make no pretension to a change + in my feelings; repugnant as it must be to a heart of + sensibility, I must view this transaction as a matter + of bargain and sale. I will accept your late offer, to + save my mother from further suffering, and to gain a + home for her declining years. + + "For myself, I will endeavor to be to you--but why + should I promise any thing for myself. God alone can + give me strength to live after the sacrifice is + completed. + + "EDITH." + +There was much in this letter that was wounding to his vanity, and +bitter to his feelings; but he had triumphed! The stately pride of +this girl was humbled before him--her spirit bowed in the dust before +the gaunt spectre she had thought herself capable of braving. She +would be his--the fair, the pure in heart, would link herself to vice, +infamy and crime, for money. Money! the world's god! See the countless +millions groveling upon the earth before the great idol--the golden +calf, which so often brings with it as bitter a curse as was denounced +against the people of old, when they forsook the living and true God +for its worship. + +Can it not buy every thing--even woman's love, or the semblance of it, +which would serve him just as well? He, the murderer of the brother, +would purchase the compliance of the sister with this magical agent; +but--and his heart quailed at the thought--could it buy self-respect? +Could it enable him to look into the clear eye of that woman he would +call his wife, and say, "My soul is worthy to be linked with thine in +the realms of eternity." + +No--he felt that the sacrilegious union must be unblessed on earth, +and severed in heaven, yet he shrunk not from his purpose. + +He lost no time in seeking Edith; Mrs. Euston was yet buried in the +leaden slumber produced by a powerful narcotic. The unhappy girl +received him alone, and he remarked that his words of impassioned love +brought no color to her marble cheek--no emotion to her soul; she +seemed to have steeled herself for the interview, and it was not until +he pressed the kiss of betrothal upon her pallid lips, that she +betrayed any sensibility--then a thrill, a shudder pervaded her whole +frame, and he supported her nearly insensible form several moments +before she regained power to sustain herself. Could he have looked +into that breaking heart, and have read there all the bitter loathing, +the agonized struggles for self-control, would he have persisted in +his suit? Yes--for this was a part of his vengeance for the slights +she had put upon him; and in the future, if she did not play the part +he thus forced upon her, with all the devotion he should exact, had he +not bitter words at his command to taunt her with the scene of that +morning? + +A physician was called in, who advised the removal of Mrs. Euston +while she slept; and arrangements were soon made to accomplish it. The +family to whom Barclay's present retreat belonged, were spending the +summer at the north, and their house had been left at his disposal. He +determined to remove Mrs. Euston and her daughter thither, while he +took up his own abode, until the day of his marriage, with a bachelor +friend in the neighborhood. + +Edith demanded an interval of a week before their union took place, +which he reluctantly granted. Naturally prodigal, he employed the time +in ordering the most elegant _trousseau_ for his bride. She who so +lately was struggling with bitter want, was now surrounded by servants +eager to anticipate every wish, while Barclay played the devoted +lover. Edith prayed earnestly for power to regard him with such +feelings as alone could hallow the union they were about to form. Vain +were her lonely struggles--her tearful supplications; a spectral form +seemed to rise ever between them, and reproach her that she had been +so untrue to herself, even for the preservation of a mother. + +The only thing that consoled her for her great sacrifice, was that her +beloved mother seemed to revive to some sense of enjoyment, when she +again found herself surrounded by that comfort to which she had been +accustomed. Weakened in mind as in body, Mrs. Euston fondly flattered +herself that her daughter might yet be happy amid the splendors of +wealth; and the poor mother welcomed the arbiter of their future fate +with smiles and courteous words, to which he listened with politeness, +and scorned as the hollow offspring of necessity. + +The dreaded day at length arrived, and with the calmness of exhausted +emotion, Edith prepared herself for the ceremony which was to consign +her to the protection of Barclay. She believed her earthly fate +sealed, and resignation was all she could command. + +Amid all her suffering, there was one thought which arose perpetually +before her; there was one human being on earth who would have risked +his life to serve or save her, and she knew that a heart worthy of her +love would hear the history of her enforced marriage with bitter +disappointment and anguish. + +Near the home of her infancy dwelt a family of sons and daughters with +whom she had been reared in habits of intimacy. Between herself and +the eldest son a strong attachment had grown up; it had never been +expressed in words, yet each felt as well assured of the affection of +the other, as if a thousand protestations had been uttered. About the +time that Mrs. Euston and her daughter left their own home to travel +with their beloved invalid, Walter Atwood bade adieu to his paternal +home, on a tour to Europe, where he was to complete his professional +education as a medical man. + +Mrs. Euston's place passed into the hands of strangers, and after a +few months all intercourse by letter ceased between their former +friends and themselves. After the death of her son, the bereaved +mother would not consent to return to their former neighborhood, and +thus all trace of them was lost to the Atwoods; but Edith knew in her +deep heart that Walter would return--would seek her; and it was this +conviction which gave her firmness to resist so long the overtures of +Barclay. + +Now all was at an end; another hour and the right even to think of him +would no longer be hers. Her mother entered her room, folded her to +her breast, and whispered, + +"The hour has arrived, my child. Robert is here with the clergyman. Do +not keep them waiting." + +"I am quite ready, mother," said Edith, calmly, and she advanced +without hesitation toward the door, for she heard an impatient step +without, which she well knew. Barclay awaited her in the hall--he +impetuously seized her hand and drew it beneath his arm. + +At that moment the door-bell was violently pulled, and both turned +impulsively to see who made so imperious a demand for admittance. + +At the open door stood two figures, one of a young man, who appeared +deeply agitated, for his features, beneath the light of the lamps, +seemed white and rigid, as if cut from marble. Over his shoulder +appeared a swarthy face, with a pair of bright, keen eyes, gleaming +from beneath overhanging brows. + +Edith and Barclay both uttered an exclamation--but they were very +different in their character. In the impulse of the moment, the former +drew her hand forcibly from him who sought to retain it, and with one +bound, was in the arms of the foremost stranger, as she exclaimed, + +"Walter--my saviour--my preserver! you have come at last!" + +The face of Atwood lost its unnatural rigidity as he pressed her to +his heart, and said, + +"Thank Heaven! I am not then too late!" + +Barclay advanced threateningly, + +"What does this mean, sir? Are you aware that such conduct in my house +is not to be tolerated--that you shall answer for it to me with your +life?" + +"It means, Mr. Barclay, that I come with authority to prevent the +unholy alliance you were about to force upon this helpless and +unprotected girl, to place the seal upon your crimes, by clasping in +wedlock the hand of the sister with that which is red with the +brother's blood." + +"'T is false--the boy killed himself, as Edith herself knows full +well. Am I to be held accountable for the dissipation of a young fool, +who, when once the curb was removed, went headlong to destruction +without the necessity of any prompting from me." + +"We will waive that part of the question, if you please, Mr. Barclay. +I have brought with me one who can prove much more than that. Come +forward, Antoine." + +The Frenchman advanced, and Barclay grew pale as he recognized him. + +"Let us retire to a private room," continued Atwood, in a lower +tone--"I would not have Mrs. Euston and her daughter hear too +suddenly the developments I am prepared to make." + +Then turning to Edith he said-- + +"You are saved, my dear Edith. Retire with your mother, while I settle +with Mr. Barclay." + +Mechanically Barclay led the way into an adjoining room. When there, +he turned haughtily and said-- + +"Now, sir, explain yourself--tell me why my privacy is thus invaded, +and--" + +Atwood interrupted him. + +"It is useless to attempt bravado with me, sir. Your whole career is +too intimately known to me to render it of any avail. You know that +from my boyhood I have loved Miss Euston, for you may remember a +conversation which took place between us several years since, when you +were received as a visiter at her mother's house. Jealousy enabled you +to penetrate what had been carefully veiled from others, and you taxed +me with what I would not deny. Do you remember the words you used to +the boy you then spoke to? That you would move heaven and earth to win +Edith Euston." + +"To what does all this tend?" asked Barclay, in an irritated tone. + +"Patience, and you will see. I returned from Europe and found that +Mrs. Euston's family had left for Havanna. Her lawsuit had gone +against her, and she had lost her home. Nothing more was known of her. +I lost no time in following her. I reached Cuba, and after many +inquiries, traced her to the house of the family which had received +her beneath their roof. There I heard the history of her son's unhappy +death, at the moment he was about to confer independence upon his +mother and sister. _You_ were mentioned as a visiter after his death; +your _generous_ offer to share with Miss Euston as your wife the +wealth which should have been hers was dwelt on. All this aroused a +vague suspicion in my mind. I made minute inquiries, and traced you +through all the orgies of your dissipation. One night I was following +up the inquiry, and I entered a tavern much frequented by foreigners. +A man sat apart in gloomy silence. One of his comrades said-- + +"'Antoine grieves over the loss of his bird. All the money the +American paid him does not make him forget that he sold his best +friend!' + +"By an electric chain of thought, the incident which attended poor +Euston's last moments, occurred to me. I approached the man, and +addressed him in French, for I saw that he was a native of that +country. I spoke of his bird. He shook his head and said-- + +"'It is not the loss of the bird, monsieur, but the use that was made +of him, that troubles my conscience.' + +"In short, to condense a long story, I learned from Antoine, that he +remained in your lodgings several days, until the mackaw he sold to +you became sufficiently accustomed to you to be caressed without +biting. During that time you had a room darkened, and required him to +train the bird to fly at a light and overturn it. When he was +dismissed, his curiosity was excited, and he watched your movements. +He nightly dogged your steps, and traced you to the garden of the +villa. He stood within a few feet of you on the night of Euston's +death, and beheld the use to which you put his bird. His eyes, +accustomed to the gloom without, beheld your dark form glide to the +side of your victim. He saw your murderous hand pressed upon the +breast of the dying youth." + +"'T is false--false. I defy him to prove it." + +"It is true, sir--the evidence is such as would condemn you in any +court; and now listen to me. I offer you lenient terms, in +consideration of the ties of relationship which bind you to those you +have so cruelly oppressed. One third of the fortune for which you have +paid so fearful a price shall be yours, if you will sign a paper I +have with me, which will restore the remainder to Mrs. Euston. If you +refuse, I have in my pocket a writ of arrest, and the officers are in +the shrubbery awaiting my orders to execute it. Comply with my terms +and I suffer you to escape." + +Thus confronted by imminent danger, Barclay seemed to lose his courage +and presence of mind. He measured the floor with rapid steps a few +moments, and then turning to Atwood motioned for the paper, to which +he affixed his signature without uttering a word. + +"There is yet another condition," said Atwood. + +"Leave this country within forty-eight hours. If, after that time, I +am made aware of your presence within the jurisdiction of the United +States, I will have you arrested as a murderer. The peace of mind of +those I have rescued from your power shall not be periled by your +presence within the same land they inhabit." Barclay ground his teeth +with rage. + +"I _shall_ leave it, be assured, but not to escape from this absurd +charge." + +"Go then. I care not from what motive." + +Another instant, and Barclay had passed from the room. Edith and her +mother traveled to their former home in the beautiful land of Florida, +under the protection of Atwood, and there, amid rejoicing friends, +surrounded by all the happy associations of her bright youth, she gave +her hand to her faithful lover. + +Barclay perished in a street brawl, in a foreign land, and the whole +of her brother's estate finally devolved upon her. + + + + +A VOICE FOR POLAND. + +BY WM. H. C. HOSMER. + + + Up, for encounter stern + While unsheathed weapons gleam; + The beacon-fires of Freedom burn, + Her banners wildly stream; + Awake! and drink at purple springs-- + Lo! the "White Eagle" flaps his wings + With a rejoicing scream, + That sends an old, heroic thrill + Through hearts that are unconquered still. + + Leap to your saddles, leap! + Tried wielders of the lance, + And charge as when ye broke the sleep + Of Europe, at the call of France: + The knightly deeds of other years + Eclipse, ye matchless cavaliers! + While plume and penon dance-- + That prince, upon his phantom steed, + In Ellster lost your ranks shall lead. + + Flock round the altar, flock! + And swear ye will be free; + Then rush to brave the battle shock + Like surges of a maddened sea; + Death, with a red and shattered brand + Yet clinging to the rigid hand, + A blissful fate would be, + Contrasted with that darker doom + A branded brow--a living tomb. + + Speed to the combat, speed! + And beat oppression down, + Or win, by martrydom, the meed + Of high and shadowless renown; + Ye weary exiles, from afar + Came back! and make the savage Czar + In terror clutch his crown; + While wronged and vengeful millions pour + Defiance at his palace-door. + + Throng forth with souls to dare, + From huts and ruined halls! + On the deep midnight of despair + A beam of ancient glory falls: + The knout, the chain and dungeon cave + To frenzy have aroused the brave; + Dismembered Poland calls, + And through a land opprest, betrayed, + Stalks Kosciusko's frowning shade. + + + + +TO HER WHO CAN UNDERSTAND IT. + +BY MAYNE REID. + + + They tell me, lady, that thy heart is changed-- + That on thy lip there is another name; + I'll not believe it--though for life estranged-- + I know thy love's lone worship is the same. + The bee that wanders on the summer breath, + May wanton safely among leaves and flowers, + But by the honied jar it clings till death-- + There is no change for hearts that loved like ours. + + You may not mock me--'tis an idle game-- + The lip may lie, the eye with bright beguiling + May, from the world, conceal a suffering flame, + But 'tis the eye and not the heart is smiling; + And I, too, have that power of deceiving, + By the strong pride of an unfeeling will, + The cold and cunning world in its believing-- + What boots it all? The heart will suffer still. + + Comes there not o'er thy spirit, when 'tis dreaming + In the lone hours of the voiceless night, + When the sweet past like a new present seeming, + Brings back those rosy hours of love and light? + Comes there not o'er thy dreaming spirit then + Delicious joy--although 'tis but a vision-- + That we have met, caressed and kissed again, + And revel still among those sweets Elysian? + + Comes there not o'er thy spirit when it wakes, + And finds, with sleep, the vision too hath parted + A lone depression, till thy proud heart aches, + And from thy burning orb the tear hath started? + And with sad memories through thy bosom thronging, + Within thy heart's most secret deep recesses + Feel'st thou not then an agony of longing + To dream again of those divine caresses? + + To dream them o'er and o'er, or deem them real, + While penitence is speaking in thy sighs-- + For this, unlike thy dream, is not ideal-- + It brings the pallid cheek, the moistened eyes: + Then, lady, mock not love so deeply hearted, + With that light seeming which deceit can give-- + The love I promised thee, when last we parted, + Shall never be another's while _you_ live. + + +[Illustration: Engraved by W. E. Tu +A PIC NIC ON OLDEN TIME. +Engraved Expressly for Graham's magazine] + + + + +A PIC-NIC IN OLDEN TIME. + +BY QUEVEDO. + +[SEE ENGRAVING.] + + +Joy is as old as the universe, yet as young as a June rose: and a +pic-nic has of all places been its delight, since the little quiet +family _fetes champetres_ of Adam and Eve in the garden of Eden. So it +is of no especial consequence in what reign of what kingdom our clever +artist has laid his scene--and sooth to say, from the diversified and +pleasantly incongruous costume and accessories of the picture, it +might puzzle an uninitiated to tell. But we, who are in the secrets of +Maga, and to whom the very brain-workings of her poets and painters +are as palpable as the crystal curdling of the lake beneath the filmy +breath of the Frost King, of course know all about it, and will +whisper in your ear the key to the pretty harmonies of wood and sky +and happy faces which he has spread out in a sort of visible cavatina, +or dear little love-song, beneath your eye. + +It was a gay time at Sweetbriar Lodge--for the fair Alice Hawthorn had +just been married to the Squire of Deerdale, and the happy pair +(new-married people were even in those times happy, although they were +not so set down in the newspapers,) had determined to spend the +honeymoon quietly at home, like sensible people, instead of posting +off to Bath or Brighton; or mewing themselves up in some outlandish +corner of the country, where they could see and hear nothing but +themselves, until they were ready to commence the married life by +being cloyed with each other's society. The season was mid-summer, and +the weather so balmy and beautiful that after wandering about in the +woods and fields all day, and watching the moon creep stealthily up +the sky to view herself in the fountain, one felt a longing to make +his bed on the fresh turf under the katydid's bower, and sleep there. +Of course I don't mean the young and happy bridegroom. He never +dreamed of being absent from his Alice; and he even felt quite jealous +of her little sister Emma, who used sometimes to come and put her +laughing, roguish face and curly head between the lovers, as they were +sitting on the sofa or reclining on the green turf by the little +fountain. + +But Alice had another sister, older than herself, and who had already +refused several excellent offers of marriage--declaring that she +intended to live and die single, unless she should fall in love with +some wandering minstrel or prince in disguise, like Lalla Rookh. Her +name was Hortensia; but on account of her proud indifference to the +attentions and compliments which were every where offered to her +wonderful beauty, she was usually called Haughty Hawthorn--a name +which seemed to please her better than all the flatteries of which she +was the object. She was already twenty-two, and ripening into the full +magnificence of glorious womanhood--her heart yet untouched by the +electric dart of love, and her fancy free as the birds of air. + +Now it was quite natural that the gentle Alice, whom love had made so +happy, should willingly enter into a conspiracy with her husband and a +parcel of the young people of the neighborhood against the peace and +comfort of her haughty sister--deeming of course--as I myself am also +of opinion--that a young lady out of love ought to be supremely +miserable, whatever she herself may think about it. + +Keeping in view the peculiar requisites required by Haughty in a +lover, the plan was to get up an old-fashioned pic-nic, at which a +young friend of Squire Deerdale, who was studying for an artist, and +had just returned from Italy, where he had picked up a little music as +well as painting, should be introduced after a mysterious fashion, +which would be sure to inflame the imagination of the loveless lady. +The artist, according to the squire, was handsome as a prince and +eloquent as a minstrel, and his extensive practice in Rome had made +him perfect master of the fine arts, the art of making love included. +So the pic-nic was proposed that very evening, to take place the next +day. Hortensia, who was fond of frolick and fun as the best of them, +albeit not yet in love, fell at once into the snare; and the squire +carelessly led the conversation to turn upon the sudden and unexpected +arrival of the young Duke of St. James upon his magnificent estate +adjoining Sweetbriar Lodge, which he said had taken place that very +day. + +"The duke," said the squire, "is, as you all have heard, one of the +most romantic and sentimental youths in the world, and quite out of +the way of our ordinary extravagant, matter-of-fact young nobility. I +had the pleasure of meeting him when I was in Rome, and could not help +being charmed with him. He read and wrote poetry divinely, played the +mandolin like St. Cecilia, and sung like an improvisatore. I met him +to-day, as he was approaching home in his carriage, and found him, as +well as I could judge from a five minutes' conversation, the same as +ever. I say nothing--but should a fresh-looking, golden-haired, +dreamy-eyed youth be seen at our pic-nic to-morrow, I hope he will be +greeted with the courtesy and welcome due not only to a neighbor but a +man of genius." + +This adroitly concocted speech was drank in like wine by the +unsuspicious Hortensia. A duke! a poet! a romantic man of genius! What +was it made her heart beat so rapidly?--_her_ heart, that had never +beat out of time save over the page of the poet or the novelist--or +may be in the trance of some beautiful midnight dream, such as love to +hover around the pillows of fair maidens, and who can blame them? + +The next morning, as Willis says of one of his fine days, was astray +from Paradise; and bright and early our pic-nickers, comprising a +goodly company of young people, married and single, with several +beautiful children, including of course the roguish Emma, were on the +field selected for the day's campaign. It was a lovely spot. Under a +noble oak whose limbs, rounded into a leafy dome, shed a palpitating +shadow around a sweet little fountain, guarded by a marble naiad, +gathered the merry company upon the green velvet ottoman, +daisy-spangled, that ran around this splendid natural saloon, bower +and drawing-room combined. The day had fulfilled the golden promise of +the early morning; the air, impregnated with a sparkling, effervescing +sunshine, was as bewitching as the breath of champagne foam, and our +adventurers were in the liveliest and gayest spirits. + +Noon was culminating, and the less excitable and more worldly portion +of the company began to be thinking seriously of the bountiful +refection which had been provided for the grand occasion. Hortensia, +it was observed by Squire Deerdale and his wife, and the others who +were in the secret, had seemed absent and thoughtful, all the morning, +and little Emma had teased her sufficiently for not playing with her +as usual. At this moment a young man was seen coming down the broad +sloping glade at the foot of which the party were seated. The squire +immediately rose and welcomed the stranger, introducing him to his +bride and sister-in-law, and expressing his pleasure that he had come. +"We almost began to fear," he added, "that you had forgotten our +humble festival." + +"A _fete_ thus embellished," replied the stranger, bowing with +peculiar grace to the ladies, and glancing admiringly at Hortensia, +"is not an affair to be so easily forgotten by a wanderer who comes, +after years of exile, to revive beneath the blue skies and bluer eyes +of his native land." + +"But your mandolin, Signor Foreigner; I hope you have not forgotten +that?" + +"Oh no indeed," returned the stranger with a musical laugh, "I never +forget my little friend, whose harmonies have often been my only +company. Here it comes," pointing to a lad who just then came up, +bearing a handsome though outlandish-looking guitar gingerly across +his arm. + +Another of the party had also brought his guitar, and the two were +soon tinkling away at different parts of the grounds--the latter +surrounded by half a dozen young men and women, and several beautiful +children; while the stranger, throwing himself on the grass at the +feet of Hortensia, upon whose lap nestled the little Emma, began a +simple ballad of the olden time--while the squire and his bride stood +against the old oak behind Hortensia. At length the strain of the +young musician changed, subsiding into low and plaintive undulations. + +"It is time for us to go," whispered Alice to her husband; "we are +evidently _de trop_ here"--and the wedded pair glided noiselessly off, +casting mischievous glances at the haughty Hortensia, who sat +absorbed in the music, and tears of sympathy and rapture ready to fall +from her eyes. It was a clear case of love at first sight. + +From this pleasant reverie both musician and listener were suddenly +roused by little Emma, who, raising her head and shaking back the long +ringlets from her face, exclaimed, + +"Oh, sister, hear that! There goes the champagne, and I am so hungry. +Come, let us go to dinner." + +"Excuse me, madam," exclaimed the stranger, ceasing to play and +springing to his feet, "your beautiful little monitor is right. I was +already forgetting myself and venturing to dream as of old;" and he +offered his arm to Hortensia, with that polite freedom not only +permitted, but enjoined, by the etiquette of the pic-nic. + +"And do you call it forgetfulness to dream?" inquired Hortensia. + +"With so fair a reality before me, yes; but at other times to dream is +to live." + +"Oh, yes, it _is_ nice to dream!" broke in the little Emma. "Almost as +nice as a wedding. Now last night I dreamt that you were married, +Haughty, like sister Alice." + +A lambent rosy flame seemed to envelop for an instant the beautiful +Hortensia, disappearing instantly, yet leaving its scarlet traces on +cheek and brow. + +"What say you, my pretty one," said the stranger, patting the lovely +child upon the head, "what say you to a sandwich and a glass of wine +with me, here on the greensward? (They had now approached the +_table_--if a snow-white damask spread upon the velvet grass, and +loaded with tempting viands could be called so.) Is not that better +than dreams?" + +"I love wine, sir, but mamma and sister say I shouldn't drink it, +because it makes my eyes red. Now _your_ eyes are as bright as stars. +Do you drink wine?" + +It was the stranger's turn to blush. And this little childish prattle +seemed to have removed the barrier of strangership from between the +two young people, who exchanged glances of a sort of merry vexation, +and seemed to understand each other as if they were old friends. + +That was a merry meal, "all under the greenwood tree," and on the +margin of that sweet little fountain, whose waters came up to the very +lip of the turf, which it refreshed with a sparkling coolness that +ever renewed the brightness of the flowers upon its bosom. After the +dinner was over, a dance was proposed, and the services of the +handsome stranger, as musician, were cheerfully offered and promptly +accepted. It was observed, however, that Hortensia, usually crazy for +dancing, strolled pensively about with little Emma at her side, and at +length seated herself on a little grassy bank, remote from the +dancers, yet where she could overlook the scene. + +There was a little pause in the dance, and Squire Deerdale approached +the stranger and whispered, + +"Do you like her?" + +"She's as beautiful as Juno, but I dare not hope that she would ever +love a poor vagabond like me. She deserves a prince of the blood, at +the very least." + +"Never mind!--_Vedremo_, as we say in Italy;" and with a laugh the +young man bounded again into the dance, while the stranger redoubled +his attention to his guitar. + +The day began to wane, and the shadows of a neighboring mountain to +creep slowly across the lea; and yet, so absorbed was that gay company +in the merry pleasures of the day, that hours glided by unnoticed; and +it was not until the round, yellow moon rose over the eastern hills, +as if peeping out to see the sun set, that they thought of breaking up +a scene of little less than enchantment. + +The stranger scarcely left the side of Hortensia, who seemed +completely subdued and fascinated by the serious eloquence, the +inexhaustible brilliancy of his conversation, as well as enthralled by +the classic beauty of his face, and the respectful yet tender glances +which he from time to time cast upon her face. It may also be supposed +that the hints casually dropped by the squire the night before, +respecting his distinguished acquaintance, the young Duke of St. +James, had not been without their effect. Sooth to say, however, that +the hitherto cold and impassive Hortensia was really in love, and that +she had too much self-respect to make any conditions in the bestowal +of her admiration. She was haughty, proud and ambitious--yet at the +same time high-minded and generous where her feelings were really +interested. + +Much may be accomplished in an afternoon between two congenial hearts +that meet for the first time; and it is not at all surprising that on +their way home the stranger and Hortensia should have lingered a +little behind the rest of the party, engaged in deep and earnest talk. + +"Beautiful being," whispered the stranger, "I have at length found my +heart's idol, whom in dreams I have ever worshiped. What need of long +acquaintanceship between hearts made for each other? Lady, I love +you!" + +"Sir, sir, I beg you to pause. You know not what you are saying--you +cannot mean that--" + +"But I tell you he does mean it, though," exclaimed a merry voice +close at the lady's elbow; and turning round, she saw her mischievous +brother-in-law, who had been demurely following their tardy footsteps. + +"Brother! you here! I--really--am quite astonished!" + +"And," interrupted the stranger, while a dark flush came over his +face, "allow me to say, Squire Deerdale, that I also am astonished at +this violation of the rights of a friendship even so old and sincere +as ours." + +"Well, well, I beg your pardon, fair lady; and as for you, sir, after +you have heard my explanation, I shall be prepared to give you any +satisfaction you may require. You must know, then, my dear old friend, +that from a few careless words I dropped last evening, by way of joke, +this young lady has imbibed the idea that you are the young Duke of +St. James in disguise; and for the purpose of preventing any +misunderstandings for the future, it is requisite that my sister and +my friend Walter Willie, the artist, should comprehend one another's +position fully." + +"Good heavens! madam, you cannot believe that I was accessory to this +mad prank of your brother's? Do not believe it for the world." + +"No, no, I acquit you and every body but myself. I am sure I intended +no harm by my thoughtless joke. Come, come, make up the matter at +once, so that I may hasten back to Alice, who will begin to grow +jealous, directly." + +"Madam, dear madam, (Hortensia turned away her head with an imperious +gesture,) I have only to beg your pardon for having too long intruded +upon your attention, and to take my leave. The poor artist must still +worship his ideal at a distance. For him there is but the world of +imagination. No such bright reality as being beloved rests in his +gloomy future. Farewell!" and the young man, bowing for a moment over +the hand of Hortensia, withdrew. + +"Brother, brother, what have you done!" passionately exclaimed the +beauty, in a voice choked by sobs. "For a foolish joke you have driven +away the only being who has ever interested my lonely heart. And now I +can never, never be happy again." + +"But, dear Hortensia, would you stoop to love a mere artist?" + +"Stoop, sir,--stoop! I know not what you mean. Think you so meanly of +me as to believe I would sell myself for wealth and a title? Proud I +may be--but not, I thank God, mercenary nor mean. And what a lofty, +noble spirit is that of your friend! What lord or duke could match the +height of his intellect or the gorgeousness of his imagination. Oh, +too soon my beautiful dream is broken!" and the young lady, all power +of her usual self-restraint being lost, wept like a child upon the +shoulder of her brother. + +"Nay, nay, sister dear, weep not," at length said the squire, tenderly +raising her head and leading her homeward. "All is not lost that is in +danger. And so that you really _have_ lost your hard little heart to +my noble, glorious friend, I'll take care that it is soon +recovered--or at any rate another one quite as good. Come, come, cheer +up! All will go well." + +The squire, although not usually rated as a prophet, predicted rightly +for once; for the very next day saw young Walter Willie at Sweetbriar +Lodge, with a face as handsome and happy as the morning. Hortensia was +ill, and must not be disturbed; and at this information his features +suddenly became overcast, as you may have seen a spring sky by a thick +cloud, springing up from nobody knows where. However, the squire +entered directly after, and whispered a few words to his guest, which +seemed to restore in a measure the brightness of his look. + +"And you really think, then, that I may hope?" + +"Nay, my friend, you may do as you like about that. All men may hope, +you know Shakspeare says. But I tell you that Hortensia has fallen in +love with your foolish face--it's just like her!--and that's all about +it. Come in and take some breakfast. Oh, I forgot--you've no appetite. +Of course not. Well, you'll find some nice fresh dew in those +morning-glories yonder, and I will rejoin you in a minute. We 'll make +a day of it." + +That evening the moon shone a million times brighter, the sky was a +million times bluer, and the nightingale sung a million times sweeter +than ever before. At least so thought the beautiful Hortensia and her +artist-lover, as they strolled, arm-in-arm, through the woody lawn +that skirted the garden of Sweetbriar Lodge, and held sweet converse +of immortal things by gazing into each other's eyes. And so ends our +veracious history of the Pic-Nic in Olden Time. + + + + +TO THE VIOLET. + +BY H. T. TUCKERMAN. + + + Sweet trophy of life's morning, fresh and calm, + Dropped from the gleanings of relentless time, + How from thy dainty chalice steals the balm + That hung like incense o'er its dewy prime! + + The lily's stateliness thou dost not own, + Nor glow voluptuous of the damask rose, + Thou canst not emulate the laurel's crown, + Nor, like the Cereus, watch while all repose. + + And these gay rivals of parterre and field + May freely drink the sunshine and the dew, + But only unto thee does heaven yield + The pure reflection of her cloudless blue. + + Thy tint will sometimes darken till it wear + A purple such as decked the eastern kings, + And yet, like innocence, all unaware + Its tribute to the wind thy blossom flings. + + Symbol of what is cherished and untold, + Thy fragrance oft reveals thee to the sight, + Peering in beauty from the common mould, + As casual blessings the forlorn requite. + + Thy image upon Laura's robe was wrought, + O'er which her poet with devotion mused, + And gentle souls, I ween, have ever caught + From thee a solace that the world refused. + + The Tuscan flower-girls delight to cheer + Each pensive exile with thy scented leaves, + Fit largess of a clime to fancy dear, + Which a new blandishment from thee receives. + + Grief's frenzy, when it melts, of thee will rave, + As of a thing too winsome to decay, + And thus Laertes at his sister's grave + Bids violets spring from her unsullied clay. + + Lowly incentive to celestial thought! + We ne'er with listless step can pass thee by, + For thou with tender embassies art fraught, + Like the fond beaming of a northern eye. + + Hence thou art sacred to our human needs; + Laid on the maiden's white and throbbing breast + Thy delicate odor for the absent pleads, + And mourners strew thee where their idols rest. + + In those wild hours when feeling chafed its bound, + And deepened more that utterance was denied, + In thee persuasive messengers I found + That reached the haven of love's wayward tide. + + And I have borne thee to the couch of death + When naught remained to do but wait and pray, + And marked the sudden flush and quickened breath + That proved thee dear though all had passed away! + + + + +THEY MAY TELL OF A CLIME. + +TO ---- ----. + +BY CHARLES E. TRAIL. + + + They may tell of a clime more delightful than this, + The land of the orange, the myrtle and vine; + Where the roses blush red beneath Zephyr's warm kiss, + And the bright beams of summer unceasingly shine. + But I know a sweet valley, a beautiful spot, + Where the turf is so green, and the breezes are bland; + And methinks, if you'll share there my ivy-crowned cot, + There'll be no place on earth like my own native land. + + A palace 'neath Italy's star-covered sky, + Unblest by thy presence would desolate be; + But cheered by the light of thy soft beaming eye, + Ah! sweet were a tent in the desert with thee. + For 'tis love--O! 'tis love which thus hallows the ground, + And brightens the gloom of the anchorite's cell; + And the Eden of earth--wheresoe'er it be found-- + Is the spot where the heart's cherished idol doth dwell. + + Then come to my cottage--though cool be the shade, + And verdant the sod 'neath the wide-spreading bough-- + Where the wood-dove its nest 'mid the foliage hath made, + Yet lone is that cottage, and desolate now. + For as the green forest, bereft of the dove, + No more with sweet echoes would musical be-- + Even so is the rose-mantled bower of love, + Unblest and uncheered, if not gladdened by thee. + + + + +A DREAM WITHIN A DREAM + +BY C. A. WASHBURN. + + +I dreamed that for a long time I courted Charlotte--what need of +dreaming? It was true. Nevertheless I dreamed that for a long time I +courted Charlotte, and at last, which was not true, married her. And I +thought that Charlotte and I lived very happily together. + +She loved me better than she ever thought she could before we were +married, for I loved her exceedingly, and was very kind to her. + +I remember how long it was that I wooed her. Always hoping, though +sometimes fearing that she would never love me so as to marry me; how, +when at last we were married, and I carried her home to my pretty +cottage, I could hardly contain myself for joy; and when I saw her +seated in our own parlor on the wedding eve, I could not keep a tear +from trickling down my cheek; and how she kissed away the tear, and +when she knew the cause, how she burst into a flood of tears, and said +she would love me the better for my having loved her so; and how that +we were from that time wholly united in heart and sympathy. + +Then, in the course of time, we had two darling children, which we +both loved--and I thought my cup of happiness completed. I had been an +ambitious man in my youth, and had experienced much of the +disappointment incident to a life for fame. But when God had given us +two such lovely children, I thought it was abusing his mercy to +neglect them for the applause of the world--and so devoted myself +entirely to their welfare. If I worked hard and was inclined to feel +peevish and cross, I thought how that I was laboring to make happy, +and good, and great, the dear boys, and I forgot every thing else. If +I became tired of the turmoil of life, I was the more happy when I got +home, for the children were always waiting and glad to see me, and +their presence immediately banished all anxiety and care. They seemed +so happy when I came--for Charlotte used to teach them to prize my +presence by dating their pleasures by my arrival; that I thought it +joy enough for one mortal to have looked upon the impersonation of +innocence and joy in his own children. + +Then, when the boys were asleep, how we used to talk about them; how +anxious we were when either of them was restless or unquiet! How we +used to reckon on the joy they would give us in age, and how in the +happiness of our lot we shed tears of happines and joy! With what +fervor did we unite in prayer for their health and preservation, and +wish all the world as happy as we were. We became selfish in our joy, +and felt to care little for any thing but home, and in our enjoyment +of the gift we had like to have forgotten the Giver. + +But at length Charlie, the younger boy, was sick, and we feared he +would die. We then remembered in whose hands his life was, and, I +believe, ever after regarded our treasures as trusts committed to our +keeping. Charlie suffered great pain, but he complained not. His very +submission smote our hearts, and though we could not think he was to +die, yet we thought he was too good to live. Benny could no longer +smile upon us, but watched by his brother's bed without speaking or +moving, unless to do him some service. We felt anxious about Charles, +yet forbore to speak of our anxiety, though when he was asleep we +could no longer conceal our sorrow and fears. And when one day the +physician imprudently said in his hearing that he feared Charles would +die, he looked at him in surprise, as if he had not thought of that; +and kissing the fevered brow of his sick brother, he came and stood by +his mother's side, and looking in her face as much as to say you wont +let brother die, he saw a tear in the clear blue eye of his mother, +and he sobbed aloud; and Charlotte could contain herself no longer, +but dropped hot tears on his face faster than she could kiss them +away. Then I feared if Charlie should die lest Benny should die too; +and then I knew that Charlotte could not bear all this, and I prayed +in my heart to God for Charles. And the next day, when the good +physician said the danger was past, we felt to thank God that he had +so chastened our affections, and ever loved him the more. + +So we lived in love and happiness for many years, and all that time +not a shade of discord passed between us; and I often thought what a +dreary world this had been to me if Charlotte had never been mine. I +used to pity my bachelor neighbor, and, as I thought, I could see the +tear of disappointment in his eye when he witnessed my happy lot. I +saw it was a vision, and only the figure of Margaret, my once loved +and pretty sister, who existed then but in the land of spirits, was +before me. + +And I told Margaret of the vision, and could not repress a sigh that +it was not reality; and musing long on what I was, and what I might +have been had nature dealt with me more kindly, until the vision +returned. Again I lived the life of youth's fancy. + +But the boys now began to mingle a little with the world, and we +feared we were not equal to the task of educating them. We trembled +when we thought of the dangers before them, though we could not +believe it possible that they should ever do wrong. Alas! what trouble +was before us! + +I had carried home a box of strawberries, and set them in the pantry, +and setting myself down in the library, waited for Charlotte to come +home from shopping. I saw Charlie come from the pantry, but thought +nothing at the time, and when Benny came in, bade him bring them to me +that I might divide them between them--they were gone; Charles must +have taken them, for no one else had been in the pantry. I called him +to me, and asked if he had taken them. I asked without concern, for I +knew if he had, he did it supposing it to be right. He said, "No, +sir." "Ah," said I, "you did." He then inquired what ones I meant, and +I told him, and told him he must confess it, or I must punish him. But +when I talked so seriously of punishment, he seemed confounded. He +turned pale, and only said, "I did not do it." That was a trying +moment; and when Charlotte came in, we considered long and anxiously +what we ought to do. Should we let the theft go unpunished, and the +falsehood to be repeated. Again we urged him to confess. The answer +was still the same. There was no alternative but a resort to what I +had prayed Heaven might spare me. I punished him severely, but he +confessed not. I wished I had not begun, but now I must go on. I still +increased the castigation, and it was only when I told him that I +would stop when he owned the theft, and not before, that he confessed +he had taken the berries. + +After this cruel punishment he went out and found Benny, who had been +crying piteously all the time, and then my two boys went and hid +themselves. I would have suffered the rack to have recalled that hour. +It was too late. On going into the kitchen shortly after, I found a +poor woman of the neighborhood with the box, which she said her +thievish son had confessed he stole from the pantry. Perhaps some +parents imagine the feelings of Charlotte and myself when we made this +discovery. But they are few. The boys both shunned us, and we dreaded +to see them. But at last we sent for them to come in, and they dared +not refuse to obey. I took Charles in my arms. I asked him to forgive +me; I told him who took the berries; I shed tears without measure; I +begged him to forgive me--to kiss me as he was wont. He could not do +it. It was cold and mechanical. His little heart seemed broke. Had he +died I thought I could have borne it, but I could not endure this. +When he slept he was fitful and troubled; ah! his troubles could not +be greater than mine. I slept not that night; no, nor for many nights +after that; but I watched him in his sleep, and many a hot tear did I +drop on his cheek, which he wiped off as poison; and for many weeks I +would rise several times every night, and go and gaze on his yet +pretty face, on which was stamped the curse for my own cruel haste. + +In the midst of these sore trials, the lovely face of Margaret again +appeared before me, and again the vision vanished into nothing. And I +told her this part of the dream, and even then could not suppress a +tear that it was a dream, and that the children of W---- could never +have an existence or a name. + +Then the kind Margaret spoke words of comfort to me, and made me +repress the half-formed feeling of discontent. + +"Have you not," said she, "said you would be satisfied for only one +hour of the love of Charlotte?" + +"True," I replied, "and that dream was worth more than all my life +before." + +"Have you not known in that the joys of a parent, and have you not +seen what sorrows and trials might have been yours, from which you +have now escaped? And do you now complain of your lot, W----? You know +not the designs of Providence. Will not Charlotte be yours in the +world to come?" + +"God grant it!" said I; "but where will be Benny and Charles? They can +never be, and I shall die, and the flame of parental love will burn in +me, and never can it have an object." + +"Hush you!" said Margaret, "cannot God give you in the other world +those spirits of fancy? Did you not enjoy them in the dream, and +cannot the same power make you enjoy them in Elysium? Is it nothing +that God has done for you in showing you what might have been, and +what can be _there_? Are you still ungrateful, and do you still +distrust his goodness? Is it nothing that he has kept you from +temptation, and that you have so clear a conscience? Will you not be +worthy of Charlotte in heaven; and have you no gratitude for all this? +Have you not dear friends still; and will not Margaret be a +guardian-angel to you so long as you sojourn in this valley of tears?" + +"Ah!" said I, "I am blest beyond my deserts, and I will no more +complain, but thank my heavenly Father for the dream-children he hath +given me." + +I felt reproved by the words of Margaret, for I felt I had often +indulged in useless repinings; and I determined I would do so no more, +but patiently await my time to enjoy the loved ones, both real and +ideal, in heaven. I again turned to speak to Margaret--but Margaret +had vanished to the land of spirits, and I was alone, the solitary man +I had long been. It was but a dream within a dream. + + + + +PASSED AWAY. + +BY W. WALLACE SHAW. + + + With wearied step, and heavy heart, + O'erburdened with life's woes-- + My soul bowed down with grief and care + The orphan only knows-- + I strayed along old ocean's shore, + Where I had wandered oft before, + My grief to hide from men; + + I listened--something seemed to say-- + The joys that once did fill thy breast + Where, oh! where are they? + A voice that mingled with the roar + Of dashing waves against the shore, + In hollow tone, replied-- + "They _bloomed_; and _died_!" + + + + +AN EVENING SONG, + +BY PROFESSOR WM. CAMPBELL. + +[AN EXTRACT.] + + + Lyre of my soul, awake--thy chords are few, + Feeble their tones and low, + Wet with the morning and the evening dew + Of ceaseless wo. + The time hath been to me and thee, my lyre, + When soul of fire + Was ours, and notes and aspirations bold + Of higher hopes and prouder promise told-- + Those days have flown-- + Now we are old, + Old and alone! + + Old in our youth--for sorrow maketh old, + And disappointment withereth the frame, + And harsh neglect will smother up the flame, + That else had proudly burned--and the cold + Offcasting of affection will repel + The warm life-current back upon the heart, + And choke it nigh to bursting--yet 't is well, + And wise-intended, that the venomed dart + Shall bear its sure and speedy remedy. + Why should the wretched wish to live? to be + One in this cold wide world--ever to feel + That others feel not--wounds that will not heal-- + A bruised, though yet unbroken spirit's strife-- + A waning and a wasting out of life-- + A longing after loving--and the curse + To know + One's self unknown-- + In secrecy a hopeless hope to nurse-- + Down to the grave to go + Unloved--alone! + + Yet not alone! Pardon, thou gentle breeze, + That comest o'er the waters with the tread + Of beauty stealing to the sufferer's bed, + To cool the burning brow, and whisper peace. + Pardon, ye sweet wild flow'rets, that each morn + Woo us to brush the dew-drop from the lid + Of tearful innocence, and meekly warn + Of worth in garb of lowliest texture hid. + Beings of gentlest life, ye murmuring streams, + Lull of our waking, music of our dreams, + Ye things of artless merriment, that throw + Around you gladness, wheresoe'er ye flow-- + And ye dark mountains, down whose changeful sides + The mystic guardian, giant shadow strides, + Whose kindly frown, howe'er the storms prevail, + Peace and repose ensureth to the vale-- + Ye tall proud forests, that forever sway + In kingly fury, or in graceful play-- + Ye bright blue waters whose untiring drip + Against this island shore doth lightly break, + Gentle and noiseless as the parting lip + Of dreaming infant on its mother's cheek, + Pardon my rash averment--pardon, ye + Flow'rets and streamlets, mountains, woods and waves, + That pour into the soul a melody, + Like to the far down music of the caves + Of ocean, heard not, felt not, save within, + Seeking to joy the darker depths to win-- + Oh! while your sweet and sacred voices steal + Into my spirit, as the joyous fall + Of the warm sunbeam on the frozen rill, + To wake the voice that slumbereth, and call + To bear you company + In your glad hymnings, let the wretched own + He cannot be + Alone! + + Never alone!--awake, my soul--on high + The glorious sun his thousand rays has flung + Athwart the vaulted sky-- + Lo! there the heavens their mighty harp have strung, + The gold, the silver and the crimson chord, + To hymn their evening hymn unto the Lord. + Hark! heard ye not that glorious burst of song, + Which, touched by hands unseen, those chords sent forth, + Bidding the attuned spheres the notes prolong + Deeper and louder, till the trembling earth + Catcheth the thrilling strain-- + Echoeth back again-- + From the bosom of ocean a voice + Pealeth forth, and the mountains rejoice + And the plains and the woods and the valleys rebound, + And the Universe all is a creature of sound, + That runneth his race + Through the infinite regions of infinite space, + Till arrived at the throne + Of HIM who alone + Is worthy of honor and glory and praise. + + And it is ever thus--morn, noon and eve, + And in the still midnight, undying + Choirs of creation's minstrels weave + Sweet symphony of incense, vying + In wrapt intricacy of endless songs. + Ever, oh ever thus they sing, + But to our soul's dull ear belongs + Seldom the trancing sense + To list the universal worshiping, + Thrill with the glorious theme, and drink its eloquence. + + Mocking all our soul's desiring, + Distant now the notes are stealing, + And the minstrels high reining, + Drapery blue their forms concealing. + + + + +THE OCEAN-BURIED. + +COMPOSED, AND DEDICATED TO MISSES HARRIET AND MARY HALSEY, + +Of Blooming Grove, O. C., N. Y., + +BY MISS AGNES H. JONES. + + +=Andantino Soave=. + + +[Illustration: music] + + "Bury me not in the deep, deep sea." The words came faint and mournfully, + From the pallid lips of a youth who lay On the cabin couch where, + +[Illustration: music] + + day by day, He had wasted and pined, till o'er his brow The death shade + had slowly pass'd, and now, When the land and his fond loved home were + nigh, They had gath'rd around to see him die. + + + Let my death-slumber be where a mother's prayer + And sister's tears can be blended there. + Oh, it will be sweet ere the heart's throb is o'er, + To know, when its fountain shall gush no more, + That those it so fondly has yearn'd for will come, + To plant the first wild-flower of spring on my tomb. + Let me lie where lov'd ones can weep over me-- + Bury me not in the deep, deep sea! + + And there is another, her tears would be shed + For him who lays far in an ocean bed; + In hours that it pains me to think of now, + She has twin'd these locks and kiss'd this brow-- + In this hair she has wreathed shall the sea-snake hiss? + The brow she has press'd shall the cold wave kiss? + For the sake of that bright one that wails for me, + Bury me not in the deep, deep sea! + + "She hath been in my dreams"--his voice failed short, + They gave no heed to his dying prayer.-- + They have lowered him o'er the vessel's side-- + Above him hath closed the solemn tide. + Where to dip her wing the wild fowl rests-- + Where the blue waves dance with their foamy crests-- + Where the billows bound and the winds sport free, + They have buried him there, in the deep, deep sea. + + + + +REVIEW OF NEW BOOKS. + + + _Calaynos: A Tragedy. By George H. Boker, E. H. Butler + & Co. Philadelphia, pp. 218._ + +The spirit of English poetry has been for years eminently lyric; the +few attempts at the epic or dramatic having been laid aside, if not +permanently, at least for a time. The age has been too busy in working +out, with machinery and steam, its own great epic thought, to find +leisure to listen to any thing longer than a single bugle-blast +encouraging its advancement. We cannot but believe, however, if we may +be allowed an analogical inference, that the age is fast approaching +the climax of its utilitarian inventions, and that man, instead of +chasing through unknown regions every will-o-wisp of his brain, in the +hope of bringing it a captive to the Patent-office, will sit modestly +down to apply to their various uses the discoveries already made. Then +will the healthy feast of literature once more begin, and the public +cease to be surfeited by the watery hash which has been daily set +steaming before them. In the volume under consideration we think we +can discern the promise of the return of the good old spirit of +English poetry--of solid honest thought expressed in straight forward +Saxon. The story, which is one of the chivalrous days of Spain, while +it is devoid of trick is full of thrilling interest, and its style, +while it is eminently poetical, neither swells into bombast nor +descends to the foppery so common among the verse-makers of our day. +There is a stately, old-fashioned tread in the diction, as of a man in +armor, who, should he attempt to gather flowers of mere prettiness, +would crush them at the first touch of his iron gauntlet, and who, if +he seems to move ungracefully at times, owes his motion to his weight +of mail. Calaynos, the hero, is in every respect a nobleman, not only +in blood, but what is better, in mind. He is a scholar, one who, in +the words of Dona Alda his wife, + + --uses time as usurers do their gold, + Making each moment pay him double interest. + +He is a philosopher-- + + Things nigh impossible are plain to him; + His trenchant will, like a fine-tempered blade, + With unturned edge, cleaves through the baser iron. + +He is generous and has + + --a predetermined trust in man; + +and holds that + + He who hates man must scorn the Source of man, + And challenge as unwise his awful Maker. + +The character of Dona Alda is noble and womanly--her chief trait being +her great pride and jealous care of her honor. She conceives that no +one will brave the + + --peril, such as he must brook, + Who dares to love the wife of great Calaynos. + +Her maid, Martina, tells her that + + --Queens of Spain + Have had their paramours-- + +and she replies, + + --So might it be, + _Yet never hap to bride of a Calaynos_! + +Don Luis, the villain of the plot, thus paints his own picture: + + --I was not formed for good: + To what Fate orders I must needs submit: + The sin not mine, but His who made me thus-- + Not in my will but in my nature lodged. + + * * * * * + + I will grasp the stable goods of life, + Nor care how foul the hand that does the deed. + +Martina is admirably drawn; her wit is excellent, and as exhaustless +as it is keen. She says of Calaynos-- + + He looks on pleasure as a kind of sin, + Calls pastime waste-time---- + + * * * * * + + I heard a man, who spent a mortal life + In hoarding up all kinds of stones and ores, + Call one, who spitted flies upon a pin, + A fool to pass his precious lifetime thus. + +She says of Oliver, Calayno's secretary, + + Yes, there he goes-- + Backward and forward, like a weaver's shuttle, + Spinning some web of wisdom most divine. + +She addresses him thus-- + + Our clay, the preachers say, was warmed to life; + But yours, your dull, cold mud, was froze to being. + _I would not be the oyster that you are + For all the pearls of wisdom in your shell!_ + +All the persons of the play are vivid and life-like. With the +beginning of the third act the interest becomes intense, and nothing +could be more vigorous and touching than the action and depth of +pathos toward the close of the piece. Every page teems with fine +thoughts and images, which lead us to believe that the mine from which +this book is a specimen, contains a golden vein of poetry which will +go far to enrich our native literature. + + + _Literary Sketches and Letters: Being the Final + Memorials of Charles Lamb, Never before Published. By + Thomas Noon Talfourd. New York: D. Appleton & Co. 1 + vol. 12mo._ + +The present work is important in more respects than one. It was needed +to clear up the obscurity which rested on several points of Lamb's +life, and it was needed to account for some of the peculiarities of +his character. The volume proves that this most genial and kindly of +humorists was tried by as severe a calamity as ever broke down the +energies of a great spirit, and the frailties commonly associated with +his name seem almost as nothing compared with the stern duties he +performed from his early manhood to his death. The present volume is +calculated to increase that personal sympathy and love for him, which +has ever distinguished the readers of Lamb from the readers of other +authors, and also to add a sentiment of profound respect for his +virtues and his fortitude. The truth is that Lamb's intellect was one +of the largest and strongest, as well as one of the finest, among the +great contemporary authors of his time, and it was altogether owing to +circumstances, and those of a peculiarly calamitous character, that +this ample mind left but inadequate testimonials of its power and +fertility. He is, and probably will be, chiefly known as an original +and somewhat whimsical essayist, but his essays, inimitable of their +kind, were but the playthings of his intellect. + +Talfourd has performed his editorial duties with his usual taste and +judgment, and with all that sweetness and grace of expression which +ever distinguishes the author of Ion. His sketches of Lamb's +companions are additions to the literary history of the present +century. Lamb's own letters, which constitute the peculiar charm of +the book, are admirable--the serious ones being vivid transcripts of +his moods of mind, and some of them almost painful in their direct +expression of agony, and the semi-serious rioting in mirth, mischief +and whim, full of wit and meaning, and full also of character and +kindliness. One of his early letters he closes, as being from his +correspondent's "afflicted, headachey, sore-throatey, humble servant." +In another he calls Hoole's translation of Tasso "more vapid than +smallest small beer, 'sun-vinegared.'" In speaking of Hazlitt's +intention to print a political pamphlet at his own expense, he comes +out with a general maxim, which has found many disciples: "The first +duty of an author, I take it, is never to pay any thing." When Hannah +More's Coelebs in Search of a Wife appeared, it was lent to him by a +precise lady to read. He thought it among the poorest of common +novels, and returned it with this stanza written in the beginning: + + If ever I marry a wife + I'd marry a landlord's daughter, + For then I may sit in the bar, + And drink cold brandy-and-water. + +In speaking of his troubles toward the close of his life, he has a +strange, humorous imagination, in every way worthy of his peculiar +genius: "My bedfellows are cough and cramp; _we sleep three in a +bed_." + +The present volume is elegantly printed, and will doubtless have a +run. It is full of matter, and that of the most interesting kind. No +reader of Lamb, especially, will be without it. + + + + _Modern French Literature. By L. Raymond de Vericour. + Edited by W. S. Chase, A. M. Boston: Gould, Kendall & + Lincoln. 1 vol. 12mo._ + +This work is the English production of a native Frenchman, and was +written for one of Chambers's series of books for the people. It is +edited, with notes alluding particularly to writers prominent in the +late French Revolution, by a young American scholar, who has recently +resided in France. The book, though deficient and sometimes incorrect +in details, deserves much praise for its general correctness and +accuracy. The author, though by no means a critic of the first class, +is altogether above the herd of Grub street hacks who commonly +undertake the popularizing of literary history. He is no Winstansley +and no Cibber. The range of his reading appears to be extensive. His +judgments are somewhat those of a school-master, but one of the +highest grade. There are several amusing errors relating to the +position of English authors, to some of which we cannot help alluding, +as they seem to have escaped the vigilant eye of the editor. Speaking +of Guizot and Sismondi as the leaders of the school of French +philosophical historians, he remarks that "the English language +possesses some good specimens of this class of history; the most +remarkable are Gibbon's Decline and Fall and the works of Mr. Millar." +This is as if the author had said that England possessed some good +specimens of the Romantic Drama, the most remarkable being +Shakspeare's Macbeth and the works of Mr. Colman. + +Again, in speaking of the novels of Paul de Kock, and protesting +against those English critics who call him the first writer of his +time and country, he says that it is as ridiculous as it would be in +Frenchmen to exalt the novels of Charles Dickens above Ivanhoe, +_Philip Augustus_ and Eugene Aram, The idea of a Frenchman thinking it +a paradox to rank Dickens above James, or even Bulwer, shows how +difficult it is for a foreigner, especially a Frenchman, to pass +beyond the external form of English literature. + +The author deserves the praise of being a sensible man, in the English +meaning of the phrase. There is one sentence in his introductory +which proves that his mind has escaped one besetting sin of the French +intellect, which has prevented its successful cultivation of politics +as a practical science. In speaking of the histories of Thiers and +Mignet, he says that they "have hatched a swarm of _Jeunes Prances_, +vociferating in their wild aberrations, emphatic eulogies on Marat, +Coulhon and Robespierre, and breathing a love of blood and +destruction, which they call the progressive march of events." + + + _Rise and Fall of Louis Philippe, Ex-King of the + French, Giving a History of the French Revolution from, + its Commencement in 1789. By Benj. Perley Poore, + Boston: Wm. D. Ticknor & Co. 1 vol. 12mo._ + +Of all the publications we have seen relating to Louis Philippe this +is the most complete and the most agreeable. The author, from his long +residence in Paris, and from his position as Historical Agent of the +State of Massachusetts, was enabled to collect a large mass of matter +relating to French history, and also to learn a great deal respecting +the Orleans dynasty, which would not naturally find its way into +print. The present volume, though it has little in relation to the +first French Revolution not generally known by students, embodies a +large number of important facts respecting Louis Philippe, which we +believe are now published for the first time. The biography itself has +the interest of a romance, for few heroes of novels ever were, in +imagination, subjected to the changes of fortune which Louis +encountered in reality. Mr. Poore's view of his character is not more +flattering than that which commonly obtains--on both sides of the +Atlantic. To sustain this disparaging opinion of his subject, however, +he is compelled to suppose policy and hypocrisy as the springs of many +actions which a reasonable charity would pronounce virtuous and +humane. It must be conceded that the conduct of the king during the +last few days of his reign was feeble, if not cowardly, but his +uniform character in other periods of his life was that of a man +possessing singular readiness and coolness in times of peril, and +encountering obstacles with a courage as serene as it was adventurous. + + + _The Tenant of Wildfield Hall. By Acton Bell, Author of + Wurthuring Heights.. New York: Harper & Brothers. 1 + vol. 12mo._ + +The appearance of this novel, so soon after the publication of +Wurthuring Heights, is an indication of Mr. Bell's intention to be a +frequent visiter, or visitation, of the public. We are afraid that the +personages he introduces to his readers will consist chiefly of one +class of mankind, and this class not the most pleasing. He is a +monomaniac on the subject of man's rascality and brutality, and crowds +his page with forcible delineations of offensive characters and +disgusting events. The power he displays is of a high but limited +order, and is exercised chiefly to make his readers uncomfortable. To +be sure the present novel is not so bad as Wurthuring Heights in the +matter of animal ferocity and impish diabolism; but still most of the +characters, to use a quaint illustration of an eccentric divine, "are +engaged in laying up for themselves considerable grants of land in the +bottomless pit," and brutality, blasphemy and cruelty constitute their +stock in trade. The author is not so much a delineator of human life +as of inhuman life. There are doubtless many scenes in The Tenant of +Wildfield Hall drawn with great force and pictorial truth, and which +freeze the blood and "shiver along the arteries;" but we think that +the author's process in conceiving character is rather logical than +imaginative, and consequently that he deals too much in unmixed +malignity and selfishness. The present novel, with all its peculiar +merits, lacks all those elements of interest which come from the +generous and gentle affections. His champagne enlivens, but there is +arsenic in it. + + + _Brothers and Sisters. By Frederika Bremer. Translated + by Mary Howitt. New York: Harper & Brothers._ + +This is by no means one of Miss Bremer's best productions, but it is +not on that account a commonplace production. The pathos, the +cheerfulness, the elevation, the sweet humane home-feeling of the +Swedish novelist, are here in much of their old power, with the +addition of universal philanthropy and the rights of labor. But we +fear that the original vein of our authoress is exhausted, and that +she is now repealing herself. It is a great mistake to suppose that a +new story, new names of characters, additional sentiments nicely +packed in new sentences, make a new novel, when the whole tone and +spirit of the production continually reminds the reader of the +authors previous efforts. It is no depreciation of Miss Bremer's +really fine powers to assert, that she lacks the creative energy of +Scott, or the ever active fancy and various observation of Dickens. + + + _Grantley Manor. By Lady Georgiana Fullerton. New York: + D. Appleton & Co. 1 vol. 12mo._ + +This is altogether one of the finest novels which have appeared for +many years. It is written with much beauty of style; evinces a +creative as well as cultivated mind, and contains a variety of +characters which are not only interesting in themselves, but have a +necessary connection with the plot and purpose. The mind of the author +has that combination of shrewdness and romantic fervor, of sense and +passion, so necessary to every novelist who desires to idealize +without contradicting the experience of common life. + + +EDITOR'S TABLE. + +To the readers of "Graham."--A series of misfortunes having bereft me +of any proprietory interest in this Magazine, the present publishers +have made a liberal arrangement with me, and for the future, the +editorial and pictorial departments of Graham's Magazine will be under +the charge of Joseph R. Chandler, Esq., J. Bayard Taylor, Esq., and +myself. + +It is due to the subscribers to "Graham" from me, to state, that from +the first hour I took charge of it, the warmest support and +encouragement were given me, and from two not very profitable +magazines "Graham" sprung at once into boundless popularity and +circulation. Money, as every subscriber knows, was freely expended +upon it, and an energy untiring and sleepless was devoted to its +business management, and had I not, in an evil hour, forgotten my own +true interests, and devoted that capital and industry to another +business which should have been confined exclusively to the magazine, +I should to-day have been under no necessity--not even of writing this +notice. + +I come back to my first love with an ardor undiminished, and an energy +not enervated, with high hopes and very bold purposes. What can be +done in the next three years, time, that great solver of doubts, must +tell. What a daring enterprize in business can do, I have already +shown in Graham's Magazine and the North American--and, alas! I have +also shown what folly can do, when business is forgotten--but I can +yet show the world that he who started life a poor boy, with but eight +dollars in his pocket, and has run such a career as mine, is hard to +be put down by the calumnies or ingratitude of any. Feeling, +therefore, that having lost one battle, "there is time enough to win +another," I enter upon the work of the "redemption of Graham," with +the very confident purposes of a man who never doubted his ability to +succeed, and who asks no odds in a fair encounter. + + GEO. R. GRAHAM. + + +An Acquisition.--Our readers will share in the pleasure with which it +is announced, that JOSEPH R. CHANDLER, Esq., the accomplished writer, +and former editor of "_The United States Gazette_," will hereafter be +"_one of us_" in the editorial management of Graham's Magazine. There +are few writers in the language who equal, and none excel Mr. Chandler +in graceful and pathetic composition. His sketches live in the hearts +of readers, while they are heart-histories recognized by thousands in +every part of the laud. An article from Mr. Chandler's pen may be +looked for in every number, and this will cause each number to be +looked for anxiously. + + +Editors Looking Up.--It is expected that an early number of "Graham" +will be graced with a portrait of our distinguished rival of the +"Lady's Book," that gentleman having "in the handsomest manner," as +they say in theatricals, sat for a picture of his goodly countenance +and proportions. At our command this has been transferred to steel, to +be handed over to the readers of "Graham," by Armstrong, an artist +whose ability is a fair warrant for a fine picture. Now if any of our +fair readers fall in love with Godey, we shall take it as a formal +slight, and shall insist upon having our face _run_ through an edition +of a magazine, to be gazed at and loved by thousands of as fine +looking people as can be crowded upon a subscription book. + + +W. E. TUCKER, ESQ.--We are very much gratified to be able to state, +that an arrangement has been made by the proprietors of "Graham" with +Mr. W. E. Tucker, whose exquisite title-pages and other gems in the +way of engraving are familiar to our readers, and that _for the year +1849, he engraves exclusively for Graham's Magazine_. + +This is but the beginning of arrangements proposed to revive the +original splendor of the pictorial department of this magazine, while +the literary arrangements are in the same style of liberality which +has ever distinguished "Graham." "There is a good time a-coming boys" +in 1849. + + +Sketches From Europe.--In the present absorbing state of affairs +abroad, it will please our readers to know, that we have engaged an +accomplished writer to furnish sketches of European manners, events +and society, such as escape the daily journals, for the pages of the +magazine. These sketches will occasionally be illustrated with +engravings of scenery and persons taken on the spot, and cannot fail +to add to the value of "Graham." + + +Gems From Late Readings.--We shall introduce into the next number of +Graham a department which we think cannot fail to be of interest, by +selections from authors which it is not possible for all the readers +of Graham to have seen. Culling such passages as may strike us in our +reading as worthy of wide circulation and preservation. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Graham's Magazine Vol XXXIII No. 4 +October 1848, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GRAHAM'S MAGAZINE, OCTOBER 1848 *** + +***** This file should be named 30116.txt or 30116.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/0/1/1/30116/ + +Produced by David T. Jones, Juliet Sutherland and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Canada Team at +http://www.pgdpcanada.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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