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diff --git a/old/67832-0.txt b/old/67832-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 2aa05cf..0000000 --- a/old/67832-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8773 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Autumnal leaves: tales and sketches in -prose and rhyme, by L. Maria Child - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Autumnal leaves: tales and sketches in prose and rhyme - -Author: L. Maria Child - -Release Date: April 14, 2022 [eBook #67832] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Charlene Taylor, Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was - produced from images generously made available by The - Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AUTUMNAL LEAVES: TALES AND -SKETCHES IN PROSE AND RHYME *** - - - - - - AUTUMNAL LEAVES. - - - - - AUTUMNAL LEAVES: - - TALES AND SKETCHES - - IN - - PROSE AND RHYME. - - - BY - - L. MARIA CHILD. - - - I speak, as in the days of youth, - In simple words some earnest truth. - - - NEW YORK: - C. S. FRANCIS & CO., 554 BROADWAY. - BOSTON:--53 DEVONSHIRE STREET. - 1857. - - - Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1856, - BY C. S. FRANCIS & CO., -In the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the United States, for the - Southern District of New York. - - - - -Several of the articles contained in this volume have appeared in -various periodicals ten or twelve years ago. Others have been recently -written, during the hours that could be spared from daily duties. - - - - -CONTENTS. - - - PAGE - -THE EGLANTINE, 9 - -A SERENADE, 46 - -THE JURYMAN, 47 - -THE FAIRY FRIEND, 65 - -WERGELAND, THE POET, 72 - -THE EMIGRANT BOY, 79 - -HOME AND POLITICS, 96 - -TO THE TRAILING ARBUTUS, 119 - -THE CATHOLIC AND THE QUAKER, 121 - -THE RIVAL MECHANICIANS, 143 - -A SONG, 165 - -UTOUCH AND TOUCHU, 166 - -THE BROTHER AND SISTER, 181 - -THE STREAM OF LIFE, 200 - -THE MAN THAT KILLED HIS NEIGHBOURS, 203 - -INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS, 221 - -THE WORLD THAT I AM PASSING THROUGH, 231 - -JAN AND ZAIDA, 233 - -TO THE NASTURTIUM, 268 - -THE ANCIENT CLAIRVOYANT, 269 - -SPIRIT AND MATTER, 291 - -THE KANSAS EMIGRANTS, 302 - -I WANT TO GO HOME, 364 - - - - -THE EGLANTINE, - -A simple Love Story, - -FOUNDED ON A ROMANTIC INCIDENT, WHICH OCCURRED IN THE FAR WEST, ABOUT -TEN YEARS AGO. - - “A form more fair, a face more sweet, - Ne’er hath it been my lot to meet. - And her modest answer, and graceful air, - Show her wise and good, as she is fair. - Would she were mine; and I to-day - A simple harvester of hay; - With low of cattle, and song of birds, - And health, and quiet, and loving words.” - Then he thought of his sister, proud and cold, - And his mother, vain of her rank and gold. - J. G. WHITTIER. - - -“What a remarkably pretty girl Mrs. Barton has for a nursery maid,” said -Mrs. Vernon to her daughter. - -“Yes, mamma; and it seems quite useless for a servant to be so handsome. -What good will it do _her_?” She glanced at the mirror, as she spoke, -and seemed less satisfied than usual with her own pretty face. She was -thinking to herself, “If I had as much beauty as _she_ has, I shouldn’t -despair of winning a duke.” - -A similar idea flashed across Mrs. Vernon’s mind, as she noticed the -involuntary appeal to the mirror. Therefore, she sighed as she answered, -“Instead of doing her good, it will doubtless prove a misfortune. Some -dissipated lord will take a fancy to her; but he will soon become weary -of her, and will marry her to the first good-natured clown, who can be -hired to take her.” - -“Very likely,” replied Miss Julia; “and after living with a nobleman, -she can never be happy with a person of her own condition.” The prospect -of such a future in reserve for the rustic beauty seemed by no means -painful to the aristocratic young lady. Indeed, one might conjecture, -from her manner, that she regarded it as no more than a suitable -punishment for presuming to be handsomer than her superiors in rank. - -A flush passed over the countenance of her brother Edward, who sat -reading at the opposite window; but the ladies, busy with their -embroidery and netting, did not observe it. The lower extremity of their -grounds was separated from Mrs. Barton’s merely by a hedge of hawthorns. -A few weeks previous, as he was walking there, his attention had been -attracted by joyful exclamations from their neighbour’s children, over a -lupine that began to show its valves above the ground. He turned -involuntarily, and when he saw the young girl who accompanied them, he -felt a little glow of pleasant surprise curl around his heart, as if -some entirely new and very beautiful wild flower had unexpectedly -appeared before him. That part of the garden became his favourite place -of resort; and if a day passed without his obtaining a glimpse of the -lovely stranger, he was conscious of an undefined feeling of -disappointment. One day, when the children were playing near by, their -India-rubber ball bounced over into Mrs. Vernon’s grounds. When he saw -them searching for it among the hawthorns, he reached across the hedge -and presented it to their attendant. He raised his hat and bowed, as he -did so; and she blushed as she took it from his hand. After this -accidental introduction, he never passed her without a similar -salutation; and she always coloured at a mark of courtesy so unusual -from a gentleman to a person in her humble condition. The degree of -interest she had excited in his mind rendered it somewhat painful to -hear his mother’s careless prophecy of her future destiny. - -A few days afterward, he was walking with his sister, when Mrs. Barton’s -maid passed with the children. Miss Julia graciously accosted the little -ones, but ignored the presence of their attendant. Seeing her brother -make his usual sign of deferential politeness, she exclaimed, “What a -strange person you are, Edward! One would suppose you were passing a -duchess. I dare say you would do just the same if cousin Alfred were -with us.” - -“Certainly I should,” he replied. “I am accustomed to regulate my -actions by my own convictions, not by those of another person. You know -I believe in such a thing as _natural_ nobility.” - -“And if a servant happens to have a pretty face, you consider her a born -duchess, I suppose,” said Julia. - -“Such kind of beauty as that we have just passed, where the pliant limbs -move with unconscious dignity, and harmonized features are illuminated -by a moral grace, that emanates from the soul, _does_ seem to me to have -received from Nature herself an unmistakeable patent of nobility.” - -“So you _know_ this person?” inquired his sister. - -He replied, “I have merely spoken to her on the occasion of returning a -ball, that one of the children tossed over into our grounds. But -casually as I have seen her, her countenance and manners impress me with -the respect that _you_ feel for high birth.” - -“It’s a pity you were not born in the back-woods of America,” retorted -his sister, pettishly. - -“I sometimes think so myself,” he quietly replied. “But let us gather -some of these wild flowers, Julia, instead of disputing about -conventional distinctions, concerning which you and I can never agree.” - -His sister coldly accepted the flowers he offered. Her temper was -clouded by the incident of the morning. It vexed her that Edward had -never said, or implied, so much concerning _her_ style of beauty; and -she could not forgive the tendencies of mind which spoiled him for the -part she wished him to perform in the world, as a means of increasing -his own importance, and thereby advancing her interests. She had the -misfortune to belong to an English family extensively connected with the -rich and aristocratic, without being themselves largely endowed with -wealth. Cousin Alfred, the son of her father’s older brother, was heir -to a title; and consequently she measured every thing by his standard. -The income of the family was more than sufficient for comfort and -gentility; but the unfortunate tendency to assume the habits of others -as their standard rendered what might have been a source of enjoyment a -cause of discontent. - -Their life was a constant struggle to keep up appearances beyond their -means. All natural thoughts and feelings were kept in perpetual harness; -drilled to walk blindfolded the prescribed round of conventional forms, -like a horse in a bark-mill; with this exception, that _their_ routine -spoiled the free paces of the horse, without grinding any bark. Edward’s -liberal soul had early rebelled against this system. He had experienced -a vague consciousness of walking in fetters ever since he was reproved -for bringing home a favourite school-mate to pass the vacation with him, -when he was twelve years old. He could not _then_ be made to understand -why a manly, intelligent, large-hearted boy, who was a tradesman’s son, -was less noble than young Lord Smallsoul, cousin Alfred’s school-friend; -and within the last few weeks, circumstances had excited his thoughts -to unusual activity concerning natural and artificial distinctions. As -he walked in the garden, book in hand, he never failed to see the -beautiful nursery-maid, if she were anywhere within sight; and she -always perceived _him_. In her eyes, _he_ was like a bright, far-off -star; while he was refreshed by a vision of _her_, as he was by the -beauty of an opening flower. Distinction of rank was such a fixed fact -in the society around them, that the star and the flower dreamed of -union as much as they did. But Cupid, who is the earliest republican on -record, willed that things should not remain in that state. A bunch of -fragrant violets were offered with a smile and received with a blush; -and in the blush and the smile an arrow lay concealed. Then volumes of -poems were loaned with passages marked; and every word of those passages -were stereotyped on the heart of the reader. For a long time, he was -ignorant of her name; but hearing the children call her Sibella, he -inquired her other name, and they told him it was Flower. He thought it -an exceedingly poetic and appropriate name; as most young men of twenty -would have thought, under similar circumstances. He noticed the -sequestered lanes where she best loved to rove, when sent out with the -children for exercise; and those lanes became his own favourite places -of resort. Wild flowers furnished a graceful and harmless topic of -conversation; yet Love made even those simple things his messengers. -Patrician Edward offered the rustic Sibella an Eglantine, saying, “This -has a peculiar charm for me, above all flowers. It is so fragrant and -delicately tinted; so gracefully untrained, and so modest in its -pretensions. It always seems to me like a beautiful young maiden, -without artificial culture, but naturally refined and poetic. The first -time I saw you, I thought of a flowering Eglantine; and I have never -since looked at the shrub, without being reminded of you.” She listened, -half abashed and half delighted. She never saw the flower again without -thinking of _him_. - -The next day after this little adventure, she received a copy of Moore’s -Melodies, with her name elegantly written therein. The songs, all -sparkling with fancy and warm with love, were well suited to her sixteen -years, and to that critical period in her heart’s experience. She saw in -them a reflection of her own young soul dreamily floating in a -fairy-boat over moon-lighted waters. The mystery attending the gift -increased its charm. The postman left it at the door, and no one knew -whence it came. Within the same envelope was a pressed blossom of the -Eglantine, placed in a sheet of Parisian letter-paper, gracefully -ornamented with a coloured arabesque of Eglantines and German -Forget-me-nots. On it the following verses were inscribed:-- - -TO SIBELLA FLOWER. - - There is a form more light and fair, - Than human tongue can tell, - It seems a spirit of the air. - She is a flower _si belle_! - - The lovely cheek more faintly flushed - Than ocean’s rosy shell, - Is like a new-found pearl that blushed, - She is a flower _si belle_! - - Her glossy hair in simple braid, - With softly curving swell, - Might well have crowned a Grecian maid. - She is a flower _si belle_! - - Her serious and dove-like eyes - Of gentle thoughts do tell; - Serene as summer ev’ning skies. - She is a flower _si belle_! - - Her graceful mouth was outlined free - By Cupid’s magic spell, - A bow for his sure archery. - She is a flower _si belle_! - - And thence soft silv’ry tones do flow, - Like rills along the dell, - Making sweet music as they go. - She is a flower _si belle_! - - Fairer still is the modest mind, - Pure as a crystal well, - In mountain solitude enshrined. - She is a flower _si belle_! - -A note at the bottom of the verses explained that the French word _si -belle_ meant _so beautiful_. The poetry was that of a young man of -twenty; but a simple maiden of sixteen, who was herself the subject of -the lines, saw more beauty in them, than a critic could find in the best -inspirations of Shakespeare or Milton. And then to think that a -gentleman, who understood _French_, should write verses to _her_! It was -wonderful! She would as soon have dreamed of wearing the crown of -England. The next time she met Edward Vernon, her cheeks were flushed -_more_ deeply than “ocean’s rosy shell.” But she never alluded to the -book or the verses; for she said to herself, “Perhaps he did’nt send -them; and then I should feel so ashamed of _supposing_ he did!” The -secret was half betrayed on his part; whether intentionally or -unintentionally, she did not know. He began by calling her Miss Flower; -then he called her Sibella; but ever after the reception of the verses, -he said Sibelle. - -They were so reserved toward each other, and Mrs. Barton’s children were -apparently so much the objects of his attention, during their rambles, -that their dreamy romance might have gone on uninterrupted for months -longer, had not a human foot stepped within their fairy circle. Lord -Smallsoul, as he rode abroad one day, was attracted by “the flower _si -belle_.” As his grosser nature and more selfish habits were uncurbed by -the respectful diffidence, which restrained Edward’s love, he became -bold and importunate in his attentions; as if he took it for granted -that any rural beauty could be purchased with a nobleman’s gold. The -poor girl could not stir out of doors, without being liable to his -unwelcome intrusion; the more unwelcome because the presence of the -false lover expelled the true one. Edward kept carefully aloof, watching -the proceedings of the profligate nobleman with jealous indignation. He -painfully felt that he had no right to assume guardianship over the -young girl, and that any attempt to do so would bring him into collision -with her persecutor; likely to end in publicity by no means favourable -to her reputation. The rural belle was inexperienced in the world’s -ways, but she had been trained by a prudent mother, and warned against -the very dangers that now beset her path. Therefore, with many blushes, -she begged Mrs. Barton to excuse her from walking out with the children; -confessing that Lord Smallsoul sought every opportunity of urging her to -go and live with him in Italy, though she never would accept one of the -many rich presents he was always offering her. Mrs. Barton warmly -commended her, and promised protection. After some conversation, she -said, “The children tell me that Mr. Vernon has often joined you in -your walks. Did _he_ ever say he was in love with you?” Sibella promptly -replied, “Never. He is always very respectful.” “And he has never made -you any presents, has he?” inquired the lady. The maiden lowered her -eyes and blushed deeply. She had been trained to a strict observance of -the truth; but she did not know certainly who sent Moore’s Melodies; and -heart and conscience both pleaded with her not to say any thing that -might involve her friend in blame. After a moment’s hesitation, she -answered, evasively, “He has sometimes offered me flowers, madam, when -he was gathering them for the children; and I thought it no harm to take -them.” The book of poems, and the wonderful verses framed in flowery -arabesques, remained a secret between herself and him who sent them. But -Mrs. Barton noticed the sudden blush, and the involuntary hesitation; -and she resolved to elicit some information from the children, in a -manner not likely to excite their curiosity. - -Lord Smallsoul, who from infancy had been an object of excessive -indulgence, was not to be easily baffled in his selfish plans. Night and -day, he, or his confidential servant, was prowling about Mrs. Barton’s -grounds. His assiduities became a positive nuisance, and excited much -gossip in the neighbourhood. Miss Julia Vernon took occasion to say to -Mrs. Barton, “It is really surprising his lordship should make himself -so ridiculous, instead of bestowing his attentions upon beautiful -ladies whose rank in life is nearer to his own. He knows, however, that -_ladies_ would scorn to accept such homage as he bestows upon your -servant; and I suppose he is not yet ready to enter into matrimonial -bonds.” - -Mrs. Barton thought to herself that the dissolute nobleman would receive -a very prompt and gracious answer, if he invited Miss Julia to enter -into such bonds. She, however, suppressed the smile that was rising to -her lips, and said, “I don’t wonder at his being fascinated by Sibella; -for she is gifted with extraordinary beauty. I am truly thankful, on her -own account, and for the sake of her worthy parents, that she is -discreet as she is lovely. I confess, I should myself rejoice in such a -daughter.” - -There was a slightly contemptuous motion in the muscles of Miss Vernon’s -mouth, as she replied, “You appear to think her a paragon. The girl is -pretty enough; too pretty for her own good, since she was born to be a -servant. But I cannot imagine what attractions she can have for a -gentleman, who is accustomed to the distinguished air of ladies of -rank.” - -“Some people prefer the Eglantine to the Garden Rose,” replied Mrs. -Barton. “Your _brother_ is accustomed to ladies of rank; but I imagine -he appreciates Sibella’s beauty more highly than you do.” - -“What reason have you for thinking so?” quickly inquired Miss Julia. - -Half mischievously, and altogether imprudently, Mrs. Barton replied, -“The children heard him tell her that she was like an Eglantine, which, -of all flowers was his favourite; and they say he always wore an -Eglantine in his vest, as long as there was one to be found.” - -Up rose Miss Vernon, hastily, and with a haughty toss of the head, said -emphatically, “I thank you _very_ much for having told me this. Good -morning, madam.” - -The amiable neighbour, foreseeing a storm, immediately repented of what -she had said; but it was impossible to recall it. She looked out of the -window, and saw that Miss Vernon was excited to such a degree as to make -her forget the patrician languor, which usually characterized her -movements. Obeying an impulse, for once in her life, she walked rapidly -across the garden to the paternal mansion. As if a case of life and -death were impending, she startled her mother with this abrupt -annunciation: “Do go directly to cousin Alfred, and tell him he _must_ -devise some means to remove Edward from this neighbourhood, forthwith. -You know, he has been promising, for some time past, to secure a -suitable situation for him; and unless you see to having it done -immediately, you may prepare yourself to have your son disgrace the -whole family by marrying a servant.” She then repeated what she had -just heard, and added: “You know, mother, that Edward never _could_ be -induced to pay so much regard to the distinctions of rank, as he ought -to do. It would be just like him to go off to Gretna Green with a -servant girl, if he happened to take it into his foolish head that she -was a paragon of beauty and virtue.” - -Great was the consternation in all branches of the Vernon family; and -their alarm was not a little increased when Edward frankly declared that -it would be easy to procure a suitable education for Sibella, and then -she would be a desirable companion for any gentleman in the land. How -his father glowered at him, how his mother wept, and what glances his -sister hurled from her haughty eyes, need not be told. He retreated to -his own apartment, and for several days remained there most of the time, -revolving plans for the future; some of them of the most romantic kind. -He longed for a secret interview with Sibella, to avow his love, promise -eternal constancy, and obtain from her a similar pledge in return. But -his nice sense of honour restrained him from taking any step that might -cast a shadow upon her. He made several attempts to see her openly, but -he was closely watched, and she never appeared; for Mrs. Barton informed -her that the family had taken offence at the attentions he paid her. - -The anxious conferences in Edward’s family ended with an announcement -from his father that he must prepare to start for Italy the next week, -as traveling companion for a young nobleman, about to make the tour of -Europe. - -Meanwhile, Mrs. Vernon and her daughter vented some of their -mortification and vexation upon Mrs. Barton; blaming her for keeping -such a handsome servant, to make trouble in gentlemen’s families. That -lady, becoming more and more uneasy at the state of things, deemed it -prudent to write a warning letter to Sibella’s parents; and the good -mother came to her child immediately. She found her darling in the -depths of girlish misery; alleviated, however, by the happy -consciousness that she had nothing to conceal. Weeping on the maternal -bosom, she told all her simple story; not even reserving the secret of -the book and the verses. But when her mother said they ought to be -returned to Mr. Vernon, she remonstrated warmly. “Oh no, mother, don’t -ask me to do _that_! If you do, I shall be sorry I told you. I don’t -_know_ that he sent them. He never _said_ so. The Eglantine made me -_think_ that he did; but I am afraid I should seem to him like a bold, -vain girl, if he _knew_ that I thought so.” Her mother, being assured -that no presents had been offered, and love never spoken of, yielded to -her argument. She was allowed to retain the precious volume, and the -wonderful verses, which were hidden away as carefully as a miser’s -treasures. - -Mr. Vernon, the father, had a private conversation with Mrs. Flower, -the morning after her arrival. He assumed so proud a tone, that he -roused a corresponding degree of pride in the worthy woman, who curtly -assured him that her daughter would find no difficulty in forming a good -connection, and would never be permitted to enter any family that -objected to her. The gentleman thanked her, with cold politeness, and -she parted from him with a very short courtesy. That evening a note came -for Miss Sibella Flower. Mrs. Barton placed it in the mother’s hand, who -opened it and read: - - “DEAR SIBELLE, - - “Forgive me for venturing to call you so. I am compelled to depart - for Italy to-morrow; and that must be my excuse. I have reflected - much upon the subject, and young as I am, I feel that it is my duty - not to refuse the eligible situation my relatives have procured for - me. It has given me great pain to come to this conclusion; but I - console myself with the reflection that some day or other, I shall - be free to follow my own inclinations. I can never forget you, - never cease to love you; and I cannot part without saying farewell, - and conjuring you to cherish the memory of the blissful moments we - have passed together. Do ask Mrs. Barton to allow me an hour’s - interview with you this evening. She and your mother can both be - present, if they think proper. They will see by this request that - my views are honourable, and my professions sincere. - - “Yours, with undying affection, - - “E. V.” - -Mrs. Flower promptly decided to see the young gentleman herself. He was -accordingly sent for, and came full of love and hope. But Sibella, who -was kept in ignorance of the note, was requested not to intrude upon -their conference; therefore, he saw the mother only. In answer to all -his vehement protestations and earnest entreaties, she answered, -“Sibella is a mere child; and it is my duty to guard her inexperience. -Next to seeing her deceived by false professions, I have always dreaded -her marrying into a proud family, who would look down upon her.” - -“I will go to America, and make a position for myself, independent of my -family, before I ask her to share my destiny,” replied the enthusiastic -lover. - -“I thank you, Mr. Vernon. You have behaved nobly toward my child; and my -heart blesses you for it. But I had a sister, who married above her -rank, and I cannot forget the consequences. They were very young when -they were married, and never were two young creatures so much in love. -She was as good as she was handsome; but his family treated her as if -she was’nt worthy to black their shoes; and they had such an influence -upon him, that he at last repented of the step he had taken. She felt -it, and it made her very miserable. You are young, sir; too young to be -certain that your mind won’t change.” - -“I know perfectly well that my mind can never change,” he replied -eagerly. “This is not such a boyish whim as you seem to suppose. It is a -deep, abiding feeling. It is _impossible_ that I can ever change.” - -The mother quietly replied, “My sister’s husband said the same; and yet -he did change.” - -Edward Vernon internally cursed that sister’s heartless husband; but he -contented himself with saying; “Such love as _his_ must have been very -different from the feelings that inspire _me_.” - -His intreaties were unavailing to procure an interview with Sibella. The -prudent mother concealed the fact that he had awakened an interest in -her daughter’s heart. To all his arguments she would only shake her head -and reply, “You are too young to know your own mind, Mr. Vernon.” - -Too _young_! How cold and contemptuous that sounded! He was not in a -state of mind to appreciate the foresight and kindness, which strove to -shield him from his own rashness. She seemed to him as proud and -hard-hearted as his father; and perhaps pride did help her prudence a -little. Yet when he was gone away, the good woman sat down and cried; -she sympathized so heartily with the trouble of those young hearts. -Sibella sobbed herself to sleep that night, though unconscious that -Edward intended to leave England. He watched the window of her chamber -till the light of her lamp went out in darkness. “That star will shine -for me no more!” he said. He returned slowly to his own room, looked out -upon the hawthorn-hedge for a long time, then laid himself down to weep, -and dream of green lanes, fragrant with the Eglantine. - -The next morning, Mrs. Flower requested her daughter to prepare for -their return home, since there was no other way of relieving Mrs. Barton -from the perpetual intrusion of the shameless nobleman, and his -troublesome servant. Gentle as Sibella was, she experienced a feeling of -hatred toward Lord Smallsoul, who, like an odious beast, had rushed into -her paradise, trampling its flowers. She did not dispute her mother’s -decision, for she felt that it was judicious; but _she_ also stood at -the window a long time, looking out upon the hawthorn-hedge, associated -with so many pleasant memories. Her eyes were moist when she turned and -said, “Mother, before we go away, I should like to bid good-bye to some -of the old places, where I have walked with--with--the children. You can -go with me, if you are afraid of my meeting Mr. Vernon.” - -Sadly and sympathizingly, her mother answered, “You cannot meet Mr. -Vernon, my child; for he has gone to Italy.” - -“Gone!” she exclaimed; and the sudden paleness and the thrilling tone -cut her mother’s heart. She soothed her tenderly, and, after a while, -Sibella raised her head, with an effort to assume maidenly pride, and -said, “He never _told_ me he loved me. I sometimes _thought_ he did. But -it was very foolish of me. If he cared for me, he would have said -good-bye. I will think no more about it.” - -The mother was strongly tempted to tell how ardently and how honourably -he loved. But she thought to herself, “It would only serve to keep alive -hopes destined to end in disappointment.” So she put strong constraint -on her feminine sympathies, and remained silent. They went forth into -the green lanes bright with sunshine, but gloomy to eyes that saw them -through a veil of tears. When Sibella came to the bush from which Edward -had broken the first Eglantine he offered her, she gazed at it -mournfully, and throwing herself on the bosom of her best earthly -friend, sobbed out, “Oh mother, _mother_! I have been so _happy_ here!” - -“My poor, dear child,” she replied, “You don’t know how sorry I am for -you. But these feelings will pass away with time. You are very young; -and life is all before you.” - -The maiden looked up with inexpressible sadness in her eyes, and -answered, “Yes, mother, I _am_ young; but life is all _behind_ me.” - - * * * * * - -There is a wide chasm in the story, as there was in Sibella’s life. That -brief dream of the past would not unite itself with the actual present. -She could form no bridge between them. It remained by itself; like an -island warm with sunshine, and fragrant with Eglantines, in the midst of -cold grey waves. Because she herself was changed, all things around her -seemed changed. The young men, especially, appeared like a different -race of beings, since she had learned to compare them with that poetic -youth, who gazed so reverently at the evening star, and loved the -wild-flowers as if they were living things. He had kindled her -imagination, as well as her heart. She perceived a _soul_ in Nature, of -which she had been unconscious till _he_ revealed it. Ah, how lonely she -was now! In all the wide world there was not one mortal who could -understand what that simple country girl had found, or what she had -lost. She herself did not comprehend it. She only had an uneasy sense of -always seeking for something she could never find. She lived among her -former associates like one who has returned from an excursion into -fairy-land, finding the air of earth chilly, and its colours dim. But -employments are Amaranths in the garden of life. They live through all -storms, and survive all changes of the seasons. Her duties were numerous -and conscientiously performed; and through this pathway of necessity, -apparently so rugged, she soon arrived at a state of cheerful serenity. - -In a few months, her parents were induced to join a band of emigrants -coming to America; and the novelty of change proved beneficial to her. -That sunny island in her experience was not forgotten, but it smiled -upon her farther in the distance. There was a joyful palpitation at her -heart, when she found Eglantines growing wild in America, under the name -of Sweet-Briar Roses. She opened the verses which had seemed to her “_si -belle!_” The flower was faded, and its sweetness gone; but memory was -redolent of its fragrance. She was never told that Edward Vernon had -written two letters to her, after he left England; and she had almost -persuaded herself that his looks and tones were not so significant as -they had seemed. She had no materials to form a definite hope; but it -became the leading object of her life so to improve herself, that he -would have no cause to be ashamed of her, if he ever should happen to -come to America. In the accomplishment of this project, she was -continually stimulated by the example of American girls, who obtained -the means of education by their own manual industry, and ended by -becoming teachers of the highest class. Her parents were delighted with -her diligence and perseverance, and did what they could to aid her; -never suspecting that the impelling power came chiefly from a latent -feeling, which they hoped was extinct. So she worked onwards and -upwards, with hands and mind, and soon found pleasure in the development -itself. - -Meanwhile, the beautiful English Flower attracted admirers of various -grades. Her parents hoped she would give the preference to a merchant of -good character, who was in very prosperous circumstances. She was aware -that such a marriage would be a great advantage to them; and she loved -them so much, that she wished her beauty could be the means of bringing -them prosperity. She tried to love the worthy merchant; but her efforts -were unavailing. She was always thinking to herself, “He never writes -poetry to me, and he never tells me about the stars. Edward used to -gather wild-flowers for me, and bind them so gracefully with wreaths of -Ivy. But this gentleman buys hot-house flowers, tied into pyramids on -wires. The poor things look _so_ uncomfortable! just as I shall feel, if -I consent to be sold and tied up. Ah, if he were only more like Mr. -Vernon! I should _like_ to oblige my good father and mother.” The -soliloquy ended with humming to herself: - - “There’s nothing half so sweet in life - As Love’s young dream.” - -When the time came for a definite answer to the merchant, she told her -parents she had rather keep school than marry. They looked at each other -and sighed; but they asked no questions concerning the memory of her -heart. - -The prospect of owning a farm, combined with an eligible offer for -Sibella as a teacher, soon afterward attracted them to the far West. The -grandeur and freedom of Nature in that new region, the mighty forests, -the limitless prairies, the luxuriant vegetation, produced a sudden -expansion in that youthful soul, trained amid the cultivated gardens and -carefully clipped hedges of England. Imagination experienced a new birth -in poetry, as the heart experiences religion. All that she had -previously known of beauty seemed tame and cold compared with the wild -charm of that improvised scenery. But more than ever she was oppressed -with a sense of mental loneliness. Nature was inspiring, but it had no -sympathy with the human soul, which longed for more responsive -companionship, more intimate communion. The maiden needed a friend, into -whose soul the calm sunset of the prairies would infuse the same holy -light that penetrated her own. In such moods, the looks and tones of -Edward Vernon came back with vivid distinctness. At times, she longed -inexpressibly to know whether he ever had such lively reminiscences of -the poor country girl, whom his influence had led into the regions she -never dreamed of before. Nature looked at her with the same tranquil -smile, and gave no answer. Fortunately, the active duties of life left -but few hours for such reveries; otherwise, the abrupt termination of -her long dream might have proved as hazardous, as the sudden wakening of -a somnambulist. A newly-arrived English emigrant visited her father’s -farm. He came from Mrs. Barton’s neighbourhood, and in the course of -conversation chanced to mention that Mr. Vernon’s son and daughter were -both married. Until that moment, Sibella had not realized the strength -of the hope she cherished. She veiled her disappointment from the -observation of others; and her mother had the good sense to forbear -saying, “I told you so.” No conversation passed between them on the -subject; but when Sibella retired to her sleeping apartment, she gazed -out on the moonlighted solitude of the prairie for a long time, and -thought the expression of the scene never seemed so sad. She said to -herself, “My mother told me truly. That beautiful experience was indeed -a dream of early youth; and _only_ a dream.” - -She was under the necessity of returning to Chicago the next day, to -attend to her school. In another department of the school, was a teacher -from New England, a farmer’s son, who had worked with his hands in the -summer, and studied diligently in the winter, till he had become a -scholar of more than common attainments. He taught school during the -week, and occasionally preached on Sunday, not because he was too -indolent to perform manual labour, or because he considered it -ungenteel. He was attracted toward books by a genuine thirst for -knowledge; and he devoted himself to moral and intellectual teaching, -for the simple reason that God had formed him for it. He loved the -occupation, and was therefore eminently successful in it. This young man -had for some time been in love with Sibella Flower, without obtaining -any signs of encouragement from her. But there is much truth in the old -adage about the facility of catching a heart at the rebound. He never -wrote poetry, or spoke eloquently about the beauties of scenery; for his -busy intellect employed itself chiefly with history, science, and -ethics. But though he was unlike Edward Vernon, he was gentle, good, and -wise; and, after her morning-dream had vanished utterly, Sibella became -aware that his society furnished pleasant companionship for heart and -mind. Their intimacy gradually increased, and they finally married. -Being desirous to purchase land and build a house, they continued to -earn money by teaching. The desired home, with its various belongings, -seemed likely to be soon completed, without great expense; for William -Wood had all the capabilities of a genuine Yankee. He could hew logs and -plane them, make rustic tables, benches, and arbours, and mend his own -shoes and saddles, during the intervals of preparing lectures on -chemistry and astronomy. In this imperfect existence, there is perhaps -no combination of circumstances more favourable to happiness, than the -taste to plan a beautiful home, practical skill to embody the graceful -ideas, and the necessity of doing it with one’s own hands. Those who -have homes prepared for them by hired architects, gardeners, and -upholsterers, cannot _begin_ to imagine the pleasure of making a nest -for one’s self. William was always planning bridges, arbours, and -fences, and Sibella never saw a beautiful wild shrub, or vine, without -marking it to be removed to the vicinity of their cabin. She told him -all about her early love-dream, and said she should always cherish a -grateful remembrance of it, because it had proved such a powerful agent -to wake up the dormant energies of her soul. “I am a Wood-Flower now, -dear William,” said she, playfully; “and, after all, that is no great -change for an Eglantine.” He smiled, and said he wished he was as poetic -as she was. He _was_ poetic in his deeds. His young wife often found a -bunch of fragrant wild-flowers on her pillow, when she woke, or in her -plate, when they seated themselves at the breakfast-table. He made an -arbour for her to rest in, when they rode out on horseback to visit -their future homestead. It was shaded with wild vines, and an Eglantine -bush was placed near the entrance, filling the whole arbour with the -sweet breath of its foliage. The first time Sibella saw it, she looked -at him archly, and said, “So you are not jealous of that foolish dream, -dear William? Well, it is customary to plant flowers on graves; and this -shall be sacred to the memory of a dream. Ah, what a bright little -cluster of Pansies you have planted here!” “That is what you call them -in _Old_ England,” said he; “but in _New_ England we name them Ladies’ -Delights, though some call them Forget-me-nots. Your romantic Edward -preferred the Eglantine; but _this_ is an especial favourite with your -practical William. I like it because it will grow in all soils, bloom at -all seasons, and hold up its head bravely in all weathers. If I were -like _you_, I should say it was the efflorescence of Yankee character.” -She clapped her hands, and exclaimed, “Bravo! William. You are growing -poetic. I will name your little favourite the Yankee’s Flower; and that -will be _myself_, you see; for I am the Yankee’s Flower.” She looked -into his honest eyes affectionately, and added, “There is _one_ Yankee -character who is a Lady’s Delight.” - -Gambolling thus, like children, and happy in childish pleasures, their -united lives flowed smoothly on, like some full, bright, unobstructed -stream. The birth of a daughter was like the opening of a pure lily on -the stream. Their happiness was now complete. Their grateful souls asked -for nothing but a continuance of present blessings. But, alas, sudden as -the rising of a thunder cloud, a deep shadow fell on their sunny -prospect. William was called away a few days on business. He left home -full of life and love, and was brought back a shattered corpse. He had -been killed by an accident, in the rail-road cars. Never had Sibella -known any sorrow approaching the intensity of this sorrow. It saddened -her to bid farewell to that first love-picture, which never emerged out -of the mistiness of dream-land; but this sober certainty of wedded -happiness was such a living true reality, that all her heart-strings -bled, when it was wrenched from her so suddenly. Her suffering soul -would have been utterly prostrated by the dreadful blow, had it not -been for the blessed ministration of her babe, and the necessity of -continuing to labour for its future support and education. The body of -William was buried in a pretty little grove on her father’s farm; and -every year the mound was completely covered with a fresh bed of Ladies’ -Delights, which his little girl learned to call “Farder’s Fower.” - - * * * * * - -Time passed and brought healing on its wings. Sibella never expected to -know happiness again, but she had attained to cheerful resignation. Her -little girl of three years lived at the farm, under the good -grandmother’s care. She continued to teach in the city, spending all her -vacations, and most of her Sundays, at the old homestead. In her memory -lay a sunny island covered with Pansies, and often watered with tears. -That other island of Eglantines had floated far away, and had scarcely a -moonlighted existence. But one Sunday evening, as she returned from -school, she found the little one watching for her, as usual. The -indulgent grandmother had just given her an Eglantine blossom, for which -she had been teazing. In her eagerness to bestow something on her -mother, the child thrust it into her face, exclaiming “Mamma’s Fower!” -That simple phrase awoke sleeping memories. Not for years had the -blooming lanes of old England been so distinctly pictured in the mirror -of her soul. That night, she dreamed Edward Vernon met her in the -prairie and gave her a torch-flower he had gathered. The child’s -exclamation had produced the train of thought of which the dream was -born; and the dream induced her to look at the verses which had long -remained unopened. Ten years had passed since they were written. The -paper was worn at the edges, and the Eglantine blossom was yellow and -wrinkled. Still the sight of it recalled the very look and tone with -which it was offered. The halo of glory with which her youthful -imagination had invested the rhymes was dimmer now; and yet they seemed -to her “_si belle!_” - -The afternoon of that day, she sat with her mother, busily employed -trimming a bonnet for their little darling, who was equally busy under -the window, sticking an apron-full of wild-flowers into the ground, to -make an impromptu garden. A voice called out, “Sir, will you have the -goodness to give me a little help? My carriage has broken down.” Sibella -started suddenly, and the bonnet fell from her hand. “What is the matter -with you?” said her mother. “It is merely some traveler in trouble. That -bad place in the road yonder _must_ be mended.” Sibella resumed her -work, saying, “I am strangely nervous to-day.” But in the secret -chambers of her own mind, there was a voice whispering, “My dream! My -dream! _Can_ it be, as some people say, that there is a magnetic -influence on the soul when certain individuals approach, each other?” -Presently, her father entered, leading a small boy, “Take care of this -little fellow,” said he, “his father’s carriage has broken down, out by -the hill.” The young widow rose, and greeted the little stranger with -such motherly tenderness, that he looked up in her face confidingly, -with a half-formed smile. But she gazed into his eyes so earnestly, that -he turned away partly afraid. The little girl offered him her flowers, -and they sat down on the floor to play together. It was not long, before -the farmer entered with the traveler; a refined looking gentleman, -apparently about thirty years old. The old lady rose to greet him; but -Sibella stooped to gather up the ribbons, which had fallen from her -trembling hands. Browned as he was by wind and sun, she recognized him -instantly. In fact she had already recognized his eyes and smile in the -face of his son. She wondered whether he would know _her_. Was she like -an Eglantine _now_? Having resumed a sufficient degree of self-command, -while picking up the ribbons, she rose, and advanced toward him, with a -blush and a smile. He started--uttered an exclamation of surprise--then -seized her hand and kissed it. - -“Bless my soul! It’s Mr. Vernon! And I didn’t know him!” exclaimed Mrs. -Flower. “Well this _is_ strange, I do declare!” - -When their mutual surprise had subsided, many questions about old -England were asked and answered. But it was not until after supper that -their guest spoke of his own plans. Pointing to his son, he said, “I am -a lonely man, with only that one tie to bind me to the world. My father -and mother are dead; and as it was for their sakes only that I consented -to endure the fetters of over-civilized life, I formed the resolution of -coming into these Western wilds, to live with nature in her freedom and -simplicity. I was not altogether selfish in this movement, for I felt -confident it was the best way to form a manly character for my son. No -cousin Alfred will stand in his sunshine _here_. Come, Edward,” said he, -“introduce your little friend to me.” The boy sprang forward joyfully, -and climbed his father’s knee. “The little friend must sit on the other -knee,” said he. “Go and bring her. You are not gallant to the little -lady.” But the little lady was shy. She hid herself behind a chair, and -would not be easily persuaded. At last, however, her mother coaxed her -to be led up to the stranger gentleman, to see him open his gold watch. -He placed her on his knee and asked her name; and, emboldened by his -caresses, she looked up in his face, and answered, “Teena.” He glanced -inquiringly toward her mother, who, blushing slightly, answered, “I -named her Eglantina; but, in her lisping way, she calls herself Teena; -and we have all adopted her fashion, except grandfather, who varies it a -little by calling her Teeny.” A pleased expression went over Mr. -Vernon’s face, as he replied, “You did well to name her for yourself; -for she resembles you, as the bud of the Eglantine resembles the -blossom.” As he spoke thus, the ten intervening years rolled away like a -curtain, and they both found themselves walking again in the blooming -lanes of old England. - - * * * * * - -Weeks passed, and Mr. Vernon still remained a guest at Flower Farm, as -it was called. He entered into negotiations for a tract of land in the -neighbourhood, and found pleasant occupation in hunting, fishing, and -planning his house and grounds. Sibella and the children often -accompanied him in his excursions. The wide-spread prairie, covered with -a thick carpet of grass and brilliant flowers, and dotted with isolated -groves, like islands, charmed him with its novelty of beauty. “I am -perpetually astonished by the profusion and gorgeousness of nature in -this region,” said he. He gathered one of the plants at his feet, and -presenting it to Sibella, asked whether that glowing blossom was not -appropriately named the Torch Flower. “What do you think of dreams?” she -replied; then seeing that he was surprised by the abruptness of the -question, she told him she had dreamed, the night before his arrival, -that she met him on the prairie, and received a torch-flower from his -hand. He smiled, and said, “Its flame-colour might answer for Hymen’s -torch.” He looked at her smilingly as he spoke; for he was bolder now -than when he wrote the verses. Seeing the crimson tide mount into her -cheeks, he touched the flower in her hand, and said, “It blushes more -deeply than my old favourite the Eglantine.” To relieve her -embarrassment, Sibella began to inquire about Mrs. Barton and her -neighbours; adding, “Among all these questions, I have not yet asked if -your sister is living.” - -“She is what the world _calls_ living,” he replied. “She has married a -wealthy old merchant, who dresses her in velvet and diamonds; and his -lady rewards him by treating him with more indifference than she does -her footman. Her acquaintance envy her elegant furniture and costly -jewels; and when they exclaim, ‘How fortunate you are! You are -surrounded by every thing the heart can desire!’ she replies, with a -languid motion of her fan, ‘Yes, every thing--_except_ love.’ Julia -never forgave me for marrying the daughter of a poor curate; but she was -like _you_, Sibella, and that was what first interested me. If _she_ had -lived, I probably should never have seen America; but after her death, I -was lonely and restless. I wanted change. I knew that you had been in -this country several years; but I cannot say you were distinctly -connected with my plans. You never answered my letters, and I supposed -you had long since forgotten me. But I never saw an Eglantine without -thinking of you; and while I was crossing the Atlantic, I sometimes -found myself conjecturing whether I should ever happen to meet you, and -whether I should find you married.” Long explanations and confessions -followed. The authorship of the mysterious verses was acknowledged, and -their preservation avowed. The conversation was exceedingly interesting -to themselves, but would look somewhat foolish on paper. It has been -well said, that “the words of lovers are like the rich wines of the -south; delicious in their native soil, but rendered vapid by -transportation.” - - * * * * * - -Mr. Vernon chose the site for his new dwelling with characteristic -taste. It stood on an eminence, commanding a most lovely and extensive -prospect. A flower-enamelled lawn, rich as embroidered velvet, and -ornamented with graceful trees, descended from the front of the house to -a bend in the river. It was all fresh from the hand of Nature. Nothing -had been planted, and nothing removed, except a few trees to make room -for a carriage-path. He had been advised to build an English villa; but -he disliked the appearance of assuming a style of more grandeur than his -neighbours; and Sibella thought a log-house, with its rough edges of -bark, would harmonize better with the scenery. It was spacious and -conveniently planned, and stood in the midst of a natural grove. -Festoons of vines were trained all round it, clustering roses climbed up -even to the roof, and the air was fragrant with Eglantines. The arbor, -that William had made, was carefully removed thither, and placed in the -garden, surrounded by a profusion of Ladies’ Delights, in memory of the -lost friend. - -It was a fixed principle with Mr. Vernon that no man had a right to live -in the world without doing his share of its work. He imported seeds and -scions, which he planted and grafted himself, always distributing a -liberal portion among his neighbours. “My fruit and vegetables will soon -command a ready sale in the city market,” said he; “but the proceeds -shall go toward a school-fund, and the establishment of a Lyceum. I do -not desire that our children should inherit great wealth. Life -sufficiently abounds with dangers and temptations, physical and mental, -without adding _that_ glittering snare for their manhood and womanhood. -The wisest and kindest thing we can do for them is to educate equally -themselves and the people among whom they are to live.” - -“There spoke the same generous soul that chose the poor country-girl for -a wife!” she exclaimed, “What can I ever do to prove the gratitude I -feel?” - -Playfully he put his hand over her mouth, to stop that -self-depreciation. They remained silent for a while, seated on the -grassy slope, looking out upon the winding river and the noble trees. -“How much this scene resembles the parks and lawns of old England,” said -the happy bride. “If it were not for the deep stillness, and the -absence of human habitations, I could almost imagine myself in my native -land.” - -“I like it better than English parks and lawns, for two reasons,” he -replied. “I prefer it, because it is formed by Nature, and not by Art; -and Nature gives even to her quietest pictures peculiar touches of wild -inimitable grace. Still more does the scene please me, because these -broad acres are not entailed upon noblemen, who cannot ride over their -estates in a week, while their poor tenantry toil through life without -being allowed to obtain possession of a rood of land.” - -Sibella looked at him with affectionate admiration, while she replied, -“Truly, ‘the child is father of the man.’ There spoke the same soul that -invited a tradesman’s manly son to spend the vacation with him, in -preference to Lord Smallsoul.” - -“I will never reprove _my_ boy, if he brings home the manly son of a -wood-sawyer to spend his school vacations with us,” rejoined he. “But -hark! Hear our children laughing and shouting! What sound is more -musical than the happy voices of children? See the dear little rogues -racing over the carpet of wild-flowers! How they seem to love each -other! God be praised, they are free to enact the parts of Paul and -Virginia in this lovely solitude. May no rich relatives tempt them into -fashionable life, and make shipwreck of their happiness.” - -A SERENADE. - - Sleep well! Sleep well! - To music’s spell; - Thus hushing thee - To reverie, - Like ev’ning breeze, - Through whisp’ring trees; - Till mem’ry and the lay - Float dreamily away. - Sleep well! Sleep well! - - May dreams bring near - All who are dear, - With festal flow’rs - From early hours; - While, softly free, - This melody - Drifts through thy tranquil dream, - Like lilies on a stream. - Sleep well! Sleep well! - - - - -THE JURYMAN. - - Soften his hard, cold heart! and show - The power which in forbearance lies, - And let him feel that mercy now - Is better than old sacrifice! - J. G. WHITTIER. - - -Peter Barker belonged to that numerous class, who are neither better nor -worse than other men. Left an orphan in his infancy, the paths of life -were rough and lonely at the outset. He had a violent temper and a good -heart. The first was often roused into activity, and punished with -energy kindred to its own; the last remained almost undeveloped, for -want of genial circumstances and reciprocated affection. One softening -gleam fell upon his early path, and he loved it like the sunshine, -without comprehending the great law of attraction that made it so very -pleasant. When he attended school in the winter months, he always walked -home with a little girl named Mary Williams. On the play-ground he was -with her, always ready to do battle with anybody who disobliged her. -Their comrades laughed, and called him Mary’s beau; and they blushed and -felt awkward, though they had no idea what courting meant. Things had -arrived at this state of half-revealed consciousness, he being fourteen -years old, and Mary twelve, when her friends removed to the West, and -the warm, bright influence passed out of his life. He never rightly knew -whether he was in love with Mary; but years afterwards, when people -talked to him about marrying, he thought of her, wondering where she -was, and whether she remembered him. When he drove his cows home from -pasture, the blackberry bushes on the way brought up visions of his -favourite school-mate, with her clean cape-bonnet thrown back, her -glossy brown hair playing with the winds, and her innocent face smiling -upon him with friendly greeting. “She was the best and prettiest child I -ever saw,” he often said to himself; “I wonder whether she would be as -pleasant now.” Sometimes he thought of going to the West and seeking her -out. But he knew not where to find her; his funds were small, and his -courage fell at the thought; “Oh, it is many years ago since we were -children together. Perhaps I should find her married.” Gradually this -one ray of poetry faded out of his soul, and all his thoughts fell into -the common prosaic mould. His lot was cast with rough people, who -required much work, and gave little sympathy. The image of his little -mate floated farther and farther away, and more and more seldom her -clear blue eyes smiled upon him through the rainbow-mists of the past, -or from the air-castles of the future. In process of time, he married, -after the same fashion that a large proportion of men do; because it was -convenient to have a wife, and there was a woman of good character in -the neighbourhood, willing to marry whoever first offered her a -respectable home. Her character bore the stamp of harmless mediocrity. -She was industrious and patient, but ignorant, dull, and quietly -obstinate. The neighbours said she was well suited to him, he was so -rough and passionate; and in the main he thought so himself; though her -imperturbable calmness sometimes fretted him, as a rock chafes the -lashing ocean into foam. The child that was born to them, they both -loved better than they had ever loved; and according to their light, -they sincerely strove to do their duty. His bodily wants were well -supplied, often at the cost of great weariness and self-sacrifice; but -their own rude training had given them few good ideas concerning the -culture of an immortal soul. The infant did more for them, than they for -him. Angelic influences, unseen and unheard amid the hard struggles of -their outward life, became visible and audible through the unconscious -innocence of their little one. For the second time in his life, a vision -of beauty and love gleamed across the rugged path of that honest, -laborious man. Vague impressions of beauty he had constantly received -from the great panorama of the universe. His heart sometimes welcomed a -bright flower in the sunshine, or a cluster of lilies on the stream; he -marvelled at the splendor of the rainbow, and sometimes gazed reverently -at the sun sinking to rest in his rich drapery of purple and gold. But -these were glimpses of the Infinite; their beauty did not seem to -appertain to _him_; it did not enter like a magic charm into the sphere -of his own existence, as did the vision of Mary Williams and his own -little Joe. The dormant tenderness there was in him leaped up at the -smile of his babe, and every pressure of the little fingers made a -dimple in the father’s heart. Like the outbursts of spring, after a long -cold winter, was this revelation of infancy to him. When he plodded -home, after a hard day’s work, it rested him body and soul to have the -little one spring into his arms for a kiss, or come toddling along, -tilting his little porringer of milk, in eagerness to eat his supper on -father’s knee. - -But though this new influence seemed to have an almost miraculous power -over his nature, it could not quite subdue the force of temperament and -habit. As the darling babe grew into boyhood, he was sometimes cherished -with injudicious fondness, and sometimes repelled by bursts of passion, -that made him run and hide himself from the over-indulgent father. Mr. -Barker had himself been educated under the dispensation of punishment, -rather than attraction, and he believed in it most firmly. If his son -committed a fault, he thought of no other cure than severity. If a -neighbour did him an ill turn, he would observe, in presence of the boy, -“I will watch my chance to pay him for it.” If the dog stole their -dinner, when they were at work in the woods, he would say, “Run after -him, Joe, and give the rascal a sound beating.” When he saw the child -fighting with some larger lad, who had offended him, he would praise his -strength and courage, and tell him never to put up with an insult. He -was not aware that all these things were education, and doing far more -to form his son’s character than any thing he learned at school. He did -not know it, because his thoughts had never been directed toward it. The -only moral instruction he had ever received, had been from the minister -of the parish; and he usually preached about the hardheartedness of Jews -two thousand years ago, rather than the errors and temptations of men -and boys, who sat before him. - -Once he received an admonition from his neighbour Goodwin, which, being -novel and unexpected, offended him, as an impertinent interference with -his rights. He was riding home with Joe, then a lad of thirteen, when -the horse took fright at a piece of white paper, that the wind blew -across the road. Mr. Barker was previously in an ill humor, because a -sudden squall of rain had wet some fine hay, all ready for the barn. -Pursuing the system on which he had himself been educated, he sprang to -the ground and cudgelled the poor beast unmercifully. Mr. Goodwin, who -was passing by, inquired the cause of so much severity, and remonstrated -against it; assuring him that a horse was never cured of bad habits by -violence. He spoke mildly, but Mr. Barker was irritated, and having told -him to mind his own business, he continued to whip the poor frightened -animal. The humane neighbour turned away, saying, “That is a bad lesson -for your son, Mr. Barker.” - -“If you say much more, I will flog you, instead of the horse,” muttered -the angry man. “It is’nt _his_ horse. What business is it to _him_?” he -added, turning to his son. - -He did not reflect in what a narrow circuit he was nailing up the -sympathies of his child, by such words as those. But when he was -reseated in the wagon, he did not feel altogether pleased with himself, -and his inward uneasiness was expended on the horse. The poor bewildered -animal, covered with foam, and breathing short and hard, tried his -utmost to do his master’s will, as far as he could understand it. But, -nervous and terrified, constantly in expectation of the whip, he started -at every sound. If he went too fast, he was reined in with a sudden -jerk, that tore the corners of his mouth; if he went too slow, the cruel -crack of the whip made him tear over the ground, to be again restrained -by the violent jerk. - -The sun was setting, and threw a radiant glow on every tree and little -shrub, jewelled by the recent shower. Cows grazed peacefully in verdant -hollows; birds sang; a little brook rippled cosily by the wayside; winds -played gently with the flowers, and kissed the raindrops from their -faces. But all this loveliness passed unheeded by those human hearts, -because they had at the moment no inward beauty to harmonize with -nature. Perhaps the familiar landscape seemed quite otherwise to the -poor horse, than it would have done, had he travelled along those -pleasant paths guided by a wise and gentle hand. - -Had Joseph continued to be little Joe, his eager welcome and loving -prattle might soon have tamed the evil spirit in his father’s soul that -night. But he was a tall lad, who had learned to double up his fists, -and tell other boys they had better let him alone, if they knew what was -good for themselves. He still loved his father better than any thing -else in the world, but the charm and the power of infancy were gone. He -reflected back the vexed spirit, like a too faithful mirror. He was no -longer a transparent, unconscious medium for the influence of angels. - -Indeed, paternal affection gradually became a hardening, rather than a -softening influence. Ambition for his son increased the love of -accumulation; and the gratification of this propensity narrowed his -sympathies more and more. Joseph had within him the unexpanded germs of -some noble qualities; but he inherited his father’s passionate -temperament with his mother’s obstinacy; and the education of such -circumstances as I have described turned his energies and feelings into -wrong channels. The remark, “It is’nt _his_ horse; what business is it -to _him_?” heard in his boyhood, expressed the views and habits of his -later years. But his mental growth, such as it was, pleased his father, -who often said exultingly, “There is no danger of Joe. He knows how to -fight his own way through the world.” - -Such was their mutual product of character, when Mr. Barker was summoned -to a jury, in a case involving life or death. He was vexed to be called -away from his employments, and had never reflected at all upon the -fearful responsibility of a juryman. James Lloyd, the prisoner, was a -very young man, and his open, honest countenance gave no indication of -capacity for crime; but he was accused of murder, and circumstantial -evidence was strong against him. It was proved that a previous quarrel -had existed between him and the murdered man; and that they had been -seen to take the same road, the prisoner in a state of intoxication, the -night the violent deed was committed. Most people thought there was no -doubt of his guilt; others deemed the case by no means certain. Two of -the jury were reluctant to convict him, and _wished_ to find the -evidence insufficient; the penalty was so dreadful, and their feelings -were so much touched by the settled misery of his youthful countenance. -Others talked sternly of justice, and urged that the Scripture demanded -blood for blood. Of this number was Peter Barker. From the beginning, he -was against the prisoner. The lawyer who pleaded for him had once been -employed in a law-suit against Mr. Barker, and had gained the cause for -his client. The juryman cherished a grudge against him for his sarcastic -eloquence on that occasion. Moreover, it so happened that neighbour -Goodwin, who years ago had reproved his severity to the horse, took -compassionate interest in the accused. He often consulted with his -lawyer, and seemed to watch the countenances of the jury anxiously. It -was a busy season of the year, and the jury were impatient to be at -their workshops and farms. Mr. Barker would not have admitted it, even -to himself, but all these circumstances helped to increase his hardness -against the prisoner. By such inconceivably slight motives is the -conduct of men often swayed on the most important occasions. - -“If the poor young fellow really did commit the act,” said one of the -jury, “it seems likely that he did it in a state of intoxication. I was -once drunk myself; and they told me afterward that I had quarrelled with -a man, and knocked him down a high flight of steps; but I had no -recollection of it. If I had killed him, and they had hung me for it, -what an awful thing it would have been for my poor father and mother. It -taught me a good lesson, for I was never again intoxicated. Perhaps -this poor youth might profit by his dreadful experience, if a chance -were allowed him. He is so young! and there is nothing bad in his -countenance.” - -“As for his womanly face,” replied Mr. Barker, “there is no trusting to -that. The worst villains are not always the worst-looking. As for his -being intoxicated, there is no telling whether it is true or not. That -cunning lawyer may have made up the story, for the sake of exciting -compassion; and the witnesses may be more than willing enough to believe -every thing strange in the prisoner’s conduct was the result of -intoxication. Moreover, it won’t do to admit that plea in extenuation; -for then, don’t you see, a man who wants to kill his enemy has only to -get drunk in the first place? If anybody killed my Joe, drunk or not -drunk, I should want him to swing for it.” - -By such remarks, urged in his vehement way, he swayed minds more timid -and lenient than his own, without being fully aware of what he was -doing. He was foreman of the jury; and when the awful moment arrived on -which depended the life of a fellow being, he pronounced the word -“Guilty,” in a strong, firm voice. The next instant his eye fell on the -prisoner, standing there so pale, and still, looking at him with such -fixed despair. There was something in the face that moved him strongly. -He turned quickly away, but the vision was before him; always, and -everywhere before him. “This is weakness,” he said to himself. “I have -merely done my duty. The law required it. I have done my duty.” But -still the pale young face looked at him; always, and everywhere, it -looked at him. - -He feared to touch a newspaper, for he wished not to know when the day -of execution would arrive. But officious neighbours, ignorant of his -state of mind, were eager to talk upon the subject; and when drawn into -such discourse, he strove to fortify his own feelings by dwelling on all -the worst circumstances of the case. Notwithstanding all his efforts, -the night preceding the execution, he had troubled dreams, in which that -ghastly young face was always conspicuous. When he woke, he saw it in -the air. It walked beside him as he ploughed the fields, it stood before -him on the threshold of his own door. All that the merciful juryman had -suggested came before him with painful distinctness. _Could_ there be a -doubt that the condemned had really committed murder? _Was_ he -intoxicated? _Might_ he have happened to be intoxicated for the _first_ -time in his life? And he so young! But he drove these thoughts away; -saying ever to himself, “The law required it. I merely did my duty.” -Still every thing looked gloomy to him. The evening clouds seemed like -funeral palls, and a pale despairing face gazed at him forever. - -For the first time in his manhood, he craved a companion in the -darkness. Neighbours came in, and described the execution; and while -they talked, the agitated juryman beat the fire-brands into a thousand -pieces, and spoke never a word. They told how the youth had written a -long letter to his mother, and had died calm and resigned. “By the way, -perhaps you knew his mother, Mr. Barker,” said one; “they tell me she -used to live in this neighbourhood. Do you remember a girl by the name -of Mary Williams?” - -The tongs dropped from Mr. Barker’s hand, as he gasped out, “Mary -Williams! Was he _her_ son? God forgive me! Was he _her_ son?” And the -strong man laid his head upon the table and wept. - -There was silence in the room. At last, the loquacious neighbour said, -in a subdued tone, “I am sorry I hurt your feelings. I didn’t know she -was a friend of yours.” - -The troubled juryman rose hastily, walked to the window, looked out at -the stars, and, clearing his choked voice, said, “It is many years since -I knew her. But she was a good-tempered, pretty girl; and it seems but -yesterday that we used to go together to pick our baskets full of -berries. And so she was _his_ mother? I remember now there was something -in his eye that seemed familiar to me.” - -Perhaps the mention of Mary’s beauty, or the melting mood, so unusual -with her husband, might have excited a vague feeling of jealousy in Mrs. -Barker. Whatever might have been the motive, she said, in her demure -way, without raising her eyes from her knitting, “Well, it was natural -enough to suppose the young man _had_ a mother; and other mothers are -likely to have hearts that can feel, as well as this Mary Williams.” - -He only answered by shaking his head slowly, and repeating, as if to -himself, “Poor Mary! and so he was _her_ son.” - -Joseph came in, and the details of the dreadful scene were repeated and -dwelt upon, as human beings are prone to dwell on all that excites -strong emotion. To him the name of Mary Williams conjured up no smiling -visions of juvenile love; and he strove to fortify his father’s -relenting feelings, by placing in a strong light all the arguments in -favour of the prisoner’s guilt. The juryman was glad to be thus -fortified, and replied in a firm, reassured voice, “At all events, I did -my duty.” Yet, for months after, the pale young face looked at him -despairingly from the evening air, and came between him and the -sunshine. But time, which softens all things, drifted the dreary spectre -into dim distance; and Mr. Barker’s faculties were again completely -absorbed in making money for his son. - -Joseph was called a fine, promising young man; but his conduct was not -altogether satisfactory to his parents. He was fond of dress and -company, and his impetuous temperament not unfrequently involved him in -quarrels. On two or three of these occasions, they feared he had been a -little excited by drink. But he was, in reality, a good-hearted fellow, -and, like his rough father, had undeveloped germs of deep tenderness -within him. His father’s life was bound up within his; his mother loved -him with all the energy of which her sluggish nature was capable; and -notwithstanding the inequalities of his violent and capricious temper, -the neighbours loved him also. - -What, then, was their consternation, when it was rumoured that on his -twenty-fourth birth-day he had been arrested for murder! And, alas! it -was too true that his passions had thus far over-mastered his reason. He -wished to please a young girl in the vicinity; and she treated him -coolly, because a rival had informed her that he was seen intoxicated, -and in that state had spoken over-boldly of being sure of her love. He -drank again, to drown his vexation; and while the excitement of the -draught was on him, he met the man who informed against him. His -exulting rival was injudicious enough to exclaim, “Ho! here you are, -drunk again! What a promising fellow for a husband!” Unfortunately, an -axe was at hand, and, in the double fury of drink and rage, he struck -with it again and again. One hour after, he would have given all he ever -hoped to possess, nay, he would gladly have died, could he have restored -the life he had so wantonly destroyed. - -Thus, Mr. Barker was again brought into a court of justice on an affair -of life and death. How differently all questions connected with the -subject presented themselves now! As he sat beside that darling son, -the pride of his life, his only hope on earth, oh, how he longed for -words of fire, to plead that his young existence might be spared for -repentance and amendment! How well he remembered the juryman’s plea for -youth and intoxication! and with what an agony of self-reproach he -recalled his own hard answer! With intense anxiety he watched the -countenance of the jury for some gleams of compassion; but ever and -anon, a pale young face loomed up between him and them, and gazed at him -with fixed despair. The vision of other years returned to haunt him; and -Joseph, his best beloved, his only one, stood beside it, pale and -handcuffed, as _he_ had been. The voice that pronounced his son guilty -sounded like an awful echo of his own; and he seemed to hear Mary -Williams whisper, “And _my_ son also was very young.” - -That vigorous off-shoot from his own existence, so full of life and -feeling, and, alas, of passion, which misguides us all--he must die! No -earthly power can save him. May the ALL MERCIFUL sustain that poor -father, as he watches the heavy slumber of his only son in that dark -prison; and while he clasps the cold hand, remembers so well the dimpled -fingers he used to hold in his, when little Joe sat upon his knee and -prattled childish love. - -And the ALL MERCIFUL _was_ with him, and sent influences to sustain him -through that terrible agony. It did not break his heart; it melted and -subdued him. The congealed sympathies of his nature flowed under this -ordeal of fire; and, for the first time, he had a realizing sense that -_every_ human being is, or has been, _somebody’s_ little Joe. - -“How kind you are to me!” said the prisoner, in answer to his soothing -words and affectionate attentions. - -He replied meekly, “Would I had _always_ been so!” Then turning his face -away, and earnestly pressing Joseph’s hand, he said, in an agitated -voice, “Tell me truly, my son, does it ever occur to you, that I may -have been to blame for this great misfortune that has befallen you?” - -“_You_, dear father!” he exclaimed. “I do not understand what you mean.” - -Still keeping his face turned away, and speaking with effort, Mr. Barker -said, “Do you remember once, when I was beating my horse cruelly, (you -were a boy of twelve then) neighbour Goodwin remarked to me, that I was -giving a bad lesson to my son? I was angry with him at the time; and -perhaps that resentment helped to make me hard toward a poor young -fellow who is dead and gone; but his words keep ringing in my ears -_now_. May God, in his mercy, forgive me, if I have ever done or said -any thing to lead you into this great sin! Tell me, Joseph, do you ever -think it might have happened otherwise, if you had had a less violent -father?” - -“My poor father!” exclaimed the prisoner, pressing his hand -convulsively, “it almost breaks my heart to hear you thus humble -yourself before me, who so little deserve it at your hands. Only forgive -me _my_ violent outbreaks, dear father! for in the midst of them all, I -always loved you. You have always sought to do me good, and would rather -have died, than have led me into any harm. But since I have been here in -prison, I have thought of many things, that never occurred to me before. -The world and all things in it are placed before me in a different -light. It seems to me men are all wrong in their habits and teachings. I -see now that retaliation and hatred are murder. I have read often, of -late, the exhortation of Jesus to forgive our brother his offences, not -only seven times, but seventy times seven; and I feel that thus it -_ought_ to be with human beings in all their relations with each other. -What I have done cannot be undone; but if it will be any satisfaction to -you, rest assured that I did not intend to kill him. I was wretched, and -I was fool enough to drink; and then I knew not what I did. Violent as -my temper has been, I never conceived the thought of taking his life.” - -“I know it, my son; I know it,” he said; “and that reflection consoles -me in some degree. While I have a loaf of bread, I will share it with -the mother and sister of him you----” he hesitated, shuddered, and added -in a low deep tone--“you murdered.” - -“I was going to ask that of you,” replied the prisoner; “and one thing -more, dear father; try to bear up bravely under this terrible blow, for -the sake of my poor patient mother.” - -“I will, I will,” he answered; “and now my dear misguided boy, say you -forgive your poor father for the teachings of his violent words and -actions. I did not foresee the consequences, my child. I did it in my -ignorance. But it was wrong, wrong, all wrong.” - -The young man threw himself on his father’s bosom, and they had no other -utterance but tears. - - * * * * * - -After his only strong link to life was broken by the violent arm of the -law, Mr. Barker was a changed man; silent, and melancholy, patient, -gentle, and forgiving to all. He never complained of the great sorrow -that wasted away his life; but the neighbours saw how thin and sad he -looked, and the roughest natures felt compassion for him. - -Every year, she who had been Mary Williams received a hundred dollar -note. He never whispered to any mortal that it was sent by the juryman -who helped to condemn her son to death; but when he died, a legacy of a -thousand dollars to her showed that he never forgot the pale despairing -face, that for years had haunted his dreams. - - - - -THE FAIRY FRIEND. - - Spirit, who waftest me where’er I will, - And see’st with finer eyes what infants see; - Feeling all lovely truth, - With the wise health of everlasting youth. - LEIGH HUNT. - - -In these rational days, most people suppose that fairies do not exist; -but they are mistaken. The mere fact that fairies have been imagined -proves that there are fairies; for fancy, in her oddest freaks, never -paints any thing which has no existence. She merely puts invisible -agencies into visible forms, and embodies spiritual influences in -material facts. It seems a wild fiction when we read of beautiful young -maidens floating in gossamer, and radiant with jewels, who suddenly -change into mocking old hags, or jump off into some slimy pool, in the -form of a frog; or like the fair Melusina, doomed to become a fish on -certain days of the year, and those who happened to see her in that -plight could never again see her as the Fair Melusina. Yet who that has -grown from youth to manhood, who that has been in love and out of love, -has not found the fairies of his life playing him just such tricks? - -In the fascinating ballet of Giselle, so poetic in conception, and so -gracefully expressed in music, there is deep and tender meaning for all -who have lived long, or lived much. Is not Memory a fairy spirit, like -Giselle, dancing round graves, hovering between us and the stars, -flitting across our woodland rambles, throwing us garlands and -love-tokens from the past, coming to us in dreams, so real that we clasp -our loved ones, and gliding away when morning gleams on the material -world? - -Oh yes there _are_ fairies, both good and bad; and they are with us -according as we obey or disobey their laws of being. One, with whom I -made acquaintance as soon as I could run alone, has visited me ever -since; though sometimes she pouts and hides herself, and will not soon -come back. I am always sad when she is gone; for she is a wonder-working -little sprite, and she takes all my wealth away with her. If you were to -gaze on a field of dandelions, if _she_ were not at your elbow, you -would merely think they were pretty posies, and would make excellent -greens for dinner. But if _she_ touches you, and renders you -clairvoyant, they will surprise you with their golden beauty, and every -blossom will radiate a halo. Sometimes she fills the whole air with -rainbows, as if Nature were out for a dance, with all her ribbons on. A -sup of water, taken from a little brook, in the hollow of her hand, has -made me more merry than would a goblet of wine. She has often filled my -apron with opals, emeralds, and sapphires, and I was never weary of -looking at them; but those who had wandered away from the fairy, and -forgotten her treasures, sneered at my joy, and said, “Fie upon thee! -Wilt thou _always_ be a child? They are nothing but pebbles.” - -Last Spring, my friendly little one guided me to a silver-voiced -waterfall at Weehawken, where a group of German forget-me-nots were -sitting with their feet in the water. Their little blue eyes laughed -when they saw me. I asked what made them smile in my face so lovingly. -They answered, “Because we hear a pleasant song, and _you_ know what it -says to us.” It was not I who knew; it was the fairy; but she had -magnetized me, and so I heard all that was said to her. - -A wealthy invalid passed by, afflicted with dyspepsia. He did not see -the flowers smile, or hear the waterfall singing his flowing melody of -love to the blue eyes that made his home so beautiful. He had parted -from the fairy long ago. He told her she was a fool, and that none would -ever grow rich, who suffered themselves to be led by her. She laughed -and said, “Thou dost not know that I alone am rich; always, and every -where, rich. But go thy ways, vain worldling. Shouldst thou come back to -me, I will ask if thou hast ever found any thing equal to my gems and -rainbows.” She gazed after him for a moment, and laughed again, as she -exclaimed, “Aha, let him try!” - -The gay little spirit spoke truly; for indeed there is nothing so real -as her unrealities. Those who have parted from her complain that she -made them large promises in their early time, and has never kept them; -but to those who remain with her trustfully, she more than fulfils all. -For _them_ she covers the moss-grown rock with gold, and fills the -wintry air with diamonds. It is many years since she first began to tell -me her fine stories. But this very last New Year’s day she led me out -into the country, and lighted up all the landscape as I went, so that it -seemed lovelier than the rarest pictures. The round bright face of the -moon smiled at me, and said, “I know thee well. Thou hast built many -castles up here. Come to them whenever thou wilt. Their rose-coloured -drapery, with rainbow fringes, is more real than silken festoons in -Broadway palaces.” I was glad at heart, and I said to my fairy, “The -sheriff cannot attach _our_ furniture, or sell _our_ castles at -auction.” “No indeed,” she replied. “He cannot even _see_ them. He has -forgotten me. He thinks all the gems I show are only pebbles, and all my -prismatic mantles mere soap-bubbles.” - -This simple little sprite says much richer things than the miracles she -does. Her talk is all alive. She is a poet, though she knows it not; or, -rather _because_ she knows it not. She tells me the oddest and most -brilliant things; and sometimes I write them down imperfectly, as well -as I can remember them. Matter-of-fact persons shake their heads, and -say, “What on earth does the woman mean? I never see and hear such -things.” And grave people raise their spectacles and inquire, “Can you -point me out any moral, or any use, in all this stuff?” “There is no -sense in it,” says one; “The writer is insane,” says another; “She’s an -enthusiast, but we must pardon _that_ weakness,” says a third, more -magnanimous than others. The fairy and I have great fun together, while -we listen to their jokes and apologies. The frolicsome little witch -knows very well that it is _she_ who says the things that puzzle them; -and _she_ knows the meaning very well; but she never tells it to those -who “speer questions.” - -She is a philosopher, too, as well as a poet, without being aware of it. -She babbles all manner of secrets, without knowing that they _are_ -secrets. If you were to propound to her a theory concerning the relation -between tones and colours, she would fold her wings over her face and -drop asleep. But sound a flute, and she will leap up and exclaim, “Hear -that beautiful, bright azure sound!” And if oboës strike in, she will -smile all over, and say, “Now the yellow flowers are singing. How pert -and _naïve_ they are!” It was she who led the little English girl to the -piano, and put a melody of cowslip meadows in her brain; and as the -child improvised, she smiled, and said ever to herself, “This is the -tune with the golden spots.” - -But this genial little fairy is easily grieved and estranged. Her -movements are impulsive, she abhors calculators, and allows no -questions. If she shows you a shining gem, be careful not to inquire -what would be its price in the market; otherwise its lustre will fade -instantly, and you will have to ask others whether the thing you hold in -your hand has any beauty or value. If she beckons into blooming paths, -follow her in simple faith, whether she leads to castles in the moon, or -lifts up a coverlet of leaves to peep at little floral spirits sound -asleep, with their arms twined round the fragrant blossoms of the -arbutus. She carries with her Aladdin’s lamp, and all the things she -looks upon are luminous with transfigured glory. Take heed not to -inquire where the path will lead to, whether others are accustomed to -walk in it, or whether they will believe your report of its wonderful -beauty. Above all, be careful not to wish that such visions may be kept -from the souls of others, that your own riches may seem marvellous and -peculiar. Wish _this_ but for a single instant and you will find -yourself all alone, in cold gray woods, where owls hoot, and spectral -shadows seem to lie in wait for you. But if with a full heart you crave -forgiveness for the selfish thought, and pray earnestly that the divine -Spirit of Beauty may be revealed to all, and not one single child of God -be excluded from the radiant palace, then will the fairy come to you -again, and say, “Now thou and I are friends again. Give me thy hand, and -I will lead thee into gardens of paradise. Because thou hast not wished -to shut up _any_ thing, therefore thou shalt possess _all_ things.” -Instantly the cold gray woods shine through a veil of gold; the shadows -dance, and all the little birds sing, “Joy be with thee.” A spirit nods -welcome to you from every cluster of dried grass; a soul beams through -the commonest pebble; ferns bow before you more gracefully than the -plumes of princes; and verdant mosses kiss your feet more softly than -the richest velvets of Genoa. - -Trust the good little fairy. Be not disturbed by the mockery of those -who despise her simple joys. She said truly, “I alone am rich; always, -and everywhere, rich.” - - - - -WERGELAND, THE POET. - - The busy bees, up coming from the meadows - To the sweet cedar, fed him with soft flowers, - Because the Muse had filled his mouth with nectar. - LEIGH HUNT. - - -Wergeland was one of the most popular poets Norway has ever produced. He -rhymed with wonderful facility, and sometimes, when a rush of -inspiration came upon him, he would write verses during a whole day and -night, with untiring rapidity, scarcely pausing to eat, or to rest his -hand. In the poems which expressed his own inward life there was often -something above common comprehension; but, in addition to those higher -efforts, he wrote a great number of verses for the peasantry, in all the -peculiar dialects of their various districts. The merest trifle that -flowed from his pen is said to have contained some sparkling fancy, or -some breathing of sentiments truly poetic. He was an impassioned lover -of nature, and in his descriptions of natural objects was peculiar for -making them seem alive. Thus in one of his poems he describes the winds -coming through clefts of rock, forming a powerful current in the fiord, -driving white-crested waves before them, like a flock of huge -storm-birds. A lawyer, who passes through the current in a boat, -imagines the great waves to be angry spectres of the many poor clients -whom he has wronged. He throws one ten dollars, another twenty, another -fifty, to pacify them. At last, a wondrous tall wave stretches forth his -long neck, as if to swallow him. The terrified lawyer throws him a -hundred dollars, imploring him to be merciful. Just then, the boat turns -a corner of the rock, out of the current. The great wave eagerly bends -his long arm round the rock, and tries to clutch him; then retreats, -disappointed at his escape. - -Wergeland had a strongly marked head, full of indentations, like a bold -rocky shore. He was an athletic, earnest, jovial man, and enjoyed life -with a keen zest. His manner of telling a story was inimitably funny and -vivacious. While he was settling his spectacles, before he began to -speak, a smile would go mantling all over the lower part of his face, -announcing that something good was coming. His soul went forth with warm -spontaneousness to meet all forms of being; and this lively sympathy -seemed to attract both men and animals toward him magnetically. He was -accustomed to saddle his own horse, which stood loose in the barn, among -pet rabbits, pet pigeons, pet birds, all sorts of poultry, and a -favourite cat. These creatures all lived in the greatest friendship -together. They knew their master’s voice perfectly well; and the moment -he opened the door, they would all come neighing, purring, cooing, -singing, crowing, capering and fluttering about him. His cottage was a -picturesque place, ornamented with all sorts of mosses, vines, and -flowers. Under it was a grotto made of rocks and shells, in which were -an old hermit, with a long beard, and various other grotesque figures, -carved in wood. The grotto was occasionally lighted up in the evening, -and the images, seen among flickering shadows, excited great awe in the -minds of peasant children. - -This gifted and genial man, who lived in such loving companionship with -nature, was called away from the earth, which seemed to him so cheerful, -before he had passed the middle term of human life. The news of his -death was received with lamentation by all classes in Norway. Crowds of -people went to Christiana to bid farewell to the lifeless body of their -favorite poet. While in the last stage of consumption, in May, 1845, he -wrote the following verses, which were read to me by one of his -countrymen, who translated them literally, as he went along. Even -through this imperfect medium, my heart was deeply touched by their -childlike simplicity and farewell sadness. The plaintive voice seemed to -become my own, and uttered itself thus, in English rhyme, which -faithfully preserves the sense of the original: - - -SUPPLICATION TO SPRING. - - Oh, save me, save me, gentle Spring! - Bring healing on thy balmy wing! - I loved thee more than all the year. - To no one hast thou been more dear. - - Bright emeralds I valued less, - Than early grass, and water-cress. - Gem of the year I named _thy_ flower, - Though roses grace fair Summer’s bower. - - The queenly ones, with fragrant sighs, - Tried to allure thy poet’s eyes; - But _they_ were far less dear to me, - Than _thy_ simple wild anemone. - - Bear witness for me, little flower! - Beloved from childhood’s earliest hour; - And dandelions, so much despised, - Whose blossoms more than gold I prized. - - I welcomed swallows on the wing, - And loved them for their news of Spring. - I gave a feast for the earliest one, - As if a long-lost child had come, - - Blest harbingers of genial hours, - Unite _your_ voices with the flowers! - Dear graceful birds, pour forth your prayer, - That nature will her poet spare! - - Plead with the Maker of the rain! - That he will chilling showers restrain; - And my poor breast no longer feel - Sharp needle-points of frosty steel. - - Thou beautiful old maple tree! - For my _love’s_ sake, pray _thou_ for me! - Thy leaf-buds, op’ning to the sun, - Like pearls I counted ev’ry one. - - I wished I might thy grandson be, - Dear, ven’rable old maple tree! - That my young arms might round thee twine, - And mix my vernal crown with thine. - - Ah, even now, full well I ween, - Thou hast thy robe of soft light-green. - I seem to hear thee whisp’ring slow - To the vernal grass below. - - Stretch thy strong arms toward the sky, - And pray thy poet may not die! - I will heal thy scars with kisses sweet, - And pour out wine upon thy feet. - - Blessings on the patriarch tree! - Hoarsely he intercedes for me; - And little flowers, with voices mild, - Beg thee to spare thy suff’ring child. - - Fair season, so beloved by me! - Thy young and old _all_ plead with thee. - Oh, heal me, with thy balmy wing! - I have so _worshipped_ thee, sweet Spring! - -The following lines, written two days before he died, were addressed to -a fragrant, golden-coloured flower whose English name I cannot -ascertain. - - -TO THE GULDENLAK. - - Sweet flower! before thy reign is o’er, - I shall be gone, to return no more, - Before thou losest thy crown of gold, - I shall lie low in the cold dark mould. - - Open the window, and raise me up! - My last glance must rest on her golden cup. - My soul will kiss her, as it passes by - And wave farewell from the distant sky. - - Yea, _twice_ will I kiss thy fragrant lip, - Where the wild honey-bee loves to sip. - The _first_, I will give for thy _own_ dear sake; - The _second_, thou must to my _rose-bush_ take. - - I shall sleep sound in the silent tomb, - Before the beautiful bush will bloom; - But ask her the first fair rose to lay - On her lover’s grave, to fade away. - - Give her the kiss I gave thee to keep, - And bid her come on my breast to sleep; - And, glowing flower, with sweetest breath, - Be thou our bridal torch in death! - - - - -THE EMIGRANT BOY. - - ’Tis lone on the waters, - When eve’s mournful bell, - Sends forth to the sunset - A note of farewell. - - When, borne with the shadows - And winds, as they sweep, - There comes a fond memory - Of home o’er the deep. - HEMANS. - - -In the old town of Rüdesheim, on the Rhine, is one of those dilapidated -castles, which impart such picturesque beauty to the scenery of Germany. -Among the ruins, Karl Schelling, a poor hard-working peasant, made for -himself a home. With him dwelt his good wife Liesbet, and two blue-eyed -children, named Fritz and Gretchen. A few cooking utensils, and wooden -stools, constituted all their furniture; and one brown-and-white goat, -was all they had to remind them of flocks and herds. But these poor -children led a happier life, than those small imitations of humanity, -who are bred up in city palaces, and drilled to walk through existence -in languid drawing-room paces. From moss-grown arches in the old ruins, -they could watch boats and vessels gliding over the sparkling Rhine, -and see broad meadows golden with sunshine. On the terrace of the -castle, the wind had planted many flowers. It was richly carpeted with -various kinds of moss, tufts of grass, blue-bells, and little pinks. -Here Karl often carried his goat to feed, and left the children to tend -upon him. There had been a stork’s nest on the roof, from time -immemorial; and the little ones were early taught to reverence the -birds, as omens of blessing. Their simple young souls were quite -unconscious of poverty. The splendid Rhine, with all its islands--the -broad pasture-lands, with herds peacefully grazing--houses nestling -among woody hills--all seemed to belong to them; and in reality, they -possessed them more truly than many a rich man, who - - “One moment gazes on his flowers, - The next they are forgot; - And eateth of his rarest fruits, - As though he ate them not.” - -On their little heaps of straw, brother and sister slept soundly in each -other’s arms; and if the hooting of an owl chanced to wake them, some -bright star looked in with friendly eye, through chinks in the walls, -and said, “Go to sleep, little ones; for all little children are dear to -the good God.” - -Thus, with scanty food and coarse clothes, plenty of pure air and blue -sky, Fritz and his sister went hand in hand over their rugged but -flower-strewn path of life, till he was nearly seven years old. Then -came Uncle Heinrich, his mother’s brother, and said the boy could be -useful to him at the mill, where he worked; and if the parents were -willing to bind him to his service, he would supply him with food and -clothing, and give him an outfit when he came of age. Tears were in -Liesbet’s eyes; for she thought how lonely it would seem to her and -little Gretchen, when they should no longer hear Fritz mocking the -birds, or singing aloud to the high heaven. But they were very poor, and -the child must earn his bread. So, with much sorrow to part with father -and mother, and Gretchen, the goat and the stork, and with some gladness -to go to new scenes, Fritz departed from the old nest that had served -him for a home. Mounted with Uncle Heinrich, on the miller’s donkey, he -ambled along through rocky paths, by deep ravines and castle-crowned -hills, with here and there glimpses of the noble river, flowing on, -bright and strong, reflecting images of spires, cottages, and -vine-covered slopes. When he arrived at his new home, the good -grandmother gave him right friendly welcome, and promised to set up on -her knitting-needles a striped blue cap for him to wear. Uncle Heinrich -was kind, in his rough way; but he thought it an excellent plan for boys -to eat little and work hard. Fritz, remembering the blossom-carpet of -the old castle, was always delighted to spy a clump of flowers. His -uncle told him they looked well enough, but he wondered anybody should -ever plant them, since they were not useful either to eat or wear; and -that when he grew older, he would doubtless think more of pence than -posies. Thus the child began to be ashamed, as of something wrong, when -he was caught digging a flower. But his laborious and economical -relative taught him many orderly and thrifty ways, which afterward had -great influence on his success in life; and fortunately a love for the -beautiful could not be pressed out of him. Kind, all-embracing Nature -took him in her arms, and whispered many things to preserve him from -becoming a mere animal. All day long he was hard at work; but the -blossoming tree was his friend, and the bright little mill-stream -chatted cozily, and smiled when the good grandmother gave it his clothes -to wash. The miller’s donkey, ambling along through sun-lighted paths -over the hills, was a picture to him. From his small garret window he -could see the mill-wheel scattering bright drops in the moonlight; and -he fell asleep to the gentle lullaby of ever-flowing water. Other -education than this he had not. - - “His only teachers had been woods and rills; - The silence that is in the starry sky, - The sleep that is among the lonely hills.” - -An aged neighbour, cotemporary with the grandmother, took a great liking -to Fritz; and on Sundays, when no work could be done, he was often -allowed to go and take dinner or supper there. The old man had traversed -nearly all Germany as a peddler, and had come to die in the old -homestead near the mill, where he had worked when a boy. He knew by -heart all the wild fairy legends of the country, and, in his character -of peddler-guest, had acquired a talent for relating them in a manner -peculiarly amusing and exciting to children. In the course of his -travels, he had likewise collected many things which seemed very -remarkable to the inexperienced eye of Fritz; such as curious -smoking-pipes and drinking-cups, and images in all the various costumes -of Germany. But what most attracted his attention was an ancient clock, -brought from Copenhagen when the peddler’s father was a young man. When -this clock was in its right mind, it could play twelve tunes, about as -simple as “Molly put the kettle on.” But the friction of many years had -so worn the cogs of the wheels, that it was frightfully out of tune. -This did not trouble the boy’s strong nerves, and he was prodigiously -amused with the sputtering, seething, jumping, jabbering sounds it made, -when set in motion. To each of the crazy old tunes he gave some droll -name. “There goes the Spitting Cat,” he would say; “now let us hear the -Old Hen.” - -Father Rudolph called the rickety old machine his Blacking Box; because -he had bought it with the proceeds of a peculiar kind of blacking, of -his own manufacture. He was always praising this blacking; and one day -he said, “I have never told any one the secret of making it; but if you -are a good boy, Fritz, I will show you how it is done.” The child could -not otherwise than respect what had procured such a wonderful clock; and -when he fell asleep that night, there floated through his mind undefined -visions of being able, some time or other, to purchase such a comical -machine for himself. This seemed a very unimportant incident of his -childhood; but it was the introduction of a thread, that reappeared -again in his web of life. - -Fritz passed at the old mill four years of health, happiness, and hard -labor. For three years, Father Rudolph was an unfailing source of -entertainment. Alternately with his comic old songs, and wild legends of -fairies and goblins, he imparted much of a traveller’s discursive -observation, and thorough practical knowledge concerning the glossy jet -blacking. At last he fell asleep, and the boy heard that pleasant old -voice no more, except in the echoing caves of memory. The good -grandmother survived the companion of her youth only a few months. The -ancient ballads she used to croon at her spinning-wheel, had caught -something of the monotonous flow of the water, which forever accompanied -them; and Fritz, as he passed up and down from the mill to the brook, -missed the quaint old melodies, as he would have missed the rustling of -the leaves, the chirping of crickets, or any other dear old familiar -sound. He missed, too, her kind motherly ways, and the little comforts -with which her care supplied him. With the exception of his rough, but -really kind-hearted uncle, he was now alone in the world. He had visited -Rüdesheim but once, and had then greatly amused Gretchen with his -imitations of the crazy clock. But his parents had since removed to a -remote district, and he knew not when he should see dear Gretchen again. -As none of them could read or write, there came no tidings to cheer the -long years of separation. How his heart yearned at times for the good -mother and the joyous little sister! - -But when Uncle Heinrich announced his intention of removing to America, -the prospect of new adventures, and the youthful tendency to look on the -bright side of things, overbalanced the pain of parting from -father-land. It is true the last night he slept at the old mill, the -moonlight had a farewell sadness in its glance, and the little stream -murmured more plaintively as it flowed. Fritz thought perhaps they knew -he was going away. They certainly seemed to sigh forth, “We shall see -thee no more, thou bright, strong child! We remain, but thou art passing -away!” - -When the emigrants came to the sea-port, every thing was new and -exciting to the juvenile imagination of Fritz. The ships out in the -harbor looked like great white birds, sailing through the air. How -pleasant it must be thus to glide over the wide waters! But between a -ship in the distance, and the ship we are in, there exists the usual -difference between the ideal and the actual. There was little romance in -the crowded cabin, with hundreds of poor emigrants eating, drinking, and -smoking, amid the odour of bilge-water, and the dreadful nausea of the -sea. Poor Fritz longed for the pure atmosphere and fresh-flowing brook, -at the mill. However, there was always America in prospect, painted to -his imagination like Islands of the Blest. Uncle Heinrich said he should -grow rich there; and a fairy whispered in his ear that he himself might -one day possess a Copenhagen clock, bright and new, that would play its -tunes decently and in order. “No, no,” said Fritz to the fairy, “I had -rather buy Father Rudolph’s clock; it was such a funny old thing.” “Very -well,” replied the fairy, “be diligent and saving, and perhaps I will -one day bring Father Rudolph’s clock to crow and sputter to thee in the -New World.” - -But these golden dreams of the future received a sad check. One day, -there was a cry of “A man overboard!” It occasioned the more terror, -because a shark had been following in the wake of the vessel for several -days. Boats were lowered instantly; but a crimson tinge on the surface -of the water showed that their efforts were useless. It was not till -some minutes after the confusion subsided, that Fritz perceived his -Uncle Heinrich was missing. Terrible had been that crimson stain on the -water; but now, when he knew it was the life-blood of his last and only -friend, it made him faint and dizzy, as if it were flowing from his own -veins. - -Uncle Heinrich’s hard-earned savings were fastened within the belt he -wore; and a bundle of coarse clothes, with a few tools, were all that -remained of his worldly possessions. The captain had compassion on the -desolate child, and charged nothing for his passage, or his food. When -the vessel came within sight of port, the passengers, though most of -them poor, raised a small fund for him by contribution. But who can -describe the utter loneliness of the emigrant boy, when he parted from -his ship-companions, and wandered through the crowded streets of New -York, without meeting a single face he had ever seen before? Lights -shone in cheerful basements, where families supped together; but his -good-hearted mother, and his dear little blue-eyed Gretchen--where were -they? Oh, it was very sad to be so entirely alone, in such a wide, wide -world! Sometimes he saw a boy turn round to stare at his queer little -cap, and outlandish frock; but he could not understand what he said, -when he sung out, “There goes what they call a Flying Dutchman.” Day -after day he tried for work, but could obtain none. His funds were -running very low, and his heart was extremely heavy. As he stood -leaning against a post, one day, a goat walked slowly towards him from a -neighboring court. How his heart leaped up to greet her! With her came -back images of the castle on the Rhine, the blooming terrace, his kind -father, his blessed mother, and his darling little sister. He patted the -goat’s head, and kissed her, and looked deep into her eyes, as he had -done with the companion of his boyhood. A stranger came to lead the -animal away; and when she was gone, poor Fritz sobbed as if his heart -would break. “I have not even a goat for a friend now,” thought he. “I -wish I could get back to the old mill again. I am afraid I shall starve -here in this foreign land, where there is nobody to bury me.” - -In the midst of these gloomy cogitations, there was an alarm of fire; -and the watchmen sprung their rattles. Instantly a ray of hope darted -through his soul! The sound reminded him of Father Rudolph’s Blacking -Box; for one of its tipsy tunes began with a flourish exactly like it. -“I will save every cent I can, and buy materials to make blacking,” -thought he. “I will sleep under the planks on the wharves, and live on -two pence a day. I can speak a few words of English. I will learn more -from some of my countrymen, who have been here longer than I. Then, -perhaps, I can sell blacking enough to buy bread and clothes.” - -And thus he did. At first, it went very hard with him. Some days he -earned nothing; and a week of patient waiting brought but one shilling. -But his broad face was so clean and honest, his manners so respectful, -and his blacking so uncommonly good, that his customers gradually -increased. One day, a gentleman who traded with him made a mistake, and -gave him a shilling instead of a ten-cent piece. Fritz did not observe -it at the moment; but the next day, when the gentleman passed to his -counting-house, he followed him, and touched him on the arm. The -merchant inquired what he wanted. Fritz showed the coin, saying, “Dat -not mine.” “Neither is it mine,” rejoined the merchant; “what do you -show it to me for?” The boy replied, in his imperfect English, “Dat too -mooch.” A friend, who was with the merchant, addressed him in German; -and the poor emigrant’s countenance lighted up, as if it had become -suddenly transparent, and a lamp placed within it. Heaving a sigh, and -blushing at his own emotion, he explained, in his native tongue, that he -had accidently taken too much for his blacking, the day before. They -looked at him with right friendly glances, and inquired into his -history. He told them his name and parentage, and how Uncle Heinrich had -attempted to bring him to America, and had been devoured by a shark on -the way. He said he had not a single friend in this foreign land, but he -meant to be honest and industrious, and he hoped he should do well. The -gentlemen assured him that they should always remember him as Fritz -Shilling, and that they would certainly speak of him to their friends. -He did not understand the joke of his name, but he did understand that -they bought all his blacking, and that customers increased more rapidly -after that interview. - -It would be tedious to follow the emigrant through all the process of -his gradually-improving fortune. As soon as he could spare anything from -necessary food and clothing, he went to an evening school, where he -learned to read, write, and cipher. He became first a shop-boy, then a -clerk, and finally established a neat grocery-store for himself. Through -all these changes, he continued to sell the blacking, which arrived at -the honour of poetical advertisements in the newspapers, under the name -of Schelling’s Best Boot Polisher. - -But the prosperity thus produced was not the only result of his -acquaintance with Father Rudolph. The dropped stitches of our life are -sometimes taken up again strangely, through many intervening loops. One -day, as Fritz was passing through the streets, when he was about sixteen -years old, he stopped and listened intently; for he heard far off the -sounds of a popular German ballad, which his grandmother and the peddler -often used to sing together. Through all the din and rattle of the -streets, he could plainly distinguish the monotonous minor cadence, -which had often brought tears to his eyes when a boy. He followed the -tones, and soon came in sight of an old man and his wife singing the -familiar melody. A maiden, apparently somewhat younger than himself, -played a tamborin at intervals. When he spoke to her in German, her face -kindled, as his own had done, at the first sound of his native tongue in -a strange land. “They call me Röschen,” she replied; “these are my -father and mother. We came from the ship last night, and we sing for -bread, till we can get work to do.” The soul looked simply and kindly -through her blue eyes, and reminded him of sister Gretchen. Her wooden -shoes, short blue petticoat, and little crimson jacket might seem vulgar -to the fashionable, and picturesque to the artist; but to him it was -merely the beloved costume of his native land. It warmed his heart with -childish recollections; and when they sang again the quaint, sad melody, -he seemed to hear the old brook flow plaintively by, and see the -farewell moonlight on the mill. Thus began his acquaintance with the -maiden, who was afterwards his wife, and the mother of his little -Gretchen. - -Of these, and all other groups of emigrants, for many years, he inquired -concerning his parents and his sister; but could obtain no tidings. At -last, a priest in Germany, to whom he wrote, replied that Gretchen had -died in childhood; and that the father and mother had also recently -died. It was a great disappointment to the affectionate heart of Fritz -Schelling; for through all his expanding fortunes he had cherished the -hope of returning to them, or bringing them to share his comfortable -home in the New World. But when he received the mournful news, he had -Röschen to love, and her parents to care for, and a little one that -twined herself round his heart with fresh flower-garlands every day. - -At thirty-five, he was a happy and a prosperous man. So prosperous, that -he could afford to live well in the city, and yet build for himself a -snug cottage in the country. “We can go out every Saturday and return on -Monday,” said he to Röschen. “We can have fresh cream, and our own sweet -butter. It will do the children good to roll on the grass, and they -shall have a goat to play with.” - -“And, perhaps, by-and-by, we can go there to live all the time,” -rejoined Röschen. “It is so quiet and pleasant in the country; and -what’s the use of being richer than enough?” - -The site chosen for the cottage overlooked the broad, bright river, -where high palisades of rock seemed almost like the ruins of an old -castle. Fritz said he would make a flower-carpet on the rocks, for the -goat to browse upon; and if a stork would only come and build a nest on -his thatched roof, he could almost fancy himself in Germany. At times, -the idea of importing storks crossed his mind; but his good sense -immediately rejected the plan. It is difficult to imagine how those -venerable birds, with their love of the antique and the unchangeable, -could possibly live in America. One might as well try to import loyal -subjects, or an ancient nobility. - -When house and barn were completed, the first object was to secure -honest, industrious German tenants to till the soil. Fritz heard of a -company of emigrants, who wished to sell themselves for a specified -time, in order to pay their passage; and he went on board the ship to -see them. A hale man, who said he was about sixty years old, with a wife -some five or six years younger, attracted his attention by their extreme -cleanliness and good expression of countenance. He soon agreed to -purchase them; and in order to prepare the necessary papers, he inquired -their names. - -“Karl Schelling and Liesbet Schelling,” replied the old man. - -Fritz started, and his face flushed, as he asked, “Did you ever live in -the old castle at Rüdesheim?” - -“That we did for several summers,” rejoined Karl. - -“Ah, can you tell us any thing of our son Fritz?” exclaimed Liesbet, -eyeing him eagerly. “God bless him wherever he is! We came to America to -find him.” - -“Mother! Mother! do you not know me?” he said; and threw himself into -her open arms, and kissed the honest, weather-beaten face. - -“I see it has gone well with you, my son. Now, thanks be to God, and -blessed be His holy name,” said Karl, reverently uncovering his head. - -“And where is Gretchen?” inquired Fritz, earnestly. - -“The All-Father took her home, to Himself, soon after you came to see us -at Rüdesheim,” replied Liesbet. “She was always mourning for the -brother, poor little one! It troubled us to go away and leave you behind -us, without saying farewell; and I feared no blessing would follow it. -But we were very poor, and we thought then we should come to you in two -or three years.” - -“Don’t speak of that,” said Fritz. “You were always good parents to me, -and did the best you could. Blessings _have_ followed me; and to meet -you thus is the crowning blessing of all. Come, let us hasten home. I -want to show you my good Röschen, and our Gretchen, and Karl, and -Liesbet, and Rudolph, and baby Röschen. My small farm overlooks a river -broad and beautiful as the Rhine. The rocks look like castles, and I -have bought a goat for the children to play with. The roof of our -cottage is thatched, and if a stork would only come and build her nest -there, then dear father and mother might almost imagine themselves again -at Rüdesheim, with plenty to eat, drink, and wear. If Father Rudolph’s -Blacking Box were only here,” added he, laughing, “I should have all -but one of my boyish dreams fulfilled. Ah, if dear Gretchen were only -here!” - -The fairy who whispered to Fritz when he was crossing the Atlantic, told -him if he were diligent and saving, she would perhaps bring him the old -clock; and she kept her promise better than fairies sometimes do; for it -chanced that the heir of Father Rudolph came to America, and brought it -with him. The price Fritz offered for it was too tempting, and it now -stands in his thatched cottage. Its carved black case, inlaid with -grotesque figures of birds and beasts in pearl, is more wonderful than a -picture-book to the children. When any of them are out of health, or out -of humour, their father sets the old bewildered tunes agoing, and they -soon join in a merry mocking chorus, with “Cluck, cluck, cluck! Whirr, -whirr, whirr! Rik a rik a ree!” - -NOTE.--The accidental purchase of his parents by a German emigrant -actually occurred a few years since; and this story was suggested by the -fact. - - - - -HOME AND POLITICS. - - FOUNDED ON AN INCIDENT THAT OCCURRED IN NEW YORK, DURING THE - EXCITEMENT ATTENDING THE ELECTION OF PRESIDENT POLK. - - O friendly to the best pursuits of man! - Friendly to thought, to virtue, and to peace, - Domestic life. - COWPER. - - -At the bend of a pleasant road winding under the shade of a large elm, -stood a small school-house. It was a humble building; and the little -belfry on the top seemed hardly large enough for the motions of the -cow-bell suspended there. But it was a picturesque feature in the -landscape. The elm drooped over it with uncommon gracefulness, and -almost touched the belfry with its light foliage. The weather-beaten, -moss-grown shingles were a relief to the eye of the traveller, weary of -prim staring white houses. Moreover, a human soul had inscribed on the -little place a pastoral poem in vines and flowers. A white Rose bush -covered half one side, and carried its offering of blossoms up to the -little bell. Cypress vines were trained to meet over the door, in a -Gothic arch, surmounted by a cross. On the western side, the window was -shaded with a profusion of Morning Glories; and a great rock, that -jutted out into the road, was thickly strewn with Iceland moss, which in -the springtime covered it with a carpet of yellow stars. - -It was at that season it was first seen by George Franklin, a young New -York lawyer, on a visit to the country. He walked slowly past, gazing at -the noble elm slightly waving its young foliage to a gentle breeze. Just -then, out poured a flock of children, of various ages. Jumping and -laughing, they joined hands and formed a circle round the elm. A clear -voice was heard within the school-house, singing a lively time, while -measured strokes on some instrument of tin marked the time. The little -band whirled round the tree, stepping to the music with the rude grace -of childhood and joy. After ten or fifteen minutes of this healthy -exercise, they stopped, apparently in obedience to some signal. Half of -them held their hands aloft and formed arches for the other half to jump -through. Then they described swift circles with their arms, and leaped -high in the air. Having gone through their simple code of gymnastics, -away they scampered, to seek pleasure after their own fashion, till -summoned to their books again. Some of them bowed and courtesied to the -traveller, as they passed; while others, with arms round each other’s -necks, went hopping along, first on one foot, then on the other, too -busy to do more than nod and smile, as they went by. Many of them wore -patched garments, but hands and faces were all clean. Some had a -stolid, animal look; but even these seemed to sun their cold nature in -the rays of beauty and freedom, which they found only at school. The -whole scene impressed the young man very vividly. He asked himself why -it could not be always thus, in the family, in the school, every where? -Why need man forever be a blot on Nature? Why must he be coarse and -squalid, and gross and heavy, while Nature is ever radiant with fresh -beauty, and joyful with her overplus of life? Then came saddening -thoughts how other influences of life, coarse parents, selfish -employers, and the hard struggle for daily bread, would overshadow the -genial influences of that pleasant school, which for a few months gilded -the lives of those little ones. - -When he repassed the spot, some hours after, all was still, save the -occasional twittering of birds in the tree. It was sunset, and a bright -farewell gleam shone across the moss-carpet on the rock, and made the -little flowers in the garden smile. When he returned to the city, the -scene often rose before his mind as a lovely picture, and he longed for -the artist’s skill to re-produce it visibly in its rustic beauty. When -he again visited the country after midsummer, he remembered the little -old school-house, and one of his earliest excursions was a walk in that -direction. A profusion of crimson stars, and white stars, now peeped out -from the fringed foliage of the Cypress vines, and the little front -yard was one bed of blossoms. He leaned over the gate, and observed how -neatly every plant was trained, as if some loving hand tended them -carefully every day. He listened, but could hear no voices; and -curiosity impelled him to see how the little building looked within. He -lifted the latch, peeped in, and saw that the room was empty. The rude -benches and the white-washed walls were perfectly clean. The windows -were open on both sides, and the air was redolent with the sweet breath -of Mignonette. On the teacher’s desk was a small vase, of Grecian -pattern, containing a few flowers tastefully arranged. Some books lay -beside it, and one had an ivory folder between the leaves, as if -recently used. It was Bettine’s Letters to Günderode; and, where it -opened at the ivory folder, he read these lines, enclosed in pencil -marks; “All that I see done to children is unjust. Magnanimity, -confidence, free-will, are not given to the nourishment of their souls. -A slavish yoke is put upon them. The living impulse, full of buds, is -not esteemed. No outlet will they give for Nature to reach the light. -Rather must a net be woven, in which each mesh is a prejudice. Had not a -child a world within, where could he take refuge from the deluge of -folly that is poured over the budding meadow-carpet? Reverence have I -before the destiny of each child, shut up in so sweet a bud. One feels -reverence at touching a young bud, which the spring is swelling.” - -The young man smiled with pleased surprise; for he had not expected to -find appreciation of such sentiments in the teacher of a secluded -country school. He took up a volume of Mary Howitt’s Birds and Flowers, -and saw the name of Alice White written in it. On all blank spaces were -fastened delicate young fern leaves, and small bits of richly-tinted -moss. He glanced at the low ceiling, and the rude benches. “This seems -not the appropriate temple for such a spirit,” thought he. “But, after -all, what consequence is that, since such spirits find temples -everywhere?” He took a pencil from his pocket, and marked in Bettine’s -Letters: “Thou hast feeling for the every-day life of nature. Dawn, -noon-tide, and evening clouds are thy dear companions, with whom thou -canst converse when no man is abroad with thee. Let me be thy scholar in -simplicity.” - -He wrote his initials on the page. “Perhaps I shall never see this young -teacher,” thought he; “but it will be a little mystery, in her -unexciting life, to conjecture what curious eye has been peeping into -her books.” Then he queried with himself, “How do I know she is a -_young_ teacher?” - -He stood leaning against the window, looking on the beds of flowers, and -the vine leaves brushed his hair, as the breeze played with them. They -seemed to say that a young heart planted them. He remembered the clear, -feminine voice he had heard humming the dancing-tune, in the spring -time. He thought of the mosses and ferns in the book. “Oh, yes, she -_must_ be young and beautiful,” thought he. “She cannot be otherwise -than beautiful, with such tastes.” He stood for some moments in half -dreaming reverie. Then a broad smile went over his face. He was making -fun of himself. “What consequence is it to me whether she be either -beautiful or young?” said he inwardly. “I must be hungry for an -adventure, to indulge so much curiosity about a country schoolmistress.” - -The smile was still on his face, when he heard a light step, and Alice -White stood before him. She blushed to see a stranger in her little -sanctuary, and he blushed at the awkwardness of his situation. He -apologized, by saying that the beauty of the little garden, and the -tasteful arrangement of the vines, had attracted his attention, and, -perceiving that the school-house was empty, he had taken the liberty to -enter. She readily forgave the intrusion, and said she was glad if the -humble little spot refreshed the eyes of those who passed by, for it had -given her great pleasure to cultivate it. The young man was -disappointed; for she was not at all like the picture his imagination -had painted. But the tones of her voice were flexible, and there was -something pleasing in her quiet but timid manner. Not knowing what to -say, he bowed and took leave. - -Several days after, when his rural visit was drawing to a close, he -felt the need of a long walk, and a pleasant vision of the winding road -and the little school-house rose before him. He did not even think of -Alice White. He was ambitious, and had well nigh resolved never to -marry, except to advance his fortunes. He admitted to himself that grace -and beauty might easily bewitch him, and turn him from his prudent -purpose. But the poor country teacher was not beautiful, either in face -or figure. He had no thought of her. But to vary his route somewhat, he -passed through the woods, and there he found her gathering mosses by a -little brook. She recognized him, and he stopped to help her gather -mosses. Thus it happened that they fell into discourse together; and the -more he listened, the more he was surprised to find so rare a jewel in -so plain a setting. Her thoughts were so fresh, and were so simply said! -And now he noticed a deep expression in her eye, imparting a more -elevated beauty than is ever derived from form or colour. He could not -define it to himself, still less to others; but she charmed him. He -lingered by her side, and when they parted at the school-house gate, he -was half in hopes she would invite him to enter. “I expect to visit this -town again in the autumn,” he said. “May I hope to find you at the -little school-house?” - -She did not say whether _he_ might hope to find her there; but she -answered with a smile, “I am always here. I have adopted it for my -home, and tried to make it a pleasant one, since I have no other.” - -All the way home his thoughts were occupied with her; and the memory of -her simple, pleasant ways, often recurred to him amid the noises of the -city. He would easily have forgotten her in that stage of their -acquaintance, had any beautiful heiress happened to cross his path; for -though his nature was kindly, and had a touch of romance, ambition was -the predominant trait in his character. But it chanced that no woman -attracted him very powerfully, before he again found himself on the -winding road where stood the picturesque little school-house. Then came -frequent walks and confidential interviews, which revealed more -loveliness of mind and character than he had previously supposed. Alice -was one of those peculiar persons whose history sets at naught all -theories. Her parents had been illiterate, and coarse in manners, but -she was gentle and refined. They were utterly devoid of imagination, and -she saw every thing in the sunshine of poetry. “Who is the child like? -Where did she get her queer notions?” were questions they could never -answer. They died when she was fourteen; and she, unaided and unadvised, -went into a factory to earn money to educate herself. Alternately at the -factory and at school, she passed four years. Thanks to her notable -mother, she was quick and skilful with her needle, and knew wonderfully -well how to make the most of small means. She travelled along unnoticed -through the by-paths of life, rejoicing in birds, and flowers, and -little children, and finding sufficient stimulus to constant industry in -the love of serving others, and the prospect of now and then a pretty -vase, or some agreeable book. First, affectionate communion, then beauty -and order, were the great attractions to her soul. Hence, she longed -inexpressibly for a home, and was always striving to realize her ideal -in such humble imitations as the little school-house. The family where -she boarded often disputed with each other, and, being of rude natures, -not all Alice’s unassuming and obliging ways could quite atone to them -for her native superiority. In the solitude of the little school-house -she sought refuge from things that wounded her. There she spent most of -the hours of her life, and found peace on the bosom of Nature. Poor, and -without personal beauty, she never dreamed that domestic love, at all -resembling the pattern in her own mind, was a blessing she could ever -realize. Scarcely had the surface of her heart been tremulous with even -a passing excitement on the subject, till the day she gathered mosses in -the wood with George Franklin. When he looked into her eyes, to -ascertain what their depth expressed, she was troubled by the -earnestness of his glance. Habitually humble, she did not venture to -indulge the idea that she could ever be beloved by him. But when she -thought of his promised visit in autumn, fair visions sometimes floated -before her, of how pleasant life would be in a tasteful little home, -with an intelligent companion. Always it was a _little_ home. None of -her ideas partook of grandeur. She was a pastoral poet, not an epic -poet. - -George did come, and they had many pleasant walks in beautiful October, -and crowned each other with garlands of bright autumnal leaves. Their -parting betrayed mutual affection; and soon after George wrote to her -thus: “I frankly acknowledge to you that I am ambitious, and had fully -resolved never to marry a poor girl. But I love you so well, I have no -choice left. And now, in the beautiful light that dawns upon me, I see -how mean and selfish was that resolution, and how impolitic withal. For -is it not happiness we all seek? And how happy it will make me to fulfil -your long-cherished dream of a tasteful home! I cannot help receiving -from you more than I can give; for your nature is richer than mine. But -I believe, dearest, it is always more blessed to give than to receive; -and when two think so of each other, what more need of heaven? - -“I am no flatterer, and I tell you frankly I was disappointed when I -first saw you. Unconsciously to myself, I had fallen in love with your -soul. The transcript of it, which I saw in the vines and the flowers -attracted me first; then a revelation of it from the marked book, the -mosses and the ferns. I imagined you _must_ be beautiful; and when I saw -you were not, I did not suppose I should ever think of you more. But -when I heard you talk, your soul attracted me irresistibly again, and I -wondered I ever thought you otherwise than beautiful. Rarely is a -beautiful soul shrined within a beautiful body. But loveliness of soul -has one great advantage over its frail envelope, it need not decrease -with time, but ought rather to increase. - -“Of one thing rest assured, dear Alice; it is now impossible for me ever -to love another, as I love you.” - -When she read this letter, it seemed to her as if she were in a -delightful dream. Was it indeed possible that the love of an -intelligent, cultivated soul was offered to her, the poor unfriended -one? How marvellous it seemed, that when she was least expecting such a -blossom from Paradise, a stranger came and laid it in the open book upon -her desk, in that little school-house, where she had toiled with patient -humility through so many weary hours! She kissed the dear letter again -and again; she kissed the initials he had written in the book before he -had seen her. She knelt down, and, weeping, thanked God that the great -hunger of her heart for a happy home was now to be satisfied. But when -she re-read the letter in calmer mood, the uprightness of her nature -made her shrink from the proffered bliss. He said he was ambitious. -Would he not repent marrying a poor girl, without beauty, and without -social influence of any kind? Might he not find her soul far less lovely -than he deemed it? Under the influence of these fears, she answered him: -“How happy your precious letter made me, I dare not say. My heart is -like a garden when the morning sun shines on it, after a long, cold -storm. Ever since the day we gathered mosses in the wood, you have -seemed so like the fairest dreams of my life, that I could not help -loving you, though I had no hope of being beloved in return. Even now, I -fear that you are acting under a temporary delusion, and that hereafter -you may repent your choice. Wait long, and observe my faults. I will try -not to conceal any of them from you. Seek the society of other women. -You will find so many superior to me, in all respects! Do not fear to -give me pain by any change in your feelings. I love you with that -disinterested love, which would rejoice in your best happiness, though -it should lead you away from me.” - -This letter did not lower his estimate of the beauty of her soul. He -complied with her request to cultivate the acquaintance of other women. -He saw many more beautiful, more graceful, more accomplished, and of -higher intellectual cultivation; but none of them seemed so charmingly -simple and true, as Alice White. “Do not talk to me any more about a -change in my feelings,” he said, “I like your principles, I like your -disposition, I like your thoughts, I like your ways; and I always -_shall_ like them.” Thus assured, Alice joyfully dismissed her fears, -and became his wife. - -Rich beyond comparison is a man who is loved by an intelligent woman, so -full of home-affections! Especially if she has learned humility, and -gained strength, in the school of hardship and privation. But it is only -beautiful souls who learn such lessons in adversity. In lower natures it -engenders discontent and envy, which change to pride and extravagance in -the hour of prosperity. Alice had always been made happy by the simplest -means; and now, though her husband’s income was a moderate one, her -intuitive taste and capable fingers made his home a little bower of -beauty. She seemed happy as a bird in her cozy nest; and so grateful, -that George said, half in jest, half in earnest, he believed women loved -their husbands as the only means society left them of procuring homes -over which to preside. There was some truth in the remark; but it pained -her sensitive and affectionate nature, because it intruded upon her the -idea of selfishness mingled with her love. Thenceforth, she said less -about the external blessings of a home; but in her inmost soul she -enjoyed it, like an earthly heaven. And George seemed to enjoy it almost -as much as herself. Again and again, he said he had never dreamed -domestic companionship was so rich a blessing. His wife, though far less -educated than himself, had a nature capable of the highest cultivation. -She was always an intelligent listener, and her quick intuitions often -understood far more than he had expressed or thought. Poor as she was, -she had brought better furniture for his home, than mahogany chairs and -marble tables. - -Smoothly glided a year away, when a little daughter came into the -domestic circle, like a flower brought by angels. George had often -laughed at the credulous fondness of other parents, but he really -thought _his_ child was the most beautiful one he had ever seen. In the -countenance and movements he discovered all manner of rare gifts. He was -sure she had an eye for color, an eye for form, and an ear for music. -She had her mother’s deep eye, and would surely inherit her quick -perceptions, her loving heart, and her earnestness of thought. His whole -soul seemed bound up in her existence. Scarcely the mother herself was -more devoted to all her infant wants and pleasures. Thus happy were -they, with their simple treasures of love and thought, when, in evil -hour, a disturbing influence crossed their threshold. It came in the -form of political excitement; that pestilence which is forever racing -through our land, seeking whom it may devour; destroying happy homes, -turning aside our intellectual strength from the calm and healthy -pursuits of literature or science, blinding consciences, embittering -hearts, rasping the tempers of men, and blighting half the talent of our -country with its feverish breath. - -At that time, our citizens were much excited for and against the -election of General Harrison. George Franklin threw himself into the -melée with firm and honest conviction that the welfare of the country -depended on his election. But the superior and inferior natures of man -are forever mingling in all his thoughts and actions; and this generous -ardor for the nation’s good gradually opened into a perspective of -flattering prospects for himself. By the study and industry of years, he -had laid a solid foundation in his profession, and every year brought -some increase of income and influence. But he had the American -impatience of slow growth. Distinguished in some way he had always -wished to be; and no avenue to the desired object seemed so short as the -political race-course. A neighbour, whose temperament was peculiarly -prone to these excitements, came in often and invited him to clubs and -meetings. When Alice was seated at her work, with the hope of passing -one of their old pleasant evenings, she had a nervous dread of hearing -the door-bell, lest this man should enter. It was not that she expected, -or wished, her husband to sacrifice ambition and enterprise, and views -of patriotic duty, to her quiet habits. But the excitement seemed an -unhealthy one. He lived in a species of mental intoxication. He talked -louder than formerly, and doubled his fists in the vehemence of -gesticulation. He was restless for newspapers, and watched the arrival -of mails, as he would once have watched over the life of his child. All -calm pleasures became tame and insipid. He was more and more away from -home, and staid late in the night. Alice at first sat up to wait for -him; but finding that not conducive to the comfort of their child, she -gradually formed the habit of retiring to rest before his return. She -was always careful to leave a comfortable arrangement of the fire, with -his slippers in a warm place, and some slight refreshment prettily laid -out on the table. The first time he came home and saw these silent -preparations, instead of the affectionate face that usually greeted him, -it made him very sad. The rustic school-house, with its small belfry, -and its bright little garden-plat, rose up in the perspective of memory, -and he retraced, one by one, all the incidents of their love. Fair and -serene came those angels of life out of the paradise of the past. They -smiled upon him and asked, “Are there any like us in the troubled path -you have now chosen?” With these retrospections came some -self-reproaches concerning little kind attentions forgotten, and -professional duties neglected, under the influence of political -excitement. He spoke to Alice with unusual tenderness that night, and -voluntarily promised that when the election was fairly over, he would -withdraw from active participation in politics. But this feeling soon -passed away. The nearer the result of the election approached, the more -intensely was his whole being absorbed in it. One morning, when he was -reading the newspaper, little Alice fretted and cried. He said, -impatiently, “I wish you would carry that child away. Her noise disturbs -me.” Tears came to the mother’s eyes, as she answered, “She is not well; -poor little thing! She has taken cold.” “I am sorry for that,” he -replied, and hurried to go out and exult with his neighbour concerning -the political tidings. - -At night, the child was unusually peevish and restless. She toddled up -to her father’s knees, and cried for him to rock her to sleep. He had -just taken her in his arms, and laid her little head upon his bosom, -when the neighbour came for him to go to a political supper. He said the -mails that night must bring news that would decide the question. The -company would wait for their arrival, and then have a jubilee in honour -of Harrison’s success. The child cried and screamed, when George put her -away into the mother’s arms; and he said sternly, “Naughty girl! Father -don’t love her when she cries.” “She is not well,” replied the mother, -with a trembling voice, and hurried out of the room. - -It was two o’clock in the morning before George returned; but late as it -was, his wife was sitting by the fire. “Hurrah for the old coon!” he -exclaimed. “Harrison is elected.” - -She threw herself on his bosom, and bursting into tears, sobbed out, -“Oh, hush, hush, dear George! Our little Alice is dead!” Dead! and the -last words he had spoken to his darling had been unkind. What would he -not have given to recall them now? And his poor wife had passed through -that agony, alone in the silent midnight, without aid or consolation -from him. A terrible weight oppressed his heart. He sank into a chair, -drew the dear sufferer to his bosom, and wept aloud. - - * * * * * - -This great misfortune sadly dimmed the glory of his eagerly-anticipated -political triumph. When the tumult of grief subsided, he reviewed the -events of his life, and weighed them in a balance. More and more, he -doubted whether it were wise to leave the slow certainties of his -profession, for chances which had in them the excitement and the risks -of gambling. More and more seriously he questioned whether the -absorption of his faculties in the keen conflicts of the hour was the -best way to serve the true interests of his country. It is uncertain how -the balance would have turned, had he not received an appointment to -office under the new government. Perhaps the sudden fall of the -triumphal arch, occasioned by the death of General Harrison, might have -given him a lasting distaste for politics, as it did to many others. But -the proffered income was more than double the sum he had ever received -from his profession. Dazzled by the prospect, he did not sufficiently -take into the account that it would necessarily involve him in many -additional expenses, political and social, and that he might lose it by -the very next turn of the wheel, without being able to return easily to -his old habits of expenditure. Once in office, the conviction that he -was on the right side combined with gratitude and self-interest to make -him serve his party with money and personal influence. The question of -another election was soon agitated, and these motives drove him into the -new excitement. He was kind at home, but he spent little time there. He -sometimes smiled when he came in late, and saw the warm slippers by the -fire, and a vase of flowers crowning his supper on the table; but he did -not think how lonely Alice must be, nor could he possibly dream what she -was suffering in the slow martyrdom of her heart. He gave dinners and -suppers often. Strangers went and came. They ate and drank, and smoked, -and talked loud. Alice was polite and attentive; but they had nothing -for her, and she had nothing for them. How out of place would have been -her little songs and her fragrant flowers, amid their clamor and -tobacco-smoke! She was a pastoral poet living in a perpetual battle. - -The house was filled with visitors to see the long Whig procession pass -by, with richly-caparisoned horses, gay banners, flowery arches, and -promises of protection to every thing. George bowed from his chariot and -touched his hat to her, as he passed with the throng, and she waved her -handkerchief. “How beautiful! How magnificent!” exclaimed a visitor, who -stood by her. “Clay will certainly be elected. The whole city seems to -be in the procession. Sailors, printers, firemen, every thing.” - -“There are no women and children,” replied Alice; and she turned away -with a sigh. The only protection that interested _her_, was a protection -for _homes_. - -Soon after came the evening procession of Democrats. The army of horses; -temples of Liberty, with figures in women’s dress to represent the -goddess; raccoons hung, and guillotined, and swallowed by alligators; -the lone star of Texas everywhere glimmering over their heads; the whole -shadowy mass occasionally illuminated by the rush of fire-works, and the -fitful glare of lurid torches; all this made a strange and wild -impression on the mind of Alice, whose nervous system had suffered in -the painful internal conflicts of her life. It reminded her of the -memorable 10th of August in Paris; and she had visions of human heads -reared on poles before the windows, as they had been before the palace -of the unfortunate Maria Antoinette. Visitors observed their watches, -and said it took this procession an hour longer to pass than it had for -the Whig procession. “I guess Polk will beat after all,” said one. -George was angry and combated the opinion vehemently. Even after the -company had all gone, and the street noises had long passed off in the -distance, he continued remarkably moody and irritable. He had more cause -for it than his wife was aware of. She supposed the worst that could -happen, would be defeat of his party and loss of office. But -antagonists, long accustomed to calculate political games with a view to -gambling, had dared him to bet on the election, being perfectly aware of -his sanguine temperament; and George, stimulated solely by a wish to -prove to the crowd, who heard them, that he considered the success of -Clay’s party certain, allowed himself to be drawn into the snare, to a -ruinous extent. All his worldly possessions, even his watch, his books, -and his household furniture, were at stake; and ultimately all were -lost. Alice sympathized with his deep dejection, tried to forget her own -sorrows, and said it would be easy for her to assist him, she was so -accustomed to earn her own living. - -On their wedding day, George had given her a landscape of the rustic -school-house, embowered in vines, and shaded by its graceful elm. He -asked to have this reserved from the wreck, and stated the reason. No -one had the heart to refuse it; for even amid the mad excitement of -party triumph, everybody said, “I pity his poor wife.” - -She left her cherished home before the final breaking up. It would have -been too much for her womanly heart, to see those beloved household -goods carried away to the auction-room. She lingered long by the astral -lamp, and the little round table, where she and George used to read to -each other, in the first happy year of their marriage. She did not weep. -It would have been well if she could. She took with her the little vase, -that used to stand on the desk in the old country school-house, and a -curious Wedgewood pitcher George had given her on the day little Alice -was born. She did not show them to him, it would make him so sad. He was -tender and self-reproachful; and she tried to be very strong, that she -might sustain him. But health had suffered in these storms, and her -organization fitted her only for one mission in this world; that was, to -make and adorn a home. Through hard and lonely years she had longed for -it. She had gained it, and thanked God with the joyfulness of a happy -heart. And now her vocation was gone. - -In a few days, hers was pronounced a case of melancholy insanity. She -was placed in the hospital, where her husband strives to surround her -with every thing to heal the wounded soul. But she does not know him. -When he visits her, she looks at him with strange eyes, and still -clinging to the fond ideal of her life, she repeats mournfully, “I -_want_ my _home_. Why don’t George come and take me _home_?” - - * * * * * - -Thus left adrift on the dark ocean of life, George Franklin hesitated -whether to trust the chances of politics for another office, or to start -again in his profession, and slowly rebuild his shattered fortunes from -the ruins of the past. Having wisely determined in favor of the latter, -he works diligently and lives economically, cheered by the hope that -reason will again dawn in the beautiful soul that loved him so truly. - -His case may seem like an extreme one; but in truth he is only one of a -thousand similar wrecks continually floating over the turbulent sea of -American politics. - - - - -TO THE TRAILING ARBUTUS. - - - Thou delicate and fragrant thing! - Sweet prophet of the coming Spring! - To what can poetry compare - Thy hidden beauty, fresh and fair? - - Only they who search can find - Thy trailing garlands close enshrined; - Unveiling, like a lovely face, - Surprising them with artless grace. - - Thou seemest like some sleeping babe, - Upon a leafy pillow laid; - Dreaming, in thy unconscious rest, - Of nest’ling on a mother’s breast. - - Or like a maiden in life’s May, - Fresh dawning of her girlish day; - When the pure tint her cheeks disclose - Seems a reflection of the rose. - - More coy than hidden love thou art, - With blushing hopes about its heart; - And thy faint breath of fragrance seems - Like kisses stolen in our dreams. - - Thou’rt like a gentle poet’s thought, - By Nature’s simplest lessons taught, - Reclining on old moss-grown trees, - Communing with the whisp’ring breeze. - - Like timid natures, that conceal - What others carelessly reveal; - Reserving for a chosen few - Their wealth of feeling, pure and true. - - Like loving hearts, that ne’er grow old, - Through autumn’s change, or winter’s cold; - Preserving some sweet flowers, that lie - ’Neath withered leaves of years gone by. - - At sight of thee a troop upsprings - Of simple, pure, and lovely things; - But half thou sayest to my heart, - I find no language to impart. - - - - -THE CATHOLIC AND THE QUAKER. - - For _thee_, the priestly rite and prayer - And holy day, and solemn psalm; - For _me_, the silent reverence, where - My brethren gather, slow and calm. - J. G. WHITTIER. - - -It was one of Ireland’s greenest lanes that wound its way down to a -rippling brook, in the rear of Friend Goodman’s house. And there, by a -mound of rocks that dipped their mossy feet in the rivulet, Friend -Goodman walked slowly, watching for his little daughter, who had been -spending the day with some children in the neighbourhood. Presently, the -small maiden came jumping along, with her bonnet thrown back, and the -edges of her soft brown ringlets luminous in the rays of the setting -sun. Those pretty curls were not Quakerly; but Nature, who pays no more -attention to the regulations of Elders, than she does to the edicts of -Bishops, would have it so. At the slightest breath of moisture, the -silky hair rolled itself into spirals, and clustered round her pure -white forehead, as if it loved the nestling-place. Jumping, likewise, -was not a Quakerly proceeding. But little Alice, usually staid and -demure, in imitation of those around her, had met with a new companion, -whose temperament was more mercurial than her own, and she was yielding -to its magnetic influence. - -Camillo Campbell, a boy of six years, was the grandson of an Italian -lady, who had married an Irish absentee, resident in Florence. Her -descendants had lately come to Ireland, and taken possession of estates -in the immediate neighbourhood of Friend Goodman, where little Camillo’s -foreign complexion, lively temperament, and graceful broken language, -rendered him an object of very great interest, especially among the -children. He it was with whom little Alice was skipping through the -green lane, bright and free as the wind and sunshine that played among -her curls. As the sober father watched their innocent gambols, he felt -his own pulses quicken, and his motions involuntarily became more rapid -and elastic than usual. The little girl came nestling up to his side, -and rubbed her head upon his arm, like a petted kitten. Camillo peeped -roguishly from behind the mossy rocks, kissed his hand to her, and ran -off, hopping first on one foot and then on the other. - -“Dost thou like that little boy?” inquired Friend Goodman, as he stooped -to kiss his darling. - -“Yes, Camillo’s a pretty boy, I like him,” she replied. Then with a -skip and a bound, which showed that the electric fluid was still leaping -in her veins, she added, “He’s a funny boy, too: he swears _you_ all the -time.” - -The simple child, being always accustomed to hear _thee_ and _thou_, -verily thought _you_ was a profane word. Her father did what was very -unusual with him: he laughed outright, as he replied, “What a strange -boy is that!” - -“He asked me to come down to the rock and play, to-morrow. May I go, -after school?” she asked. - -“We will see what mother says,” he replied. “But where didst thou meet -Camillo?” - -“He came to play with us in the lane, and Deborah and John and I went -into his garden to see the birds. Oh, he has got such pretty birds! -There’s a nice little meeting-house in the garden; and there’s a woman -standing there with a baby. Camillo calls her my donny. He says we -mustn’t play in there. Why not? Who _is_ my donny?” - -“The people of Italy, where Camillo used to live, call the Mother of -Christ Madonna,” replied her father. - -“And who is Christ?” she asked. - -“He was a holy man, who lived a great many years ago. I read to thee one -day about his taking little children in his arms and blessing them.” - -“I guess he loved little children almost as well as thou, dear father,” -said Alice. “But what do they put his mother in that little -meeting-house for?” - -Not deeming it wise to puzzle her busy little brain with theological -explanations, Friend Goodman called her attention to a small dog, whose -curly white hair soon displaced the Madonna, and even Camillo, in her -thoughts. But the new neighbour, and the conservatory peopled with -birds, and the little chapel in the garden, made a strong impression on -her mind. She was always talking of them, and in after years they -remained by far the most vivid picture in the gallery of childish -recollections. Nearly every day, she and Camillo met at the mossy rock, -where they planted flowers in blossom, and buried flies in -clover-leaves, and launched little boats on the stream. When they -strolled toward the conservatory, the old gardener was always glad to -admit them. Flowering shrubs and gaudy parrots, so bright in the warm -sunshine, formed such a cheerful contrast to her own unadorned home, -that little Alice was never weary with gazing and wondering. But from -all the brilliant things, she chose two Java sparrows for her especial -favorites. The old gardener told her they were Quaker birds, because -their feathers were all of such a soft, quiet color. Bright little -Camillo caught up the idea, and said, “I know what for you so much do -like them: Quaker lady-birds they be.” - -“And she’s a Quaker lady-bird, too,” said the old gardener, smiling, as -he patted her on the head; “she’s a nice little lady-bird.” Poll Parrot -heard him, and repeated, “Lady-bird.” Always after that, when Alice -entered the conservatory, the parrot laughed and screamed, “Lady-bird!” - -Near the door were two niches partially concealed by a net-work of -vines; and in the niches were statues of two winged children. Alice -inquired who they were; and Camillo replied, “My little sister and -brother. Children of the Madonna now they is.” His mother had told him -this, and he did not understand what it meant; neither did Alice. She -looked up at the winged ones with timid love, and said, “Why don’t they -come down and play with us?” - -“From heaven they cannot come down,” answered Camillo. - -Alice was about to inquire the reason why, when the parrot interrupted -her by calling out, “Lady-bird! Lady-bird!” and Camillo began to mock -her. Then, laughing merrily, off they ran to the mossy rock to plant -some flowers the gardener had given them. - -That night, while Alice was eating her supper, Friend Goodman chanced to -read aloud something in which the word heaven occurred. “I’ve been to -heaven,” said Alice. - -“Hush, hush, my child,” replied her father. - -“But I _have_ been to heaven,” she insisted. “Little children have wings -there.” - -Her parents exchanged glances of surprise, and the mother asked, “How -dost thou know that little children have wings in heaven?” - -“Because I saw them,” she replied. “They wear white gowns, and they are -the children of my donny. My donny lives in the little meeting-house in -Camillo’s garden. She’s the mother of Christ that loved little children -so much; but she never said any thing to me. The birds call me -lady-bird, in heaven.” - -Her mother looked very sober. “She gets her head full of strange things -down there yonder,” said she. “I tell thee, Joseph, I don’t like to have -the children playing together so much. There’s no telling what may come -of it.” - -“Oh, they are mere babes,” replied Joseph. “The my donny, as she calls -it, and her doll, are all the same to her. The children take a deal of -comfort together, and it seems to me it is not worth while to put -estrangement between them. Divisions come fast enough in the human -family. When he is a lad, he will go away to school and college, and -will come back to live in a totally different world from ours. Let the -little ones enjoy themselves while they can.” - -Thus spake the large-hearted Friend Joseph; but Rachel was not so easily -satisfied. “I don’t like this talk about graven images,” said she. “If -the child’s head gets full of such notions, it may not prove so easy to -put them out.” - -Truly, there seemed some ground for Rachel’s fears; for whether Alice -walked or slept, she seemed to live in the neighbour’s garden. Sitting -beside her mother in the silent Quaker meeting, she forgot the row of -plain bonnets before her, and saw a vision of winged children through a -veil of vines. At school, she heard the old green parrot scream, -“Lady-bird!” and fan-tailed doves and Java sparrows hopped into her -dreams. She had never heard a fairy story in her life; otherwise, she -would doubtless have imagined that Camillo was a prince, who lived in an -enchanted palace, and had some powerful fairy for a friend. - - * * * * * - -It came to pass as Joseph had predicted. These days of happy -companionship soon passed away. Camillo went to a distant school, then -to college, and then was absent awhile on the Continent. It naturally -happened that the wealthy Catholic family had but little intercourse -with the substantial Quaker farmer. Years passed without a word between -Alice and her former playfellow. Once, during his college life, she met -him and his father on horseback, as she was riding home from meeting, on -a small gray mare her father had given her. He touched his hat and said, -“How do you do, Miss Goodman?” and she replied, “How art thou, Camillo?” -His father inquired, “Who is that young woman?” and he answered, “She is -the daughter of Farmer Goodman, with whom I used to play sometimes, -when I was a little boy.” Thus like shadows they passed on their -separate ways. He thought no more of the rustic Quaker girl, and with -her, the bright picture of their childhood was like the remembrance of -last year’s rainbow. - -But events now approached, which put all rainbows and flowers to flight. -A Rebellion broke out in Ireland, and a terrible civil war began to rage -between Catholics under the name of Pikemen, and Protestants under the -name of Orangemen. The Quakers being conscientiously opposed to war, -could not adopt the emblems of either party, and were of course exposed -to the hostility of both. Joseph Goodman, in common with others of his -religious persuasion, had always professed to believe, that returning -good for evil was a heavenly principle, and therefore safe policy. Alice -had received this belief as a traditionary inheritance, without -disputing it, or reflecting upon it. But now came times that tested -faith severely. Every night, they retired to rest with the consciousness -that their worldly possessions might be destroyed by fire and pillage -before morning, and perhaps their lives sacrificed by infuriated -soldiers. At the meeting-house, and by the way-side, earnest were the -exhortations of the brethren to stand by their principles, and not -flinch in this hour of trial. Joseph Goodman’s sermon was brief and -impressive. “The Gospel of Love has power to regenerate the world,” -said he; “and the humblest individual, who lives according to it, has -done something for the salvation of man.” - -His strength was soon tried; for the very next day a party of Pikemen -came into the neighbourhood and set fire to all the houses of the -Orangemen. Groans, and shrieks, and the sharp sound of shots, were heard -in every direction. Fierce men rushed into their peaceful dwelling, -demanding food, and ordering them to give up their arms. - -“Food I will give, but arms I have none,” replied Joseph. - -“More shame for you!” roared the commander of the troop. “If you can’t -do any thing more for your country than that, you may as well be killed -at once, for a coward, as you are.” - -He drew his sword, but Joseph did not wink at the flash of the -glittering blade. He looked him calmly in the eye, and said, “If thou -art willing to take the crime of murder on thy conscience, I cannot help -it. I would not willingly do harm to thee, or to any man.” - -The soldier turned away abashed, and putting his sword into the -scabbard, he muttered, “Well, give us something to eat, will you?” - -The hours that followed were frightful with the light of blazing houses, -the crash of musketry, and the screams of women and children flying -across the fields. Many took refuge in Joseph’s house, and he did all -he could to soothe and strengthen them. - -At sunset, he went forth with his serving-men to seek the wounded and -the dead. Along the road and among the bushes, mangled bodies were lying -in every direction. Those in whom life remained, they brought with all -tenderness and consigned to the care of Rachel and Alice; and, as long -as they could see, they gathered the dead for burial. In the evening, -the captain of the Pikemen returned in great wrath. “This is rather too -much,” he exclaimed. “We did’nt spare your house this morning to have it -converted into a hospital for the damned Orangemen. Turn out every dog -of ’em, or we will burn it down over your heads.” - -“I cannot stay thy hand, if thou hast the heart to do it,” mildly -replied Joseph. “But I will not desert my fellow-creatures in their -great distress. If the time should come when thy party is routed, we -will bury thy dead, and nurse thy wounded, as we have done for the -Orangemen. I will do good to all parties, and harm to none. Here I take -my stand, and thou mayest kill me if thou wilt.” - -Again the soldier was arrested by a power he knew not how to resist. -Joseph seeing his embarrassment, added: “I put the question to thee as a -man of war: Is it manly to persecute women and children? Is it brave to -torture the wounded and the dying? Wouldst thou feel easy to think of -it in thy dying hour? Let us part in peace, and when thou hast need of -a friend, come to me.” - -After a brief hesitation, the soldier said, “It would be a happier world -if all thought as you do.” Then, calling to his men, he said, “Let us be -off, boys. There’s nothing to be done here.” - -A fortnight after, triumphant Orangemen came with loud uproar to destroy -the houses of the Catholics. It was scarcely day-break, when Alice was -roused from uneasy slumbers by the discharge of musketry, and a lurid -light on the walls of her room. Starting up, she beheld Colonel -Campbell’s house in a blaze. The beautiful statues of the Madonna and -the winged children were knocked to pieces, and crushed under the feet -of an angry mob. Vines and flowers crisped under the crackling flames, -and the beautiful birds from foreign climes fell suffocated in the -smoke, or flew forth, frightened, into woods and fields, and perished by -cruel hands. In the green lane, once so peaceful and pleasant, ferocious -men were scuffling and trampling, shooting and stabbing. Everywhere the -grass and the moss were dabbled with blood. Above all the din, were -heard the shrill screams of women and children; and the mother of -Camillo came flying into Joseph’s house, exclaiming, “Hide me, oh, hide -me!” Alice received her in her arms, laid the throbbing head tenderly on -her bosom, put back the hair that was falling in wild disorder over her -face, and tried to calm her terror with gentle words. Others came -pouring in, and no one was refused shelter. To the women of Colonel -Campbell’s household Alice relinquished her own little bedroom, the only -corner of the house that was not already filled to overflowing. She drew -the curtain, that the afflicted ones need not witness the bloody -skirmishing in the fields and lane below. But a loud shriek soon -recalled her to their side. Mary Campbell had withdrawn the curtain, and -seen her husband fall, thrust at by a dozen swords. Fainting-fits and -hysterics succeeded each other in quick succession, while Alice and her -mother laid her on the bed, and rubbed her hands and bathed her temples. -Gradually the sounds of war died away in the distance. Then Joseph and -his helpers went forth to gather up the wounded and the dead. Colonel -Campbell was found utterly lifeless, and the brook where Camillo used to -launch his little boats, was red with his father’s blood. They brought -him in tenderly, washed the ghastly wounds, closed the glaring eyes, and -left the widow and the household to mourn over him. Late in the night -they persuaded her to go to rest; and, when all was still, the weary -family fell asleep on the floor; for not a bed was unoccupied. - -This time, they hoped to escape the conquerors’ rage. But early in the -morning, a party of them came back, and demanded that all the Catholics -should be given up to them. Joseph replied, as he had done before: “I -cannot give up my helpless and dying neighbours, whether they be -Pikemen or Orangemen. I will do good to all, and harm to none, come to -me what may.” - -“That’s impartial, anyhow,” said the captain. He took some Orange -cockades from his pocket, and added, “Wear these, and my men will do you -no harm.” - -“I cannot conscientiously wear one,” replied Joseph, “because they are -emblems of war.” - -The captain laughed half scornfully, and handing one to Alice, said, -“Well, my good girl, you can wear one, and then you need not be afraid -of our soldiers.” - -She looked very pleasantly in his face and answered, “I _should_ be -afraid if I did not trust in something better than a cockade.” - -The leader of the Orangemen was arrested by the same spell that stopped -the leader of the Pikemen. But some of his followers, who had been -lingering about the door, called out, “What’s the use of parleying? -Isn’t the old traitor nursing Catholics, to fight us again when they get -well? If he won’t serve the government by fighting for us, he will at -least do to stop a bullet as well as a braver man. Bring him out, and -put him in the front ranks to be shot at!” One of them seized Joseph to -drag him away; but Alice laid a trembling hand on his arm, and said, -beseechingly, “Before you take him, come and see the wounded Orangemen, -with their wives and children, whom my father and mother have fed and -tended night and day.” A pale figure, with bandaged head and one arm in -a sling, came forth from an adjoining room and said, “Comrades, you -surely will not harm these worthy people. They have fed our children, -and buried our dead, as if we were their own brothers.” The soldiers -listened, and, suddenly changing their mood, went off shouting, “Hurrah -for the Quakers!” - -Some days of comparative quiet followed. Colonel Campbell was buried in -his own garden, with as much deference to the wishes of his widow as -circumstances would permit. She returned from the funeral calmer than -she had been, and quietly assisted in taking care of the wounded. But -when she retired to her little room, and saw a crucifix fastened on the -wall at the foot of her bed, she burst into tears and said, “Who has -done this?” - -Alice gently replied, “I did it. I found it in the mud, where the little -chapel used to stand. I know it is a sacred emblem to thee, and I -thought it would pain thee to have it there; so I have washed it -carefully and placed it in thy room.” - -The bereaved Catholic kissed the friendly hand that had done so kind a -deed; and tears fell on it, as she murmured, “Good child! may the Holy -Virgin bless thee!” - -Balmy is a blessing from any human heart, whether it be given in the -name of Jesus or Mary, God or Allah. Alice slept well, and guardian -angels rejoiced over her in heaven. - - * * * * * - -Success alternated between the contending parties, and kept the country -in a state of perpetual alarm. One week, the widow of Colonel Campbell -was surrounded by victorious friends, and the next week, she was in -terror for her life. At last, Camillo himself came with a band of -successful insurgents. During a brief and agitated interview with his -mother, he learned how kindly she had been sheltered in their -neighbour’s house, and how tenderly the remains of his father had been -treated. When she pointed to the crucifix on the wall, and told its -history, his eyes filled with tears. “Oh, why cannot we of different -faith always treat each other thus?” was his inward thought; but he -bowed his head in silence. Hearing loud voices, he started up suddenly, -exclaiming, “There may be danger below!” Following the noise, he found -soldiers threatening Friend Goodman, who stood with his back firmly -placed against the door of an inner room. Seeing Camillo enter, and -being aware of the great influence his family had with the Catholics, he -said, “These men insist upon carrying out the dying Orangemen who are -sheltered here, and compelling me to see them shot. Is it thy will that -these murders should be committed?” - -The young man took his hand, and in tones of deep respect answered, -“Could you believe that I would suffer violence to be done to any under -_your_ roof, if I had power to prevent it?” Then turning to his -soldiers, he said, “These excellent people have injured no one. Through -all these troubled times, they have been kind alike to Pikemen and -Orangemen; they have buried our dead, and sheltered our widows. If you -have any respect for the memory of my father, treat with respect all who -wear the peaceful garb of the Quakers.” The men spoke apart for awhile, -and soon after left the house. - -As Camillo passed by the kitchen door, he saw Alice distributing boiled -potatoes to a crowd of hungry children. A soldier stood by her, -insisting that she should wear a cross, which was the emblem of the -Pikemen. She mildly replied, “I cannot consent to _wear_ the cross, but -I hope God will enable me to _bear_ it.” The rude fellow, who was -somewhat intoxicated, touched her under the chin, and said, “Come, -mavourneen, do be a little more obliging.” Camillo instantly seized his -arm, and, exclaiming, “Behave decently, my lad! behave decently!” he led -him to the door. As he went, he turned towards Alice with an expression -she never forgot, and said, in a low deep tone, “Words are poor to thank -you for what you have done for my mother.” - -The next day, when he met Alice walking to meeting, he touched his hat -respectfully and said, “I scarcely deem it prudent for you to be in the -roads at this time, Miss Alice. Armed insurgents are everywhere abroad; -and though there is a prevailing disposition not to injure the Quakers, -still many of our men are too desperate to be always controlled.” - -She smiled and answered, “I thank thee for thy friendly caution; but I -trust in the Power that has hitherto protected me.” - -After a short pause, he said, “Your place of meeting is two miles from -here. Where is the horse you used to ride?” - -“A soldier took it from me, as I rode from meeting several weeks ago,” -she replied. - -“You see then it is, as I have said, unsafe for you to go,” he rejoined. -“Had you not better turn back?” - -With great earnestness she answered, “Friend Camillo, I cannot otherwise -than go. Our people are afflicted and bowed down. The soldiers have -nearly consumed our provisions. Our women are almost worn out with the -fatigue of constant nursing and perpetual alarms. All are not unwavering -in their faith. It is the duty of the strong to sustain the weak; and -therefore it is needful that we meet together for counsel and -consolation.” - -The young man looked at her with affectionate reverence. The fair -complexion and shining ringlets of childhood were gone, but a serene and -deep expression of soul imparted a more elevated beauty to her -countenance. He parted from her with a blessing, simply and fervently -uttered; but he entered the adjoining fields, and as he walked along he -kept her within sight until she arrived safely at the place of meeting. -While he thus watched her unseen, he recollected how often his taste had -been offended by the quaint awkwardness of the Quaker garb; and uttering -aloud the sequel to his thoughts, he said, “But beautiful and graceful -will her garments be in heaven.” - -Soon after this interview, he departed with a strong escort to convey -his mother and other Catholic women into a less turbulent district. -Alice bade them farewell with undisguised sadness; for we learn to love -those whom we serve, and there seemed little probability that they would -ever return to reside in that troubled neighborhood. - -The next time she saw Camillo, he was brought into her father’s house on -a litter, senseless, and wounded, as it was supposed, unto death. All -the restoratives they could think of were applied, and at last, as Alice -bent over him, bathing his temples, he opened his eyes with a dull -unconscious stare, which gradually relaxed into a feeble smile, as he -whispered, “My Quaker lady-bird.” Some hours afterward, when she brought -him drink, he gently pressed her hand, and said, “Thank you, dear -Alice.” The words were simple, but the expression of his eyes and the -pressure of his hand sent a thrill through the maiden, which she had -never before experienced. That night, she dreamed of winged children -seen through flowering vines, and Camillo laughed when the parrot called -her “Lady-bird.” - -Sorrow, like love, levels all distinctions, and melts all forms in its -fiery furnace. In the midst of sickness and suffering, and every-day -familiarity with death, there was small attention paid to customary -proprieties. No one heeded whether Camillo were tended by Alice or her -mother; but if Alice were long absent, he complained that she came so -seldom. As his health improved, they talked together of the flowers they -used to plant on the mossy rock, and the little boats they launched on -the rippling brook. Sometimes, in their merriest moods, they mocked the -laughing of the old green parrot, and the cooing of the fan-tailed -doves. Thus walking through the green lanes of their childhood, they -came unconsciously into the fairy-land of love! All was bright and -golden there, and but one shadow rested on the sunshine. When Camillo -spoke of the “little meeting-house in the garden,” and the image of “My -donny,” she grew very thoughtful; and he said with a sigh, “I wish, dear -Alice, that we were of one religion.” She smiled sweetly as she -answered, “Are we not both of the religion of Jesus?” - -He kissed her hand, and said, “Your soul is always large and liberal, -and noble and kind; but others are not like you, dear Alice.” - -And truly, when the war had ceased, and Camillo Campbell began to -rebuild his demolished dwelling, and the young couple spoke of marriage, -great was the consternation in both families. Even the liberal-minded -Joseph was deeply-pained to have his daughter “marry out of Society,” as -their phrase is; but he strove to console Rachel, who was far more -afflicted than himself. “The young people love each other,” he said, -“and it does not seem to be right to put any constraint on their -affection. Camillo is a goodly youth; and I think the dreadful scenes he -has lately witnessed have exercised his mind powerfully on the subject -of war. I have observed that he is thoughtful and candid; and if he does -but act up to his own light, it is all I ask of him. He promises never -to interfere with the freedom of Alice; and as she has adopted most of -our principles from her own conviction, I do not fear she will ever -depart from them.” - -“Don’t comfort thyself with any such idea,” replied Rachel. “She will -have pictures of the Virgin Mary in her house, and priests will come -there to say over their mummery; and small beginnings make great -endings. At all events, one thing is certain. Alice will lose her -membership in our Society; and that it is which mainly grieves me. She -is such a serious, sensible girl, that I always hoped to see her an -esteemed minister among us.” - -“It is a disappointment to me also,” replied Joseph; “but we must bear -it cheerfully. It certainly is better to have our child go out of the -Society and keep her principles, than it would be to have her stay in -Society and depart from her principles, as many do.” - -Mary Campbell was more disturbed than Rachel Goodman. In the first -paroxysm of her distress, she said she wished she had been killed in the -war, rather than live to see her only son married to a black Protestant. - -“Not a black Protestant, dear mother, only a dove-colored one,” rejoined -Camillo, playfully. Then he kissed her, and reminded her of the story of -the crucifix, and told her how noble and gentle, and good and sensible, -his Alice was. As he talked, a vision rose before her of the little -bedroom in the Quaker’s farm-house; she saw Rachel and Alice supporting -the drooping-heads of poor homeless Catholics, while they offered drink -to their feverish lips; and memory melted bigotry. She threw herself -weeping into Camillo’s arms and said, “Truly they did treat us like -disciples of Jesus. I once said to Alice, ‘May the Holy Virgin bless -thee;’ and I now say, from my heart, May the Holy Virgin bless you both, -my son.” - -And so Catholic and Quaker were married, according to the forms of both -their churches. - -The Society of Friends mostly withdrew from companionship with Alice, -though they greeted her kindly at their meetings. The Catholics shook -their heads and complained that Camillo Campbell was already half a -Quaker. Both prognosticated evil consequences from such a union. But the -worst that happened was, Alice learned that there might be superstition -in the cut of a garment, as well as in veneration for an image; and -Camillo became convinced that hatred and violence were much greater sins -than eating meat on Fridays. - -NOTE.--The course here described as generally pursued by Quakers during -the Irish Rebellion, and the effect stated to be produced on the -soldiers of both parties, are strictly true. - - - - -THE RIVAL MECHANICIANS. - - -“I am growing old; my sight is failing very fast,” said a famous -watch-maker of Geneva, as he wiped his spectacles to examine several -chronometers, which his two apprentices laid before him. “Well done! -Very well done, my lads,” said he. “I hardly know which of you will best -supply the place of old Antoine Breguet. Thirty years ago, (pardon an -old man’s vanity,) I could have borne away the palm from a hundred like -ye. But my sight is dim, and my hands tremble. I must retire from the -place I have occupied in this busy world; and I confess I should like to -give up my famous old stand to a worthy successor. Whichever of you -produces the most perfect piece of mechanism before the end of two years -shall be my partner and representative, if Rosabella and I both agree in -the decision.” - -The grand-daughter, who was busily spinning flax, looked up bashfully, -and met the glance of the two young men. The countenance of one flushed, -and his eye sparkled; the other turned very pale, and there was a -painfully deep intensity in his fixed gaze. - -The one who blushed was Florien Arnaud, a youth from the French -Cantons. He was slender and graceful in figure, with beautiful features, -clear blue eyes, and a complexion fresh as Hylas, when the enamored -water-nymphs carried him away in their arms. He danced like a zephyr, -and sang little airy French romanzas in the sweetest of tenor voices. - -The one who turned pale was Pierre Berthoud, of Geneva. He had massy -features, a bulky frame, and clumsy motions. But the shape of his head -indicated powerful intellect, and his great dark eyes glowed from under -the pent-house of his brows, like a forge at midnight. He played on the -bass-viol and the trombone, and when he sang, the tones sounded as if -they came up from deep iron mines. - -Rosabella turned quickly away from their expressive glances, and -blushing deeply resumed her spinning. The Frenchman felt certain the -blush was for him; the Genevan thought he would willingly give his life -to be sure it was for _him_. But unlike as the young men were in person -and character, and both attracted toward the same lovely maiden, they -were yet extremely friendly to each other, and usually found enjoyment -in the harmonious contrast of their different gifts. The first feeling -of estrangement that came between them was one evening, when Florien -sang remarkably well, and Rosabella accompanied him on her guitar. She -evidently enjoyed the graceful music with all her soul. Her countenance -was more radiantly beautiful than usual, and when the fascinating -singer rose to go, she begged him to sing another favorite song, and -then another and another. “She never urges _me_ to sing with her,” said -Pierre, as he and Florien retired for the night. “And with very good -reason,” replied his friend, laughing. “Your stentorian tones would -quite drown her weak sweet voice, and her light touch on the guitar. You -might as well have a hammer-and-anvil accompaniment to a Canary bird.” -Seeing discontent in the countenance of his companion, he added -soothingly, “Nay, my good friend, don’t be offended by this playful -comparison. Your voice is magnificently strong and beautifully correct, -but it is made for grander things than those graceful little garlands of -sound, which Rosabella and I weave so easily.” - -Pierre sprang up quickly, and went to the other side of the room. -“Rosabella and I,” were sounds that went hissing through his heart, like -a red-hot arrow. But his manly efforts soon conquered the jealous -feeling, and he said cheerfully, “Well, Florien, let us accept the offer -of good Father Breguet. We will try our skill fairly and honorably, and -leave him and Rosabella to decide, without knowing which is your work -and which is mine.” - -Florien suppressed a rising smile; for he thought to himself, “_She_ -will know _my_ workmanship, as easily as she could distinguish my fairy -romanzas from your Samson solos.” But he replied, right cordially, -“Honestly and truly, Pierre, I think we are as mechanicians very nearly -equal in skill. But let us both tax our ingenuity to invent something -which will best please Rosabella, Her birth-day comes in about six -months. In honor of the occasion, I will make some ornaments for the -little arbor facing the brook, where she loves to sit, in pleasant -weather, and read to the good old grandfather.” - -“I will do the same,” answered Pierre; “only let both our ornaments be -machines.” They clasped hands, and looking frankly into each other’s -eyes, ratified the agreement. From that hour, they spoke no more to each -other on the subject till the long-anticipated day arrived. The old -watch-maker and his grandchild were invited to the arbor, to pass -judgment on the productions of his pupils. A screen was placed before a -portion of the brook, and they sat quietly waiting for it to be removed. -“That duck is of a singular color,” exclaimed the young girl. “What a -solemn looking fellow he is!” The bird, without paying any attention to -her remarks, waddled into the water, drank, lifted up his bill to the -sky, as if giving thanks for his refreshment, flapped his wings, floated -to the edge of the brook, and waddled on the grass again. When Father -Breguet threw some crumbs of cake on the ground, the duck picked them up -with apparent satisfaction. He was about to scatter more crumbs, when -Rosabella exclaimed, “Why, grandfather, this is not a duck! It is made -of bronze. See how well it is done.” - -The old man took it up and examined it. “Really, I do not think any -thing could be more perfect than this,” he said. “How exquisitely the -feathers are carved! and truly the creature seems alive. He who beats -this must be a skilful mechanician.” - -At these words, Pierre and Florien stepped forward, hand in hand, and -bowing to their master, removed the temporary screen. On a black marble -pedestal in the brook was seated a bronze Naiad, leaning on an -overflowing vase. The figure was inexpressibly graceful; a silver star -with brilliant points gleamed on her forehead, and in her hand she held -a silver bell, beautifully inlaid with gold and steel. There was a smile -about her mouth, and she leaned over, as if watching for something in a -little cascade which flowed down a channel in the pedestal. Presently, -she raised her hand and sounded the bell. A beautiful little gold fish -obeyed the summons, and glided down the channel, his burnished sides -glittering in the sun. Eleven times more she rang the bell, and each -time the gold fish darted forth. It was exactly noon, and the -water-nymph was a clock. - -The watch-maker and his daughter were silent. It was so beautiful, that -they could not easily find words to express their pleasure. “You need -not speak, my master,” said Pierre, in a manly but sorrowful tone; “I -myself decide in favor of Florien. The clock is his.” - -“The interior workmanship is not yet examined,” rejoined his amiable -competitor. “There is not a better mechanician in all Switzerland, than -Pierre Berthoud.” - -“Ah, but you know how to invest equally good workmanship with grace and -beauty,” replied the more heavily moulded Genevan. - -“Study the Graces, my boy; make yourself familiar with models of -beauty,” said old Antoine Breguet, laying a friendly hand upon the young -man’s shoulder. - -“I should but imitate, and he creates,” answered Pierre, despondingly; -“and worst of all, my good master, I hate myself because I envy him.” - -“But you have many and noble gifts, Pierre,” said Rosabella, gently. -“You know how delightfully very different instruments combine in -harmony. Grandfather says your workmanship will be far more durable than -Florien’s. Perhaps you may both be his partners.” - -“But which of us will be _thine_?” thought Pierre. He smothered a deep -sigh, and only answered, “I thank you, Rosabella.” - -Well aware that these envious feelings were unworthy of a noble soul, he -contended with them bravely, and treated Florien even more cordially -than usual. “I will follow our good master’s advice,” said he; “I will -try to clothe my good machinery in forms of beauty. Let us both make a -watch for Rosabella, and present it to her on her next birth-day. You -will rival me, no doubt; for the Graces threw their garlands on you -when you were born.” “Bravo!” shouted Florien, laughing and clapping his -hands. “The poetry is kindling up in your soul. I always told you that -you would be a poet, if you could only express what was in you.” - -“And your soul expresses itself _so_ easily, _so_ fluently!” said -Pierre, with a sigh. - -“Because my springs lie so near the surface, and yours have depths to -come from,” replied his good-natured companion. - -“The worst of it is, the cord is apt to break before I can draw up my -weighty treasures,” rejoined Pierre, with a smile. “There is no help for -it. There will always be the same difference between us, that there is -in our names. I am a rock, and you are a flower. I might be hewed and -chiselled into harmonious proportions; but you grow into beauty.” - -“Then be a rock, and a magnificent one,” replied his friend, “and let -the flower grow at your feet.” - -“That sounds modestly and well,” answered Pierre; “but I wish to be a -flower, because----” - -“Because what?” inquired Florien, though he half guessed the secret, -from his embarrassed manner. - -“Because I think Rosabella likes flowers better than rocks,” replied -Pierre, with uncommon quickness, as if the words gave him pain. - -On New Year’s day, the offerings, enclosed in one box, were presented by -the good grandfather. The first was a golden apple, which opened and -revealed on one side an exquisitely neat watch, surrounded by a garland -tastefully wrought in rich damaskeening of steel and gold; on the other -side was a rose intertwined with forget-me-nots, very perfectly done in -mosaic. When the stem of the apple was turned, a favourite little tune -of Rosabella’s sounded from within. - -“This is surely Florien’s,” thought she; and she looked for the other -gift with less interest. It was an elegant little gold watch, with a -Persian landscape, a gazelle and birds of Paradise beautifully engraved -on the back. When a spring was touched, the watch opened, a little -circular plate of gold slid away, and up came a beautiful rose, round -which a jewelled bee buzzed audibly. On the edge of the golden circle -below were the words _Rosa bella_ in ultramarine enamel. When another -spring was touched, the rose went away, and the same melody that sounded -from the heart of the golden apple seemed to be played by fairies on -tinkling dew-drops. It paused a moment, and then struck up a lively -dance. The circular plate again rolled away, and up sprung an inch-tall -opera-dancer, with enamelled scarf, and a very small diamond on her -brow. Leaping and whirling on an almost invisible thread of gold, she -kept perfect time to the music, and turned her scarf most gracefully. -Rosabella drew a long breath, and a roseate tinge mantled her beautiful -face, as she met her grandfather’s gaze fixed lovingly upon her. She -thought to herself, “There is no doubt now which is Florien’s;” but she -said aloud, “They are both very beautiful; are they not, dear -grandfather? I am not worthy that so much pains should be taken to -please me.” The old man smiled upon her, and fondly patted the luxuriant -brown hair, which shone like threads of amber in the sun. “Which dost -thou think _most_ beautiful?” said he. - -She evaded the question, by asking, “Which do _you_?” - -“I will tell thee when thou hast decided,” answered he. - -She twisted and untwisted the strings of her boddice, and said she was -afraid she should not be impartial. “Why not?” he inquired. She looked -down bashfully, and murmured, in a very low voice, “Because I can easily -guess which is Florien’s.” - -“Ah, ha,” exclaimed the kind old man; and he playfully chucked her under -the chin, as he added, “Then I suppose I shall offend thee when I give a -verdict for the bee and the opera-dancer?” - -She looked up blushing, and her large serious brown eyes had for a -moment a comic expression, as she said, “I shall do the same.” - -Never were disciples of the beautiful placed in circumstances more -favourable to the development of poetic souls. The cottage of Antoine -Breguet was - - “In a glade, - Where the sun harbours; and one side of it - Listens to bees, another to a brook. - Lovers, that have just parted for the night, - Dream of such spots when they have said their prayers; - Or some tired parent, holding by the hand - A child, and walking toward the setting sun.” - -In the stillness of the night, they could hear the “rushing of the -arrowy Rhone.” From a neighbouring eminence could be seen the -transparent Lake of Geneva, reflecting the deep blue heaven above. -Mountains, in all fantastic forms, enclosed them round; now draped in -heavy masses of sombre clouds, and now half revealed through sun-lighted -vapour, like a veil of gold. The flowing silver of little waterfalls -gleamed among the dark rocks. Grape-vines hung their rich festoons by -the roadside, and the beautiful barberry bush embroidered their leaves -with its scarlet clusters. They lived under the same roof with a -guileless good old man, and with an innocent maiden, just merging into -beautiful womanhood; and more than all, they were both under the -influence of that great inspirer, Love. - -Rosabella was so uniformly kind to both, that Pierre could never -relinquish the hope that constant devotedness might in time win her -affections for himself. Florien, having a more cheerful character, and -more reliance on his own fascinations, was merely anxious that the -lovely maiden should prefer his workmanship, as decidedly as she did -his person and manners. Under this powerful stimulus, in addition to the -ambition excited by the old watch-maker’s proposal, the competition -between them was active and incessant. But the groundwork of their -characters was so good, that all little heart-burnings of envy or -jealousy were quickly checked by the predominance of generous and kindly -sentiments. - -One evening, Rosabella was reading to her grandfather a description of -an albino squirrel. The pure white animal, with pink eyes and a feathery -tail, pleased her fancy extremely, and she expressed a strong desire to -see one. Pierre said nothing; but not long after, as they sat eating -grapes after dinner, a white squirrel leaped on the table, frisked from -shoulder to shoulder, and at last sat up with a grape in its paws. -Rosabella uttered an exclamation of delight. “Is it alive?” she said. -“Do you not see that it is?” rejoined Pierre. “Call the dog, and see -what he thinks about it.” - -“We have so many things here, which are alive and yet not alive,” she -replied, smiling. - -Florien warmly praised the pretty automaton; but he was somewhat vexed -that he himself did not think of making the graceful little animal for -which the maiden had expressed a wish. Her pet Canary had died the day -before, and his eye happened to rest on the empty cage hanging over the -flower-stand. “I too will give her a pleasure,” thought he. A few weeks -after, as they sat at breakfast, sweet notes were heard from the cage, -precisely the same the Canary used to sing; and, looking up, the -astonished maiden saw him hopping about, nibbling at the sugar and -pecking his feathers, as lively as ever. Florien smiled, and said, “Is -it as much alive as Pierre’s squirrel?” - -The approach of the next birth-day was watched with eager expectation; -for even the old man began to feel keen pleasure in the competition, as -if he had witnessed a race between fleet horses. Pierre, excited by the -maiden’s declaration that she mistook his golden apple for Florien’s -workmanship, produced a much more elegant specimen of art than he had -ever before conceived. It was a barometer, supported by two knights in -silver chain-armour, who went in when it rained, and came out when the -sun shone. On the top of the barometer was a small silver basket, of -exceedingly delicate workmanship, filled with such flowers as close in -damp weather. When the knights retired, these flowers closed their -enamelled petals, and when the knights returned, the flowers expanded. - -Florien produced a silver chariot, with two spirited and finely -proportioned horses. A revolving circle in the wheels showed on what day -of the month occurred each day of the week, throughout the year. Each -month was surmounted by its zodiacal sign, beautifully enamelled in -green, crimson and gold. At ten o’clock the figure of a young girl, -wearing Rosabella’s usual costume, and resembling her in form and -features, ascended slowly from behind the wheel, and at the same moment, -the three Graces rose up in the chariot and held garlands over her. From -the axle-tree emerged a young man, in Florien’s dress, and kneeling -offered a rose to the maiden. - -It was so beautiful as a whole, and so exquisitely finished in all its -details, that Pierre clenched his fingers till the nails cut him, so -hard did he try to conceal the bitterness of his disappointment at his -own manifest inferiority. Could he have been an hour alone, all would -have been well. But, as he stepped out on the piazza, followed by -Florien, he saw him kiss his hand triumphantly to Rosabella, and she -returned it with a modest but expressive glance. Unfortunately, he held -in his hand a jewelled dagger, of Turkish workmanship, which Antoine -Breguet had asked him to return to its case in the workshop. Stung with -disappointed love and ambition, the tempestuous feelings so painfully -restrained burst forth like a whirlwhind. Quick as a flash of lightning, -he made a thrust at his graceful rival. Then frightened at what he had -done, and full of horror at thoughts of Rosabella’s distress, he rushed -into the road, and up the sides of the mountain, like a madman. - - * * * * * - -A year passed, and no one heard tidings of him. On the anniversary of -Rosabella’s birth, the aged grandsire sat alone, sunning his white -locks at the open window, when Pierre Barthoud entered, pale and -haggard. He was such a skeleton of his former self that his master did -not recognize him, till he knelt at his feet, and said, “Forgive me, -father. I am Pierre.” - -The poor old man shook violently, and covered his face with trembling -hands. “Ah, thou wretched one,” said he, “how darest thou come hither, -with murder on thy soul?” - -“Murder?” exclaimed Pierre, in a voice so terribly deep and distinct, -that it seemed to freeze the feeble blood of him who listened. “Is he -then dead? Did I kill the beautiful youth, whom I loved so much?” He -fell forward on the floor, and the groan that came from his strong chest -was like an earthquake tearing up trees by the roots. - -Antoine Breguet was deeply moved, and the tears flowed fast over his -furrowed face. “Rise, my son,” said he, “and make thy escape, lest they -come to arrest thee.” - -“Let them come,” replied Pierre, gloomily; “Why should I live?” Then -raising his head from the floor, he said slowly, and with great fear, -“Father, where is Rosabella?” - -The old man covered his face, and sobbed out, “I shall never see her -again! These old eyes will never again look on her blessed face.” Many -minutes they remained thus, and when he repeated, “I shall never see her -again!” the young man clasped his feet convulsively, and groaned in -agony. - -At last the housekeeper came in; a woman whom Pierre had known and loved -in boyhood. When her first surprise was over, she promised to conceal -his arrival, and persuaded him to go to the garret and try to compose -his too strongly excited feelings. In the course of the day she -explained to him how Florien had died of his wound, and how Rosabella -pined away in silent melancholy, often sitting at the spinning wheel -with the suspended thread in her hand, as if unconscious where she was. -During all that wretched night the young man could not close his eyes in -sleep. Phantoms of the past flitted through his brain, and remorse -gnawed at his heart-strings. In the deep stillness of midnight, he -seemed to hear the voice of the bereaved old man sounding mournfully -distinct, “I shall never see her again!” He prayed earnestly to die; but -suddenly an idea flashed into his mind, and revived his desire to live. -Full of his new project, he rose early and sought his good old master. -Sinking on his knees he exclaimed, “Oh, my father, say that you forgive -me! I implore you to give my guilty soul that one gleam of consolation. -Believe me, I would sooner have died myself, than have killed him. But -my passions were by nature so strong! Oh, God forgive me, they were _so_ -strong! How I have curbed them, He alone knows. Alas, that they should -have burst the bounds in that one mad moment, and destroyed the two I -best loved on earth. Oh, father, _can_ you say that you forgive me?” - -With quivering voice he replied, “I do forgive you, and bless you, my -poor son.” He laid his hand affectionately on the thick matted hair, and -added, “I too have need of forgiveness. I did very wrong thus to put two -generous natures in rivalship with each other. A genuine love of beauty, -for its own sake, is the only healthy stimulus to produce the beautiful. -The spirit of competition took you out of your sphere, and placed you in -a false position. In grand conceptions, and in works of durability and -strength, you would always have excelled Florien, as much as he -surpassed you in tastefulness and elegance. By striving to be what he -was, you parted with your own gifts, without attaining to his. Every man -in the natural sphere of his own talent, and all in harmony; this is the -true order, my son; and I tempted you to violate it. In my foolish -pride, I earnestly desired to have a world-renowned successor to the -famous Antoine Breguet. I wanted that the old stand should be kept up in -all its glory, and continue to rival all competitors. I thought you -could super-add Florien’s gifts to your own, and yet retain your own -characteristic excellencies. Therefore, I stimulated your intellect and -imagination to the utmost, without reflecting that your heart might -break in the process. God forgive me; it was too severe a trial for poor -human nature. And do thou, my son, forgive this insane ambition; for -severely has my pride been humbled.” - -Pierre could not speak, but he covered the wrinkled hands with kisses, -and clasped his knees convulsively. At last he said, “Let me remain -concealed here for a while. You _shall_ see her again; only give me -time.” When he explained that he would make Rosabella’s likeness, from -memory, the sorrowing parent shook his head and sighed, as he answered, -“Ah, my son, the soul in her eye, and the light grace of her motions, no -art can restore.” - -But to Pierre’s excited imagination there was henceforth only one object -in life; and that was to re-produce Rosabella. In the keen conflict of -competition, under the fiery stimulus of love and ambition, his strong -impetuous soul had become machine-mad; and now overwhelming grief -centered all his stormy energies on one object. Day by day, in the -loneliness of his garret, he worked upon the image till he came to love -it, almost as much as he had loved the maiden herself. Antoine Breguet -readily supplied materials. From childhood he had been interested in all -forms of mechanism; and this image, so intertwined with his affections, -took strong hold of his imagination also. Nearly a year had passed away, -when the housekeeper, who was in the secret, came to ask for Rosabella’s -hair, and the dress she usually wore. The old man gave her the keys, -and wiped the starting tears, as he turned silently away. A few days -after, Pierre invited him to come and look upon his work. “Do not go too -suddenly,” he said; “prepare yourself for a shock; for indeed it is very -like our lost one.” - -“I will go, I will go,” replied the old man, eagerly. “Am I not -accustomed to see all manner of automata and androides? Did I not myself -make a flute-player, which performed sixteen tunes, to the admiration of -all who heard him? And think you I am to be frightened by an image?” - -“Not frightened, dear father,” answered Pierre; “but I was afraid you -might be overcome with emotion.” He led him into the apartment, and -said, “Shall I remove the veil now? Can you bear it, dear father?” - -“I can,” was the calm reply. But when the curtain was withdrawn, he -started, and exclaimed, “Santa Maria! It _is_ Rosabella! She _is_ not -dead!” He tottered forward, and kissed the cold lips and the cold hands, -and tears rained on the bright brown hair, as he cried out, “My child! -my child!” - -When the tumult of feeling had subsided, the aged mourner kissed -Pierre’s hands, and said, “It is wonderfully like her, in every feature -and every tint. It seems as if it would move and breathe.” - -“She _will_ move and breathe,” replied Pierre; “only give me time.” - -His voice sounded so wildly, and his great deep-set eyes burned with -such intense enthusiasm, that his friend was alarmed. They clasped each -other’s hands, and spoke more quietly of the beloved one. “This is all -that remains to us, Pierre,” said the old man. “We are alone in the -world. You were a friendless orphan when you came to me: and I am -childless.” - -With a passionate outburst of grief, the young man replied, “And it was -I, my benefactor, who made you so. Wretch that I am!” - -From that time the work went on with greater zeal than ever. Pierre -often forgot to taste of food, so absorbed was he in the perfection of -his machine. First, the arms moved obedient to his wishes, then the eyes -turned, and the lips parted. Meanwhile, his own face grew thinner and -paler, and his eyes glowed with a wilder fire. - -Finally, it was whispered in the village that Pierre Berthoud was -concealed in Antoine Breguet’s cottage: and officers came to arrest him. -But the venerable old watch-maker told the story so touchingly, and -painted so strongly the young man’s consuming agony of grief and -remorse, and pleaded so earnestly that he might be allowed to finish a -wonderful image of his beautiful grandchild, that they promised not to -disturb him till the work was accomplished. - -Two years from the day of Pierre’s return, on the anniversary of the -memorable birth-day, he said. “Now, my father, I have done all that art -_can_ do. Come and see the beautiful one.” He led him into the little -room where Rosabella used to work. There she sat, spinning diligently. -The beautifully formed bust rose and fell under her neat boddice. Her -lips were parted, and her eyes followed the direction of the thread. But -what made it seem more fearfully like life, was the fact that ever and -anon the wheel rested, and the maiden held the suspended thread, with -her eye-lids lowered, as if she were lost in thought. Above, the -flower-stand, near by, hung the bird-cage, with Florien’s artificial -canary. The pretty little automaton had been silent long; but now its -springs were set in motion, and it poured forth all its melodies. - -The bereaved old man pressed Pierre’s hand, and gazed upon his darling -grand-child silently. He caused his arm-chair to be brought into the -room, and ever after, while he retained his faculties, he refused to sit -elsewhere. - -The fame of this remarkable android soon spread through all the region -round about. The citizens of Geneva united in an earnest petition that -the artist might be excused from any penalty for the accidental murder -he had committed. Members of the State Council came and looked at the -breathing maiden, and touched the beautiful flesh, which seemed as if it -would yield to their pressure. They saw the wild haggard artist, with -lines of suffering cut so deeply in his youthful brow, and they at once -granted the prayer of the citizens. - -But Pierre had nothing more to live for. His work in the world was done. -The artificial energy, supplied by one absorbing idea was gone; and the -contemplation of his own work was driving him to madness. It so closely -resembled life that he longed more and more to have it live. The -lustrous eyes moved, but they had no light from the soul, and they would -not answer to his earnest gaze. The beautiful lips parted, but they -never spoke kind words, as in days of yore. The image began to fill him -with supernatural awe, yet he was continually drawn toward it by a magic -influence. Three months after its completion, he was found at daylight, -lying at its feet, stone dead. - -Antoine Breguet survived him two years. During the first eighteen -months, he was never willing to have the image of his lost darling out -of sight. The latter part of the time, he often whistled to the bird, -and talked to her, and seemed to imagine that she answered him. But with -increasing imbecility, Rosabella was forgotten. He sometimes asked, “Who -_is_ that young woman?” At last he said, “Send her away. She looks at -me.” - -The magic-lantern of departing memory then presented a phantom of his -wife, dead long ago. He busied himself with making imaginary watches and -rings for her, and held long conversations, as if she were present. -Afterward, the wife was likewise forgotten, and he was occupied -entirely with his mother, and the scenes of early childhood. Finally he -wept often, and repeated continually, “They are all waiting for me; and -I want to go home.” When he was little more than eighty years old, -compassionate angels took the weary pilgrim in their arms, and carried -him home. - - - - -A SONG. - - - Hush! hush! Love lies at rest, - Like a bird in her nest, - Like dew in a lily’s breast, - Love is sleeping. - Roses breathe fragrant sighs - Over his drowsy eyes, - But, ah, how still he lies! - Love is sleeping. - - Drive the honey-bees away! - Let not the sun’s bright ray - Over his features play! - Love is sleeping. - Lest his slumbers should fly, - Gentle Music draw nigh, - With your sweet lullaby! - _Keep_ him sleeping! - - Ha! his cheek grows warm - Under the magic charm, - And he moves his white arm! - Love is dreaming, - His little limbs shiver, - His soft eye-lids quiver, - Like rays on a river: - Love is waking. - - - - -UTOUCH AND TOUCHU. - - “Nothing left - But what _you_ touch, and not what _touches you_.” - LEIGH HUNT. - - “Thou hast the fairy coin, which, in wrong hands - Is merely stones and leaves;--in thine, true gold.” - J. R. LOWELL. - - -It was a bright autumnal day, when two boys went forth to gather nuts. -One was keen-eyed and self-important in his gait. The other had mild, -deep eyes, and his motions were like flowers swaying to a gentle breeze. -Alfred, the keen-eyed, mounted the tree and shook it. “I should like to -own a dozen such trees,” said he, “and have all the nuts to myself.” - -“Oh, see how beautifully the setting sun shines slanting through the -boughs, on the trunk, and branches! It glows like gold!” exclaimed -Ernest. - -“If the sun were like old Midas, that we read about at school, there -would be some fun in it,” replied Alfred; “for if it turned all it -touched into gold, I could peel off the bark and buy a horse with it.” - -Ernest gazed silently at the golden sea of clouds in the west, and then -at the warm gleams it cast on the old walnut tree. He stood thus but a -moment; for his companion aimed a nut at his head, and shouted, “Make -haste to fill the basket, you lazy fellow!” - -The nuts were soon gathered, and the boys stretched themselves on the -grass, talking over school affairs. A flock of birds flew over their -heads towards the south. “They are flying away from winter,” said -Ernest. “How I should like to go with them where the palms and cocoas -grow! See how beautifully they skim along the air!” - -“I wish I had a gun,” rejoined Alfred; “I would have some of them for -supper.” - -It was a mild autumnal twilight. The cows had gone from the pastures, -and all was still, save the monotonous noise of the crickets. The fitful -whistling of the boys gradually subsided into dreamy silence. As they -lay thus, winking drowsily, Ernest saw a queer little dwarf peep from -under an arching root of the walnut tree. His little dots of blue eyes -looked cold and opaque, as if they were made of turquoise. His hands -were like the claws of a bird. But he was surely a gentleman of property -and standing, for his brown velvet vest was embroidered with gold, and a -diamond fastened his hat-band. While Ernest wondered who he could be, -his attention was attracted by a bright little vision hovering in the -air before him. At first, he thought it was a large insect, or a small -bird; but as it floated ever nearer and nearer, he perceived a lovely -little face, with tender, luminous eyes. Her robe seemed like -soap-bubbles glancing in the sun, and in her bonnet, made of an inverted -White Petunia blossom, the little ringlets shone like finest threads of -gold. The stamen of a White Lily served her for a wand, and she held it -towards him, saying, in tones of soft beseechment, “_Let_ me touch your -eyes!” - -“You had better touch _my_ wand. You will find it much more to the -purpose,” croaked the dwarf under the walnut root. “Look here! wouldn’t -you like to have this?” and he shook a purse full of coins, as he spoke. - -“I don’t like your cold eyes and your skinny fingers,” replied Ernest. -“Pray, who _are_ you?” - -“My name is Utouch,” answered the gnome: “and I bring great luck -wherever I go.” - -“And what is your name, dear little spirit of the air?” asked Ernest. - -She looked lovingly into his eyes, and answered, “My name is Touchu. -Shall I be your friend for life?” - -He smiled, and eagerly replied, “Oh yes! oh yes! your face is so full of -love!” - -She descended gracefully, and touched his eyes with her Lily-stamen. The -air became redolent with delicate perfume, like fragrant Violets kissed -by the soft south wind. A rainbow arched the heavens, and reflected its -beautiful image on a mirror of mist. The old tree reached forth friendly -arms, and cradled the sunbeams on its bosom. Flowers seemed to nod and -smile at Ernest, as if they knew him very well, and the little birds -sang into his inmost soul. Presently, he felt that he was rising slowly, -and undulating on the air, like a winged seed when it is breathed upon; -and away he sailed, on fleecy clouds, under the arch of the rainbow. A -mocking laugh roused him from his trance, and he heard Utouch, the -gnome, exclaim jeeringly, “There he goes on a voyage to one of his -air-castles in the moon!” Then he felt himself falling through the air, -and all at once he was on the ground. Birds, flowers, rainbows, all were -gone. Twilight had deepened into dreary evening; winds sighed through -the trees, and the crickets kept up their mournful creaking tones. -Ernest was afraid to be all alone. He felt round for his companion, and -shook him by the arm, exclaiming, “Alfred! Alfred, wake up! I have had a -wonderful fine dream here on the grass.” - -“So have I,” replied Alfred, rubbing his eyes. “Why need you wake me -just as the old fellow was dropping a purse full of money into my hand?” - -“What old fellow?” inquired Ernest. - -“He called himself Utouch,” answered Alfred, “and he promised to be my -constant companion. I hope he will keep his word; for I like an old -chap that drops a purse of gold into my hand when I ask for it.” - -“Why, I dreamed of that same old fellow,” said Ernest, “but I didn’t -like his looks.” - -“Perhaps he didn’t show you the full purse?” said Alfred. - -“Yes, he did,” replied Ernest; “but I felt such a love for the little -fairy with tender eyes and heart-melting voice, that I choose _her_ for -my life-friend. And oh, she made the earth _so_ beautiful!” - -His companion laughed and said, “I dreamed of her, too. So you have -preferred that floating soap-bubble, did you? I should have guessed as -much. But come, help me carry the nuts home, for I am hungry for my -supper.” - - * * * * * - -Years passed, and the boys were men. Ernest sat writing in a small -chamber, that looked toward the setting sun. His little child had hung a -prismatic chandelier-drop on the window, and he wrote amid the rainbows -that it cast over his paper. In a simple vase on his desk stood a stalk -of blossoms from the brilliant wild flower, called the Cardinal. Unseen -by him, the fairy Touchu circled round his head and waved her -Lily-stamen, from which the fine gold-coloured dust fell on his hair in -a fragrant shower. In the greensward below, two beautiful yellow birds -sat among the catnip-blossoms, picking the seed, while they rocked -gracefully on the wind-stirred plant. Ernest smiled as he said to -himself, “Gone are the dandelion blossoms, which strewed my grass-carpet -with golden stars; and now come these winged flowers to refresh the eye. -When _they_ are gone to warmer climes, then will the yellow butterflies -come in pairs; and when even they are gone, here in my oboë sleep the -soft yellow tones, ever ready to wake and cheer me with their child-like -gladness.” - -He took up the instrument as he spoke, and played a slight flourish. A -little bird that nestled among the leaves of a cherry tree near by, -caught the tones of the oboë and mocked it with a joyous trill, a little -sunny shower of sound. Then sprang the poet to his feet, and his -countenance lighted up like a transfigured one. But a slight cloud soon -floated over that radiant expression. “Ah, if thou only wert not afraid -of me!” he said. “If thou wouldst come, dear little warbler, and perch -on my oboë, and sing a duet with me, how happy I should be! Why are man -and nature thus sundered?” - -Another little bird in the Althea bush, answered him in low sweet notes, -ending ever with the plaintive cadence of the minor-third. The deep, -tender eyes of the child-man filled with tears. “We are _not_ sundered,” -thought he. “Surely my heart is in harmony with Nature; for she responds -to my inmost thought, as one instrument vibrates the tones of another to -which it is perfectly attuned. Blessed, blessed is nature in her -soothing power.” As he spoke, Touchu came floating on a zephyr, and -poured over him the fragrance of mignonette she had gathered from the -garden below. - - * * * * * - -At the same hour, Alfred walked in his conservatory among groves of -fragrant Geraniums and richly-flowering Cactuses. He smoked a cigar, and -glanced listlessly from his embroidered slippers to the marble pavement -without taking notice of the costly flowers. The gardener, who was -watering a group of Japonicas, remarked, “This is a fine specimen that -has opened to-day. Will you have the goodness to look at it, sir?” He -paused in his walk a moment, and looked at a pure white blossom, with -the faintest roseate blush in the centre. “It _ought_ to be handsome,” -said he. “The _price_ was high enough. But after all the money I have -expended, horticulturists declare that Mr. Duncan’s Japonicas excel -mine. It’s provoking to be outdone.” The old gnome stood behind one of -the plants, and shrugged his shoulders and grinned. Without perceiving -his presence, Alfred muttered to himself, “Utouch promised my flowers -should be unequalled in rarity and beauty.” - -“That was last year,” croaked a small voice, which he at once -recognized. - -“Last year!” retorted Alfred, mocking his tone. “Am I then to be always -_toiling_ after what I never _keep_? That’s precious comfort, you -provoking imp!” - -A retreating laugh was heard under the pavement, as the rich man threw -his cigar away, exclaiming impatiently, “The devil take the Japonicas! -what do I care? they’re not worth fretting about.” - - * * * * * - -Weeks passed and brought the returning seventh day of rest. The little -child, who caused homemade rainbows to flicker over the father’s poem, -lay very ill, and the anxious parents feared that this beautiful vision -of innocence might soon pass away from the earth. The shadows of a -Madeira-vine now and then waved across the window, and the chamber was -filled with the delicate perfume of its blossoms. No sound broke the -Sabbath stillness, except the little bird in the Althea bush, whose -tones were sad as the voice of memory. The child heard it, and sighed -unconsciously, as he put his little feverish hand within his mother’s, -and said, “Please sing me a hymn, dear mother.” With a soft, clear -voice, subdued by her depth of feeling, she sang Schubert’s Ave Maria. -Manifold and wonderful are the intertwining influences in the world of -spirits! What was it that touched the little bird’s heart, and uttered -itself in such plaintive cadences? They made the child sigh for a hymn; -and bird and child together woke Schubert’s prayerful echoes in the -mother’s bosom. And now from the soul of the composer in that far-off -German land, the spirit of devotion comes to the father, wafted on the -wings of that beautiful music. Ernest bowed his head reverently, and -sank kneeling by the bed-side. While he listened thus, Touchu glided -softly into his bosom and laid her wand upon his heart. When the sweet -beseeching melody had ceased, Ernest pressed the hand of the singer to -his lip, and remained awhile in silence. Then the strong necessity of -supplication came over him, and he poured forth an ardent prayer. With -fervid eloquence, he implored for themselves an humble and resigned -spirit, and for their little one, that, living or dying, good angels -might ever carry him in their protecting arms. As they rose up, his wife -leaned her head upon his shoulder, and with tearful eyes whispered: - - “God help us, this and every day, - _To live_ more nearly as we _pray_.” - - * * * * * - -That same morning, Alfred rode to church in his carriage, and a servant -waited with the horses, till he had performed his periodical routine of -worship. Many-coloured hues from the richly-stained windows of the -church glanced on wall and pillar, and imparted to silk and broadcloth -the metallic lustre of a peacock’s plumage. Gorgeous in crimson mantle, -with a topaz glory round his head, shone the meek son of Joseph the -carpenter; and his humble fishermen of Galilee were refulgent in robes -of purple and gold. The fine haze of dust, on which the sunbeams fell, -gleamed with a quivering prismatic reflection of their splendour. From -the choir descended the heavenly tones of Schubert’s Ave Maria. They -flowed into Alfred’s ear, but no Touchu was with him to lay her wand -upon his heart. To a visitor, who sat in his cushioned pew, he whispered -that they paid the highest price for their music, and had the best that -money could command. The sermon urged the necessity of providing some -religious instruction for the poor; for otherwise there could be no -security to property against robbery and fire. Alfred resolved within -himself to get up a subscription immediately for that purpose, and to -give twice as much as Mr. Duncan, whatever the sum might be. Utouch, who -had secretly suggested the thing to him, turned somersaults on the -gilded prayer-book, and twisted diabolical grimaces. But Alfred did not -see him; nor did he hear a laugh under the carriage, when, as they -rolled home, he said to his wife, “My dear, why didn’t you wear your -embroidered shawl? I told you we were to have strangers in the pew. In -so handsome a church, people expect to see the congregation elegantly -dressed, you know.” - -But though Utouch was a mocking spirit, Alfred could not complain that -he had been untrue to his bargain. He had promised to bestow any thing -he craved from his kingdom of the outward. He had asked for honour in -the church, influence at the exchange, a rich handsome wife, and superb -horses. He had them all. Whose fault was it, that he was continually -looking round anxiously to observe whether _others_ had more of the -goods he coveted? He had wished for a luxurious table, and it stood -covered with the rarest dainties of the world. But with a constrained -smile he said to his guests, “Is it not provoking to be surrounded with -luxuries I cannot eat? That pie-crust would torment my sleep with a -legion of nightmares. It is true, I do not crave it much; for I sit at a -loaded table ‘half-famished for an appetite,’ as the witty Madame de -Sevigné used to say. Again and again, he asked himself, why all the -fruit that seemed so ripe and tempting on the outside was always dry and -dusty within. And if he was puzzled to understand why he _seemed_ to -have all things, and yet really _had_ nothing, still more was he puzzled -to explain how Ernest _seemed_ to have so little, and yet in reality -possessed _all_ things. One evening, at a concert, he happened to sit -near Ernest and his wife, while they listened to the beautiful Symphony -by Spohr, called the Consecration of the Tones. Delighted as children -were they, when they began to hear the winds murmur through the music, -the insects pipe, and one little bird after another chirp his notes of -gladness. How expressively they looked at each other, during the tender -lulling Cradle-Song! and how the expression of their faces brightened -and softened, as the enchanting tones passed through the lively allegro -of the Dance, into the exquisite melody of the Serenade! But when -Cradle-Song, Dance, and Serenade all moved forward together in -delightful harmony, a three-fold chord of lovely melodies, the -transparent countenance of Ernest became luminous with his inward joy. -It was evident that Touchu had again laid her thrilling wand upon his -heart. - -“How the deuce does he contrive always to delight himself?” thought -Alfred. “I wonder whether the music really _is_ any thing uncommon.” - -In order to ascertain, he turned from Ernest to watch the countenance of -a musical critic near by; one of those unfortunate men, who enjoy music -as the proof-reader enjoys the poetry he corrects in a printing-office. -How can a beautiful metaphor please him, while he sees a comma -topsy-turvy, or a period out of place? How can he be charmed by the -melodious flow of the verse, while he is dotting an i, or looking out -for an inverted s? The critic seemed less attentive to his business than -the proof-reader; for he was looking round and whispering, apparently -unconscious that sweet sounds filled the air. Nevertheless, Utouch -whispered to Alfred that the critic was the man to inform him whether he -_ought_ to be delighted with the music, or not. So, at the close of the -Symphony, he spoke to him, and took occasion to say, “I invited a French -amateur to come here this evening, in hopes he would receive a -favourable impression of the state of music in America. You are an -excellent judge of such matters. Do you think he will be satisfied with -the performance?” - -“He may be _pleased_, sir, but not _satisfied_,” replied the critic. -“The composition is a very fine one, but he has doubtless heard it in -Paris; and until you have heard a French orchestra, sir, you can have no -conception of music. Their accuracy in rhythmical time, amounts to -absolute perfection.” - -“And do you think the orchestra have played well to-night?” - -“Tolerably well, sir. But in the Cradle-Song the clarionet lagged a -little, once or twice; and the effect of the Serenade was injured, -because the violoncello was tuned one-sixteenth of a note too low.” - -Alfred bowed, and went away congratulating himself that he had not been -more delighted than was proper. - -The alleged impossibility of having any conception of music unless he -went to Europe, renewed a wish he had long indulged. He closed his -magnificent house, and went forth to make the fashionable tour. Ernest -was a painter, as well as a poet; and it chanced that they met in Italy. -Alfred seemed glad to see the friend of his childhood; but he soon -turned from cheerful things, to tell how vexed he was about a statue he -had purchased. “I gave a great price for it,” said he, “thinking it was -a real antique; but good judges now assure me that it is a modern work. -It is so annoying to waste one’s money!” - -“But if it be really beautiful, and pleases you, the money is _not_ -wasted,” replied Ernest; “though it certainly is not agreeable to be -cheated. Look at this ivory head to my cane! It is a bust of Hebe, which -I bought for a trifle, yesterday. But small as is the market value, its -beauty is a perpetual delight to me. If it be not an antique, it -deserves to be. It troubles me that I cannot find the artist, and pay -him more than I gave for it. Perhaps he is poor, and has not yet made a -name for himself; but whoever he may be, a spark of the divine fire is -certainly in him. Observe the beautiful swell of the breast, and the -graceful turn of the head!” - -“Yes, it is a pretty thing,” rejoined Alfred, half contemptously. “But I -am too much vexed with that knave who sold me the statue, to go into -raptures about the head of a cane just now. What makes it more provoking -is, that Mr. Duncan purchased a _real_ antique last year, for less money -than I threw away on this modern thing.” - -Having in vain tried to impart his own sunny humour, Ernest bade him -adieu, and returned to his humble lodgings, out of the city. As he -lingered in the orange-groves, listening to the nightingales, he thought -to himself, “I wish that charming little fairy, who came to me in my -boyish dream, would touch Alfred with her wand; for the purse the old -gnome gave him seems to bring him little joy.” He happened to look up -at the moment, and there, close by his hand, was Touchu balancing -herself tip-toe on an orange-bud. She had the same luminous, loving -eyes, the same prismatic robe, and the same sunny gleam on her hair. She -smiled as she said, “Then you do not repent your early choice, though I -could not give you a purse full of money?” - -“Oh, no indeed,” replied he. “Thou hast been the brightest blessing of -my life.” - -She kissed his eyes, and, waving her wand over him, said affectionately, -“Take then the best gift I have to offer. When thou art an old man, thou -shalt still remain, to the last, a simple, happy child.” - - - - -THE BROTHER AND SISTER. - - But show me, on thy flowery breast, - Earth, where thy _nameless_ martyrs rest! - The thousands, who, uncheered by praise, - Have made one offering of their days. - MRS. HEMANS. - - -“Hurra!” exclaimed John Golding to his sister Esther. “See what Mr. -Brown has bought with Biddy’s eggs!” - -The boy’s eyes sparkled, and his hands trembled with delight, while -Esther’s more serious countenance lighted up with a quick smile. - -The treasure John exhibited with such exultation, was a worn copy of -Goldsmith’s Manners and Customs. The title-page declared that it was -_adorned_ with plates; but readers accustomed to the present more -beautiful style of publishing would have been slow to admit that the -straight, lank figures, daubed with engraver’s ink, were any ornament to -the volumes. To the unpractised eyes of John and his sister, they were, -however, gems of Art; and the manner in which they were obtained greatly -increased their value. The children had received a cake and two little -chickens from a neighbour, in payment for picking cranberries. Never did -chickens give rise to such extensive speculations; not even the -imaginary brood of the famous milk-maid. The chickens would become hens, -and the hens would lay eggs, and Mr. Brown, who drove the market-wagon, -would sell the eggs, and there were ever so many books in Boston, and -who could guess what wonderful stories they would buy with their eggs? -The vision was realized in due time. The chickens did become hens, and -laid eggs; and Mr. Brown listened good-naturedly to John’s request to -sell them and buy “a book, that had pictures in it, and told about -countries a way off.” Goldsmith’s Manners and Customs came as the fruit -of these instructions, and was hailed with an outburst of joy. - -Most boys would have chosen to buy marbles or a drum; but John’s -earliest passion had been for a book. The subtle influences which -organize temperaments and produce character, are not easily traced. His -intellectual activity certainly was not derived from either of his -parents; for they were mere healthy sluggish animals. But there was a -tradition in the neighbourhood, that his maternal grandmother was “an -extraordinary woman in her day; that few folks knew so much as she did; -and if her husband had been half as smart and calculating, they would -have been very fore-handed people!” - -The children of the “extraordinary woman” inherited her husband’s inert -temperament, but her own energetic character re-appeared in her -grandchildren; and they had the good fortune to be born in New England -where the moral atmosphere stimulates intellect, and the stream of -knowledge flows free and full to all the people. Esther was as eager for -information, as her more vivacious brother; and though, as a woman, her -pathway of life was more obstructed, and all its growth more stinted, -she helped to lead him into broader avenues than she herself was allowed -to enter. Being two years older than he, it was her delight to teach him -the alphabet, as soon as he could speak; and great was her satisfaction -when he knew all the letters in her little, old primer, and could recite -the couplet that belonged to each. They conveyed no very distinct idea -to his mind, but Esther’s praise made him very vain of this -accomplishment. A dozen times a day, he shouted the whole twenty-four, -all in a row, and was quite out of breath when he arrived at: - - “Zaccheus he - Did climb a tree, - His Lord to see!” - -The mother, who was a kindly but dull woman, took little interest in -their childish scrambling after literature; but she sent them to the -town-school, for the sake of having them out of the way; and she was -somewhat proud that her children could “read joining-hand,” as she -called it, earlier than neighbours of the same age. One day, when the -minister of the village called, she told John to bring his book about -Manners and Customs, and let the minister hear how well they could read. -The good old man was much pleased with the bright boy and his -intelligent, motherly sister. When their mother told him the story of -the eggs, he patted them on the head and said: “That’s right, my -children. You can’t be too fond of your books. They are the best friends -in the world. If you ask them, they will tell you about every thing!” -This remark, uttered in a very serious tone, made a deep impression. -That evening, as brother and sister sat on the door-step, eating their -supper of bread and milk, the sun set bright and clear after a transient -shower, and a beautiful rainbow arched the entire heavens. “Oh, Esther, -look at that pretty rainbow!” exclaimed John. “Ah, see! see! now there -are two of ’em!” He gazed at the beautiful phenomenon with all his soul -in his eyes, and added: “As soon as we have eggs enough, we will get Mr. -Brown to buy a book that tells how rainbows are made, and where they -come from.” Esther replied, that she did wish the hens would lay three -eggs a day. - -When the market-man was commissioned to purchase another volume, he -declared himself unable to find one that told where rainbows came from. -In lieu thereof, he brought Bruce’s Travels; and an unfailing source of -entertainment it proved. Thus month by month their little library -increased, and their intellectual craving grew fast by the food it fed -on. They gathered berries, picked chips, ran on errands, rose early, and -worked late, to accumulate sixpences. - -When this is done merely to obtain animal indulgences, or for the sake -of possessing more than others, there is something degrading in the -servile process; but when the object is pursuit of knowledge for its own -sake, all creeping things become winged. Beautiful it is to see human -souls thus struggling with poverty and toil, sustained only by those -ministering angels, Hope and Faith! Those who have life enough to -struggle thus, are all the stronger for the contest. For the vigorous -intellect it is better to be so placed than to be born in palaces. Jean -Paul says truly: “Wealth bears far heavier on talent than poverty. Under -gold mountains and thrones, who knows how many a spiritual giant may lie -crushed down and buried?” - -Esther and her brother were troubled with no ambitious conjectures -whether or not they could ever become spiritual giants; they simply felt -that the acquisition of knowledge was present delight. They thought -little of hats and shoes, till father and mother said these must be -bought with a portion of their wages; but after that, they were doubly -careful of their hats, and often carried their shoes in their hands. -Thus were they, in their unconscious earnestness, living according to -laws which highest reason would prescribe for the whole social fabric. -They worked industriously at manual labor, but always with a spiritual -end in view; and that spiritual end was their own chosen recreation. -They practised the most careful economy, but it was neither mean nor -painful, because it was for a noble use, not for the mere sake of -accumulation. - -Though the poor parents were obliged to appropriate a portion of the -children’s juvenile earnings, there was one little fund that was -entirely their own. The two chickens had a progeny of chickens, and -these, in process of time, likewise laid eggs. John picked up every -stray grain of oats he could find, because he had heard it was a good -kind of food to increase eggs; and busy little Esther saved all the -oyster shells she could find, to pound for the hens in winter, when -there was no gravel to furnish material for the shells. The cackling of -a hen was to them an important event. Esther smiled at her knitting as -she heard it, and John, as he plucked the weeds, raised up his head to -listen. Hens have been often laughed at for proclaiming all abroad that -another egg is in the world; but John’s brood had a right to crow over -their mission. Cackle away to thy heart’s content, thou brown little -feather-top! Never mind their jibes and jeers! Thy human superiors often -become world-famous by simply obeying an impulse, which, unconsciously -to themselves, evolves extensive and progressive good; and thou art not -the first prattling egotist, who has worked for far higher results than -he had the ability to comprehend. Let him who laughs at thy cackling, -measure, if he can, what share thy new-laid egg may have in changing the -destiny of man! It will aid in the culture of a human soul. It will help -to develop and stimulate individual thought. And if generously aimed and -fearlessly uttered, may not that individual thought pervade and modify -the entire opinion of society? And is not law the mere record of -aggregate opinion? - -Truly the cackling hen brought no such thoughts to simple Esther and her -brother John. To them it merely announced that another egg was laid, and -thereby another cent gained toward the purchase of a new book. They -talked the stories over by the light of the moon, or recited to each -other favorite passages from Burns and Bloomfield. When the -field-labourers took their noon-day rest, you would be sure to find John -hidden away in the shade of a haystack, devouring a book. His zeal -attracted the minister’s attention, and he often stopped to talk with -him. One day, he said to the mother, “This boy will make something -extraordinary. He must get an education. He must go to college, ma’am.” - -“Bless my heart, I might as well think of sending him to the moon!” she -replied. - -But Esther heard it with a quick blush of pleasure and pride; and -henceforth the one absorbing thought of her life was how to assist in -sending John to college. Busily she calculated how much could be earned -in two years by knitting, and binding shoes, and braiding straw. John -listened with rapture to her plans, but his triumph was checked midway -by the recollection that his sister could not go to college with him. -“Why, Esther, you have always been my teacher,” he said. “You learn -faster than I do, and you remember better. Why don’t _women_ go to -college?” - -“They couldn’t be lawyers, and ministers, and judges, if they _did_,” -answered Esther. - -“Why not?” said John. - -Esther’s knowledge and reflection on the subject stopped there, and she -simply replied that women never _had_ done such things. - -“Why, yes, they have,” said John. “The Bible says that Deborah was a -judge; and Queen Elizabeth was more than a judge; and we read the other -day that Isabella of Spain knew how to direct an army, and govern the -state, better than her husband, King Ferdinand. I am sure I don’t see -why women _shouldn’t_ go to college.” - -The boy, in the eagerness of brotherly love, had started ideas which he -was too ignorant to follow. But in his simple question lies the germ of -thoughts that will revolutionize the world. For as surely as there is a -God of harmony in the universe, so surely will woman one day become the -acknowledged equal and co-worker of man, in _every_ department of life; -and yet be more truly gentle and affectionate than she now is. - -But Esther was too young to reflect on such matters. She loved her -brother, and she wanted him to go to college; and with unquestioning -diligence she applied her faculties to the purpose, in every way that -was left open for her. She scarcely allowed herself time to eat and -sleep, and grudged herself every article of apparel, so zealous was her -sisterly love. Poor girl! there was no one to teach her the physical -laws, and she knew not that toiling thus perpetually, without exercise -for the body, or recreation for the mind, was slow suicide. Month after -month she laboured, and seldom spoke of pains in her side, and confused -feelings in her head. Even her favourite luxury of reading was almost -entirely relinquished; and John had little leisure to read to her such -books as were entertaining. The minister had offered to hear him recite -Latin and Greek once a week, and he was too busy with the classics, to -have time for Voyages and Travels. He often repeated his lessons to his -sister, and from his bald translations she here and there gleaned a few -ideas; but this kind of mental effort was little profitable, and less -enlivening. Blessed Nature stood ever ready to refresh and strengthen -her. The golden dandelion blossoms smiled brightly in her face, and the -trees stretched their friendly arms over her in blessing; but she had -no time to listen to their kind voices. It would have been difficult to -lure her aside from her arduous path, even if she had known that it -would lead to an open tomb. - -When an object is pursued with such concentrated aim and persevering -effort, it is almost always attained. John taught school in the winters, -and worked at whatever his hand could find to do in the summers. Esther -hoarded all her earnings, to add to the Education Fund, as they called -it: and their good friend the minister borrowed a hundred dollars for -them, to be repaid according to their own convenience. At last, the -darling hope of many years was realized. John went to college, and soon -ranked among the best scholars of his class. His sister still toiled, -that he might have a sufficiency of books and clothing. He studied hard, -and taught school during college vacations, and returned home at the end -of four years, attenuated almost to a skeleton. - -The new milk and cheese-whey, the breath of the cows, and the verdure of -the fields, refreshed him, and in some degree restored his exhausted -strength. But now he was fretted with the question, what to do with the -education he had acquired with so much hardship. An additional -expenditure of time and money was required to fit him for either of the -professions. He was not stimulated by any strong preference for either -of them, and his generous soul resisted the idea of taxing his sister’s -strength any further for his own advantage. The old question of his -boyhood returned with additional force. Why should she, with her noble -nature and admirable faculties, be forever penned up within the small -routine of petty cares, and mere mechanical efforts? Why should she not -share his destiny, and enjoy with him a more expansive atmosphere for -soul and body? To this end he resolved to labour. He would earn money by -the readiest means that offered, and devote his earnings to her -improvement. But Esther said, “If you educate me, dear John, what can I -_do_ with my education? I can do nothing but teach school; and for that -I am sure my health is not adequate. The doctor says I must take as much -exercise as possible.” - -“The doctor!” exclaimed John. “Why, Esther, you never told me you had -been ill enough to consult a physician.” - -“It is merely a slight difficulty in my lungs,” she replied. “I am going -to spin on the great wheel this winter; and I think that will cure me. -Do not trouble your kind heart about me, my dear John. While I have any -health and strength, I will never consent to be a burden upon you, -however much you may urge it. I do not believe that sisters ought to -depend on brothers for support. I am sure it is far better for the -characters of women to rely on their own energies. But sometimes I -think we have not a fair chance in the world. I often wish, as you do, -that it was easy for us to obtain a more liberal education, and -customary to use that education in a freer scope for all our faculties. -But never mind, dear brother, the door of _your_ cage is open, and the -world is all before you. Go where you will, I know you will never forget -the sister, who loves you so dearly. You are destined to go far ahead of -me in life; but your good heart will never allow you to be ashamed of -your poor untutored Esther.” - -John folded her close to his heart, and turned away to hide the -gathering tears. He was more than ever desirous to do something for the -high culture of that generous and affectionate soul. The way to earn a -moderate income was soon opened to him. The widowed sister of one of the -college professors wanted a private tutor for her sons; and John Golding -was recommended by her brother. Here he came in contact, for the first -time, with the outward refinements of life. Charming music, harmonious -colours, elegant furniture, and, above all, the daily conversation of a -cultivated woman, breathed their gentle and refining influences over his -strong and honest soul. At first, he was shy and awkward, but the kindly -atmosphere around him, gradually unfolded the sleeping flower-buds -within, and without thinking of the process, the scholar became a -gentleman. By careful economy, he repaid Esther the sums she had -advanced for his education; but the question was forever renewed how he -should manage to have her share his advantages, without sacrificing her -noble spirit of independence. His visits to the old homestead reminded -him, sometimes a little painfully, that he was leaving his family far -behind him in the career of knowledge and refinement. His father chewed -tobacco, without much regard to cleanliness. His kind old mother _would_ -cut the butter with the same knife she had used in eating. She had done -so all her life, but he had never before noticed it, and it vexed him to -the heart to find himself so much annoyed by it now. His serious, gentle -sister, was endowed with an unusual degree of natural refinement, which -is usually a better teacher of manners, than mere conventional -politeness. But once, when he brought home one of his pupils, she came -out to meet them dressed in a new gown, of dingy blue and brick-red, -with figures large enough for bed-curtains. He blushed, and was for a -moment ashamed of her; then he reproached himself that his darling -Esther could seem to him in any respect vulgar. The next week he sent -her a dress of delicate material and quiet colours, and she had tact -enough to perceive, that this was a silent mode of improving her taste. - -The most painful thing connected with his own superior culture was the -spiritual distance it produced between him and his honest parents. Their -relative positions were reversed. Father and mother looked up with -wondering deference to their children. Like hens that have hatched -ducks, they knew not what to make of their progeny, thus launching out -on a fluid element, which they had never tried. But he perceived the -distance between them far more clearly than they could. He could receive -the whole of _their_ thought, but was constantly obliged to check the -utterance of his own, from a consciousness that allusions the most -common to him, would be quite unintelligible to them. “The butterfly may -remember the grub, but the grub has no knowledge of the butterfly.” With -Esther he had unalloyed pleasure of companionship; for though ignorant -of the world, and deficient in culture, she was an intelligent listener, -and it charmed him to see her grow continually under the influence of -the sunshine he could bring to her. How he loved to teach her! How he -longed to prove his gratitude by the consecration of all his faculties -and means to her use! - -In little more than a year after he left college, a delightful change -came over his prospects. A brother of the widow in whose family he had -been tutor, was appointed ambassador to Spain, and through her influence -he selected John Golding for his private secretary. Esther, true to her -unselfish nature, urged him by all means to accept the offer. “When you -were a little boy,” said she, “you were always eager to know about -countries a great way off. But we little thought then that our cackling -hens would ever bring you such a golden opportunity.” - -John’s satisfaction would have been complete, if he could have taken -Esther with him to that balmy clime. But she had many objections to -offer. She said her rustic manners unfitted her for the elegant circles -in which he would move; and he replied that she would catch the tone of -polished society far more readily than he could. She reminded him that -their parents needed his assistance to repair the old dilapidated -homestead, and to purchase cows; and that he had promised to devote to -their use the first money he could spare. He sighed, and made no answer; -for he felt that his pecuniary resources were altogether inadequate to -his generous wishes. Again the question returned, “Why cannot women go -abroad, and earn their own way in the world, as well as men?” The coming -ages answered him, but he did not hear the prophecy. - -At last the hour of parting came. Painful it was to both, but far more -painful to Esther. The young man went forth to seek novelty and -adventure; the young woman remained alone, in the dull monotony of an -uneventful life. And more than this, she felt a mournful certainty that -she should never behold her darling brother again, while he was cheered -by hopes of a happy reunion, and was forever building the most romantic -“castles in Spain.” She never told him how very ill she was; and he -thought her interrupted breath was caused merely by the choking emotions -of an over-charged heart. - -He deposited with a friend more money than he could have prevailed upon -her to accept, and made a choice collection of books and engravings, to -cheer her during his absence. To the last moment, he spoke of coming for -her next year, and carrying her to the sunny hills of Spain. With a -faint smile she promised to learn Spanish, that she might be able to -talk with her brother Don Scolardo; and so with mutual struggle to -suppress their tears, the brother and sister, who had gone so lovingly, -hand in hand, over the rough paths of life, parted just where the -glancing summit of his hopes rose bright before him. - -A letter written on board ship was full of cheerful visions of the quiet -literary home they would enjoy together in the coming years. The next -letter announced his arrival in Spain. Oh, the romantic old castles, the -picturesque mills, the rich vineyards, the glowing oranges, the great -swelling bunches of grapes! He was half wild with enthusiasm, and seemed -to have no annoyance, except the fact that he could not speak modern -languages. “I ought not,” said he, “to complain of the college-education -for which we toiled so hard, and which has certainly opened for me the -closed gateway of a far nobler life than I could probably have entered -by any other means. But after all, dear Esther, much of my time and -money was spent for what I cannot bring into use, and shall therefore -soon for get. Even my Latin was not taught me in a way that enables me -to talk freely with the learned foreigners I meet. By the light of my -present experience, I can certainly devise a better plan of education -for my son, if I ever have one. Meanwhile, dear sister, do not work too -hard; and pray study French and Spanish with all diligence; for laugh as -thou wilt at my ‘castles in Spain,’ I will surely come and bring thee -here. Think of the golden oranges and great luscious grapes, which thou -wilt never see in their beauty, till thou seest them here! Think of -seeing the Alhambra, with its golden lattice-work, and flowery -arabesques! Above all, imagine thyself seated under a fig-tree, leaning -on the bosom of thy ever-loving brother!” - -Poor Esther! This description of a genial climate made her sigh; for -while she read it, the cold East winds of New England were cutting her -wounded lungs like dagger-points. But when she answered the precious -letter, she made no allusion to this. She wrote playfully, concerning -the health of the cows and the hens; asked him to inform her what was -cackle in Spanish, for she reverenced the word, and would fain know it -in all languages. Finally, she assured him, that she was studying -busily, to make herself ready to reside in the grand castle he was -building. The tears came to her eyes, as she folded the letter, but she -turned hastily aside, that they might not drop on the paper. Never in -her life had she been willing to let her shadow cross his sunshine. - -It was the last letter she ever wrote. She had sought to crown her -brother with laurels on earth, and his ministering angel crowned her -with garlands in heaven. - - * * * * * - -Three years afterwards, John stood by her humble grave in his native -village. The tears flowed fast, as he thought to himself, “And I once -blushed for thee, thou great and noble soul, because thou wert clothed -in a vulgar dress! Ah, mean, ungrateful wretch, that I was! And how -stinted was thy life, thou poor one!--A slow grinding martyrdom from -beginning to end.” - -He remembered the wish she had so meekly expressed, that women might -have a more liberal education, and a wider scope for their faculties. -“For thy sake, thou dear one,” said he, “I will be the friend and -brother of all women. To their improvement and elevation will I -consecrate my talent and my education. This is the monument I will build -to thee; and I believe thy gentle spirit will bless me for it in -heaven.” - -He soon after married a young woman, whose character and early history -strongly resembled his beloved sister’s. Aided by her, he devoted all -his energies to the establishment of a Normal School for Young Women. -Mind after mind unfolds under his brotherly care, and goes forth to aid -in the redemption of woman, and the slow harmonizing of our social -discords. - -Well might little brown feather-top cackle aloud; for verily her mission -was a great one. - - - - -THE STREAM OF LIFE - - - In morning hours, - Full of flowers, - Our swift boats glide - O’er life’s bright tide; - And every time the oars we raise - The falling drops like diamonds blaze. - - From earth and sky - Comes melody; - And ev’ry voice - Singeth, “Rejoice!” - While echoes all around prolong - The cadence of that wondrous song. - - Above each boat - Bright fairies float, - Mounting on air - To castles there. - The earth is full of glorious things - All tinged with light from rainbow wings. - - Dear Friendship’s smile, - And Love’s sweet wile, - Make Life all bright - With genial light, - And seem to shine with steady ray, - That ne’er can change, or fade away. - - * * * * * - - More slowly glides life’s _evening_ boat, - And withered flowers around it float. - The drops fall dark from weary oars, - And dismal fogs shroud all the shores. - - Like widowed bird that mourns alone, - Sings Music, in her minor tone, - Of flowers that blossom but to die; - And echoes answer plaintively. - - Bright fairies change to limping hags; - Their rainbow wings to dingy rags. - Dark heavy clouds sail through the air, - Where golden castles shone so fair. - - Strong hearts grow faint, and young ones old; - Friendships decline, and Love is cold. - Dim twilight changes morn’s ideal - To flick’ring shadows, all unreal. - - But joy remains, if we have thrown - Fresh flowers to boats around our own. - Though currents part us far and wide, - Sweet perfumes live from flowers that died. - - Or if our blossoms formed good seeds, - Such as the growing future needs, - Those little germs perchance may yield - Rich waving crops in Time’s ripe fields. - - Though dark the tide we’re drifting o’er, - It brings us near that brighter shore, - Where longing souls at length will know - The use of this world’s changing show. - - Meanwhile, though sunlight has gone down, - Life’s ev’ning wears a starry crown, - Where weary ones, who look above, - May read the letters, “God is love.” - - - - -THE MAN THAT KILLED HIS NEIGHBOURS. - -THE PRINCIPAL INCIDENTS OF THIS STORY ARE FACTS. - - Send thou abroad a love for all who live, - And feel the deep content in turn they give. - Kind wishes and good deeds--they make not poor; - They’ll home again, full laden to thy door. - The streams of love flow back where they begin; - For springs of outward joys lie deep within. - R. W. DANA. - - -It is curious to observe how a man’s spiritual state reflects itself in -the people and animals around him; nay, in the very garments, trees and -stones. - -Reuben Black was an infestation in the neighbourhood where he resided. -The very sight of him produced effects similar to the Hindoo magical -tune, called Raug, which is said to bring on clouds, storms, and -earthquakes. His wife seemed lean, sharp, and uncomfortable. The heads -of his boys had a bristling aspect, as if each individual hair stood on -end with perpetual fear. The cows poked out their horns horizontally, as -soon as he opened the barn-yard gate. The dog dropped his tail between -his legs, and eyed him askance, to see what humour he was in. The cat -looked wild and scraggy, and had been known to rush straight up the -chimney when he moved toward her. Fanny Kemble’s expressive description -of the Pennsylvanian stage-horses was exactly suited to Reuben’s poor -old nag. “His hide resembled an old hair-trunk.” Continual whipping and -kicking had made him such a stoic, that no amount of blows could quicken -his pace, and no chirruping could change the dejected drooping of his -head. All his natural language said, as plainly as a horse _could_ say -it, that he was a most unhappy beast. Even the trees on Reuben’s -premises had a gnarled and knotted appearance. The bark wept little -sickly tears of gum, and the branches grew awry, as if they felt the -continual discord, and made sorry faces at each other, behind their -owner’s back. His fields were red with sorrel, or run over with mullein. -Every thing seemed as hard and arid as his own visage. Every day, he -cursed the town and the neighbourhood, because they poisoned his dogs, -and stoned his hens, and shot his cats. Continual law-suits involved him -in so much expense, that he had neither time nor money to spend on the -improvement of his farm. - -Against Joe Smith, a poor labourer in the neighbourhood, he had brought -three suits in succession. Joe said he had returned a spade he borrowed, -and Reuben swore he had not. He sued Joe, and recovered damages, for -which he ordered the sheriff to seize his pig. Joe, in his wrath, -called him an old swindler, and a curse to the neighbourhood. These -remarks were soon repeated to Reuben. He brought an action for slander, -and recovered twenty-five cents. Provoked at the laugh this occasioned, -he watched for Joe to pass by, and set his big dog upon him, screaming -furiously, “Call me an old swindler again, will you?” An evil spirit is -more contagious than the plague. Joe went home and scolded his wife, and -boxed little Joe’s ears, and kicked the cat; and not one of them knew -what it was all for. A fortnight after, Reuben’s big dog was found dead -by poison. Whereupon he brought another action against Joe Smith, and -not being able to prove him guilty of the charge of dog-murder, he took -his revenge by poisoning a pet lamb, belonging to Mrs. Smith. Thus the -bad game went on, with mutual worriment and loss. Joe’s temper grew more -and more vindictive, and the love of talking over his troubles at the -grogshop increased upon him. Poor Mrs. Smith cried, and said it was all -owing to Reuben Black; for a better-hearted man never lived than her -Joe, when she first married him. - -Such was the state of things when Simeon Green purchased the farm -adjoining Reuben’s. The estate had been much neglected, and had caught -thistles and mullein from the neighbouring fields. But Simeon was a -diligent man, blessed by nature with a healthy organization and a genial -temperament; and a wise and kind education had aided nature in the -perfection of her goodly work. His provident industry soon changed the -aspect of things on the farm. River-mud, autumn leaves, old shoes, and -old bones, were all put in requisition to assist in the production of -use and beauty. The trees, with branches pruned, and bark scraped free -from moss and insects, soon looked clean and vigorous. Fields of grain -waved where weeds had rioted. Persian lilacs bowed gracefully over the -simple gateway. Michigan roses covered half the house with their -abundant clusters. Even the rough rock which formed the door-step, was -edged with golden moss. The sleek horse, feeding in clover, tossed his -mane and neighed when his master came near; as much as to say “The world -is all the pleasanter for having you in it, Simeon Green!” The old cow, -fondling her calf under the great walnut tree, walked up to him with -serious friendly face, asking for the slice of sugar-beet he was wont to -give her. Chanticleer, strutting about, with his troop of plump hens and -downy little chickens, took no trouble to keep out of his way, but -flapped his glossy wings, and crowed a welcome in his very face. When -Simeon turned his steps homeward, the boys threw up their caps and ran -out shouting, “Father’s coming!” and little Mary went toddling up to -him, with a dandelion blossom to place in his button-hole. His wife was -a woman of few words, but she sometimes said to her neighbours, with a -quiet kind of satisfaction, “Everybody loves my husband that knows him. -They can’t help it.” - -Simeon Green’s acquaintance knew that he was never engaged in a law-suit -in his life; but they predicted that he would find it impossible to -avoid it now. They told him his next neighbour was determined to quarrel -with people, whether they would or not; that he was like John Liburne, -of whom Judge Jenkins said, “If the world was emptied of every person -but himself, Liburne would still quarrel with John, and John with -Liburne.” - -“Is _that_ his character?” said Simeon, in his smiling way. “If he -exercises it upon _me_, I will _soon_ kill him.” - -In every neighbourhood there are individuals who like to foment -disputes, not from any definite intention of malice or mischief, but -merely because it makes a little ripple of excitement in the dull stream -of life, like a contest between dogs or game-cocks. Such people were not -slow in repeating Simeon Green’s remark about his wrangling neighbour. -“Kill _me_! will he?” exclaimed Reuben. He said no more; but his tightly -compressed mouth had such a significant expression, that his dog dodged -him, as he would the track of a tiger. That very night, Reuben turned -his horse into the highway, in hopes he would commit some depredations -on neighbour Green’s premises. But Joe Smith, seeing the animal at -large, let down the bars of Reuben’s own corn-field, and the poor beast -walked in, and feasted as he had not done for many a year. It would have -been a great satisfaction to Reuben if he could have brought a lawsuit -against his horse; but as it was, he was obliged to content himself with -beating him. His next exploit was to shoot Mary Green’s handsome -chanticleer, because he stood on the stone wall and crowed, in the -ignorant joy of his heart, two inches beyond the frontier line that -bounded the contiguous farms. Simeon said he was sorry for the poor -bird, and sorry because his wife and children liked the pretty creature; -but otherwise it was no great matter. He had been intending to build a -poultry yard, with a good high fence, that his hens might not annoy his -neighbours; and now he was admonished to make haste and do it. He would -build them a snug warm house to roost in; they should have plenty of -gravel and oats, and room to promenade back and forth, and crow and -cackle to their heart’s content; there they could enjoy themselves, and -be out of harm’s way. - -But Reuben Black had a degree of ingenuity and perseverance, which might -have produced great results for mankind, had those qualities been -devoted to some more noble purpose than provoking quarrels. A pear tree -in his garden very improperly stretched over a friendly arm into Simeon -Green’s premises. Whether the sunny state of things there had a -cheering effect on the tree I know not; but it happened that this -over-hanging bough bore more abundant fruit, and glowed with a richer -hue, than the other boughs. One day, little George Green, as he went -whistling along, picked up a pear that had fallen into his father’s -garden. The instant he touched it, he felt something on the back of his -neck, like the sting of a wasp. It was Reuben Black’s whip, followed by -such a storm of angry words, that the poor child rushed into the house -in an agony of terror. But this experiment failed also. The boy was -soothed by his mother, and told not to go near the pear tree again; and -there the matter ended. - -This imperturbable good nature vexed Reuben more than all the tricks and -taunts he met from others. Evil efforts he could understand, and repay -with compound interest; but he did not know what to make of this -perpetual forbearance. It seemed to him there must be something -contemptuous in it. He disliked Simeon Green more than all the rest of -the town put together, because he made him feel so uncomfortably in the -wrong, and did not afford him the slightest pretext for complaint. It -was annoying to see every thing in his neighbour’s domains looking so -happy, and presenting such a bright contrast to the forlornness of his -own. When their wagons passed each other on the road, it seemed as if -Simeon’s horse tossed his head higher, and flung out his mane, as if he -knew he was going by Reuben Black’s old nag. He often said he supposed -Green covered his house with roses and honeysuckles on purpose to shame -_his_ bare walls. But he didn’t care--not he! He wasn’t going to be fool -enough to rot _his_ boards with such stuff. But no one resented his -disparaging remarks, or sought to provoke him in any way. The roses -smiled, the horse neighed, and the calf capered; but none of them had -the least idea they were insulting Reuben Black. Even the dog had no -malice in his heart, though he did one night chase home his geese, and -bark at them through the bars. Reuben told his master, the next day; he -swore he would bring an action against him, if he didn’t keep that dog -at home; and Simeon answered very quietly that he would try to take -better care of him. For several days a strict watch was kept, in hopes -Towzer would worry the geese again; but they paced home undisturbed, and -not a solitary bow-wow furnished excuse for a law-suit. - -The new neighbours not only declined quarrelling, but they occasionally -made positive advances towards a friendly relation. Simeon’s wife sent -Mrs. Black a large basket full of very fine cherries. Pleased with the -unexpected attention, she cordially replied, “Tell your mother it was -_very_ kind of her, and I am very much obliged to her.” Reuben, who sat -smoking in the chimney-corner, listened to this message once without any -manifestation of impatience, except whiffing the smoke through his pipe -a little faster and fiercer than usual. But when the boy was going out -of the door, and the friendly words were again repeated, he exclaimed, -“Don’t make a fool of yourself, Peg. They want to give us a hint to send -a basket of our pears; that’s the upshot of the business. You may send -’em a basket, when they are ripe; for I scorn to be under obligation, -especially to your smooth-tongued folks.” Poor Peggy, whose arid life -had been for the moment refreshed with a little dew of kindness, -admitted distrust into her bosom, and the halo that radiated round the -ripe glowing cherries departed. - -Not long after this advance towards good neighbourhood, some labourers -employed by Simeon Green, passing over a bit of marshy ground, with a -heavy team, stuck fast in a bog occasioned by long continued rain. The -poor oxen were entirely unable to extricate themselves, and Simeon -ventured to ask assistance from his waspish neighbour, who was working -at a short distance. Reuben replied gruffly, “I’ve got enough to do to -attend to my own business.” The civil request that he might be allowed -to use his oxen and chains for a few moments being answered in the same -surly tone, Simeon silently walked off, in search of a more obliging -neighbour. - -The men, who were left waiting with the patient, suffering oxen, scolded -about Reuben’s ill-nature, and said they hoped he would get stuck in -the same bog himself. Their employer rejoined, “If he does, we will do -our duty, and help him out.” - -“There is such a thing as being _too_ good-natured,” said they. “If -Reuben Black takes the notion that people are afraid of him, it makes -him trample on them worse than ever.” - -“Oh, wait a while,” replied Mr. Green, smiling, “I will kill him before -long. Wait and see if I don’t kill him.” - -It chanced, soon after, that Reuben’s team did stick fast in the same -bog, as the workmen had wished. Simeon observed it, from a neighbouring -field, and gave directions that the oxen and chains should be -immediately conveyed to his assistance. The men laughed, shook their -heads, and said it was good enough for the old hornet. They, however, -cheerfully proceeded to do as their employer had requested. “You are in -a bad situation, neighbour,” said Simeon, as he came alongside of the -foundered team. “But my men are coming with two yoke of oxen, and I -think we shall soon manage to help you out.” - -“You may take your oxen back again,” replied Reuben; “I don’t want any -of your help.” - -In a very friendly tone Simeon answered, “I cannot consent to do that; -for evening is coming on, and you have very little time to lose. It is a -bad job any time, but it will be still worse in the dark.” - -“Light or dark, I don’t ask _your_ help,” replied Reuben, emphatically. -“I would’nt help you out of the bog, the other day, when you asked -_me_.” - -“The trouble I had in relieving my poor oxen teaches me to sympathize -with others in the same situation,” answered Simeon. “Don’t let us waste -words about it, neighbour. It is impossible for me to go home and leave -you here in the bog, and night coming on.” - -The team was soon drawn out, and Simeon and his men went away, without -waiting for thanks. When Reuben went home that night, he was unusually -silent and thoughtful. After smoking a while, in deep contemplation, he -gently knocked the ashes from his pipe, and said, with a sigh, “Peg, -Simeon Green _has_ killed me!” - -“What do you mean?” said his wife, dropping her knitting with a look of -surprise. - -“You know when he first came into this neighbourhood, he _said_ he’d -kill me,” replied Reuben; “and he has done it. The other day, he asked -me to help draw his team out of the bog, and I told him I had enough to -do to attend to my own business. To-day, my team stuck fast in the same -bog, and he came with two yoke of oxen to draw it out. I felt sort of -ashamed to have _him_ lend me a hand, so I told him I didn’t want any of -his help; but he answered, just as pleasant as if nothing contrary had -ever happened, that night was coming on, and he was not willing to leave -me there in the mud.” - -“It was very good of him,” replied Peggy. “He is a pleasant-spoken man, -and always has a pretty word to say to the boys. His wife seems to be a -nice neighbourly body, too.” - -Reuben made no answer; but after meditating a while, he remarked, “Peg, -you know that big ripe melon down at the bottom of the garden? you may -as well carry it over there, in the morning.” His wife said she would, -without asking him to explain where “over there” was. - -But when the morning came, Reuben walked back and forth, and round and -round, with that sort of aimless activity, often manifested by hens, and -by fashionable idlers, who feel restless, and don’t know what to run -after. At length, the cause of his uncertain movements was explained, by -his saying, in the form of a question, “I guess I may as well carry the -melon myself, and thank him for his oxen? In my flurry down there in the -marsh, I did’nt think to say I was obliged to him.” - -He marched off toward the garden, and his wife stood at the door, with -one hand on her hip, and the other shading the sun from her eyes, to see -if he really would carry the melon into Simeon Green’s house. It was the -most remarkable incident that had happened since her marriage. She could -hardly believe her own eyes. He walked quick, as if afraid he should not -be able to carry the unusual impulse into action if he stopped to -reconsider the question. When he found himself in Mr. Green’s house, he -felt extremely awkward, and hastened to say, “Mrs. Green, here is a -melon my wife sent you, and we reckon it’s a ripe one.” Without -manifesting any surprise at such unexpected courtesy, the friendly -matron thanked him, and invited him to sit down. But he stood playing -with the latch of the door, and without raising his eyes said, “May be -Mr. Green ain’t in, this morning?” - -“He is at the pump, and will be in directly,” she replied; and before -her words were spoken, the honest man walked in, with a face as fresh -and bright as a June morning. He stepped right up to Reuben, shook his -hand cordially, and said, “I am glad to see you, neighbour. Take a -chair. Take a chair.” - -“Thank you, I can’t stop,” replied Reuben. He pushed his hat on one -side, rubbed his head, looked out of the window, and then said suddenly, -as if by a desperate effort, “The fact is, Mr. Green, I didn’t behave -right about the oxen.” - -“Never mind, never mind,” replied Mr. Green. “Perhaps I shall get into -the bog again, some of these rainy days. If I do, I shall know whom to -call upon.” - -“Why you see,” said Reuben, still very much confused, and avoiding -Simeon’s mild clear eye, “you see the neighbors about here are very -ugly. If I had always lived by such neighbours as you are, I shouldn’t -be just as I am.” - -“Ah, well, we must try to be to others what we want them to be to us,” -rejoined Simeon. “You know the good book says so. I have learned by -experience that if we speak kind words, we hear kind echoes. If we try -to make others happy, it fills them with a wish to make us happy. -Perhaps you and I can bring the neighbourhood round, in time. Who knows? -Let us try, Mr. Black! Let us try! But come and look at my orchard. I -want to show you a tree, which I have grafted with very choice apples. -If you like I will procure you some scions from the same stock.” - -They went into the orchard together, and friendly chat soon put Reuben -at his ease. When he returned home, he made no remarks about his visit; -for he could not, as yet, summon sufficient greatness of soul to tell -his wife that he had confessed himself in the wrong. A gun stood behind -the kitchen door, in readiness to shoot Mr. Green’s dog for having -barked at his horse. He now fired the contents into the air, and put the -gun away in the barn. From that day, henceforth, he never sought for any -pretext to quarrel with either the dog or his master. A short time -after, Joe Smith, to his utter astonishment, saw him pat Towzer on the -head, and heard him say, “Good fellow!” - -Simeon Green was far too magnanimous to repeat to any one that his -quarrelsome neighbour had confessed himself to blame. He merely smiled -as he said to his wife, “I thought we should kill him, after a while.” - -Joe Smith did not believe in such doctrines. When he heard of the -adventures in the marsh, he said, “Sim Green’s a fool. When he first -came here he talked very big about killing folks, if they didn’t mind -their Ps and Qs. But he don’t appear to have as much spirit as a worm; -for a worm will turn when its trod upon.” - -Poor Joe had grown more intemperate and more quarrelsome, till at last -nobody would employ him. About a year after the memorable incident of -the water-melon, some one stole several valuable hides from Mr. Green. -He did not mention the circumstance to any one but his wife; and they -both had reasons for suspecting that Joe was the thief. The next week, -the following anonymous advertisement appeared in the newspaper of the -county: - -“Whoever stole a lot of hides on Friday night, the 5th of the present -month, is hereby informed that the owner has a sincere wish to be his -friend. If poverty tempted him to this false step, the owner will keep -the whole transaction a secret, and will gladly put him in the way of -obtaining money by means more likely to bring him peace of mind.”[A] - -[A] This advertisement is a literal copy of one actually published, and -it produced the effects here related. - -This singular advertisement of course excited a good deal of remark. -There was much debate whether or not the thief would avail himself of -the friendly offer. Some said he would be a greenhorn if he did; for it -was manifestly a trap to catch him. But he who had committed the -dishonest deed alone knew whence the benevolent offer came; and he knew -that Simeon Green was not a man to set traps for his fellow creatures. - -A few nights afterward a timid knock was heard at Simeon’s door, just as -the family were retiring to rest. When the door was opened, Joe Smith -was seen on the steps, with a load of hides on his shoulder. Without -raising his eyes, he said in a low, humble tone, “I have brought these -back, Mr. Green. Where shall I put them?” - -“Wait a moment, till I can get a lantern, and I will go to the barn with -you,” he replied. “Then you will come in, and tell me how it happened. -We will see what can be done for you.” - -Mrs. Green knew that Joe often went hungry, and had become accustomed to -the stimulus of rum. She therefore hastened to make hot coffee, and -brought from the closet some cold meat and a pie. - -When they returned from the barn, she said, “I thought you might feel -the better for a little warm supper, neighbour Smith.” Joe turned his -back toward her, and did not speak. He leaned his head against the -chimney, and after a moment’s silence, he said in a choked voice, “It -was the first time I ever stole any thing; and I have felt very bad -about it. I don’t know how it is. I didn’t think once I should ever come -to be what I am. But I took to quarrelling, and then to drinking. Since -I began to go down hill, everybody gives me a kick. You are the first -man that has offered me a helping hand. My wife is feeble, and my -children starving. You have sent them many a meal, God bless you! and -yet I stole the hides from you, meaning to sell them the first chance I -could get. But I tell you the truth, Mr. Green, it is the first time I -ever deserved the name of thief.” - -“Let it be the last, my friend,” said Simeon, pressing his hand kindly. -“The secret shall remain between ourselves. You are young, and can make -up for lost time. Come, now, give me a promise that you will not drink -one drop of intoxicating liquor for a year, and I will employ you -to-morrow, at good wages. Mary will go to see your family early in the -morning, and perhaps we may find some employment for them also. The -little boy can at least pick up stones. But eat a bit now, and drink -some hot coffee. It will keep you from wanting to drink any thing -stronger to-night. You will find it hard to abstain, at first, Joseph; -but keep up a brave heart, for the sake of your wife and children, and -it will soon become easy. When you feel the need of coffee, tell my -Mary, and she will always give it to you.” - -Joe tried to eat and drink, but the food seemed to choke him. He was -nervous and excited. After an ineffectual effort to compose himself, he -laid his head on the table and wept like a child. - -After a while, Simeon persuaded him to bathe his head in cold water, and -he ate and drank with a good appetite. When he went away, the -kind-hearted host said, “Try to do well, Joseph, and you shall always -find a friend in me.” - -The poor fellow pressed his hand and replied,--“I understand now how it -is you kill bad neighbours.” - -He entered in Mr. Green’s service the next day, and remained in it many -years, an honest and faithful man. - - - - -INTELLIGENCE OF ANIMALS. - - “The whole subject of the brute creation is to me one of such - painful mystery, that I dare not approach it.”--DR. ARNOLD. - - “If we deny them _soul_, we must admit that they have _some spirit - direct from God_, what we call unerring instinct, which holds the - place of it.”--SIR ISAAC NEWTON. - - -Any reflecting person who has lived much in the country, and been -observant of animals, must have had thoughts similar to those expressed -in the above mottoes. Even the smallest and most common animals -sometimes give indications of thought, feeling, and memory, almost as -remarkable as those related of the “half-reasoning elephant.” If we -could penetrate into the mysteries of their domestic arrangements, and -learn of the humming-bird why she makes her little thimble of a nest so -exactly the color of the tree on which it is placed, and of the -mason-bee why he makes his small mortared cell to resemble so closely -the stones of the wall where he inserts it, we should probably be still -more puzzled to define the boundary between instinct and reason. - -Several times in my life my attention has been arrested, and my mind -excited to activity, by singular manifestations of intelligence in -animals that came under my observation. A few summers ago, when I was -living at an old farm-house in New York, I chanced to go into the garret -late in the afternoon. The sun was setting in a blaze of glory, and I -knelt at the western window, looking out long and lovingly upon the -broad expanse of field and meadow, on which he was throwing a shower of -gold as he passed away. After a while, my attention was diverted from -this beautiful scene by the motions of a wasp, that emerged from a -crevice in the old window, and began to nibble off thin, soft slivers of -the decaying wood, to be used in constructing her nest. I bent very near -to her, trying to ascertain by what process she cut up the materials so -dexterously. Suddenly, she stopped working, drew back a little, and -appeared to watch _me_ as closely as I watched _her_. At first, I -thought this was a delusion of my imagination; for I supposed her eyes -were too small to see me. So I continued gazing at her, waiting to -observe what she would do. She remained motionless, in an attitude that -expressed surprise and consternation as plainly as an insect _could_ -express them. Presently, another wasp came up from the same crevice, and -began to nibble at the rotten wood. The first wasp immediately put out -one of her antennæ, and pulled the antenna of her neighbour, as I would -jog the elbow of a companion, if I wished to call her attention to -something extraordinary. The second wasp drew back instantly, in the -same attitude, and, without stirring, appeared to gaze at me fixedly. A -third wasp came. One of her antennæ was cautiously pulled by the second -comer; and she did precisely as they had done. It may seem absurd to say -I was troubled by the fixed stare of three wasps; but there was -something so _human_ about their proceedings, that I _was_ troubled. I -was in the presence of a mystery. I asked myself, What _am_ I to them? -Do I appear like a vision of some superior being from another world? -From this thought, I came down to the recollection that the sun was -gleaming brightly on my eyes, and that, perhaps, their attention had -been arrested merely by two great orbs of glittering light. What were -they thinking of? Would they finally conclude to attack my eyes? I -turned away suddenly, deeming it imprudent to stay any longer to -ascertain that point. I was so much impressed by this little incident, -that I frequently related it to my friends; and for years afterward, I -frequently found myself conjecturing what those wasps thought of the -apparition by which they were so obviously startled. - -At the same farm-house there were two cats. Tom, who was old, heavy, and -cross; and Mouser, who was remarkably active and nimble. Her hunting -qualities were famous throughout the neighbourhood. She kept the -premises clear of rats and mice, and visited all the barns and fields in -the vicinity for the same purpose. While I was there, she had three -kittens, which seemed to be the especial objects of Tom’s ill nature. -When they began to open their eyes and stagger about, they sometimes -stumbled over him; for which they were sure to receive a smart box on -the ear. More than once, I saw his heavy paw knock the little blundering -things topsy-turvy when they came near him. He even kept up a -threatening growl if they seemed to be approaching from a distance. -Things were in this state, when Mouser came into the kitchen one day, -writhing and moaning, and giving every indication of great pain. Her -body soon began to swell, and her manifestations of suffering grew more -and more violent. The family were remarkably kind to animals, and Mouser -was such a valuable creature, that they were very desirous to save her -life. They knew not whether she had been poisoned, or kicked by the -horse, during her frequent visits to the barn; and of course, they were -doubtful what remedies to apply. They put her in a warm bath, and tried -to pour catnip tea down her throat; but their efforts were unavailing. -In an hour or two, poor pussy was dead. - -While she was in this agonizing extremity, Tom seemed to rouse from his -usual state of drowsy indifference. He lay with his head between his -paws, watching her earnestly for awhile; then he rose up and walked -round her, evidently much disquieted. When he saw her lying stiff and -cold on the floor, he made no whining noise; but his proceedings seemed -to indicate that he knew what had happened. The kittens were nestled -together on the platform of the old Dutch “stoop.” He went out to them, -and began to lick their fur in the most affectionate manner. After that, -he was never seen to knock them about, and never heard to growl at them. -Their own mother could not have treated them with more tenderness, or -submitted to their gambols with more patience. Apparently, they mistook -the gruff old fellow for their mother; for they went to him for -nourishment, and he made no resistance. Again and again, I saw him -stretched on the floor of the “stoop,” while the kittens appeared to be -sucking with all diligence, moving their little paws, as if satisfied -and happy. This circumstance, of course, excited surprise in the family. -One asked another whether it was possible that they obtained milk, or -whether they drew blood for their sustenance. Tom never gave any -indications of suffering inconvenience from this singular imitation of -the maternal office. He must have nourished them in _some_ way; for they -did not learn to lap milk for several days; yet they lived, and seemed -comfortable and thriving. After Tom took upon himself the care of the -orphans, he seemed to become really fond of them, and to enjoy the -frolics that had formerly made him so angry. The voluntary exercise of -benevolence improved his temper wonderfully for the time being, and -evidently made him a much happier cat. - -An intimate friend has often mentioned to me incidents that occurred on -his farm, illustrative of brute sagacity. He owned a noble great ox, -uncommonly strong, docile, and intelligent. One day, when he and another -ox were ploughing swampy land, they sank very deep into a quagmire. -Having made vigorous exertions to extricate himself, and finding the -utmost exertion of his strength was ineffectual, he quietly waited for -human aid. But his companion had an impatient and irritable disposition, -to which the lessons of experience could teach no wisdom. He continued -to struggle violently, at intervals, and every motion wrenched the neck -of his suffering yoke-fellow. The gentle creature bore it patiently for -a while; but at last it became insupportable. His owner was standing -completely behind him, leaning on the plough, until more help could be -brought to draw them out of the “slough of despond,” into which they had -fallen. The much-enduring animal turned his long neck slowly round, and -fixed his large patient eyes upon the man, with such an earnest, -imploring gaze, so _human_ in its expression, that it could never be -forgotten. It said, as plainly as a look _could_ say it, “Can you not -contrive some way to relieve me from this tormenting companion?” His -owner understood the silent appeal, and immediately divorced the unhappy -couple, by removing the yoke from the restless one; thus leaving him -free to waste his own strength, without injuring his more philosophic -companion. This happened fifteen years ago; but I was reminded of it -yesterday, by hearing my friend utter his often-repeated exclamation: -“If I live to be a hundred years old, I shall never forget how that ox -looked at me.” - -The same person often speaks of the sagacity manifested by another ox on -his farm. It was late in the evening, and all the animals were safely -lodged in the barn, when his attention was arrested by loud knocks in -that direction. They continued to be repeated, at intervals of ten or -fifteen minutes, for an hour or more; and the idea that some vagrant -might be in the barn doing mischief, at last induced him to go out with -a lantern to examine the premises. Finding nothing unusual, he gave up -the search and retired to rest. But the heavy, measured sound continued, -and excited curiosity to such a degree, that it was impossible to sleep. -Another examination of the barn was made with the same result as before; -but this time, my friend ensconced himself in a corner, and waited for a -recurrence of the mysterious noise. In a few minutes, he saw an ox raise -one of his hind hoofs, and strike the floor heavily three times. -Supposing the animal must have some cause for dissatisfaction, he -examined his stable, and found that the man had forgotten to furnish the -usual supply of fresh straw for him to lie down upon. His demand for -clean sheets was complied with, and no more knockings were heard from -him. - -Another agricultural friend owned a colt endowed with uncommon beauty -and intelligence. He was about a year and a half old when he first saw a -string of bells suspended round his mother’s neck when she was harnessed -for a drive. The novel sound immediately arrested his attention, and -seemed to enliven him greatly. He stood with uplifted ears, watching and -listening, till the sleigh had passed out of sight and hearing; then, -giving a snort and a rear, he capered round the barn-yard, in a state of -unusual excitement. When the mare returned, the sound of the bells -attracted him from afar, and he appeared to observe them closely when -they were taken off and laid in the sleigh with the harness. As soon as -the man had left them, the playful creature seized them between his -teeth and trotted up and down the road, shaking them with prodigious -satisfaction. This manner of playing old horse was evidently as -entertaining to him, as it is to a boy to imitate the trainers with his -feathered cap and drum. - -The natural dispositions of animals differ, as do those of mankind; but -the intelligence and docility of brutes, as well as of human beings, is -wonderfully increased when they are judiciously reared, and treated with -habitual kindness. It is not easy to tell how far the superiority of -Arabian horses may be attributed to the affectionate companionship that -exists between them and their masters. The whip is a detestable -instrument. The evil it produces is immensely disproportioned to the -temporary convenience it promotes. It compels submission for the time -being; but it stupefies the intellect, and infuses malignity into the -disposition, whether tried on children, slaves, or animals. The common -practice of whipping a horse, to cure him of being frightened by some -particular object, usually has the effect of giving him two causes of -fear, instead of one. I remember reading of a much more judicious -method, in Mrs. Hamilton’s Essays on Education, published in England -about thirty years ago. A horse of an excellent disposition had been -frightened by a drum, when he was a colt, and nothing could overcome his -excessive terror of that instrument. The whippings he received, when he -reared and plunged at the sound, rendered his associations with it so -exceedingly painful, that his whole nervous system was excited to -violent agitation, the instant he heard it approaching. He was finally -purchased by a gentleman, who believed more in the efficacy of kindness, -than he did in coercion. He kept him without food till he was hungry, -and then spread oats on a drum-head. As soon as he began to eat, the -groom began to drum. The frightened animal ran away, and could not be -lured back again by the tempting display of provender. He was deprived -of food for a still longer time, and the experiment was again tried -with similar result. But the third time, hunger proved stronger than -fear, and he devoured his oats with the hated noise sounding louder and -louder in his ears. After being thus rationally convinced that a drum -would do him no harm, he ceased to be troublesome, and voluntarily -walked toward the sound which had become so pleasantly associated in his -memory. - -If men would educate animals in a sensible and patient manner, and treat -them with habitual gentleness, it would produce intelligence and -docility apparently miraculous, and realize on earth the prophecies of -the millenium. - - - - -THE WORLD THAT I AM PASSING THROUGH. - - - Few, in the days of early youth, - Trusted like me in love and truth. - I’ve learned sad lessons from the years; - But slowly, and with many tears; - For God made me to kindly view - The world that I was passing through. - - How little did I once believe - That friendly tones could e’er deceive! - That kindness, and forbearance long, - Might meet ingratitude and wrong! - I could not help but kindly view - The world that I was passing through. - - And though I’ve learned some souls are base, - I would not, therefore, hate the race; - I still would bless my fellow men, - And trust them, though deceived again. - God help me still to kindly view - The world that I am passing through! - - Through weary conflicts I have passed, - And struggled into rest at last; - Such rest as comes when the rack has broke - A joint, or nerve, at ev’ry stroke. - But the wish survives to kindly view - The world that I am passing through. - - From all that fate has brought to me - I strive to learn humility; - And trust in Him who rules above, - Whose universal law is love. - Thus only can I kindly view - The world that I am passing through. - - When I approach the setting sun, - And feel my journey nearly done, - May earth be veiled in genial light, - And her last smile to me seem bright! - Help me, till then, to kindly view - The world that I am passing through! - - And all who tempt a trusting heart - From faith and hope to drift apart, - May they themselves be spared the pain - Of losing power to trust again! - God help us all to kindly view - The world that we are passing through! - - - - -JAN AND ZAIDA. - -FOUNDED ON CIRCUMSTANCES WHICH ACTUALLY OCCURRED AT GRÉSIK, ISLAND OF -JAVA, IN 1854. - - Our life is turned - Out of her course, wherever man is made - An offering or a sacrifice; a tool - Or implement; a passive thing, employed - As a brute mean, without acknowledgment - Of common right or interest in the end; - Used or abused, as selfishness may prompt. - WORDSWORTH. - - -A native of the island of Celebes, who had been captured by -slave-traders, was sold to Mr. Philip Van der Hooft, of Surabaya, in the -north-eastern part of Java. A Hindoo slave was given to the captive for -a wife; and she died, leaving a son two years old. This child Mr. Van -der Hooft gave to his sister Maria, a girl of fifteen, who had taken a -great fancy to him when he was a babe. She was amused at the idea of -receiving little Jan among her birthday presents, but he pleased her, -perhaps, as much as any of them; not as an article of property, but as a -pretty plaything. He was, in fact, a child of singular beauty. His -features were small, his limbs finely formed, and his large, dark, -Hindoo eyes, even at that age, were tender and almost sad in expression. -His sense of sound was exceedingly acute. Maria was musical; and the -moment he heard her piano, or guitar, he would drop his playthings and -run into the parlour. There, he would creep under the table, to be out -of the way, and sit listening, with all his soul shining through the -varying expression of his countenance. Sometimes he was so excited that -he would quiver all over, and end by clapping his hands with a loud crow -of delight; but more frequently he was moved to tears. Being a general -favourite, and the especial pet of his young mistress, he was seldom -ejected from the parlour, when he chose to wander there. When Maria was -busy at her embroidery frame, if she raised her eyes, she would often -see his little dark head peeping in, watching for her to take notice of -him; and as soon as she said, “Ah, here comes my little brownie!” he -would run to her with a jump and a bound, and stand gazing at the bright -colours she was weaving into her work. If she was singing or playing -when he entered, she would give him a nod and a smile; and not -unfrequently she seated him in her lap, and allowed him to play on the -piano. His fingers were too short to reach an octave, but he would touch -thirds continually; smiling, and laughing, and wriggling all over with -delight. Sometimes she amused herself by touching the first and seventh -note of the gamut together, and then he would cringe, as if she had put -her finger in his eye. - -He was but three years old when his mistress married Lambert Van der -Veen, and removed with him to a country-seat near the neighbouring city -of Grésik. Little Jan did not thoroughly like that gentleman, because he -was often sent out of the parlour when he came; and Maria was so -engrossed with her lover, that she sometimes forgot to nod and smile -when “little brownie” peeped into the room. He was very exclusive in his -affections. He wanted to have those he loved all to himself. Therefore, -though the young man spoke kindly to him, and often gave him -sugar-plums, a shadow always passed over his expressive face, when, -running eagerly at the sound of the piano, he looked into the parlour -and saw his rival there. - -But after Maria was married, he became, if possible, more of a petted -plaything than ever; for her husband was engaged in commercial pursuits, -which often took him far from home, and their house, being two miles -from the city, was more quiet than her father’s place of residence had -been. She occupied many of her lonely hours in teaching Jan various -infantile accomplishments, and especially in developing his remarkable -powers of imitation. The birds greatly attracted his attention; and in a -few months he could mock them so perfectly, that they mistook his voice -for their own. He soon did the same with the buzz and whirr of every -insect, and laughed to hear how all the little creatures answered him. -Nature had made him almost as sensitive to colours, as to sounds; and -whenever his mistress went into the garden, he would run after her to -beg for a flower. She liked the sound of his little padding feet, and -often smiled to watch his pliant motions and graceful form, clothed only -with a large party-coloured bamboo hat, and a girdle of broad fringe -about his loins. When the master was at home, he was obliged to find his -entertainment more among the slaves. They generally liked to sing or -whistle to him, and would laugh merrily at his eager attempts to -imitate. But some, who had children of their own, envied the high favour -he enjoyed, and consequently bore no good will toward him. They did not -dare to strike him, but they devised many ways of making him -uncomfortable. Decidedly, he liked the parlour better than the slaves’ -quarters. He preferred it in the first place, because he was more -attended to there; and in the next place, because he could hear so many -pleasant sounds, and see so many pretty things. He liked the cool straw -carpet, and the pale green walls. The big china jars were an object of -perpetual delight. He was never weary of putting his little fingers on -the brilliant flowers and butterflies, with which they were plentifully -adorned. But what excited his wonder more than any thing else, was a -folding screen of oriental workmanship, which separated the parlour -from the dining-room; for there were gilded pagodas, Chinese mandarins -with peacock’s feathers in their caps, and two birds-of-paradise, as -large as life; a great deal larger, in fact, than the mandarins or the -pagodas. Then it was so pleasant to peep out into the garden, through -the vine-embowered lattice-work of the verandah; to see the blooming -roses, and the small fountain’s silvery veil; to inhale the fragrance of -the orange blossoms, and listen to the cool trickling of the tiny water -drops. All this was in reality his; for he knew not that he was a little -slave; and it is the privilege of unconscious childhood to own -whatsoever it delights in. In this point of view, it all belonged to -little Jan more truly than it did to Mr. Van der Veen. No wonder he -sighed when the master returned, since it condemned him, for a time, to -a degree of exile from his paradise. Perhaps there was some slight -jealousy on the other side, also; for though the gentleman was always -kind to his wife’s favourite, he sometimes hinted at the danger of -spoiling him, and the intercourse between them was never very familiar. -At first, little Jan was afraid to approach the parlour at all, when he -was at home. But on one occasion, when his stay was unusually prolonged, -his patience became exhausted waiting for his departure. He began by -peeping in slyly through the folding screen. Seeing himself observed, he -ran away; but soon came again and peeped, and receiving a smile from his -mistress, he came in timidly, and offering his master a geranium -blossom, said, “_May_ little Jan stay?” Maria immediately said, “Oh yes, -let him stay: he is so happy here.” But there was no occasion to plead -his cause; for there was no resisting his pretty looks and his graceful -offering. Mr. Van der Veen patted his head, and he crept under the table -to listen to the piano. After that, he never avoided his master, though -he still continued to come in timidly, and if not encouraged by a smile, -would run off to bring a flower as an admission-fee. - -When he was about four years old, a more dangerous rival than a husband -appeared. Maria had an infant son, which of course greatly engrossed her -attention, and little Jan eyed it as a petted kitten does a new lap-dog. -His face assumed an exceedingly grieved expression, the first time he -saw her caressing the babe. He did not cry aloud, for he was a very -gentle child; but he silently crept away under the table with the -flowers he had brought in for his mistress; and as he sat there, in a -very disconsolate attitude, tears dropped on the blossoms. Some of the -servants made the matter much worse, by saying, in his hearing, “Now -missis has a young one of her own, she won’t make such a fool of that -little monkey.” His heart swelled very much; and he ran with all haste -to ask Madame Van der Veen if she loved little Jan. When he entered the -parlour the fond mother happened to be showing her son to visitors; and -as she turned, she held him toward the petted slave, saying, “Look at -him, Janniken! Isn’t he a little beauty?” “No,” replied he, louder than -any one had ever heard him speak; “_ugly_ baby!” and he gave his rival a -thrust with his little fist. He was of course sent away in disgrace; and -the slave-mothers, seeing him in trouble, greeted him with the -exclamation, “Ha, ha, little whistler! I thought _your_ nose would be -put out of joint.” - -A clergyman of the Reformed Dutch Church, who witnessed this -manifestation of hostility toward the baby, adduced it as a proof of the -inherent depravity of the human heart. But time showed that the -depravity was not very deep. Jan felt the bitter pang of being -superseded where he loved, but he had a disposition too kindly to retain -ill-will. His heart soon adopted the infant, and they became friends and -playmates. When little Lambert grew old enough to toddle about, it was -the prettiest of all imaginable sights to see them together among the -vine-leaves that crept through the green lattice-work of the verandah. -The blue-eyed baby, plump and fair, draped in white muslin, formed a -beautiful contrast to his brown companion. They looked like two cupids -at play; one in marble, the other in bronze. But though they were almost -inseparable companions, and extremely fond of each other, it came to -pass through a process of painful weaning, on the part of little Jan. -Many a time he “sighed among his playthings,” when he saw Maria -caressing her babe, without noticing that he was in the room. Many a -time tears fell on his neglected offering of flowers. - -He was, however, far more fortunate than most slaves who happen to be -petted playthings in their childhood; for he only passed out of an -atmosphere of love into an atmosphere of considerate kindness. His quick -ear for all variations of sound continued to be a great source of -gratification to himself and his indulgent mistress. His voice was -small, like himself, but it had a bird-like sweetness; and its very -imperfections, resulting as they did from weakness and inexperience, -imparted an infantine charm to his performances, like the lisping of -childish prattle, or the broken utterance of a foreigner. When he could -sing two or three simple melodies, Madame Van der Veen gave him a little -guitar, and taught him to accompany his voice. The population of Java is -an assemblage of various nations; and as he listened intently to -whatever he heard hummed, whistled, or played, in the parlour or in the -slave-quarters, he knew snatches of a great variety of tunes when he was -six years old. It was his pleasure to twine Hindoo, Arab, Javanese, -English, and Dutch melodies into improvised fantasias, which resembled -grotesque drawings, representing birds and monkeys, flowers, fruit, and -human faces, bound together in a graceful tangle of vines. At eight -years old, he was often trusted to go to Grésik on errands. Following -his usual habits of listening and observing, during these visits to the -city he added greatly to his stock of popular airs, and soon learned to -imitate all manner of instruments, as he had formerly imitated the -birds. Hindoo lullabies, Arab dances, the boat-songs of the Javanese, as -they passed up and down the river, English marches, Dutch drinking -songs, and Chinese jingle-jangles, he could give a lively version of -them all; and he was frequently called into the parlour to repeat them -for the entertainment of company. - -His master said it was time he was taught to labour. Maria assented, but -made an arrangement by which duty and inclination were enabled to go -hand in hand. She knew that his acutely sensuous nature reveled in -perfumes and bright colours; therefore she told the Dutch gardener to -take him for an assistant, and teach him all the mysteries of his art. -It is never a toilsome employment to rear flowers and train vines; and -in that sunny, fertile region of the earth, light labour is repaid by a -lavish tribute of fragrant blossoms and delicious fruit all the year -round. Jan had an instinctive sense, which taught him what colours -harmonized, and what forms were graceful. His mistress often praised his -bouquets and garlands, and affection for her stimulated him, to attain -as much perfection as possible in the flowery decorations of her room, -her table, and her dress. Little Lambert had a great desire to be -helpful, also, in the garden, but the exercise heated him, and he so -often pulled up flowers instead of weeds, that his mother deemed it -necessary to retain him in the house. This arrangement made him so -restless and unhappy, that Jan undertook the responsibility of supplying -him with flowers in the cool arbours, and keeping strict watch upon his -movements. He often decorated him with a multitude of small bouquets, -and twined garlands round his broad palm-leaf hat, till he looked like a -dwarf May-pole, and then sent him into the house to show himself to his -fond mother, who was always ready to feign ignorance, and inquire what -little boy that could be; a manœuvre invariably rewarded by an infantile -laugh. In the course of one of these floral exhibitions, two -humming-birds followed him in the garden walks. His mother, who was -watching him through the verandah lattice, saw the brilliant creatures -circling round her darling’s head, thrusting their long bills into the -blossoms with which he was decorated; and she clapped her hands in an -ecstasy of delight. After that, it was a favourite amusement with Jan to -attract the humming-birds and butterflies round little master’s hat. The -next greatest entertainment was to teach him to imitate the birds, and -to make him laugh or look solemn while he listened to merry or dolorous -music. - -Thus bound together by the pleasant links of love, and flowers, and -song, they stood together on the threshold of life, unable as yet to -conceive the idea of master and slave. But when little Lam, as they -called him, was six years old, he was attacked by one of the violent -fevers incident to the climate, and all the care unbounded affection -could lavish upon him failed to save his life. During his illness he was -unwilling to lose sight of Jan, who strewed his pillow with flowers, and -sang soothing lullabies with unwearied patience. If the invalid dozed -under the influence of his drowsy monotonous tones, he was still unable -to leave his post; for the little hand clasped his, as if fearful he -would go away. When the spirit of the dear child departed, and the -lovely form that once contained it was consigned to the earth, no one -but the father and mother mourned like Jan. The first time they visited -the grave, they found it covered with flowers he had planted there. In -the house, in the garden, everywhere, he missed the noise of the little -feet, which seemed like an echo of his own, so constantly they followed -him. For a while, all music was saddened to him, because every air he -whistled or sung reminded him of some incident connected with the -departed playmate. Months afterward, when he found among the shrubbery a -wooden toy he had made for him, he sobbed aloud, and all day long the -earth seemed darkened to his vision. This tender bond between him and -the lost one revived all the affectionate interest Madame Van der Veen -had ever felt for the “little brownie.” But the playfulness of their -intercourse was gone; being alike unsuited to the sadness of her -spirit, and the increasing stature of her favourite. - -The young mother drooped under the blow, like flowers stricken by a -black frost, never to revive again. The healing hand of time rendered -her placid and resigned, but her former cheerfulness never returned. She -became very devout, and all her music was an utterance of prayer. -Looking on this life with the eye of one weary of its illusions, she -steadfastly fixed her thoughts on that world whither her darling had -gone. From the youthful soul of Jan the shadow was more easily lifted. -Again he revelled in the bright colours, the pungent perfumes, and the -varied sounds of that luxuriant region of the earth. Again he began to -mock the birds and the boatmen, and to mingle in dances with the other -young slaves. About two years after he lost his best beloved playmate, -he met with a companion who more than supplied his place, and who -imparted to his existence a greater degree of vivacity and joyfulness, -than he had ever known. Walking toward Grésik, one morning, to execute -some commission for his mistress, he heard a pleasant voice in the -distance, singing a merry tune. The sounds approached nearer and nearer, -and they were so lively, that involuntarily his feet moved faster. -Presently, a young girl emerged from a clump of tamarind trees, with a -basket of fruit on her head; and the tune stopped abruptly. The -expression of her countenance was extremely innocent and modest, and -though her complexion was of a deeper brown than his own, a blush shone -through it, like the glow of wine through a dark bottle in the sunshine. -Jan noticed this as she passed; and something, he knew not what, made -him remember her face very distinctly, and wish to see it again. He -never went to Grésik without thinking of the merry voice in the -distance, and never passed the clump of tamarind trees without recalling -the bright vision he met there. Many weeks elapsed before he obtained -another glimpse of her; but at last he overtook her with her basket on -the way to Grésik; and this time they did not meet to pass each other; -for their path lay in the same direction. With mutual bashfulness they -spoke and answered; and each thought the other handsomer than they had -at first supposed. The acquaintance thus begun rapidly ripened into -intimacy. He was not yet thirteen years old, and she was not eleven. But -in that precocious clime, Cupid shoots at children with a bow of -sugar-cane; and this little maiden carried a store of his arrows in her -large lustrous eyes. After that, Jan was seized with redoubled zeal to -do all the errands to Grésik; and it so happened that he often overtook -her on the way, or found her resting herself among the tamarind trees. -Then her road homeward was, for a mile, the same as his own. Thus they -travelled back and forth with their baskets, making the air musical as -they went; as happy as the birds, and as thoughtless of the coming -years. During these frequent interviews, he learned that she was a -slave; that her mother was from the island of Bali; and that her Arab -father had given her the name of Zaida. Before many months elapsed, -Madame Van der Veen heard, from the other servants, that Jan was in love -with a pretty girl, whose master lived not far from Grésik; and when she -questioned him, he bashfully confessed the fact. Then she spoke very -seriously to him, and told him how sorry she should be to see him doing -as many did around him. She said if Zaida was a good girl, and wished to -marry him, she would try to buy her; and if they would promise to be -faithful and kind to each other, they should have a handsome wedding at -her house, and a bamboo hut to live in. This almost maternal kindness -excited his sensitive soul to tears. She seized that impressible moment -to talk to him concerning his duties to God, and to explain how He had -made man for a higher destiny than to mate, like the birds, for a -season. - -The negotiation for the purchase of Zaida was somewhat prolonged, and -she was at last obtained at an unusually high price; for her master took -advantage of Madame Van der Veen’s well-known character for generosity -and indulgence to the inmates of her household. Meanwhile, the gentle -lady allowed her slave frequent opportunities of seeing his beloved. -Once a week, he took his guitar and spent two or three hours with his -singing-bird. Every errand to Grésik was intrusted to him, and Zaida -found many occasions for going thither at the same hour. Very beautiful -were the scenes through which they passed in those happy days. South of -them was a range of mountains, blue and softened in the distance. On the -north was the bright sea, with the island of Madura lying like an -emerald gem on its bosom. Bamboo cottages, shaded by a mass of luxuriant -vegetation, dotted the level landscape, as it were, with little islands, -whose deep verdure formed a lovely contrast with the rich yellow of the -ripened rice fields. Here, the large scarlet blossoms of a pomegranate, -beautiful above all other trees, filled the air with fragrance; and -there, a tall cocoa-palm reared its great feathery head high above the -light elegant foliage of a tamarind grove. Arum lilies held up their -large white cups among the luxuriant vines that lay tangled by the -wayside. Wild peacocks and other gorgeous birds flitted across their -path, glittering in the sunlight, like jewels from fairy land. The -warbling of birds, the buzzing of bees, the whiz and the whirr of -numerous insects, all the swarming sounds of tropical life, mingled with -the monotonous tones of boatmen coming down the river Solo with their -merchandise, singing with measured cadence, - - “Pull and row, brothers! pull and row!” - -Only one discordant note disturbed the chorus which nature sang to -love. Near the house where Zaida’s master dwelt, there lived a Dutchman -and his wife, who were notoriously cruel to their slaves. Zaida -recounted some shocking instances of severity, and especially expressed -pity for a girl little older than herself, who had formerly belonged to -a very kind master and mistress. When they died, she was sold at -auction, and had the misfortune to pass into the hands of their inhuman -neighbour, whose wife was jealous, and lost no opportunity of tormenting -her. When Jan was singing some of the plaintive melodies to which his -own taste always inclined him, or when, to amuse the merry Zaida, he -imitated Chinese jingle jangles, sometimes the sound of the lash, -accompanied with shrieks, would break in upon the music or the -merriment, and put their spirits out of tune. Nature had made Jan more -sensitive than reflective; and he had been brought up so like a -humming-bird among flowers, that he had never thought any thing about -his own liabilities as a slave. Now, for the first time, it occurred to -him, “What if _my_ master and mistress should die, and _I_ should be -sold?” - -An English family lived very near Madame Van der Veen’s, and, as both -were musical, an intimacy had grown up between them. The father and -mother of this family were very strongly opposed to slavery, and not -unfrequently discussed the subject. Jan, as he passed in and out of the -parlour, waiting upon the guests, had been accustomed to hear these -conversations as though he heard them not. In fact, he often wished the -old Englishman would stop talking, and give his son an opportunity to -accompany Madame Van der Veen’s piano with his flute. But after those -lashes and shrieks had waked up his mind to the possibility of auction -and transfer, he listened more attentively, and carried with him into -riper years the memory of many things he heard. - -When he was fourteen years old, and Zaida was twelve, they were married. -Madame Van der Veen furnished cake and lemonade for the wedding, and -gave gay dresses to the juvenile bride and bridegroom, who looked -extremely well in their new finery. Jan had lost something of his -childish beauty, but he was still handsome. His yellow complexion was -rendered paler by the contrast of his jet black hair and the bright -turban that surmounted it. His limbs were slender and flexible, his -features small and well proportioned, and his large antelope eyes had a -floating, plaintive expression, as if there was always a tear in his -soul. Zaida was rounder, and browner, and ruddier. Her dark hair was -combed entirely back, and twisted into a knot, ornamented with scarlet -flowers. The short downy hairs about the forehead curled themselves into -a little wavy fringe. From her small ears were suspended two large -gilded hoops, a bridal present from the old Englishman. From her Arab -father she inherited eyes more beautifully formed than belonged to her -mother’s race. The long dark lashes curled upward, and imparted a -smiling expression, even in her most serious moments; and when she was -amused, her eyes laughed outright. There was a harmonized contrast -between her and her bridegroom, which was extremely agreeable. The young -Englishman compared them to the major and minor mode; and Madame Van der -Veen said they looked like hope and memory. Personal comeliness is rare -among the natives of those islands. Little Zaida was like a ruby among -pudding-stones. - -A bamboo hut, raised two feet from the ground, and consisting of two -apartments, without windows, was their bridal home. It was all they -needed in a climate where, more than half the year, all household -occupations could be most conveniently performed out of doors. There was -a broad verandah in front, sheltered from rain and sun by the projecting -roof. In front was a grove of orange and lemon trees, and in the rear -was a group of plantains, whose immensely long broad leaves and yellow -spikes of nodding flowers cast refreshing shadows. - -A grass mat, of Jan’s own weaving, and pillows filled with a kind of -silky down from a wild plant, answered for a bed. Gourd shells, a few -earthern dishes, and a wooden waiter from which they ate their meals, -seated on the floor, constituted their simple furniture. The rooms, -which received light from the open door, were used only for eating and -sleeping. The verandah was the place where all their sedentary -occupations were pursued. There, Zaida might be seen busy at her -spinning-wheel and loom; there, Jan wove mats and baskets for his -master’s household; and there stood his gambang, a musical instrument, -with wooden bars of graduated lengths, which he struck with a mallet, to -accompany the simple Javanese melodies that he and Zaida were accustomed -to sing together. - -Years passed over their heads without any more serious variations than -slight dissensions with the other slaves, occasional illness, and the -frequent birth of children. Some of them resembled the father, others -the mother; and some had their eyes obliquely set, like the island -ancestry from whom they descended. Some were bright, some dull, some -merry and some pensive; but Madame Van der Veen pronounced them all very -good children; and they certainly were trained to be devotedly attentive -to her. During their first years, it cost nothing to clothe them, for -they ran about naked; and it required almost as little expense to -furnish them with food, where rice was so easily cultivated, and -plantains, cocoas and oranges grew wild. The warmth of the climate, the -lavish bounty of the soil, the improvident habits which every human -being must necessarily form, who acquires no property by economy, and -the extreme indulgence with which he had always been treated by his -gentle-hearted mistress, all conspired to render Jan forgetful of the -precarious tenure by which he held the external blessings of his mere -animal existence. Sometimes, when he went to Grésik, he passed by a -slave-auction, and the sight always gave him a pang; for it brought up a -picture of Zaida and her children standing there amid the indecent jests -and rude handling of a crowd of men. Sometimes he witnessed despotic and -cruel treatment of slaves, and still more frequently he heard of such -instances. Then came recollections of the lashes and shrieks, that used -to interrupt his music and merriment in the days of courtship; and -always they brought with them the question, “What if Zaida and our -daughters should ever be sold to such people as that cruel Dutchman and -his jealous wife?” While any instances were fresh in his mind, he -listened attentively to whatever was said about slavery by his master -and the English family. From them he learned how the English, during -their brief possession of Java, had interdicted slave traffic with the -neighbouring islands; had passed laws forbidding slaves to be sold, -except with their own consent; and had allowed them to hold, as their -own, any property they were able to acquire. Mr. Van der Veen tried to -excuse the Dutch for renewing their slave-trade, by urging that it was a -necessity imposed upon them, because there was no other method of -procuring servants. The Englishman denied any such necessity. He -maintained that the natives of Java were intelligent, teachable and -honest, and very willing to render services for money. He highly -commended the native princes for never permitting any of their own -people to be slaves. He told of one of those princes, who had inherited -fifty slaves; but when the British Government declared that all should -become free, unless publicly registered by their masters, within a -specified time, he said, “Then I will _not_ register my slaves. They -shall be free. I have kept them hitherto, because it was the custom, and -because the Dutch liked to be attended by slaves when they visited the -palace. But as that is not the case with the British, they shall cease -to be slaves; for I have long felt shame, and my blood has run cold, -when I have reflected on what I once saw at Batavia and Semarang, where -human beings were exposed at public sale, placed on a table, and -examined like sheep and oxen.” The Englishman declared that he lost no -opportunity of talking with all classes of people on the subject, and of -circulating publications, translated into Dutch, and sent to him from -England for that purpose; and he expressed a strong belief that the -Dutch would soon abolish slavery. In these conversations, nothing -interested Jan so much as his master’s statement, that, according to -existing laws, slaves might purchase themselves. He resolved to save all -the small coins he might receive; and visions flitted through his brain, -of mats and baskets to be made, when his daily tasks were completed. But -when he received this information, he already had a brood of children; -he despaired of ever being able to collect money enough to buy _them_; -and his anxious thoughts were far more on their account, than on his -own. He always solaced himself with the thought that his mistress would -not allow them to be sold while she lived, and that she would certainly -make provision for them before she died. - -Sixteen years of his married life had passed away, and during all that -time such forecasting thoughts had been mere transient clouds fleeting -across the sunshine of contentment. But the time came when Mr. Van der -Veen was summoned to Batavia, on account of some entanglement in his -commercial affairs; and three weeks afterwards, tidings were brought -that he had died suddenly in that unhealthy city. Again Jan saw his -mistress bowed to the earth with sorrow; and it was beautiful to witness -the delicate expressions of sympathy, which nature taught him. He moved -noiselessly, and spoke softly. He and Zaida sang only religious hymns -and soothing tunes, such as she loved to hear after her little Lam was -taken away. His prettiest child, then nearly three years old, was sent -every morning with a fresh bouquet of the flowers she loved best. He -would never lie down for the night until he believed she was sleeping; -and his first waking thoughts were devoted to her. It soon became known -that Mr. Van der Veen had died in debt, and that a large portion of his -property must be assigned to creditors. In this assignment were -included many slaves, in various cities, and some belonging to his -domestic establishment. Quite a small fortune for the widow was saved -from the wreck of his wealth; and in that she expressly stipulated that -Jan and all his family should be included, together with the estate on -which she had always lived since her marriage. By this unexpected turn -of affairs, the remote contingency, which had sometimes created -temporary uneasiness in Jan’s mind, was brought frightfully near. He -never again forgot, for a single day, scarcely for a single hour, that -he was merely a favoured slave, and that all the lives intertwined with -his held their privileges by the same precarious tenure. He never hinted -his anxiety to any one but Zaida; but Madame Van der Veen had the -thoughtful kindness to assure him that she would dispossess herself of -every thing, rather than part with him and his family; saying, at the -same time, that there was no danger of her being called upon to make any -such sacrifice, as there was enough property left to enable them all to -live comfortably. He deeply and gratefully felt her kindness; but the -shadow of her death fell darkly across the consolation it imparted. Not -for the world would he have told her so; lest the suggestion should -increase her melancholy, by making her suppose that even the most -attached of her servants, and the only ones she had left, wanted to be -free to quit her service. - -Their English neighbour, being involved in the same commercial -difficulties that had deranged Mr. Van der Veen’s affairs, concluded to -sell all his property in Java, and remove to Calcutta. He and his family -spent their last evening with the widow of their deceased friend. While -Jan was arranging fruit for their refreshment in the adjoining room, he -heard his own name and that of Zaida uttered in low tones, accompanied -with the disjointed words, “So much petted”--“the more hard”--“make -provision.” In her usual soft tones, but so clearly that he heard every -word, Madame Van der Veen replied, “I have thought of all that, my good -friend. I will never part with any of them while I live; and when I die, -I will leave them all free.” “Why not now?” urged the importunate -Englishman. She answered, “My heart is heavy to-night, and business -oppresses me; but I assure you, most solemnly, that I will attend to it -very soon.” She never knew what a heavy load those words removed from -the soul of her favourite slave. After he heard them, he seemed to step -on air. Zaida, to whom the important discovery was forthwith imparted, -was even more elated. They hugged and kissed their little ones that -night, with a feeling they had never known before; and zeal in the -service of their good mistress was thenceforth redoubled. At the -departure of the English family, they gave some gay calico dresses to -Zaida and the children, and a violin to Jan. The old gentleman put a -golden ducat in his hand, saying, “I thank you, my good fellow, for all -your attentions to me and mine. There is a trifling keepsake. May the -blessing of heaven go with it, as mine does. I shall remember you all in -my prayers. Farewell, Jan! Always continue to be faithful and honest.” -The poor slave had never possessed a piece of gold before, and small as -it was, it seemed to him a Golconda mine. First, he buried it in the -ground, and put a stone over it. Then he was afraid some creature might -dig it up in the night. So he sewed it into a pouch, which he fastened -securely within the girdle he constantly wore. The cares and anxieties -of wealth had come upon him. - -While the carriage was waiting to convey the Englishman away, he walked -over to Madame Van der Veen’s, to bid a final farewell. His last words -were, “My dear Madame, don’t forget the talks we have had together; -especially what we said last night. Since I have lived in Java, I have -done my utmost to sow good seed on this subject, and I trust it will -spring up and bring forth a harvest, sooner or later. From time to time, -I shall send the magistrates publications, that will prevent their -forgetting what I have so often urged upon them. A blessing will rest -upon this beautiful island in proportion as they attend to this. -Remember it in your prayers, my dear friend, and use your influence -aright. Don’t say it is small. You have seen in your garden how great a -growth comes from one little seed. My friend, there are -responsibilities in human society, for which we shall have to answer -unto our God. And now, farewell. The voice of the old man will never -urge you more. May the blessing of heaven be with you all.” - -The tendered-hearted widow wept freely; for he had been her husband’s -friend, and the words he spoke were solemn. She resolved to make her -will, and have it duly witnessed, that very day. But a visitor came, and -after her departure, she felt a degree of lassitude, which unfitted her -for exertion. The next day, she looked over letters from her husband, -and brought on headache by inordinate weeping. She was indolent, by -temperament and by habit, and she was oppressed with melancholy. Weeks -passed on, without any more definite result than a frequent resolution -to make her will. She had gone to bed with a mind much impressed with -what her English friend said at parting, and troubled with -self-accusation that she had neglected it so long, when Zaida was -summoned to her bedside at midnight, and found her head hot, and her -pulse throbbing. In the morning, she was delirious, and looked wildly -upon her faithful attendants without recognizing them. With her -incoherent ravings, during the day, were frequently mixed the words, -“Jan--Zaida--children--free.” The slaves listened tearfully to these -broken sentences, and felt fresh assurance that she had provided for -them. The physician thought otherwise; but he merely said that -something disturbed her mind, and if her life was not spared, he hoped -she would have an interval of reason before she died. At the sound of -that dreadful “_if_,” Jan rushed out of the room, rolled himself on the -floor, and sobbed convulsively. There was no selfishness in his sorrow; -for he had not the slightest doubt that she, who never broke a promise, -had cared thoughtfully for the future welfare of himself and his family. -It was simply the agony of parting from his earliest and best friend. -She lingered four days, but reason never returned. Into that brief -period was compressed more misery than Jan had experienced during his -whole life. Gloomy forebodings brought all the superstitions of the -island in their train. The first night his mistress was taken ill, he -shook his head, and said, “Ah, Zaida, don’t you remember she went to -Surabaya to dine, the very day we heard of master’s death? I told you -then it was a very bad sign to go abroad the same day that you hear of -the death of a friend.” The next night he was startled by an unusual -noise, attributed to explosions among the distant volcanic mountains; -and that was regarded as a certain prognostic of impending disaster. The -following day was unusually sultry, and in the evening he saw phosphoric -light quivering over the nasturtiums in the garden. He had never -witnessed the phenomenon before, and he was not aware that such a -peculiarity had been previously observed in that glowing plant. He had -no doubt that the light came from Spirits, who were waiting for Madame -Van der Veen’s soul. On the fourth morning, he saw two crows fighting in -the air; and thenceforth he had no hope. - -The spirit of his beloved mistress departed from her body at midnight. -The rainy season was then approaching, attended by the usual -characteristic of violent storms. The house trembled with the rolling -thunder, and flashes of intensely vivid lightning illumined the bed -where the corpse lay, imparting, for a moment, an appalling glare to its -ghastly paleness. Jan and Zaida were familiar with such storms, but -never before had they seemed so awful, as amid the death-loneliness of -that deserted house. A friendly neighbour pitied their grief and terror, -and offered to remain with them until after the funeral. It was like -tearing Jan’s heart out, to see that dear face carried away, where he -could behold it no more. Exquisitely sensitive by nature, his whole -being was now all nerve and feeling, lacerated to the extremest degree -of suffering. She was placed by the side of her little Lam, and there he -planted the flowers she had best loved. He laid himself down on the -ground, and moaned like a faithful dog, on his master’s grave. He -thought of the stories others had told him concerning his petted -childhood; he remembered her sympathy and good advice when he was first -in love with Zaida; he recalled a thousand instances of her indulgent -kindness; the whole crowned by the precious gift of freedom. He _could_ -not reconcile himself to the thought that he should never again have her -to rely upon. He had no heart for any thing, but to tend the flowers on -those graves. - -When this storm of grief began to subside, he consoled himself with the -thought, “Whatever happens now, I can never again suffer as I _have_ -suffered.” More than a week passed, before he heard that Madame Van der -Veen had left no will; that she had survived all her immediate -relatives; and that the nearest heir to the property resided at Manilla. -This was a stunning blow. Zaida reminded him how their good mistress had -instructed them to pray to God when they were in trouble; and many a -fervent imploring supplication ascended from their humble hut. Jan -resolved to plead earnestly with the heir, and he comforted himself with -the idea that the physician would tell him how their kind mistress had -spoken of their freedom during her illness. But even if his entreaties -should prevail with the stranger, where could they live? Could they be -sure of finding employment? He spent every leisure moment in weaving -mats and baskets for sale, and the children were kept busy gathering -wild fruits for the market. Those things sold for a very low price, and -it would be a long time indeed before he could acquire a piece of land -and a hut by that process. But the gold piece! He felt of his girdle to -ascertain if it was safe. Yes, it was there; a nest-egg, from which his -imagination hatched a large brood of chickens. Hope struggled with -anxiety for a few weeks, and Zaida, who always looked on the bright -side, continually repeated her belief that every thing would turn out -well. But, at last, news arrived that the heir did not intend to visit -Java; that he had intrusted the business to an agent with instructions -to sell all the property, of every description, and remit the proceeds -to him. Poor Jan thought he could never again suffer as he had suffered; -but he was mistaken. This last blow broke him down entirely. A vision of -the auction-stand, with his children bid off to different purchasers, -was always before him. The lashes and shrieks, which had so much -impressed his youthful mind, forever resounded in his imagination; but -now the shrieks came from Zaida and their little ones. - -During the three weeks that preceded the sale, he could scarcely eat or -sleep. He became emaciated and haggard, to such a degree that all who -knew him felt pity for him. The sympathizing feeling was, however, soon -quieted by saying to themselves, “It is a hard case, but it cannot be -helped. Poor fellow! I hope they will find kind masters.” The physician -spoke to many people in Grésik and its neighbourhood, declaring there -could be no manner of doubt that Madame Van der Veen had fully intended -they should all be free. He told the agent how her mind was troubled -upon the subject during her delirium. He replied that he was very sorry -the lady had left no will, but it was no affair of his; he must obey the -instructions he had received. The case excited a good deal of interest. -Many of the Dutch residents shook their heads when they heard of it, and -said, “The English are in the right; this system is a disgrace and a -blight upon our island.” - -All the day preceding the auction, Jan lay moaning at the grave of his -mistress. All night he wandered round, looking at the flowers in the -moonlight. He had tended them so long they seemed to know him, and to -nod a sorrowful farewell. Sadder still it was to look upon the bamboo -hut and its enclosure, connected with the garden by a little open-work -gate. That bridal home, which his kind mistress had provided for them, -and which was consecrated to his memory by so many years of humble -happiness, never had it seemed so dear to him as now. There stood the -loom, where he had so often seen Zaida at work. There was the gambang he -had made for himself, the sounds, of which his departed master and -mistress used to love to hear mingled with their voices, softened by the -evening air on which they floated across the garden. There hung the old -guitar she had given him in boyhood; and by its side was the violin, a -parting present from the young Englishman. Even if he was allowed to -retain these, would they ever sound again, as they had sounded there? As -the dawning light revealed each familiar object, a stifling pain swelled -more and more within his heart. When he saw his children eating what -would, perhaps, be their last breakfast together, every gourd shell that -contained their little mess of rice seemed more valuable, in his eyes, -than crown jewels to a dethroned monarch. Overcome with the struggle, he -laid himself down on the mat and sobbed. Zaida, always hopeful, had -borne up tolerably well till now; but now she yielded to despair, and -rocked backward and forward violently, groaning aloud. Eight children, -the oldest a lad of fourteen, the youngest a girl of three years old, -sat on the floor weeping, or hiding their heads in their mother’s lap. -Thus they were found by the man who came to take them to the auction at -Grésik. Poor Jan! how often, in the latter years, had vague -presentiments of this flitted across his mind, when he passed that -dreadful place! He too well remembered the heartless jokes and the -familiar handling, which had made him shrink from the possibility of -such a fate for his wife and children. Zaida, indeed, was no longer an -object of jealousy for any cruel master’s wife. She was not hideously -ugly, like most slaves of her age, in that withering climate; but her -girlish beauty had all departed, except a ghost of it still lingering in -her large dark eyes. Their light was no longer mirthful, but they were -still beautiful in colour, and expressed, as it were, the faint echo of -a laugh, in their peculiar outline and long curling lashes. By her side -stood a daughter, twelve years old, quite as handsome as she was at -that age; and another, of ten, with her father’s gazelle eyes, and the -golden yellow complexion, which Javanese poets are accustomed to praise -as the perfection of loveliness. The wretched aspect of the father and -mother struck all beholders. When Jan mounted the stand, he cast one -despairing glance around him, and lingered longest on the smallest lamb -of his flock, who was crying with terror, and clinging fast to her -mother’s skirts. He tossed his arms wildly upward, gave one loud groan, -then bowed his head and wept in silence. Poor Zaida hid her face on his -shoulder, and the whole group trembled like leaves in a storm. The -auctioneer called out, “Here’s a valuable lot, gentlemen. Eight healthy, -good-looking children. The father and mother still young enough to do a -good deal of work, and both of excellent character. Whoever will bid six -thousand florins [$2,333] for them may have them; and it will be a great -bargain.” It was no comfort to the poor victims to be offered in a lot; -for they might be bought by speculators, who would separate them. Jan -listened, with all his soul in his ears. Not a voice was heard. The -auctioneer waited a moment before he called out, “Will you say four -thousand florins, gentlemen?” No one spoke. “Shall I have two thousand -florins? That is really too cheap.” Still all remained silent. - -Jan had never forgotten that his master had said the law allowed slaves -to buy themselves. His poverty had hitherto prevented his deriving any -consolation from that thought. But now a ray of hope darted through his -soul. He raised his drooping head suddenly, and a gleam, like the rising -sun, passed over his pale, haggard countenance, as he said, eagerly, “I -will give a golden ducat.” Then, dropping on his knees, he exclaimed, in -imploring tones, which intense emotion rendered thrilling, “Oh, -gentlemen, _don’t_ bid over me. It is all I have in the world. Oh, good -gentlemen, _don’t_ bid over me!” Tears dropped from the eyes of many -young people; the agent swallowed hard; and even the auctioneer was -conscious of a choking feeling in his throat. There was deep silence for -a while. The interval was very brief; but to Jan’s anxious heart it -seemed long enough for the world to revolve on its axis. At last, the -sound of the heavy hammer was heard, followed by these words: “The whole -lot is going for a ducat. [$2 20 cents.] Going! going! _gone_! to Jan -Van der Veen!” - -It was one of humanity’s inspired moments; when men are raised above the -base influences of this earth, and see things as Spirits see them in the -light of heaven. Hats, turbans, and handkerchiefs waved, and a cheerful -“hurra!” met the ears of the redeemed captives. Jan belonged to himself, -and owned all his family! Verily, the blessing of heaven did go with the -Englishman’s golden ducat, to a degree far beyond what he dreamed of -when he gave it. Jan could hardly credit his own senses. The reaction -from despair to such overwhelming joy was too much for him. His brain -was dizzy, and his limbs trembled. When he tried to rise, he tottered, -and would have fallen, if Zaida had not caught him in her arms. “Poor -fellow! poor fellow!” murmured some of the spectators. A man took off -his hat, dropped a florin into it, and passing it round, said, “Give him -a trifle, gentlemen, to set himself up with. He has always been a good, -industrious fellow, and his mistress meant to provide for him. Give him -a trifle, gentlemen!” There was a noise of falling coin. Zaida pulled -her husband by the sleeve, and whispered in his ear, “Thank the -gentlemen.” He seemed like one half awake; but he made an effort, and -said, “Thank you, good gentlemen! May God bless you and your----” He -would have added children; but his eye happened to rest on his own -smallest darling, and the thought that nobody could take her from him -now choaked his utterance. He covered his face with his thin hands, and -wept. - -Was the golden ducat _all_ that poor despairing slave owed to the good -Englishman? No; that was the smallest part of the debt; for to the moral -influence of his conversation, and the books and papers he scattered in -the neighbourhood, might mainly be attributed the changing public -sentiment, which rendered the crowd silent at that mournful scene, and -thus enabled the auctioneer to exclaim, “The whole lot going for a -ducat! Going! _gone_! to Jan Van der Veen! Hurra!” - - - - -TO THE NASTURTIUM; - -WHICH LINNÆUS DESCRIBES AS EMITTING PHOSPHORESENCE IN THE DARK. - - - Glorious flower! so gorgeously bright! - As if thou wert formed of orient light! - In topaz, and gold, and velvet array, - Like an Eastern Queen on her bridal day! - Rich jewels the Sun to the Earth dropped down, - And the Earth gave him back thy floral crown. - - Thy tints, glowing warm as a summer noon, - Seem painted tones from some amorous tune; - And surely thy varying flushes came - From Italian music’s radiant flame; - Or, when Apollo touched his golden lyre, - Earth answered the sounds with thy brilliant fire. - - Thy ardent blossoms were at first unfurled, - A love-letter written to all the world; - And not by day only, but even by night, - The writing shines through with phosphoric light. - That letter of love the Tropics sent forth, - Sealed full of sunshine, a gift to the North. - - Bright Summer is proud thy garland to wear; - It shines like rich gems in Autumn’s pale hair; - And it warms our homes with a sunny glow, - When earth has assumed her mantle of snow. - Wealth of bright beauty hast thou for thy dower, - Resplendent, warm-hearted, tropical flower! - - - - -THE ANCIENT CLAIRVOYANT. - - Thou, while listening with thy inward ear, - The ocean of eternity didst hear, - Along its coming waves; and thou didst see - Its spiritual waters, as they rolled through thee; - Nor toiled, in hard abstractions of the brain, - Some guess of immortality to gain; - For far-sought truths within thy soul did rise, - Informing visions to thine inward eyes. - R. H. DANA. - - -Many centuries ago, a child named Hermotimus was born in the genial -climate of Ionia. From infancy, his hold on material life seemed -exceedingly slight. He was a delicate, frail blossom; - - “By living rays refined, - A trembler of the wind; - A spiritual flower - Sentient of breeze and shower.” - -But the slender thread that bound him to this mortal existence did not -break. The babe crawled from his cradle and toddled into the fields, -where he would sit motionless for hours, by the side of some flower he -loved. A grave smile would illumine his countenance if a butterfly -rested on it, or a passing bird brushed it with her wing. He always -expected to see the flower fly, too; and therefore he watched it so -patiently, as it swayed under their light pressure. In very early -childhood, he was remarkable for the keenness of his senses and the -vividness of his dreams. He heard distant sounds, inaudible even to the -quick ear of his playmate the hound; and the perfume of a rose made him -faint, before he was old enough to explain why he turned so pale. At -vintage time, when processions in honor of Bacchus passed through the -village, his mother dared not take him to the show, where all other -children were dancing and capering; for once, when she carried him with -her to the rustic festival, he fell into violent fits at the sound of -the shrill pipes and the clashing cymbals. His dreams furnished a theme -for all the gossips of the neighborhood; for the scenes he witnessed in -sleep impressed themselves on his mind with such singular distinctness, -that nothing could persuade the child he had not actually seen them. -Sometimes, when they gave him his little bowl of goat’s milk for supper, -he would cry for the lamb with beautiful rose-coloured wool, that had -eaten a portion of his milk the night before; and it was quite useless -to try to persuade him that there was no such creature as a -rose-coloured lamb. To all their assertions, he would answer, with -lively pertinacity, “I did _see_ him! I did _see_ him; and he did drink -from my bowl.” As he grew older, he sometimes hummed snatches of tunes, -which he said were sung to him by maidens in white robes, with garlands -about their heads; and the melodies were unlike any known in the -neighbourhood. Several times, as he walked along the road, he started -suddenly at the approach of a stranger, and ran away shuddering. When -his companions asked why he did so, he would answer, “Ah, that was a -very bad man. He made me feel all over cold.” - -It was no wonder that the simple villagers became superstitious -concerning such a singular child. Some remembered that, before he was -born, his mother had carried offerings into a consecrated grotto, where -stood a statue of Apollo; and that, being overcome by the warmth of the -day, she had fallen asleep there. This gave rise to the story that in -her dreams she had heard the god playing upon his golden lyre; that the -divine sounds had pervaded her whole being, and endowed her child with -Apollo’s gift of prophecy. Others declared that the altar in the sacred -grotto had for several years been loaded with her devout offerings, and -that she had been heard to say the statue sometimes smiled upon her. -Such tokens of approbation from celestial beings were by no means deemed -incredible; but they implied that the worshipper was a favourite with -the deity she served. From this belief it was easy to infer that the -extraordinary child, who saw and heard things invisible and inaudible to -other mortals, might be a veritable son of Apollo. Some old crones shook -their heads mournfully, and said children who received peculiar -endowments from the gods generally died young. - -But the little Hermotimus wandered about with his father’s shepherds, -and was gradually invigorated by air and exercise. He no longer fainted -at perfumes, or shared his supper with rose-coloured lambs. His mother -still noticed a peculiar dreaminess in the expression of his eyes, and -when he was alone, she sometimes heard him singing melodies, which came -to him from some mysterious source. She kept her thoughts in the privacy -of her own heart, but she retained her belief that his remarkable -boyhood was the forerunner of something extraordinary in manhood. With -his improving health, the gossip of the neighbourhood gradually -subsided, and was only occasionally revived by some eccentricities in -his manners. The change pleased his father well; for he wanted a son to -aid him in the acquisition of wealth, and had no desire to see him -become either poet or prophet. He charged his wife never to talk to him -about his childish dreams, and he was annoyed by any allusions to her -sleep in Apollo’s grotto. Of course, the lad was aware that things had -been said of him, which his mother believed, and his father disliked to -have mentioned. This mystery made him think more about himself, than he -would otherwise have done, and increased his tendency to lonely -wanderings and profound reveries. His father did his utmost to allure -him to convivial meetings with young people; saying to himself that a -sharp shot from Cupid’s bow was the best thing to wake him up -thoroughly. But the timid youth scarcely ventured to raise his eyes in -the presence of maidens, and appeared to take even less notice of their -charms, than he did of flowers and birds, and other beautiful things. -His father thought that a mate as unlike himself as possible would be -most likely to counteract his peculiar tendencies. He therefore selected -Praxinoë, a buxom merry-hearted lass, who was so healthy, she never had -but one dream she remembered in the whole course of her life; and that -was of being at a vintage festival, where she pelted the young men with -clusters of grapes, till the wine ran down their chins and made her wake -with laughing. Certainly, she would have chosen quite another sort of -mate, than Hermotimus with his soft voice and dreamy eyes. But it was -the belief in those days, and it has kept its ground pretty well ever -since, that women have no right to an opinion of their own. So the -parents arranged the affair between them, and the passive young couple -were married. - -Praxinoë was energetic and ambitious. She prided herself on the -excellent cheeses she made, and the quantity of grapes she dried for -the market. She was always talking of these, and Hermotimus tried to -listen patiently, though she unconsciously tormented him to a greater -degree than ever his thrifty father had done. Sometimes he even praised -her industry, and smiled, in his absent sort of way; for he had a kind -of pleasure in the company of his pretty young bride, as he had in the -presence of a lively twittering bird. Had a modern caricaturist made a -picture of their wedded life, he would have painted it as the marriage -of a solemn young owl with a chattering wren. Hermotimus was often -bewildered by her volubility, and her incessant activity sometimes made -him feel weary, as if he had himself been hard at work. He loved to sit -for hours in silent thought, meditating on the nature of the soul; -revolving in his mind whether the gods ever _did_ unite themselves with -mortals; and whether those philosophers had spoken truly, who had -affirmed that there was something divine within the body, which would -lay aside its temporary garment of flesh, resume its native wings, and -return to a celestial home, to dwell among immortals. While his thoughts -were plunged in such profound meditations, it not unfrequently happened -that Praxinoë came to inquire whether he remembered how many cheeses she -had sent to market, or how many bushels of grapes were in readiness; and -if he forgot the number she had told him, as he generally did, her -cheerful temper became over-clouded with consciousness that the energy -and industry, on which she prided herself, were altogether -unappreciated. It was a hard disappointment for her to bear; for she -loved luxury, and was born to sun herself in the pleasures of this -world. Hermotimus would have pitied her if he could; but he never was in -that region where she lived, and he did not know what people enjoyed or -suffered there. Praxinoë had as little idea of the worlds through which -_he_ wandered; and the glimpses she obtained from his occasional remarks -were by no means attractive to her. She had much less desire for -celestial wings, than she had for fine woolens and glossy silks; and the -shadow-land of disembodied souls presented to her mind no pleasant -pictures of comfortable housekeeping. Her favourite topics of -conversation were embroidered mantles, and robes of Tyrian dye; and if -her husband sought to check her, by remarking that such expensive -articles could never be obtained by them, she answered impatiently, “Why -not? People can have what they will. The Greeks got into Troy, didn’t -they?” Sometimes she would add, in an undertone of vexation, “But they -were not such Greeks as thou art.” - -Undoubtedly, he _was_ a vexation to an earth-born woman--that mild, -dreamy, saintly man! The distance between them inevitably grew wider and -wider; and the process was hastened by changes in the condition of -Hermotimus. Though he had become more healthy in youth, than he was in -infancy, there had never been a complete union between his soul and -body. The inner and outer circles of his being, instead of clasping into -each other, touched only at one point, and so remained nearly strangers. -At the time of his marriage, he was believed to have outgrown the -feebleness of his childhood, and to have lost the power of prophecy. But -two years afterward, he fell asleep one day in the same grotto of Apollo -to which his mother had been accustomed to carry offerings. He came out -pale and chill, and was that night seized with a singular kind of fits, -which continued to attack him more and more frequently. The old gossip -was renewed. The neighbours said his father, the divine Apollo, had -kissed him in his sleep, and he would never be like other men. Praxinoë -nursed him carefully, for she had a kindly heart. But when the fits were -on him, he inspired a degree of awe amounting almost to terror; for his -looks and words impressed her with a strong conviction that he was some -sort of a Spirit, and not a mortal man. At times, he told her the most -secret thoughts of her heart, and repeated word for word what had been -said to her, when he was out of hearing. He frequently described -magnificent cities, gorgeous birds, and beautiful flowers, she had never -seen or heard of. But what made her shudder more than all else, was the -familiar intercourse he described with relatives and friends long since -dead. If she were alone with him, during these strange visitations, he -never answered when she spoke, or gave any indication that he was aware -of her presence. But there was one person, to whose questions he always -replied. In the neighbouring city of Clazomenæ lived a Pythagorean -philosopher, named Prytanes. He heard rumours of the singular childhood -of Hermotimus, and of the extraordinary fits that had come upon him in -manhood; and he was desirous to ascertain how far these accounts had -been exaggerated. When he made his first visit to him who was called The -Sleeping Prophet, he found him lying upon a couch motionless and -senseless. He took hold of his hand, and found it cold and rigid; but a -change went over the countenance, like the light which drives shadows -across the fields; and Hermotimus said, “I am glad you have come again; -for, above all things, I have enjoyed our pleasant walks together in the -groves, talking of the wings of the soul.” This seemed marvellous to -Prytanes; for never, to his knowledge, had he spoken with Hermotimus. -But when he asked questions concerning their conversations, the sleeper -revealed to him many thoughts, which he remembered to have passed -through his own mind, at various times, and which had seemed to him, at -the moment, as if they did not originate in himself, but had come to him -from some unknown source; thoughts which he in fact believed to have -been imparted by supernal beings. When Prytanes returned to Clazomenæ, -he gave an account of this wonderful experience, in public discourses to -his disciples; and the fame of Hermotimus spread more and more widely. -Priests and philosophers came to listen to his conversations with -Prytanes; and while some went away incredulous, others were deeply -impressed with awe. From far and near, people brought the diseased to -him, begging him to prescribe a cure; and the rumour went round that -sometimes, when he merely passed his hands over them, their pains -departed. In these days, he would have been called a clairvoyant; but -what we style animal-magnetism had then never been mentioned; though its -phenomena were occasionally manifested, as they always have been, -wherever the spiritual and physical circle of man’s compound existence -is partially disjoined. Scientific causes were then little investigated. -Health, beauty, eloquence, poetry, and all other things, were supposed -to be direct and special gifts from some god. No wonder then that many -believed Hermotimus to be really the son of Apollo, receiving the gift -of healing and of prophecy from immediate and continual intercourse with -his divine father. - -If the wise and thoughtful were puzzled, it may well be supposed that -the busy little Praxinoë often felt as if she were walking among shadows -in a fog. Her ambition was in some degree gratified by her husband’s -fame, and by the distinguished persons who came to visit him. But, in -confidential conversation with her gossips, she complained that these -numerous visitors interrupted her avocations, beside bringing a great -deal of dust into the house, and asking for a draught of her fresh wine -rather oftener than was convenient. “I admire hospitality,” she would -say; “and I wish I were rich enough to feast all Ionia, every week, and -send each guest away with a golden bracelet. But the fact is, these -dreams of Hermotimus, though they are full of palaces and fountains, do -not help in the least to build such things; and he brings home no wine -from the beautiful vineyards he describes. Then I can’t help thinking, -sometimes, that it would be pleasant to know for a certainty whether -one’s husband were really dead, or alive.” - -One thing became daily more obvious to her and to all who saw him. The -continual questions he was called upon to answer, and the distant places -of the earth he was required to visit, exhausted the little bodily -strength he possessed. The priests at the neighbouring temple of -Æsculapius said he needed more quiet, and ought to drink a strong -decoction of vervain, gathered when the moonlight rested on it. He -himself, when questioned, during his miraculous slumbers, declared that -the air of the valleys was not good for him. Therefore his friends -removed him to a residence among the hills. Praxinoë made no objection; -for though her spiritualized mate failed to call forth all the warmth -of her loving nature, she had a friendly feeling for him, and would -gladly have done any thing for the recovery of his health. But the -change was by no means agreeable to her lively disposition. She liked to -live where she could see festive processions passing with garlands, and -gaily dressed youths and maidens dancing to the sound of cymbals and -flutes. - -News from the city became more rare; for Hermotimus recovered his -health, and with it lost what was called his gift of prophecy; -consequently, visitors came less and less frequently. Urged by Praxinoë, -the diseased one sometimes tried to render himself practically useful. -But his heart was in such occupations even less than it had formerly -been. Companionship with philosophers had excited his intellect, and -induced the habit of watching his own soul with intense interest. He was -absorbed in reverie most of the time, and Prytane, who came occasionally -to see him, was the only person with whom he conversed freely. Their -conversation was more wearisome to Praxinoë than his dreamy silence. She -said they might be as wise as owls, for all she knew to the contrary, -but that _she_ could see no more sense in their talk, than she did in -the hooting of those solemn birds of darkness. In another respect, -Hermotimus seemed to her like an owl. His eyes became so nervously -sensitive to light, that he winked continually in the sunshine, and was -prone to seek the shelter of grottoes and shady groves. His childish -habit of vivid dreams returned; and the explanation of these dreams -occupied his thoughts continually. One morning, he told Praxinoë he had -dreamed that she held in her hand a crystal globe, that reflected all -things in the universe; that she threw it into the flames, where it -cracked asunder, and there rose from it a radiant Spirit, with large -white wings. She laughed, and said if she had such a globe, she would -not break it till she had taken a peep at Corinth, to see the -embroidered silks and golden girdles that the women wore there. He was -thinking of the winged Spirit, and her remark passed through his ears -without reaching his mind. Had he listened to the observation, it would -have seemed to him very much like looking through the universe to watch -a butterfly. Nothing was interesting to him but the process of attaining -wings to his soul. He thought of this, till the body seemed an -encumbrance, and its necessities a sin. He ate sparingly at all times, -and fasted often. When he spoke at all, his talk was ever of mortifying -the senses, that the soul might be enabled to rise to the ethereal -spheres from which it had fallen into this world. Praxinoë was impatient -with such discourse. “To think of _his_ talking of mortifying the -senses!” exclaimed she; “when he never _had_ any senses to mortify. Why, -never since I knew him has he eaten enough to keep a nightingale alive. -For my part, I think it is a blessing to have plenty of good food, and -an excellent appetite for it.” - -In her present situation, she was not sustained through her trials, as -she had been near Clazomenæ, by the reverence which her husband -inspired. Their dwelling was isolated, and in the nearest village were -many scoffers and skeptics. She had formed an intimacy with a wealthy -dame, named Eucoline; and from her she learned that people said -Hermotimus neglected to provide for his family, because he was too -indolent to work; that he injured his health by frequent fasts, and made -himself crazy with thinking, merely for the sake of being stared at by -the common people; and as for his pretended visions and prophecies, they -were undoubtedly impositions. Praxinoë, who habitually looked outward -for her standard of thought and action, was much influenced by these -remarks. She had sometimes wept in secret over her cheerless destiny; -but discontent had been restrained by a reverent sense of being -connected with some solemn mystery, which others respected. Now, she -began to doubt whether the eccentricities she daily witnessed might not -be assumed, from the motives imputed by their neighbours. This tendency -was increased by the influence of Eratus, the gay, luxurious husband of -Eucoline. He professed to be a disciple of Epicurus, but he was one of -those who had perverted the original doctrines of that teacher; for -while he thought happiness was the only good, he believed there was no -enjoyment higher than that of the senses. To his volatile mind all -things in life afforded subjects for jest and laughter. If he met -Praxinoë, on her way to his wife’s apartments, he would say, “How is the -good Hermotimus, to-day? Has he gone to talk with the gods, and thrown -his body on the couch till he returns?” These sneers were not pleasant; -and the habit of comparing her situation with that of Eucoline increased -her discontent. The handsome and healthy Eratus was growing richer every -day by his own energy and enterprise. “Such robes as he buys for _his_ -wife!” said she to herself, “I can make better wine than she can; I can -weave handsomer cloth; and I think the gods have endowed me with more -beauty; but I can never hope to wear such robes. Ah, if my good -Hermotimus were only more alive!” - -This involuntary comparison did no great harm, until her friend Eucoline -chanced to die suddenly. Then the idea came into her head, “If I could -marry Eratus, what a noble span we should make! We might ride in our own -chariot, inlaid with ivory and gold. Perhaps it _may_ happen some day, -Who knows? Didn’t the Greeks get into Troy?” She tried to drive away the -pleasing vision, but it _would_ intrude itself; and worse still, the -handsome Eratus often came in person to bring choice grapes and figs, in -the prettiest of all imaginable vases and baskets. He was always -friendly with Hermotimus; and if his body had wandered away, carried by -the soul, which was so generally absent from this material world, the -Epicurean would inquire, in this jocular way, “Where is the good -Hermotimus, pretty one? Has he gone off to converse with the gods? If -Venus had given _me_ such a beautiful companion at home, all Olympus -wouldn’t tempt me away from her.” The gay, graceful, flattering man! He -was a dangerous contrast to her pale silent husband, hiding himself in -groves and grottoes, thinking only of obtaining wings for his soul. -Eratus was conscious of his power, and betrayed it by expressive glances -from his large dark eyes. Sparks fell from them into the heart of the -neglected wife, and kindled a fire there which glowed through her -cheeks. Her eyelids drooped under his ardent gaze, and she avoided -looking at him when he spoke; but she could not shut out the melting -tenderness of his tones. It was a hard trial to poor Praxinoë. Her -nature had such tropical exuberance! She was born with such love of -splendour, such capacity for joy! and the cruel Fates had cast her -destiny in such cold and shady places! Her pride had sometimes been an -evil companion, but it now proved a friend in need. If she could not be -the wife of Eratus, she resolved not to give Cupid any more -opportunities to shoot arrows from his eyes, or play amorous tunes with -his musical voice. When she saw the flatterer approaching, she retreated -hastily and left an old servant to receive him, and thank him for the -grapes he had brought for Hermotimus. Eratus smiled at the veil she thus -endeavoured to throw over his attentions; and to deprive her of the -subterfuge, he sent her a golden bracelet and ear-rings, for which she -could not thank him in the name of her husband. She returned the costly -gift, though affection, vanity, and love of elegance strongly tempted -her to retain it. She was a brave woman. The prudes in the -neighbourhood, who were accustomed to shake their heads and say she -laughed and talked more than was consistent with decorum, never knew -half how brave she was. - -This prudent reserve of course rendered her more interesting to the -enamored widower. The more he thought of her, the more he was vexed that -such a vivacious creature, with mantling complexion, laughing eyes, and -springing step, should be appropriated by a pale devotee, who took no -notice of her charms, and who in fact despised even the most beautiful -body, regarding it merely as a prison for the soul. At last, he plainly -expressed a wish to marry her; and he proposed to ask Hermotimus to -divorce her for that purpose, which the laws of the country enabled him -to do. Praxinoë, with bashful frankness, confessed her willingness, and -said she did not think Hermotimus would observe whether she were present -or absent. “If he understands my proposition,” replied Eratus, laughing, -“he will give me a grave lecture, and tell me how the wings of his soul -are growing, by with drawing from all the pleasures of this world. Let -them grow!” - -The sudden and alarming illness of Hermotimus arrested the progress of -affairs; for the kindness of Praxinoë overcame all other feelings, and -she said she would not leave him to the care of hirelings. He recovered -slowly, and again wandered forth into the groves, with feeble steps. -Eratus watched him impatiently; and when at last he seemed sufficiently -recovered to enter into conversation, he sought an interview. He found -him lying on the ground, in one of his favourite groves, cold and rigid -as a corpse. He called servants to convey him to the house. Praxinoë -manifested no surprise. She said she had not seen him in such a state -for two years, but that in former times he would often lie senseless for -a long time, and then wake up to tell of wonderful countries he had -visited. Day passed after day, and he did not wake. The disciples of -skeptical philosophers came and looked at him, and went away laughing -with each other about the stories they had heard of his former visions, -prophecies, and miraculous cures. They concluded their remarks by -saying, “It can do no harm to burn his body, whether he is dead or not. -The soul he had so much faith in was always longing to get out of -prison. It would be conferring a favour upon him to give him a chance to -try his wings.” - -The parents of Hermotimus were dead. Eratus summoned priests of -Æsculapius, who decidedly pronounced his slumber the sleep of death; and -the relatives of Praxinoë sympathized with his impatience for the -funeral. But she continued to doubt, and insisted upon first sending for -the Pythagorean philosopher, whom Hermotimus had always answered, when -he was in those strange trances. The messenger returned with tidings -that he had gone to Athens. The funeral-pile was erected, and the -good-hearted widow wept to find that the certainty of his death was such -a relief to her mind. This consciousness was the more unpleasant to her, -because she said to herself, “If he _is_ in one of those trances, he -knows all I am thinking.” When they lifted him from the couch where he -had lain so still, she shuddered violently, and exclaimed, “Surely he is -not quite so pale as he was!” But they reasoned with her, and said, “He -looks just as he has for the last three days.” She saw his body placed -on the funeral-pile, and when the flames began to curl round it, she -listened to hear if there were any audible signs of life. But all was -still, save the crackling of the wood; and in a short time, a heap of -ashes was all that remained. - -That night, she dreamed that she held a crystal globe in her hands, and -threw it from her into the flames. The globe cracked, and a radiant -Spirit, with white wings, rose from it and soared high into the air. He -smiled as he passed her, and said, “I foretold this.” The countenance -looked as that of Hermotimus had sometimes looked in his trances, when -he told his friend Prytanes that he was listening to white-robed -maidens, who played on golden harps; but though similar in expression, -it was far more glorious. Did memory cause that dream? Or was it -imparted from some other source, beyond herself? She woke trembling and -afraid, and with a strong impression that she had seen Hermotimus. This -belief excited uneasy thoughts, which she dared not mention, for fear of -slanderous tongues. But she secretly confessed to Eratus that she feared -her husband was not dead when they burned his body. He replied, “It is -foolish to trouble yourself about a dream, my lovely one. It is enough -that all who saw him thought he was dead. You know it often puzzled -wiser folks than you or I to tell whether he was alive or not. Whatever -phantom it was that sailed through the ivory gate of dreams, he smiled -and seemed happy. Then why be disturbed about it? Life was given for -enjoyment, dearest.” He laughed and began to sing, “I’ll crown my love -with myrtle;” and his looks and tones drove all phantoms from her -thoughts. - -She soon became his wife, and her ambitious hopes were more than -realized. Eratus placed a high value on worldly possessions, and knew -very well how to obtain them. She never had occasion to remind _him_ -that the Greeks entered Troy. - -But where there is sunshine, there is always shadow. Her prosperity -excited envy; which some manifested by saying, “If every body could burn -a poor husband for the sake of marrying a rich one, other folks could -wear silk mantles, too.” Remarks of that kind reached the ears of many -who were firm believers in the inspiration of The Sleeping Prophet. They -made anxious inquiries concerning the manner of his death; to which -certain envious women answered: “Praxinoë was always a very good -neighbour. _We_ have nothing to say against her; though _some_ people -thought she was rather free, and not a little vain. The old nurse says -Eratus was always sending her presents, long before her husband died; -and _some_ people do think it was very obliging in poor Hermotimus to -die, just when he was so much wanted out of the way.” These whisperings -soon grew into a report that the rich Epicurean had bribed the priests -of Æsculapius to pronounce the slumberer a dead man. Of course, some -persons were good-natured enough to repeat these rumours to the parties -implicated. Finding their solemn assertions of innocence received with -significant silence, or annoying innuendoes, they resolved to remove -from the neighbourhood. Praxinoë had always greatly desired to see -Corinth; and to please her, Eratus chose it for their future residence. -In that gay luxurious city, her love of splendour was abundantly -gratified with pompous processions and showy equipage. Her beauty -attracted attention whenever she was seen in public, and her husband -took pride in adorning her with rich embroidery and costly jewels. In -such an atmosphere, the wings of her soul had small chance to grow; but -that subject never occupied her thoughts. - -It was generally believed in Clazomenæ and its vicinity that Hermotimus -was not dead when his emaciated body was consumed on the funeral-pile. -This idea occasioned a good deal of excitement among those who had been -cured of diseases by his directions, or startled to hear their inmost -thoughts revealed. His frequent conversations with spirits of the -departed had strongly impressed them with the belief that some god spoke -through him, while his senses were wrapped in profound slumber; and no -skeptical witticisms or arguments could diminish their faith in the -prophet. They erected a temple to his memory, where they placed his -ashes in a golden urn; and because his wife had consented that his body -should be burned, while his soul was absent on one of its customary -visits to the gods, they never allowed any woman to enter within the -consecrated precincts. - - - - -SPIRIT AND MATTER. - -A REVERIE. - - Not in another world, as poets prate, - Dwell we apart, above the tide of things, - High floating o’er earth’s clouds on fairy wings; - But our pure love doth ever elevate - Into a holy bond of brotherhood, - All earthly things, making them pure and good. - J. R. LOWELL. - - -One of the most wonderful things connected with the mysterious -soul-power, with which we limited mortals are endowed, is the capacity -to rise into the infinite from the smallest earth-particle of the -finite. How often some circumstance, trifling as the motions of a -butterfly, plunges us into a profound reverie! How often, from the -smallest and lowliest germ, are thoughts evolved, which go revolving -round in ascending circles, forming a spiral ladder, ascending from -earth to heaven! - -A pair of white-breasted swallows that built a nest in a little bird-box -near my chamber-window, sent my soul floating dreamily upward, till it -lost its way in wide ethereal regions. The mother-bird was a lively -little thing, making a deal of musical twittering at her work, and -often coquetting gracefully with her mate. I took an affectionate -interest in her proceedings, though I had private suspicions that she -was something of a female gossip, in her small way; for I observed that -she watched the motions of other birds with inquisitive curiosity, and -often stood at her front-door, prattling with them as they passed by. -But they seemed to take it all in good part, and it was no concern of -mine. I loved the pretty little creature, gossip or no gossip; and, for -many days, my first waking thought was to jump up and take a peep at -her. Though I rose before the sun, I always found her awake and active, -chattering with her mate, or carrying straws and feathers into her -dwelling, to make a bed for their little ones. I should have been half -ashamed to have had any very wise person overhear the things I said to -her. She had such “peert,” knowing ways, that I could not remember her -inability to understand human speech. It always seemed to me that she -_must_ be aware of my sympathy, and that she rejoiced in it. - -One bright morning, when I looked out to salute her as usual, I was -filled with dismay to see a grisly cat seated on the bird-box, peeping -into the door with eager eyes. She had descended from the roof, and was -watching for a chance to devour the inmates of that happy little -dwelling. I always had an antipathy to the stealthy and cruel habits of -the feline race; but I think I never detested any creature as I did -that cat; for a few minutes. The wish to do her harm, was, however, -easily conquered by the reflection that she was obeying a natural -instinct, as the bird was in catching insects; but I resolved that -neither my dear little Lady Swallow nor her babes should furnish a -repast for her voracious jaws. So I climbed a ladder, and took down the -box, which contained a nest, with two pretty little white eggs. I was -distressed with the idea that the hateful cat might have destroyed my -favourites before I perceived their danger; but my anxiety was soon -relieved by their approach. They circled round and round the well-known -spot, peered about in every direction, perched on the platform where -their home had stood, and chattered together with unusual volubility. -Again and again they returned, bringing other birds with them, and -repeating the same motions. They were evidently as much astonished, as -we should be to wake up in the morning and find that an earthquake had -swallowed a neighbour’s house during the night. Whether there were -scientific swallows among them, that tried to frame satisfactory -theories in explanation of the phenomenon, or whether any feathered -clericals taught them to submit to the event as a special providence, we -can never know. The natural presumption is, that they will always -wonder, to the end of their days, what mysterious agency it could have -been that so suddenly removed their nest, house and all. As for -conjecturing _why_ it was done, the mere query was probably beyond the -range of their mental powers. - -I was watching them all the time, but their bird eyes could not see me, -and their bird-nerves conveyed no magnetic intimation of my close -vicinity. Their surprise and their trouble were partially revealed to me -by their motions and their utterance; but, though they were intelligent -swallows, they could form no idea of such a fact. I had removed their -dwelling to save their lives; but between their plane of existence and -my own there was such an impassable chasm, that no explanation of my -kindness and foresight could possibly be conveyed to them. - -I thought of all this, and longed in vain to enlighten their ignorance, -and relieve their perplexity. The earnestness of my wish, and the -impossibility of accomplishing it, suggested a train of thought. I said -to myself, perhaps some invisible beings are now observing _me_, as I am -observing these swallows; but I cannot perceive them, because the laws -of their existence are too far removed from my own. Perhaps they take a -friendly interest in my affairs, and would gladly communicate with me, -if I were so constituted that I could understand their ideas, or their -mode of utterance. These cogitations recalled to my mind some remarks by -the old English writer, Soame Jenyns. In his “Disquisition on the Chain -of Universal Being,” he says: “The superiority of man to that of other -terrestrial animals is as inconsiderable, in proportion to the immense -plan of universal existence, as the difference of climate between the -north and south end of the paper I now write upon, with regard to the -heat and distance of the sun. There is nothing leads us into so many -errors concerning the works and designs of Providence, as the foolish -vanity that can persuade such insignificant creatures that all things -were made for their service; from whence they ridiculously set up -utility to _themselves_ as the standard of good, and conclude every -thing to be evil, which appears injurious to them or their purposes. As -well might a nest of ants imagine this globe of earth created only for -them to cast up into hillocks, and clothed with grain and herbage for -their sustenance; then accuse their Creator for permitting spades to -destroy them, and ploughs to lay waste their habitations. They feel the -inconveniences, but are utterly unable to comprehend their uses, as well -as the relations they themselves bear to superior beings. - -“When philosophers have seen that the happiness of inferior creatures is -dependent on our wills, it is surprising none of them should have -concluded that the good order and well-being of the universe might -require that our happiness should be as dependent on the wills of -superior beings, who are accountable, like ourselves, to one common Lord -and Father of all things. This is the more wonderful, because the -existence and influence of such beings has been an article in the creed -of all religions that have ever appeared in the world. In the beautiful -system of the Pagan theology, their sylvan and household deities, their -nymphs, satyrs, and fawns, were of this kind. All the barbarous nations -that have ever been discovered, have been found to believe in, and -adore, intermediate spiritual beings, both good and evil. The Jewish -religion not only confirms the belief of their existence, but of their -tempting, deceiving, and tormenting mankind; and the whole system of -Christianity is erected entirely on this foundation.” - -Dr. Johnson wrote a satirical review of Soame Jenyns, which had great -popularity at the time. He passes without notice the fact that men of -all ages, and of all religions, have believed that malicious Spirits -cause diseases, and tempt men, in many ways, to their destruction; while -benevolent Spirits cure physical and mental evils, forewarn men in -dreams, and assist them in various emergencies. There was, therefore, -nothing very new or peculiar in the suggestion of Mr. Jenyns; but Dr. -Johnson, in his rough way, caricatures it thus: “He imagines that as we -have animals not only for food, but some for our diversion, the same -privilege may be allowed to beings above us, who may deceive, torment, -or destroy us, for the ends only of their own pleasure or utility. He -might have carried the analogy further, much to the advantage of his -argument. He might have shown that these hunters, whose game is man, -have many sports analogous to our own. As we drown whelps and kittens, -they amuse themselves now and then with sinking a ship; and they stand -round the fields of Blenheim, or the walls of Prague, as we encircle a -cock-pit. As we shoot a bird flying, they knock a man down with -apoplexy, in the midst of his business or pleasure. Perhaps some of them -are virtuosi, and delight in the operations of an asthma, as human -philosophers do in the effects of an air-pump. Many a merry bout have -these frolic beings at the vicissitudes of an ague; and good sport it is -to see a man tumble with an epilepsy, and revive and tumble again; and -all this he knows not why. Perhaps now and then a merry being may place -himself in such a situation as to enjoy at once all the varieties of an -epidemic disease, or amuse his leisure with the tossings and contortions -of every possible pain exhibited together.” - -It occurred to me what bearish paws the old Doctor, in his gruff sport, -would lay upon modern Spiritualists, if he were about in these days. I -smiled to think what an inexhaustible theme for skeptical wit was -afforded by the awkward and tedious process of communication employed. -But after a little reflection, I said to myself, is not the common -action of Spirit upon Matter, while we are here in the body, quite as -inexplicable? If we were not accustomed to it, would it not seem nearly -as inconvenient and laborious? The Spirit which dwells within me, (I -know not where, or how,) wishes to communicate with a Spirit dwelling in -some other body, in another part of the world. Straightway, the -five-pronged instrument, which we call a hand, is moved by Spirit, and -promptly obeys the impulse. It dips a piece of pointed steel into a -black fluid, and traces hieroglyphic characters invented by Spirit to -express its thought. Those letters have been formed into words by slow -elaboration of the ages. They partake of the climate where they grew. In -Italy, they flow smoothly as water. In Russia, they clink and clatter -like iron hoofs upon a pavement. It appears that Spirit must needs -fashion its utterance according to the environment of Matter, in the -midst of which it is placed. By a slow and toilsome process, the child -must learn what ideas those words represent; otherwise he can scarcely -be able to communicate at all with the Spirits in other bodies near him. -If they are distant, and his Spirit wills to converse with them, it must -impel the five-pronged instrument of bone and sinew to take up the -pointed steel, and trace, on a substance elaborately prepared from -vegetable fibres, certain mystic characters, which, according to their -arrangement, express love or hatred, joy or sorrow. If Spirits _out_ of -the body do indeed tip tables and rap the alphabet, to communicate with -Spirits _in_ the body, it must be confessed that the machinery we poor -mortals are obliged to employ, in order to communicate with each other, -is nearly as tedious and imperfect as theirs. - -Ancient oriental philosophers, and some of the Gnostics at a later -period, believed in a gradation of successive worlds, gradually -diminishing in the force of spiritual intelligence, and consequently in -outward beauty. They supposed that each world was an attenuated -likeness, a sort of reflected image of the world above it; that it must -necessarily be so, because, in all its parts, it was evolved from that -world. They believed that the inhabitants of each world knew of those in -the world next below them, and were attracted toward them; but that the -world below was unconscious of the higher sphere whence it emanated. - -Swedenborg teaches that all the inferior grades of being in _this_ world -are representative forms of the spiritual state of mankind, and owe -their existence to the thoughts and feelings in human souls. Thus if men -had no bad passions, there would be no lions and tigers; and if they -were inwardly pure, there would be no vermin. In other words, he teaches -that the lower forms of Nature are reflected images of man, as the -orientals taught concerning successive worlds; and in this case also the -higher is attracted toward the lower, and wishes to communicate with it, -while the lower remains ignorant of the existence of the higher. I knew -something of the swallows, and wanted to talk with them, but they knew -nothing of me. - -Swedenborg teaches successive spheres of existence, as did the -orientals, though in another form. He says Spirits in the sphere nearest -to this earth are attracted towards us, and wish to communicate with us; -but that some of them are in a low state, and capable of great -duplicity. Many people are satisfied with the theory that these are the -Spirits who are believed to be rapping and tipping tables in all parts -of the country. Certain it is, many of the phenomena that actually occur -cannot possibly be the result of jugglery; though miracles sometimes -seem to be performed by that adroit agency. Candid minds cannot, I -think, avoid the conclusion that Spirit is acting upon Matter in _some_ -way not explainable by any known laws of our being. Whether it is Spirit -_in_ the body, or _out_ of the body, seems difficult to decide. The -agents, whoever they are, are obviously nearly on a level with our own -spiritual condition; for they tell nothing which had not been previously -known or imagined; and they do not always tell the truth. - -Minds of mystical tendencies find joy in believing that all inspirations -in religion, science, or art, come to us from above, through the medium -of ministering Spirits, who dwell in higher spheres of intelligence and -love, and are attracted towards us by our inward state. The -fast-increasing strength of evil, which often leads men to think the -Devil drives them into some crime, they account for by supposing that -the indulgence of wrong thoughts and feelings brings us into affinity -with Spirits below us, who are thus enabled to influence our souls by -the operation of laws as universal and unchangeable as those which -regulate the attraction and repulsion of material substances. - -Rationalists, on the other hand, deem that all mental influences, -whether good or evil, may be sufficiently accounted for by the activity -of the soul in any particular direction; that the indulgence of any -class of thoughts and feelings renders them continually stronger and -stronger, as the pedestrian’s leg, or the wood-cutter’s arm is -invigorated by frequent use. - -All these thoughts grew out of the removal of a swallow’s nest. They -left me where they found me. Temperament, and early habits of thought, -inclined me toward mystical theories; while increasing caution, learned -by the experience of many fallacies, beckoned toward the less poetical -side of austere rationality. I remained balanced between the opposite -forces, candidly willing to admit the claims of either. I could only bow -my head in reverent humility, and say, “On these subjects we cannot -certainly _know_ any thing, in this imperfect state of being. Verily, -mysterious is the action of Spirit upon Spirit, and of Spirit upon -Matter.” As I thus dismissed the subject from my mind, a voice from some -corner of my soul said, “The swallows did not _know_ that you took away -their nest, but you _did_.” - - - - -THE KANSAS EMIGRANTS. - - And unto thee, in Freedom’s hour - Of sorest need, God gives the power - To ruin or to save, - To wound or heal, to blight or bless, - With fruitful soil, or wilderness, - A free home, or a grave. - J. G. WHITTIER. - - -“You are silent to-night, William,” said Alice May to her lover, as they -walked through a green lane, toward the setting sun. - -“Yes, dearest,” he replied, “I have that on my mind which makes me -thoughtful.” After a pause, he added, “That book I was reading to you, -before these golden-edged clouds tempted us out into the fields, has -made a very strong impression on me. I never before realized how much -depends on the state of mind we are in when we read. The story of our -forefathers was all familiar to me; and I always reverenced the -Puritans; but the grandeur of their character never loomed up before my -mental vision as it does now. With all their faults, they were a noble -set of men and women.” - -“And what has anointed your eyes to see this more clearly than ever -to-night?” asked Alice. - -“All the while I was reading, I was thinking of John Bradford’s project -of going to Kansas; and, while we have been walking in the fields, my -eyes have involuntarily turned away from the glorious sunset clouds, to -glance at the neat dwellings dotted all over the landscape; to the mill -whirling sparkling water-drops into the air; to the school-house, with -its broad play-ground; to the church-spire, gleaming brightly in the -sun. All these we owe to those heroic pilgrims, who left comfortable -homes in England and came to a howling wilderness to establish a -principle of freedom; and what they have done for Massachusetts, John -Bradford and his companions may do for Kansas. It is a glorious -privilege to help in laying the foundation of states on a basis of -justice and freedom.” - -“I see that John has magnetized you with his enthusiasm,” she replied; -“and he has magnetized cousin Kate also. How brave she is, to think of -following him, with their little child!” - -“Kate is hopeful by temperament,” said William; “but I think she is -hardly more brave than you are. You are both afraid of a snake and a -gun.” - -“I was thinking more of the long journey, the parting from friends, and -living among strangers, than I was of snakes and guns,” replied Alice. -“Then everybody says there are so many discomforts and hardships in a -new country. And the Indians, William! Only think of going within sound -of the Indian war-whoop!” - -“The Indians are in a very different state now,” he replied, “from what -they were when the Puritan women followed their husbands into the -wilderness of this new world. They are few in numbers now. Their spirit -has been tamed by accumulated wrongs, and they are too well aware of the -power of the United States’ government, to make any aggressions upon -those who are under its protection. Besides, you know it is my opinion -that the Indians never would have made unprovoked aggressions. Who can -read Catlin’s account, without being struck with the nobility of -character often manifested by their much-injured race? I am fully -persuaded that it is easy to make firm friends of the Indians, by -treating them with justice and kindness, and with that personal respect, -which they so well know how to appreciate.” He pressed her arm to his -side, and took her hand within his, as he added, “You seemed greatly to -admire that young Puritan bride, who cheerfully left home and friends -behind her, and crossed the tempestuous ocean, to brave cold and hunger -by her husband’s side, in a wilderness where wolves and savages were -howling.” - -Her hand trembled within his; for something in the earnestness of his -look, and the tender modulation of his tones, suddenly revealed to her -what was passing in his mind. She knew he was not thinking of cousin -John’s wife, while he spoke thus of the pilgrim’s bride. It was the -first time that such a possibility had been suggested to her mind; and -it made the blood run cold in her veins. After a painful pause, she -said, with a forced calmness of voice, “We often admire virtues we are -not strong enough to imitate.” - -He pressed her hand, and remained silent, till an outburst of tears made -him stop suddenly, and fold her to his heart. “Don’t weep, my beloved,” -he said, “I will never require, or even ask, such a sacrifice of you. -Such a delicate flower as you are needs to be sheltered from the blast -and the storm. But you have conjectured rightly, dearest, that my heart -is set upon accompanying these emigrants. I feel that all there is of -manhood within me, will be developed by the exigencies of such a career. -My character and my destiny will grow more grand with the -responsibilities that will devolve upon me. If I remain here, I never -shall do half I am capable of doing for myself and for posterity. To -speak the plain truth, dear Alice, I have something of the old Puritan -feeling, that God calls me to this work. You have promised to be my wife -within a few weeks; but I absolve you from that promise. If you prefer -it, I will go and prepare a comfortable home for you in that new region, -and endeavour to draw a circle of our mutual friends around me, before -I ask you to leave your New England home.” - -She looked up at him, through her tears, with a half-reproachful glance, -which seemed to say, “Do you then suppose there can be any hardship so -great, as separation from the one I love best in the world?” - -He understood the mute appeal, and answered it by saying, “Don’t be -rash, clear Alice. Reflect upon it till next Sunday evening, and then -tell me what is your decision. I shall not love you one particle the -less if you tell me that years must pass before you can be the partner -of my life. No duties, no excitements, no lapse of time, can remove your -image from my heart.” - -Few more words were spoken, as they returned homeward, lighted by the -crescent moon. It was not until long after midnight that Alice fell -asleep, to dream of standing by a wide chasm, vainly stretching her hand -toward William, on the other side. - -During the following days, she asked no counsel, save of God and her -mother. Her mother laid her hand tenderly on her head, and said, “I dare -not advise you. Follow your own heart, my child;” and when she prayed to -God, she seemed to hear an echo of those words. She saw William often, -but she spoke no word to dissuade him from his purpose. Had he been -going to California to dig gold, she would have had much to say in -favour of the humblest home under the protection of the old -order-loving Commonwealth; but he had spoken so seriously of his sense -of duty, that her womanly nature reverenced the manliness of his -convictions; and she prayed that _his_ courage to dare might be equalled -by _her_ fortitude to endure. It rained heavily on Sunday evening, so -that the lovers could not take their accustomed walk; and the presence -of others prevented a confidential interview. But when they parted at -the door, Alice slipped a small package into William’s hand. When he -arrived at home, he opened it with nervous haste, and found a small -Bible, with a mark within it. An anchor was embroidered on the mark, -with the word FAITH beneath it; and his eye was caught by pencil lines -on the page, encircling the words: “Where thou goest, I will go; where -thou lodgest, I will lodge; thy people shall be my people, and thy God -my God.” “God bless her!” he exclaimed. “Now I can go forward with an -undivided heart.” He kissed the anchor again and again, and, bowing his -head on his hands, he wept as he had not wept since boyhood. To his deep -and earnest nature, love and duty were sacred realities. - -Great was the joy of cousin Kate and her husband, when it was known that -William Bruce had determined to join the band of emigrants, and that -Alice had acquiesced. William was a young man of such good judgment and -stedfast principles, that they all felt he would be a balance-wheel in -the machinery of any society where he moved. John Bradford was equally -good and true, but his temperament induced more volubility of speech, -and more eagerness of action. When the band of emigrants heard of -William’s decision, they said laughingly to each other, “Now we shall -have both Moses and Aaron to guide us into Canaan.” Kate’s widowed -mother, and a younger brother and sister, resolved to join the -enterprising band. A little nephew of five years old was of the same -mind; and when told that he was too small to be of any use, he declared -himself fully able to catch a bear. Alice’s father and mother had -prospective plans of following their daughter, accompanied by their -oldest son, in case those who went before them should send up a good -report of the land. Her adhesive affections suffered terribly in this -rupture of old ties. But in such natures love takes possession of the -whole being. She would have sacrificed life itself for William. All her -friends knew it was harder for her than for others, to go into a strange -land and enter into entirely new modes of existence. Therefore, they all -spoke hopefully to her, and no one but William ever presented the -clouded side of the picture to her view. He did it from a conscientious -scruple, lest she should go forward in the enterprise with eyes blinded -to its difficulties. But the hardships he described in such tender -tones, never _seemed_ like hardships. His warnings were always met with -the affectionate response, “What a proud and happy woman I shall be, -dear William, if I can do any thing to sustain you through the trials -you will have to encounter.” She never spoke despondingly, never told -the fears that sometimes swarmed in her imagination. If she could not -strengthen him, she at least would not unnerve him, she said to herself; -and as for cousin Kate, she would have been ashamed to acknowledge to -_her_ what a faint heart was beating within her bosom. Kate, who had -earned her own living ever since she was sixteen, and assisted her -widowed mother, and educated her younger brother and sister, in a manner -well adapted to make them useful and active members of society, was just -the woman to emigrate to the West. Sometimes Alice sighed, and wished -she was more like Kate. She did not know how many anxious thoughts were -concealed under her cousin’s cheerful tones, her bright frank smile, and -her energetic preparations for departure. - -Thick and fast came in the parting memorials from relatives and -schoolmates; and what showers of tears fell upon them as they were -stowed away in the closely packed chests! That last night at the old -homesteads, oh, how the memories crowded upon those suffocated hearts! -When Alice stole out in the moonlight, and wept, while she kissed the -old elm, from whose boughs she had swung in childhood, she did not know -that the roots were already moistened with Katie’s tears. - -To the experienced and the thoughtful, all weddings are solemn -occasions; for when they see the young unmooring their boat from its old -fastenings, and floating away so gaily on the sun-rippled stream, they -know full well that shadows are ahead, and that many a rock lies hidden -under the bright waters. The marriage of William and Alice was solemn -even to sadness; for they were to depart for Kansas on the morrow. The -farewell moment had been so dreaded for days preceding, that all felt as -if it would be a relief to have the agony over. Alice clung to her -parents as the drowning cling. The mother lifted up her voice and wept, -and the old father choked, as he strove to say, “Very pleasant hast thou -been unto me. God bless thee, my child.” But cousin Katie, whose mission -it was to strengthen everybody, came up and pressed their hands, and -said “Good bye, dear uncle; good bye, dear aunt. We’ll make a beautiful -home for you in Kansas; and Willie and Ally will come to bring you to -us.” - -As they mounted the wagons, children, who used to attend Mrs. Bradford’s -school, came up with bunches of violets; and the little nephew, who -thought himself such a mighty hunter, called out, “send me a bear!” - -“Oh yes, Georgy,” replied Kate. “Will you have him roasted?” - -“I want to tie him up in the _darden_, and feed him,” shouted George. -But no one heard him. The wagons had rolled away before he finished the -sentence; and those who watched them forgot that any thing else existed. - -The last glimpse of Alice showed her head bowed down on her husband’s -shoulder, her waist encircled by his arm. The last tones of Katie’s -voice had been strong and clear; and no one but her kind-hearted John -saw how the tears rained down on her infant’s face, as they rode through -their native village. They had never fully realized, until now, how -beautiful were the elms in the delicate verdure of spring; how precious -were the golden blossoms profusely strewn over the meadows; how happy -and safe the homes seemed to nestle in the scenery. As they passed the -church, all turned and looked back at that place of pleasant meetings -with relatives, friends and neighbours. - -“They will miss our voices in the choir, dear William,” said Alice. - -“Yes,” he replied; “but, by the blessing of God, we will sing hymns in -the wilderness, and waken musical echoes among the silent hills.” - -“And we will sing ‘Home Sweet Home’ together,” said Alice, with a faint -smile. - -“We’ll all join in the tune,” said Katie; “and John, who is ‘up to all -sort o’ fixens’, as the Westerners say, will make some new variations, -on purpose for the occasion.” - -Then came the bustle of depôts, the whizzing of steam, and visions of -fields and hills racing away. As usual, the hearts that went recovered -serenity sooner than the hearts left behind. The new excitement of -travelling waked up hope, who shoved memory aside for awhile, and -produced from her portfolio a series of sketches, painted in colours -more prismatic than Rossiter’s. They talked of the genial climate, and -beautiful scenery of Kansas, and foretold that it would be the Italy of -the western world. - -“I hope it will be like Italy only in its externals,” said Kate. “I -trust there will be no lazaroni, no monks, no banditti, no despots to -imprison men for talking about the laws that govern them.” - -“Why do you _want_ to make a new Italy of it?” inquired Alice. “What -better destiny can you wish for it, than to be like our dear New -England?” - -“Nothing better _can_ be wished for it,” rejoined William. “Had I not -been deeply impressed with the conviction that the institutions, and -manners, and consequent welfare of states, depend greatly on the -character of first settlers, I should never have encouraged emigration -from the old Commonwealth by my own example.” - -“But the climate and scenery of Italy would be an improvement to -Massachusetts,” said John, “if we could have it without losing the -active soul and strong muscle of New England.” - -“That is it exactly, John,” rejoined Katie. “We will have it a young New -England; but it shall be under sunny skies, with Italian dress.” - -Several days passed before the emigrants began to be much aware of the -discomforts and fatigue of a long journey. The babies crowed, and seemed -to think the huge machine was invented expressly to furnish them with a -pleasanter motion than cradle or go-cart; while maturer minds found -amusement in observing the passengers that came and went, and pleasure -in the varying scenery, as they were whirled along, past the thriving -farms of New York, the tall forests of Canada, and the flower-dappled -prairies of Illinois. But after a while, even the strongest became aware -of aching bones, and the most active minds grew drowsy. The excessive -weariness of the last days no pen can adequately describe. The -continuous motion of the cars, without change of posture; the disturbed -night on board steamboats full of crying children; the slow floating -over Missouri waters, now wheeling round to avoid a snag, now motionless -for hours on a sand-bar, waiting for the drifting tide, while twilight -settles darkly down over uninhabited forests, stretching away in the dim -distance. The hurry and scramble of arriving at strange places, farther -and farther away from home, and always with a dreary feeling at their -hearts that no home awaited them. - -“If I could only make it seem as if we were going anywhere, I don’t -think I should feel so tired,” said Alice, with a kind of weary -bewilderment in the expression of her sweet countenance. - -Worn out as Katie was, she summoned a cheerful smile, and replied, “Keep -up a brave heart, Alice, dear. Those who are going nowhere are pretty -sure to arrive.” - -After eight days’ travel, they arrived at Kansas City, in Missouri. -There they bade adieu to cars and steamboats, and entered the Indian -Territory, closely stowed away in great wagons, covered with sail-cloth, -and furnished with rough boards for seats. In some places the road swept -along in graceful curves, through miles of smooth open prairie, belted -with noble trees, and sprinkled with wild flowers, as copiously as -rain-drops from a summer shower. The charming novelty of the scene was -greeted with a child-like outburst of delight from all the weary party. -Even the quiet, home-loving Alice, clapped her hands, and exclaimed, -“How beautiful!” without adding with a sigh, “But it isn’t like dear New -England.” - -William smiled affectionately at her enthusiastic surprise, and said, -“Virtuous and industrious people can build up happy homes in such -solitudes as these, dear Alice.” - -Anon, they descended into deep ravines, which jolted the rough boards, -and knocked their heads together. Through these steep passes the wagons -were jerked by patient mules, till they were brought into streams whose -uncertain depths made the women and children scream; or into creeks -sparkling in the sunshine, whose shallow waters covered holes, easier to -pass by leaving the wagons, and jumping from stone to stone. Then -scrambling up another steep bank, they found marks of wheels to indicate -a road. They packed themselves into the huge wagons again, with their -baskets and babies, bread and cheese, and went tumbling along with -bonnets knocked into cocked-hats, and hats that had lost all appearance -of being wide-awake. Katie was conjecturing, now and then, how many -bowls and plates would arrive in Kansas unbroken; while Alice had a -foggy idea that they were going nowhere; but there was a rainbow across -the fog, because William was going there, too. - -Tired out in mind and body, they came at last to the river Wakarusa, -which they crossed slowly at the fording-place, and rode up a bank that -seemed steep enough to set the wagons on end. This brought them into -fields of grass, dotted here and there with small cabins. To New England -eyes it presented little resemblance to a village; but it was called a -town, and bore the honoured name of Franklin. A few miles to the left, -smoothly rounded hills rose on the horizon, terrace-like, one behind the -other. Between those beautiful hills and the thickly-wooded banks of -the river, was the infant town of Lawrence, the destined capital of -Free Kansas. - -Here the travellers rested to greet old friends, who had preceded them, -and to form plans for the future. They all agreed that a more beautiful -nestling place for a village had rarely been seen; and really, -considering it was little more than eight months old, it had quite a -grown-up look. There were several neat houses, and many cabins, the -appearance of which indicated industrious inmates, who would rapidly -increase their comforts, and enlarge their borders. The bright river -made a graceful curve, fringed with trees, which the skill of man could -not have arranged so tastefully as nature had done. Hills rose to the -horizon in gradually ascending series, their verdant slopes lighted up -with golden sunshine. One of grander proportions than the others, called -Blue Mound, was immediately singled out by Mr. Bradford as the site of a -future Free State University; and his equally active-minded wife -forthwith matured the plan, by proposing that William Bruce should be -its first president, and her baby become a professor of some ’ology or -other. - -“I am afraid we can’t wait long enough for _him_,” replied her husband, -smiling. “We shall have to choose _you_ for a professor, Kate; I, for -one, will give you my vote.” - -The rough hands of the settlers, and their coarse garments, soiled with -prairie mud, were offensive to Kate’s ideas of neatness, and still more -so to the delicate tastes of Alice. But on Sundays, when they were -dressed, in their best, and met together to read and sing, they looked -like quite different people. As they became more acquainted, it was an -agreeable surprise to find so large a proportion of them intelligent and -well educated. With a pervading character of sobriety, industry and -enterprise, they seemed to require nothing but time, and a small -allowance of that, to build up thriving towns and form a prosperous -state. Certainly, the manner of living was rude, for many of them ate -their dinner from boards laid across the tops of barrels. The labour -also was hard, for there was much to do, and few to do it; and, as yet, -wells were not dug, or machinery introduced. But where all worked, no -one felt his dignity lessened by toil. They had the most essential -element of a prosperous state; the respectability of labour. The next -most important element they also had; for they placed a high value on -education, and were willing to sacrifice much to secure it for their -children. The absence of conventional forms, and the constant exercise -of ingenuity, demanded by the inconveniences and emergencies of a -settler’s life, have a wonderful effect in producing buoyancy and energy -of character. The tendency to hope for every thing, and the will to do -every thing desirable to be done, were so contagious, that Alice was -surprised to discover the amount of her hitherto undeveloped -capabilities. - -There was a cabin for sale, built by one of the earliest settlers, who -had died of fever. Its picturesque situation, on a rising ground -overlooking the river, was attractive to Mr. Bradford and his wife, and -it became their home. It consisted of one long room with a loft above, -from which it was separated by a floor of loosely-laid boards. The long -room was converted into two, by a cotton curtain running on iron rings; -and the loft was divided into two apartments in the same manner. When -these arrangements were completed, it afforded a temporary shelter for -the two families of Katie and Alice, including eight persons. In the -absence of closets, it was necessary to hang all sorts of articles from -the boards above. A dried salt fish was near neighbour to a very pretty -work-basket, and a bag of potatoes was suspended between a new quilt and -a handsome carpet-bag. - -“I hope we shall soon be able to stow the salt fish and potatoes away -somewhere,” said Alice. - -“Oh, never mind!” replied Katie, laughing. “If Hans Christian Andersen -would only come this way, he would make a fine story about the salt fish -falling in love with the pretty basket, and becoming thinner every day, -because his genteel neighbour preferred the carpet-bag, and took no -pains to conceal her disgust of his vulgar appearance and disagreeable -breath. _She_ listen to the vows of a salt fish? Not she! Did’nt he -know that her handsome relative, the carpet-bag, from Brussels, had done -as good as make proposals to her? Then the poor fish would be stimulated -to hunt up a pedigree. He might claim to have descended from Jonah’s -whale. He, on his part, might feel his dignity offended by the -neighbourhood of dirty potatoes. And the potatoes, like sturdy -republicans, might tell him they did not care a darn for his pedigree. -They should like to know whether he could _grow_; if he could’nt, he was -an old fogy, and the less he said the better; for he was among folks -that believed in growing, and did’nt believe in any thing else.” Alice -laughed at her conceits, and said it was a blessing to have such a -lively companion in a lonesome place. - -As soon as the first hurry was over, the men of the family converted -packing-boxes into shelves for books and utensils, and made divers -grotesque-looking stools, with cotton cloth and unpeeled boughs of wood, -after the fashion of portable garden-chairs. There was talk of a table -to be hewn from a black walnut tree; but as yet the tree was growing, -and boards on barrel-tops must answer meanwhile. The salt-cellars were -broken when the wagons were pitching down some of the ravines; but the -shell of a turtle, which Kate’s brother Thomas had brought among his -traps, made a tolerable substitute. The women missed the smooth, white -table-cloths, and the orderly arrangement of dishes, to which they had -been accustomed; but they agreed with the men, that no food had ever -tasted so good as the corn-cakes, venison, and wild game cooked in that -humble cabin, where they mutually served each other in love. Then the -unpacking of the deep trunks and boxes, bringing to light memorials of -old places and dear friends, was a pleasure which only the far-off -emigrant from home may realize. Some mutual secrets had been kept, which -made little sunny ripples of surprise in their quiet stream of life. -Alice’s father and mother had packed their photograph likenesses in -Katie’s trunk, with a charge that they should not be opened till they -were settled in their new home. Katie had pressed mosses and ferns from -the old well near Uncle May’s garden-gate. They were twined with pendant -blossoms from the old elm, and woven into a garland round the words, -“From the well, whose waters Katie and Allie drank in childhood, and -from the old elm-tree from whose boughs they used to swing.” She had -framed it neatly with cones, gathered in a pine grove, where they had -walked together many an hour. These souvenirs of the dear old home so -stirred the deep fountains of feeling in her cousin’s soul, that she -burst into tears. But Katie soon made her laugh, by exhibiting a -crockery bear, which little Georgy had packed among the things, to -remind them of the living bear he expected to receive from Kansas. - -Alice said she had a little secret too. She retreated to her division -of the room, and brought forth a pencil-drawing of the house where Katie -was born, and where her mother had always lived; and across the green -lane was Uncle May’s house, with the old well shaded by the elm. She had -a talent for drawing, and the dear familiar scene was brought faithfully -before the eye, though a little idealized by the softness of the -shading. - -“Dear me!” exclaimed the vivacious Katie. “How can I put it where I can -see it often, yet contrive to keep it free from smoke and dust?” She -gave a forlorn kind of glance at the unplastered walls, through chinks -of which glimpses of the sky were visible. The fact was, neither they -nor their friends had been aware of the rough conditions of a settler’s -life; and the cousins had brought with them many pretty little -keepsakes, which they could find no places for. But it was a rule with -them to utter no complaints, to add to the weight of cares already -resting on their noble husbands. So the forlorn look quickly gave place -to a smile, as Kate kissed her cousin, and said, “I’ll tell you what I -will do, Allie dear. I will keep it in my heart.” - -“It is a large place, and blesses all it keeps. That I can bear witness -to,” said John. * * * * - -There was need that the women of Kansas should overlook their own -inconveniences, and be silent about their own sufferings; for a -thunder-cloud was gathering over the heads of the emigrants, and every -week it grew blacker and blacker. It needed less quickness of -observation than Katie possessed, to perceive, almost immediately after -their arrival, that they were surrounded by dangerous enemies. - -Her husband, knowing the reliable strength of her character, did not -hesitate to confide to her his anxieties and fears for Kansas. But, as -far as possible, they kept danger out of sight in their conversations -with Alice. They had seen proof enough that she was strong in -self-sacrifice, with abundant fortitude to endure for those she loved; -but they knew that the life-blood of her soul was in her affections, and -that perils in her husband’s path would undermine the strength she -needed for her own. Her busy hands were almost entirely employed with -in-door occupations; sewing and mending for the whole family, keeping -the rooms tidy, and assisting about the daily cooking. If it was -necessary to purchase a pail, or pan, or any other household -convenience, it was Katie who sallied forth into Massachusetts street to -examine such articles as were for sale at the little shanty shops. If -water was wanted, when the men were absent, she put on her deep -cape-bonnet, and took the pail to the nearest spring, nearly a quarter -of a mile distant; for there was so much work pressing to be done in -Lawrence, that as yet there had been no time found to construct wells; -and the water of the river became shallow and turbid under the summer -sun. These excursions were at first amusing from their novelty, and she -came home with a lively account of odd-looking Missouri cattle-drovers, -and Indian squaws, with bags full of papooses strapped to their -shoulders. But gradually the tone of merriment subsided; and when she -had occasion to go into the street, she usually returned silent and -thoughtful. Fierce-looking Missourians, from the neighbouring border, -scowled at her as she passed, and took pleasure in making their horses -rear and plunge across her path. In the little shops she often found -more or less of these ruffians, half-tipsy, with hair unkempt, and -beards like cotton-cards, squirting tobacco-juice in every direction, -and interlarding their conversation with oaths and curses. Every one -that entered was hailed with the interrogatory, “Stranger, whar ar yer -from?” If their answer indicated any place north of the Ohio, and east -of the Mississippi, the response was, “Damn yer, holler-hearted Yankees! -What business have you in these diggens? You’d better clar out, I tell -yer.” - -On one of these occasions, a dirty drunken fellow said to Kate, “They -tell me you are an all-fired smart woman. Are you pro-slave? or do you -go in for the abolitionists?” - -Concealing the disgust she felt, she quietly replied, “I wish to see -Kansas a Free State, because I have her prosperity at heart.” - -“Damn yer imperdence!” exclaimed the brute. “I should like to see you -chained up with one of our niggers. I’ll be cussed if I would’nt help to -do it.” And he finished by stooping down and squirting a quantity of -tobacco-juice into her face. - -There was another Missourian in the shop, a tall burly looking cattle -drover, with a long whip in his hand. He seized the other roughly by the -arm, saying, “I tell you what, my boy, that’s puttin it on a little -_too_ thick. I’m pro-slave. If you’re for a far fight with the Yankees, -Tom Thorpe’s the man for yer work. But I’m down on all sich fixens. Let -the woman alone!” - -The rowdy drew his bowie-knife, with a volley of oaths, and Katie darted -from the shop, leaving her purchases uncompleted. When she returned, she -found her mother busy about dinner, and Alice sitting at the window, -making a coarse frock. She raised her head and smiled, when her cousin -entered, but immediately looked out toward Mount Oread. When she first -saw that verdant slope, she had fallen in love with its beauty; then she -had been attracted by the classic name, conferred on it by a scholar -among the emigrants. There was something romantic in thus transporting -the Mountain Spirits of ancient Greece into the loveliest portions of -this new Western World. William often quoted Leigh Hunt’s verses, about - - “The Oreads, that frequent the lifted mountains; - * * * * * * * and o’er deep ravines - Sit listening to the talking streams below.” - -Then Governor Robinson’s house, on the brow of the hill, was a pleasant -object in the scenery; for he was a courteous and cultivated man, with a -good library, always at their disposal. There was so much quiet gentle -strength about him, that his presence seemed to ensure protection. The -last and strongest reason why Alice loved Mount Oread was that William -had taken land a little beyond it, and there was to be their future -home, snug as a bird’s nest, in a “sunny nook of greenery.” He was -building a cabin there, and every day she saw him descending toward -Lawrence, with the axe on his shoulder; and as he came nearer, she could -hear him whistling, “Home, sweet home.” She was watching for him now, -and hoping he would return in season for dinner. Therefore she had not -noticed the flurried manner with which Kate hastened to wash her face, -and wipe the tobacco stains from her bonnet. While she was thus -employed, the old lady said to her youngest daughter, “Flora, go and -call John and Thomas from the field. Dinner is nearly ready.” - -“No, mother! No!” exclaimed Katie. “Never send _her_ out! _Never!_” -Perceiving that her quick emphatic manner had arrested the attention of -all the inmates of her dwelling, she added in a lower tone, “I will go, -myself.” - -But her words had aroused a train of thoughts, which was becoming more -and more familiar to Alice. The men in the vicinity often came to ask -council of Mr. Bradford and Mr. Bruce; and of course their talk was -mainly concerning the neighbouring state of Missouri. She heard them -tell how ruffians and rowdies came over the border with bowie-knives and -pistols to drive the free citizens of Kansas away from the polls; to -deprive them of liberty to make their own laws, and compel them to be -governed by the code of Missouri, which in many ways violated their -moral sense. She heard them say that spies from Missouri were in every -neighbourhood, watching those emigrants who dared to say any thing in -favour of having the soil of Kansas free. Why was Katie so flushed and -flurried? Was the danger approaching nearer than she was aware of? She -turned anxiously toward Mount Oread, and longed for a sight of William. -What if he should not return till after night-fall? He, whose honest -mouth would never utter a word that was false to freedom, whatever might -be his personal risk? Unable to keep back the crowding tears, she -slipped behind the cotton curtain that screened their sleeping -apartment, and kneeling beside their rude couch, she prayed earnestly to -God to protect her husband. - -William had not arrived when they sat down to dine, and his wife made -various pretences for rising to remove a plate, or bring a cup of water; -but in reality to look out upon Mount Oread. At last, she heard his -voice, and rushed out to meet him, with an outburst of emotion that -surprised them all. John shook his head mournfully, and sighed as he -said, “Poor Alice! How she idolizes him!” - -Katie had the discretion not to mention her rencontre with the Border -Ruffian to any but her husband, who grew red in the face and clenched -his fist, while he listened, but immediately subsided into a calmer -mood, and said, “We must be careful never to lose sight of the best -interests of Kansas, in our resentment at the wrongs and insults we are -continually receiving. We will give these lawless rascals no excuse for -molesting us, and wait with patience for the American government to -protect its unoffending citizens.” - -On the afternoon of the same day, a gawky lad, with a “long nine” in his -mouth, and hands in his trowsers pockets, came to the door, saying, “The -ole woman’s tuk wi’ fits almighty strong; and the ole man wants you to -cum, and bring along some o’ yer doctor’s stuff. He’s heern tell that -yer death on fits.” - -Mrs. Bradford had become so accustomed to the South-Western lingo, that -she understood “the ole man” to be the lad’s father. She knew very well -that he was a Missouri spy, of the lowest order, an accomplice in many -villainous proceedings against the free-soil citizens of Kansas. She -felt a loathing of the whole family, not unmingled with resentment; but -she rose quickly to prepare the medicines; thinking to herself, “What -hypocrisy it is for me to profess to be a believer in Christianity, if -I cannot cheerfully return good for evil, in such a case as this.” She -administered relief to the sufferer, as tenderly as if she had been her -own sister; and the poor woman expressed gratitude for it, in her -uncouth way. When Kate remarked that they would feel more kindly toward -the Yankees, if they knew them better, she replied, “I allers tole my -ole man I wished they wouldn’t keep up such a muss. But Lor’, what the -use o’ speakin’. It’s jist like spittin’ agin the wind.” - -That night, Mr. Bradford’s horse and saddle were stolen. They never knew -by whom; but they were afterward seen in Missouri. - -In the midst of discouragements and dangers, the brave band of settlers -went on with their work. Better stores were erected, and, one after -another, the temporary cabins gave place to comfortable stone houses. - -An Emigrant Aid Society had been formed in the North, whose object it -was to assist in the erection of mills, school-houses, and other -buildings, for the public benefit. Their motive was partly financial, -inasmuch as all such improvements rapidly increased the value of -property in Kansas; and they were well aware that the outward -prosperity, as well as the moral strength of a state depended greatly -upon encouraging emigrants to go from communities where they had been -accustomed to free institutions, educational privileges, orderly habits, -and salutary laws. Their motives in extending a helping hand to these -infant colonies, were both morally good and worldly wise. There was no -partiality in their management of affairs. Emigrants from the Southern -states shared their benefits equally with those from the North. Settlers -were pouring in from all sections of the country; but chiefly from the -North and West, because the hardy inhabitants of those states are always -ready for enterprise and toil. Many of them had large families of -children, and the small half-furnished tavern, called the Cincinnati -House, was quite insufficient to afford them shelter while cabins were -prepared for them. In the course of their first summer, John Bradford -and his band of pilgrims had the satisfaction of seeing a noble stone -hotel, of three stories, rise in Massachusetts street, making the place -beautiful with its glazed windows, and doors of polished black walnut. - -Unfortunately, the only route to Kansas, by rail-road or steamboat, -passed through Missouri. Baggage-wagons were continually plundered, and -letters broken open and destroyed, by the Border Ruffians. Supplies of -provisions, purchased by the settlers, or sent to them by their friends, -went to enrich their enemies. Money enclosed in letters met with the -same fate. Still the settlers of Kansas pursued a pacific course toward -their persecutors. They came from communities where laws were reliable -for protection, and, following their old habits, they appealed to the -laws; desirous, at all hazards, not to involve the country in civil -war. This conscientious patriotism was not appreciated. The banditti on -the borders laughed it to scorn; while the slaveholding gentlemen and -statesmen, who used them as puppets, to do the disgraceful work they -were ashamed to do openly themselves, smiled at the Yankees’ reverence -for the Union, and successfully played their old game of practicing on -conscientious love of country, in order to tighten the serpent coil of -slavery more securely about the neck of freedom. Missourians had voted -their own creatures into most of the offices of Kansas. Some of them -pitched a tent in that Territory for a while, while others did not even -assume the appearance of residing there. From _such_ officers of justice -the citizens of Kansas could find no redress for the robberies and -wrongs continually inflicted on them, by the band of ruffians -commissioned to drive them out of the Territory, by any means that would -do it most effectually. Our wrongs from the British government were -slight, compared with theirs. Still these Western Colonies refrained -from revolution. They sent agents to Washington, with well-attested -evidence of their outrageous wrongs. They received fair words, and no -relief. Every day it became more evident that the President of the -United States was in league with the power that was crushing free -Kansas. The Missourians, emboldened by their knowledge of this fact, -played their bad game more and more openly. They paid men a dollar a -day, with plenty of whiskey, and free passage across the ferries, to go -into Kansas and vote down the rights of the citizens. More and more, the -conviction grew upon the people of Kansas that they could not trust the -government of the United States, and consequently had only their own -energies to rely upon. They published a paper called the Herald of -Freedom, in which they maintained the right of all American citizens to -choose their own magistrates, and make their own laws. They rejected the -legislators imposed upon them by the rabble of Missouri, at the point of -the bayonet. They declared that a large majority of the settlers were -desirous to have Kansas a Free State, and that they would maintain their -right to be heard. To this paper, John Bradford and William Bruce were -constant contributors, and Kate’s brother, Thomas, was diligent in -setting the types. Of course, the family became odious to those who were -bent on driving freedom out of Kansas. - -A Convention of the free-soil citizens of the Territory was called at -Topeka. There were representatives from nearly all sections of the -Union. Emigrants from Carolina, Virginia, and Missouri, agreed with -emigrants from Ohio and Massachusetts, that the introduction of slavery -would prove disastrous to the prosperity of the state. They framed a -Constitution for Kansas, and chose legislators. Some required that free -coloured people should be excluded from the Territory, as well as -slaves. Others deemed that such a regulation would be an infringement -upon freedom, and urged that no man could calculate the future bad -consequences of introducing one wrong principle into the basis of their -government. No one urged this point more strenuously, than did William -Bruce, in his mild firm way. But Southern emigrants were opposed to that -view of the case, and the Convention, desirous to concede as far as -possible, yet unwilling to introduce such a clause into their -Constitution, concluded to leave that question to the votes of the -people. - -It was a trying time for the women in Lawrence. The wisest and bravest -men were absent in Topeka, which was twenty-five miles further up the -river. The Convention excited great wrath in Missouri. They called -_themselves_ lovers of “law and order,” and denounced those as -“traitors” who dared to make other laws than those imposed upon them -with bowie-knives and revolvers. The wildest stories were circulated. -The most moderate of them was a rumour that Mr. Bruce insisted upon -having “niggers” become members of the legislature. This they regarded -as the greatest monstrosity a republican _could_ be guilty of; for they -were blind to the fact that hundreds of coloured slaves could be found, -who were more fit for the office, than the white ones they had appointed -to rule over Kansas. Insults multiplied, and curses and threats grew -louder. Every family in Lawrence went to bed each night with the -feeling that they might be murdered before morning. - -When the delegates returned, John Bradford thought his wife seemed at -least ten years older, than when she came to Kansas, the preceding -spring. The baby, who could now toddle alone, had caught the trick of -fear, and hid himself, when his father knocked at the fastened door. - -William was alarmed to find Alice so thin and pale, and to see her -gentle eyes look so large and frightened. He folded her closely in his -arms, and as she wept upon his bosom, he said, “O my wife! My loving and -generous wife! How I reproach myself for accepting the sacrifice you -offered! Yet had I foreseen this state of things, I never would have -consented that you should follow me into Kansas.” - -“Don’t say that!” she exclaimed nervously. “It will be easier to die -with you, than it would have been to live without you. But oh, William, -why _need_ they persecute us so? There are thousands of acres of land -uncultivated in Missouri. What makes them covet _our_ land?” - -“Ah, dearest, it is a complicated question, and you don’t understand it. -They care little for the land, except as a means of increasing their -political power. They want more Slave States, to be represented by -slaveholders in the councils of the Union; and they do _not_ want that -any more Free States should come into the Union, to balance their -influence. Therefore they are not content with stretching their -dominions to the Gulf of Mexico, and seizing Texas. They wish to grasp -the Northern Territories also, that they may be secure of keeping the -Free States in political subjection. It is a long story, my love. For -many years, they have been artfully availing themselves of every means -to increase their power. The antagonistic principles of slavery and -freedom have come to a death-grapple here in Kansas; and you, my -delicate little flower, are here to be trampled, in the struggle.” - -Alice sighed, and wished she was more like Kate; for then she would not -be such a weight upon his spirits. But he declared that he would not for -the world have her in any way different from her own dear self. Then -they fell to talking about their future home, which was now in -readiness. Two of William’s brothers had arrived with their families. An -addition to the cabin had been built for one of them, and the other -would live within call. Katie was loth to part from her cousin; but she -said they would be far more comfortable in their new quarters, and as -for safety, there was safety nowhere; least of all, in Lawrence. - -Gradually they fell into a more cheerful strain of conversation. The -husbands spoke hopefully, and really felt so; for they had strong faith -that their beautiful Kansas would become a free and prosperous state. - -Various boxes from Massachusetts, directed to William Bruce, had arrived -in Kansas City. Some of them contained comfortables and blankets for the -winter, which Mrs. May had prepared for her darling daughter; her “stray -lamb in the wilderness,” as she was wont to call her. Could all that -mother’s thoughts and feelings have been daguerreotyped on the cloth, -while those stitches were taken, it would have been an epic poem of -wondrous pathos. What visions of Alice sleeping in her cradle; of her -wakening smile; of her soft curls waving in the summer breeze, as she -came running with a flower; of her girlish bloom, delicate as the -sweet-pea blossom; of her clear melodious voice in the choir at church; -of the bashful blushing ways, that betrayed her dawning love for -William; of the struggle in her soul, when she must choose between him -and her parents; of her parting look, when she turned from the home of -her childhood, to follow her husband into the wilderness. In Alice’s -soul those stitches, by the old, fond, faithful hand, would also waken a -poem of reminiscences. How she longed for those boxes, to see what -mother had sent her! Above all, for the letters from dear New England; -especially the long letter from mother! - -It was agreed that William’s brothers should go with a wagon to bring -them. They reached Kansas city in safety, and the boxes were delivered -to them. Passing through Franklin, on their return, they found fifty or -sixty Missouri ruffians carousing round a rum-shop, built of logs. A man -with ragged trowsers and dirty checked shirt, too tipsy to stand alone, -was leaning against a corner of the shop, scraping a fiddle, while his -comrades sung: - - “We’ve camped in the wilderness, - For a few days, for a few days; - And then we’re going home, - We’ve a right up yonder. - We’ll vote, and shoot the Yankees, - For a few days, for a few days; - And then we’re going home, - We’ve a right up yonder.” - -As soon as this drunken crew espied the baggage-wagon, wending its way -toward Kansas, they set up a frightful yell, and, making a rush at the -horses, called out, “Hallo, stranger! whar are you going? and what are -you toting?” - -“To Lawrence, with a load of household goods,” they replied. - -“That’s a damned nest of Yankee abolitionists!” cried one. - -“We’re gwine to wipe it out,” shouted another. - -“The goods must be overhauled, boys!” bawled a third. - -It was vain to remonstrate, and useless to fight against such desperate -odds. They unloaded the wagons, tore open the boxes, and pulled out the -home treasures, which would have been so precious to Alice. The young -men pleaded hard for the letters; but the mob said they must carry them -to the Governor, to see if there was treason in them. - -“The Governor shall be informed of this, and if there’s justice to be -obtained in the land, we’ll have it,” said the brothers. - -“Shut up, you damned rascals!” shouted the rabble. “ Git into yer waggin -and be off, or we’ll stop yer jawing!” - -Poor Alice! The blessed words, warm from her mother’s heart, that would -have poured such balm into her own, would be used to light the pipes of -Missouri ruffians. The quilts, so neatly made by those dear old hands, -would be spread on muddy floors for drunken revels. It was hard to bear; -but she knew this was only one of a thousand wrongs, and she said, “I -will never murmur while my dear good William is spared to me.” - -From the time of her betrothal, her loving heart had dreamed of a neat -little wedded home, cozy and comfortable, with a few simple adornments -of pictures and vases. The loosely-built cabins of Kansas, with their -rough “cotton-board” floors, brown with prairie mud, had driven away the -illusion; but still it hovered there over Mount Oread, and the Mountain -Spirits seemed to sing a prophetic song of love and peace in a sunny -future. She found the new home provided with more conveniences than the -one she had left; for William, in the midst of all his cares, never -forgot her, and snatched an hour, whenever he could, to work for her -comfort. - -It was the morning of a sunny day when they entered their new abode, and -all things looked neat and cheerful. William, who was reverential by -temperament, viewed all the common duties and affairs of life in a -religious light. They stood for a moment, hand in hand, gazing at the -humble little cabin, with moistened eyes. Then he removed his hat, and -looking earnestly to heaven, he threw water on the roof, saying, “I -baptize thee the Freeman’s Home. May the blessing of God descend upon -thee!” There was a saddened pleasure in thus consecrating their -encampment in the wilderness. - -In Lawrence, darker, and darker yet, the storm was lowering. Autumn was -coming on with heavy dews, and cold winds from the mountains swept -across the open prairie, whistling through the loopholes of the fragile -cabins, as they went. The dampness and the chill brought with them that -dreadful demon of the settler’s life, fever and ague. The arms of strong -men were palsied by it, and the little children looked like blossoms -blighted by a sudden frost. The active, generous-hearted Katie found -time to run hither and thither with gruel and medicine, though her own -little one was shivering, as if his joints would fall asunder. Many a -murmured blessing followed her footsteps from cabin to cabin, and many a -grateful tear fell on her hand, from home-sick souls, sorrowful, even -unto death. In the midst of this calamity, rumours of invasion by the -Missourians increased daily. In John Bradford’s cabin all slept so -lightly, that the slightest unusual sound startled them to instant -wakefulness. The distant whoop of Indians on the prairie, and the -howling of hungry wolves disturbed them not. They were in dread of a -more infernal sound than these; the midnight yell of Border Ruffians. A -few weeks after the departure of Alice, they were waked from uneasy -slumbers by that frightful noise, at the very walls of their cabin. -Katie rose hastily, and laying her sick child on the floor, covered him -with a thick cotton comfortable; hoping that the rifle-balls, if they -whizzed through the cabin, would either fly over him, or lose their -force in the wadding. There was a random shot, but the ball stuck in the -boards at their bed’s head. The next moment the door was burst open by -twenty or thirty fierce-looking men, armed with bowie-knives and -revolvers. Never, out of the infernal pit, was heard such a volley of -blasphemy and obscenity, as poured from their foul mouths. The purport -of it all was that they had sworn to “wipe out Lawrence;” and that they -had come to shoot this “damned Yankee abolitionist,” who had had the -impudence to write in the paper that Kansas would yet be a Free State. -They attempted to seize Mr. Bradford, but his wife threw herself across -him, and said, “If you murder him, it shall be through my heart’s -blood.” They struck her with their fists, they tried to pull her away; -but she clung with a convulsive power that was too strong for them. Her -brother, Thomas, was out that night, watching with a neighbour who was -“down” with fever and ague; and it had been previously arranged that -young Flora and her mother should remain hidden in the loft, in case of -such an emergency. No screams ascended to their ears, for Katie had -outgrown a woman’s weakness. But the listening mother heard the scuffle -below, and, bidding Flora to hide in the darkest corner, she hastened -down the ladder, and threw her arms round John and Katie, saying, “You -shall kill _me_ first.” They cursed her, and spit at her, and, knocking -the night-cap from her head, made mockery of her gray hairs. The lurid -light of their torch fell on the scene, and all the while, the wailing -of the sick child was heard: “Mammy! Johnny’s _’faid_. Mammy! Johnny’s -_’faid_.” - -How the struggle might have ended, none can tell, had not a tall figure -suddenly burst into the room, exclaiming, “Boys! I’m down on all sich -fixens. Let the women alone! I’ll be darned if I don’t _like_ to see a -woman stick to her husband in trouble, if he _is_ a damned abolitionist. -Let her alone, I tell ye! Wait till the time comes for a far fight. It’s -all fired _mean_, boys! Sich a posse arter one man and two women.” -Seeing the human wolves reluctant to quit their prey, he brandished a -bowie-knife, and exclaimed, in a thundering voice, “I tell ye what, -boys, if ye don’t let them ar women alone, I’ll pitch into yer, as sure -as my name’s Tom Thorpe!” - -This remonstrance excited a feeling of shame in some of the gang, while -others were willing enough to avoid a quarrel with such a powerful -antagonist. - -The ruffians, thus adjured, swaggered away, saying, “We a’nt afeerd o’ -Tom Thorpe, or the devil.” They swore frightful oaths, smashed Kate’s -small stock of crockery, and seized whatever they could lay hands on, as -they went. And all the while, the sick babe was wailing, “Mammy! -Johnny’s _’faid_. Mammy! Johnny’s _’faid_.” - -Kate took the poor attenuated child in her arms. Those arms, so strong a -few moments ago, were trembling now; and tears were dropping from the -eyes that lately glared so sternly on her husband’s enemies. Tom Thorpe -lingered a moment, and was turning silently away, when she rose, with -the child resting on her shoulder, and took his hand in hers. “I thank -you, Mr. Thorpe,” she said. “This is the second time you have protected -me from insult and injury. I will never forget it. And if a helpless -Missourian should ever need my aid, though he be the worst of Border -Ruffians, I will remember Tom Thorpe, and help him for _his_ sake. I am -sorry you stand up for slavery; you seem to have a soul too noble for -that. I am sure if you lived in a Free State for a while, you would be -convinced that slavery has a bad effect on all concerned in it.” - -The mother here laid her hand on his arm, and said, “We are a persecuted -people, Mr. Thorpe; persecuted without provocation; and, I believe, -something in your own heart tells you so. God bless you for what you -have done to-night.” - -Mr. Bradford, who had been looking through the chinks in the wall, to -watch the course the ruffians had taken, now came up to add his thanks, -and ask him if he would take any refreshment. - -“Thankee, stranger,” said Tom. “I’ve no ’casion. I’ve been drovin cattle -roun in the Territory; and I knows that ar yell of theirn. So I thought -I’d jist cum and see what they was cuttin up. I’m down on all sich -fixens. Allers tole the boys so. Tom Thorpe’s fur a far fight, says I.” - -Mr. Bradford tried to convince him that the inhabitants of Kansas wished -to be peaceable, just, and kind in their dealings with the Missourians, -and with all men; and that there was no need of a “fair fight,” and no -excuse for ruffian violence. And Kate threw in an argument now and then, -to aid her husband. But Tom Thorpe had the idea firmly fixed inside his -shaggy head, that a “far fight” was somehow necessary for the honor of -Missouri, though he was unable to explain why. The mighty drover rolled -the quid in his mouth, passed a huge hand through his thick mass of -hair, and strode out into the darkness, repeating, “Tom Thorpe’s down -on all sich fixens.” As he walked along, he muttered to himself, “That -ar’s an almighty smart woman. What a fetchin up she must a had! No such -fetchin up in _our_ diggins. I’m pro-slave, myself. But them ar -free-soilers use a feller all up. I swar, I bleeve they’re more’n half -right. I’ll be darned if I don’t.” - -Meanwhile, the inmates of the cabin were canvassing his merits. As he -passed out of the door, Katie said, “There goes an honest kind heart, -under that rough exterior!” - -“A little foggy about right and wrong,” replied her husband; “but with -instincts like a powerful and generous animal.” - -“That’s owing to his ‘fetchin up,’ as _they_ say, rejoined Kate. “What a -man he _might_ have made, if he had been brought up under free -institutions!” - -“Bless your generous soul!” ejaculated John. “But tell me now truly, -Katie, don’t you begin to be sorry we ever came to Kansas?” - -She raised her eyes to his, and said calmly, “No, John; never. The more -I know of those Missouri ruffians, the more deeply do I feel that it is -worth the sacrifice of many lives to save this fair territory from the -blighting curse of slavery.” - -“True as steel! True as steel!” exclaimed John, giving her a hearty -kiss. “How manfully you stood by me!” - -“How womanfully, you mean,” she replied, smiling. - -“I assure you, Kate, it required more courage to refrain from seizing my -rifle, than it would have done to discharge its contents among those -rascals. Though we stand pledged to avoid bloodshed, I verily believe I -should have broken my pledge, if your voice had not pleaded all the -time, ‘Don’t, John! Don’t!’” - -“Oh if the government at Washington would only do its duty!” sighed -Kate. “How _can_ they trifle thus with the lives of innocent citizens?” - -“It’s worse than that,” rejoined her husband. “Their influence protects -the wolfish pack. Slavery always has need of blood-hounds to keep down -the love of freedom in the human soul; and these Border Ruffians are its -human blood-hounds.” - -“I wonder whether Frank Pierce has any small children,” said Katie. “If -he has, I wish he and his wife could have heard the feeble voice of this -little one, in the midst of those shocking oaths and curses, calling -out, ‘Mammy! Johnny’s _’faid_.’ God of mercy! Shall I ever _forget_ that -sound!” She drew the sleeping child to her heart, with a gentle -pressure, and the tears of father and mother fell fast upon him. The -grandmother sat apart with her head leaning on the table, and wept also. - - * * * * * - -For two or three weeks after this transaction, there was a lull in the -tempest. Missourian wagoners came into Lawrence often, with loads of -apples, potatoes, and flour. They met with honest and kindly treatment. -No one sought to take reprisals for the many loads of provisions -plundered from Kansas. The bravely patient people still waited for -redress by law. Soon there came news of a peaceable, industrious settler -in the neighbourhood of Lawrence, who had been shot dead by a scouting -party of Missourians, in mere sport, while he was pursuing his -avocations. A few days after, a gang of armed ruffians entered the house -of a citizen in Lawrence and carried him off, under the pretence of -arresting him for treason. On their way, they were met by a company of -young men from Lawrence, who had been out to inquire about the recent -murder. They hailed the Missourians, and as they could show no legal -authority for what they had done, they took their neighbour into their -own ranks, to guard him home. They offered no violence, but, in answer -to the threats of their enemies, replied, with a firmness not to be -trifled with, “We are all armed; and we shall take this man home.” - -Though their own horses and cattle had been seized and driven off into -Missouri, drove after drove, they inquired of their neighbour whether -the horse he rode belonged to those who had arrested him; and when he -answered in the affirmative, they asked him to dismount and return the -animal to his owners. Truly the forbearance of that persecuted people -was wonderful! The United States’ government, where was vested the only -power that could legally protect them, continued to receive their -remonstrances and appeals with fair promises and adroit evasions; while -its alliance with the slaveholding interest, in all its machinations, -was too thinly veiled to be for a moment doubted. In pursuance of this -policy, the President appointed Governor Shannon to rule over the -Territory; a man in league with the Missourians, and bent upon carrying -out their plans, as openly as it was prudent to do. Somehow or other, no -outrages upon Kansas could find redress at his hands. The settlers were -told to obey the laws, and be good children to their father, President -Pierce, and they should be protected. “The laws!” exclaimed they. “Why -these are Missouri laws, forced upon us at the point of the bayonet.” -They were answered, “The President commands you to obey the laws, and if -you rebel against _his_ authority, you will be declared guilty of -treason!” Meanwhile, many a smooth-tongued plotter tried to gain -concessions from the friends of freedom; talking of the value of the -Union, the danger of civil war, and the policy of bending before the -storm; a favourite piece of advice in the mouths of those politicians, -who set the storm in motion, and are guiding it in the hollow of their -hands! - -Was ever a people so hard bested? Disheartened by sickness; plundered of -provisions; lying down every night with the prospect of murder before -morning; mocked at by the government of their country; their -conscientious scruples appealed to, to keep the peace where there _was_ -no peace; lured into concessions, by fair promises and false -professions; threatened with a traitor’s doom, if they dared to defend -their homes! And all this while, the Free States were looking on with -drowsy indifference. The whig said, with bland self-importance, “They’d -better obey the powers that be. I am a friend to law and order.” The -democrat refused to read well-authenticated testimony on the subject, -and repeated, with blind obstinacy, “I don’t believe half the stories; -and if _any_ of them are true, I dare say the free-soilers are full as -much to blame as the Missourians.” - -Verily, they need the trumpet of doom to waken them. And the trumpet of -doom they will _have_, when wakening comes too late, if their slumber -lasts much longer. - -That little city of cabins, nestling among the lonely hills, has called -and called in vain for redress and protection. The murders and robberies -still go on. The Border Ruffians are assembling their forces at Franklin -below, and at Douglass above. In their drunken frankness, they say they -will shoot the men, violate the women, kill the children, and burn the -houses; that their commission is to drive all the Yankee settlers out of -the territory, by _any_ means, and _all_ means; and that no man will -dare to prosecute them, whatever they may do. The settlers all feel -that the hour for self-defence has come. Stacks of Sharpe’s rifles stand -in the cabins ready loaded. Forts are erected, and breast-works thrown -up. Companies of men work at them by turns, all day and all night, by -the light of blazing wood. Volunteers come in from the neighbouring -settlements. The Wyandott tribe of Indians offer their aid in case of -need; for they have been justly treated by the Kansas people, and are -unwilling to have them “wiped out.” Sentinels guard the doors of the -Free State Hotel. All night, mounted patrols ride round the settlement. -The drummer watches at his post, ready to beat the alarm; for they have -learned that their cowardly, treacherous foes, assassin-like, prefer the -midnight hour. Ever and anon, random shots come from ruffians concealed -in dark corners. Women look anxiously at the doors, expecting to see the -bleeding bodies of husbands, sons, or brothers, brought in. Governor -Robinson, now General of the forces, still pursues his course of -moderation, and orders the men not to fire till the very last extremity. - -There was a small store of powder and percussion-caps in the vicinity, -and various plans were devised to bring it in safely, through the -scouting-parties of Missourians. “I will do it,” said Mrs. Bradford. -“They will never suspect that women carry such luggage.” Another woman -in the neighbourhood promptly offered to accompany her, and they -started in a wagon for that purpose. They were accosted by Missouri -scouts, but as their place of destination seemed to imply nothing more -than visiting a friend, they deemed it gallant to let the ladies pass -unmolested. The kegs of powder were covered by their ample skirts, and -brought safely into Lawrence. The young men on guard threw up their -caps, and cried, “Hurra! Worthy of the women of ’76!” - -Alice also was brave in her way. She resigned herself patiently to the -long and frequent absence of her beloved husband, and no out-of-door -work seemed too hard for her to perform. All through the autumn, she and -the other women of the household had helped to gather the crops, tend -the cows, and feed the horses. When it came William’s turn to patrol -Lawrence, or to work at the trenches through the night, she never asked -him to stay with her. She only gave him a tenderer kiss, a more -lingering pressure of the hand, which seemed to say, “This may be our -last farewell.” - -Upon one of these occasions, he had been absent several days, and she -sat at her sewing, longing, longing to hear the sound of his voice. The -tramp of a horse was heard. She sprung up, and looked from the little -window. William was not there, kissing his hand to her, as he was wont -to do. She ran out of the door, and meeting one of his brothers, said, -in a disappointed tone, “I thought William had come. He sent word he -would come to-day.” He answered that it was merely one of the horses -that had got loose. But as she went into the house, he looked at his -wife, and said, “Poor Alice! God grant that it may not be as we fear.” - -Alas, it was William’s horse, that had rushed by so fleetly, without a -rider, and with the saddle turned. Too soon they learned that he had -been shot in the back by a party of ruffians, after he had told them he -was unarmed and going home to see his family. He supposed that even -Border Ruffians would not be so cowardly as to take his life under such -circumstances. - -The day passed without any one’s being able to muster sufficient courage -to tell the mournful tidings to his widow. She had long expected it, and -she met it with a dreadful calmness. She uttered no scream, and shed no -tear. She became pallid as marble, and pressed her hand hard upon her -heart. She was stupefied and stunned by that overwhelming agony. - -Of all the outrages none had produced so much excitement as this. It was -so dastardly to shoot an unarmed man in the back, without provocation! -Then Mr. Bruce was universally beloved. His justice and moderation were -known unto all men. The Indians knew how to respect those qualities, -which they so rarely meet in white men. The Chiefs of the Delawares and -the Shawnees came to offer their aid; and General Robinson received -them with that personal respect, which so peculiarly commends itself to -Indian dignity. As the news spread through the Territory, small bands of -volunteers came in from all directions. There were five hundred armed -men in Lawrence. Every cabin was a barrack. The Free State Hotel was -crowded with men earnestly discussing what measures should be taken for -the public safety. General Robinson, pale and anxious, moved among them, -renewing his advice to be patient and forbearing. Up to this period, the -citizens of Kansas had made no aggressions on their merciless foes, and -had used no violence in self-defence. But it was not easy to restrain -them now. Human nature had been goaded beyond endurance, and men were in -the mood to do, or die. When he told them Governor Shannon was coming to -inquire into the state of things, some shook their heads despondingly, -while the more fiery spirits cursed Governor Shannon, and contemptuously -asked what good could be expected from _him_. Out on the prairie, troops -were being drilled to the tunes of ’76. The Wyandotts’ were riding in, -single-file, sitting their noble steeds like centaurs. The mettlesome -Colonel Lane was in his element. He descanted, with untiring volubility, -on the rights of American citizens, and the cruel circumstances -attending the death of Bruce. Men clenched their rifles and drew their -breath hard, while they listened. There is no mistaking the symptoms. -The old spirit of Lexington and Concord is here! They had better not -trifle with the Puritan blood much longer! - -Anon, they brought in the body of the murdered man. His countenance was -placid, as the sleep of childhood. The widow asked to see him, and -tenderly they brought her to that couch of death. Oh, what a shriek was -there! Father of mercies! it went up to thy throne. Wilt thou not answer -it? In view of that suffocating agony, the soldiers bowed their heads -and wept. - -When Governor Shannon, with his escort, came riding across the prairie, -there was none to invoke a blessing on him. General Robinson went out to -receive him, and some one suggested that the chief magistrate appointed -by the President ought to be received with cheers. The door of the room -where the murdered body lay was open, and men saw it, as they passed in -and out. The sobs of the broken hearted widow were heard from the room -adjoining. His reception was very much like that of Richard Third, who -caused the murder of his brother’s children. John Bradford went through -a formal introduction to Governor Shannon, but Katie turned quickly -away, saying, “If _he_ had done his duty, this would not have happened.” -The brothers of William Bruce turned away also, and said coldly, “We -have no faith in that man.” The Governor saw plainly enough that the -blood of Kansas was up to fever heat, and that it was prudent to cool it -down. He was very courteous and conciliatory, and promised to disperse -the bands of ruffians at Franklin and elsewhere. General Robinson -co-operated with him in these efforts at pacification. He addressed the -people in a speech setting forth mutual mistakes and misrepresentations, -which he trusted time would correct. He had always shown himself brave -in danger, and they knew that he was cautious for the good of Kansas, -not for his own interest or safety. Most of them yielded to his -arguments, and accepted his invitation to a supper at the Free State -Hotel, in honor of peace restored. But some walked away, contemptuously, -saying, “Governor _Sham_!” - -The settlers, far and near, formed a procession to escort the body of -William Bruce to its last resting place. Alice kept up her strength to -witness all the ceremonies, and only low stifled sobs came from her -breaking heart when the coffin was lowered from her sight. But after -that she broke down rapidly. The long-continued pressure of fears and -horrors had completely shattered her nervous system. She rejected food, -and seemed never to sleep. As she appeared to feel more at home with -Katie, than she did with any one else, they concluded to establish her -in the humble apartment where she had first lived with William. Pale and -silent she had been ever since she lost him; but gradually a strange -fixed expression came over her face, as if the body was vacated by the -soul. Soon she was utterly helpless, and Katie fed and tended her, as -if she were an infant. The winter proved, as the Indians had predicted, -cold beyond any within the memory of man. The settlers, many of them -plundered of all their money, and most of their clothing, suffered -cruelly. Not a few of them returned to their homes in Ohio, -Pennsylvania, and New England. Indications multiplied that peace would -be of short duration. Poor Kate! How she had changed! Thin as a -skeleton, with eyes so large and bright! But thinking always of others -before herself, she said, “Mother, dear, worse troubles are coming upon -us, than we have ever had. John and I have resolved that, living or -dying, we will abide by Kansas. But had’nt you, and Flora, and Tom, -better return to Massachusetts?” - -The mother looked at her younger children and awaited their answer. “I -have lived through scenes that make men of boys,” said Thomas. “I will -have a free home, or a grave, in Kansas.” - -“And you Flora?” inquired the mother. - -“The men of Kansas have need of nurses for the sick and wounded,” she -replied, “I will stay and help Katie.” - -“I will abide by my children, my _brave_ children,” said the mother. -“God help us all to do our duty!” - -Alice sat bolstered in her chair by the fire, unconscious of the solemn -compact. “Alas,” said Katie, “how I wish we could convey her safely to -her mother! but she is too feeble to be removed.” - -Emerging from the terrible winter of 1855, the returning sunshine -brought some gleams of hope to the suffering colony. They hoped that -more emigrants would come in, and they knew the fertile soil would yield -abundant crops, if there were hands to till it. But the Border Ruffians -soon dashed the cup of pleasant anticipation from their lips. They swore -they would stop all Yankee emigrants from going into Kansas; and they -renewed their threats to “wipe out Lawrence.” Again they made inroads -into the Territory, robbing the already impoverished settlers, and -especially seeking to deprive them of arms. During one of these forays, -they seized a woman, whom they suspected of concealing ammunition, and -dragged her into the woods, where she was subjected to their brutal -outrages. - -When Kate Bradford heard of this, her naturally pleasant countenance -assumed an expression stern almost to fierceness. “I called them -_savages_” she said, “when they scalped some of their victims; but I did -injustice to the savages; for, in their worst cruelties, _they_ always -respected the modesty of women.” From that time, she practiced with -rifle and pistol, and became expert in using them. A similar spirit was -roused in several of the women, who agreed to act under her command, if -the emergencies of the time required it. Circumstances had goaded her -to this. Her nature was kindly as ever, and she prayed fervently to God -that no blood might ever rest upon her hands. All along, she had been -sustained by the belief that aid would come to Kansas. She had such -pride in American institutions, she _could_ not believe that the -government of her country was in league with such abominations and -outrages, until the return of messenger after messenger sent to -Washington, made the damning proof too strong to be resisted. Then her -old love of New England increased a hundred-fold; for all her hopes -centred _there_. The Pilgrims that came over in the May Flower, the men -and women of ’76, had always been the heroes of her imagination; and the -crisis, in which she now found _herself_ living and acting, rendered -_their_ crown of glory more luminous in her memory. “Massachusetts will -help us,” she was wont to say, with somewhat of filial pride in the -confident tones of her voice. “_Massachusetts_ will not look on with -indifference, while her emigrant children are driven into a pen-fold to -be slaughtered like sheep, by those whom long habits of slaveholding -have made familiar with every form of violence and wrong.” - -Drearily, drearily, the weeks passed away. Men and women were limping -about, with feet that had been frozen during the winter’s severest cold. -Many had no guns to shoot game, to protect them from the wolves, or from -enemies far worse than wolves. Their ammunition had been stolen from -them, provisions were intercepted on the way, and every breeze brought -rumours that the ruffians were making ready to “wipe out Lawrence.” -Newspapers from the North, and letters from friends, were long delayed, -and often destroyed on the way. The haggard settlers looked at each -other with forlorn helplessness. They had reached the extremest point of -desolation. Still John and Katie said, “Massachusetts will help us. -_Depend_ upon it, Massachusetts will not desert her children in their -utmost need.” And other brave hearts responded to the cheering words, -saying, “Ohio will help us.” “Connecticut will not forget us.” “Illinois -will come to the rescue.” - -They had said this to each other, at the close of one of their darkest -days, when lo! a messenger, sent to Kansas city for letters and papers -consigned to a friend there, was seen riding across the prairie. Through -various perils, he had brought the packages safely to Lawrence. They -were seized and torn open with eager, trembling hands. A crowd of men -and women assembled at the printing-office, to hear the news. Mr. -Bradford was reading aloud to them, when his countenance suddenly fell. -“Go on! Go on!” cried the anxious listeners. He gasped out,” “The -Legislature of Texas has voted to give fifty thousand dollars to make -Kansas a Slave State.” - -“And Massachusetts? What has Massachusetts done?” asked Kate, with -nervous eagerness. - -He lowered his eyes, as one ashamed of his mother, while he answered, -“The Legislature of Massachusetts has voted not to give one dollar to -make Kansas a Free State.” - -In the midst of all the sufferings that had harrowed her soul, Katie had -always remained calm and collected. Now, for the first time, she groaned -aloud; and, throwing her arms wildly toward heaven, she exclaimed, in -tones of bitter anguish, “Oh, Massachusetts! How I have _loved_ thee! -How I have _trusted_ in thee!” Then bowing her head in her hands, she -sobbed out, “I _could_ not have believed it.” But Massachusetts was far -off. The Governor and Legislature of her native state did not hear her -appeal. They were busy with other things that came home to their -_business_, not to their _bosoms_. - - * * * * * - -On the 21st of May, 1856, Lawrence _was_ “wiped out.” Companies of -Ruffians encamped around it; a furious tipsy crew, in motley garments. -One band carried a banner with a tiger ready to spring; the motto, “You -Yankees tremble! and abolitionists fall?” Another carried a flag marked, -“South Carolina,” with a crimson star in the centre, the motto, -“Southern Rights.” Over Mount Oread floated a blood-red pirate flag, fit -emblem of the Border Ruffians; and by its side, a suitable companion for -it now, floated the United States flag. What cared New England that -_her_ six stars were there, in shameful “Union” with that blood-red -flag? - -President Pierce issued a proclamation, which made it treason for the -citizens to defend themselves. The best and truest men were arrested and -imprisoned as traitors, because they had no respect for the laws passed -upon them by a Missouri rabble, with bowie-knives and revolvers. - -The printing-press was broken in pieces; the types scattered; the Free -State Hotel demolished; General Robinson’s house, with its valuable -library, burned to the ground; and many of the cabins set on fire. No -time was allowed to remove any thing from the dwellings. Trunks and -bureaus were ransacked; daguerreotypes and pictures of dear home friends -were cut and smashed; and letters scattered and trampled in the mud. The -women and children had been ordered out, at the commencement of these -outrages. Mothers were weeping, as they fled across the prairies, and -the poor bewildered little ones were screaming and crying in every -direction. - -What cared New England that _her_ six stars were looking down upon the -scene, in shameful “Union” with that blood-red flag? - -Above the noise of tumbling stones, and crackling roofs, and screaming -children, rose that horrid yell of the Border Ruffians. “Damn the -Yankees!” “Give ’em hell!” - -A figure, tall as Ajax, loomed up above the savage crowd, calling out, -“I’m down on all _sich_ fixens. Allers tole yer ’twas darned mean to -come over into the Territory an vote for these fellers. I’m pro-slave -myself. I’d like to see him that dar’d to call me an abolitionist; but I -tell yer what, boys, this ere’s cuttin up a little _too_ high.” He was -interrupted with shouts of, “Hold your jaw!” “Shut up! you damned ole -fool!” Still he remonstrated: “This is a breakin down the rights o’ -American citizens. You might jist as well smash my ole woman’s bureau. -Them ar traps are personal property. I’m down on all sich fixens.” - -“Pitch into him!” cried the rabble; and they did “pitch into him,” amid -yells and laughter. Tom Thorpe was silenced. He learned the uselessness -of trying to moderate slavery, or ameliorate murder. - -Katie’s first care had been to consign little Johnny to her brother; and -the next was to place the helpless Alice in her mother’s arms, to be -conveyed to a hut half a mile off. Then she held a hurried conference -with her husband about a suitable place to conceal some fire-arms for -future use; and snatching up a box of letters and small valuables, she -fled with Flora, pistol in hand. When Alice had been cared for, as well -as the exigencies of the moment would permit, she ran back to aid some -of her sickly neighbours, who were breaking down with the weight of -their clinging children. Then, swift as an ostrich, the daring woman ran -back to Lawrence, to pick up some of the scattered clothes and bedding, -which her husband and his neighbours carried off as fast as she could -heap it on their shoulders. The Ruffians were so busy with the -printing-press and the Hotel, and she watched opportunities so -cautiously, that she had rescued many things from the wreck, before they -noticed her. They drove her off with oaths and ribald jests. She stood -within sight of her blazing home, and her hand was on her pistol. The -temptation was strong. But she remembered the oft-repeated words of -General Robinson: “Act _only_ on the defensive. Make no aggressions. -Keep the cause of Kansas sacred.” She only turned upon her pursuers to -say, “You _think_ you have silenced the Herald of Freedom, because you -have demolished the printing-press; but you are mistaken. That trumpet -will sound across the prairies yet.” - -“What a hell of a woman!” exclaimed one of the mob; and they laughed -aloud in their drunken mirth, while the lurid flame of blazing homes -lighted her across the prairies. - -What cared New England that _her_ six stars were looking down upon the -scene, in shameful “Union” with that blood-red flag? - - * * * * * - -The rapid removal of Alice, and the discomforts of her situation in the -empty hut, brought on fever. In states of half wakefulness, she murmured -continually, “I want my _mother_! I want to go home to my _mother_!” - -“Yes, dear, you _shall_ go home,” said Katie, tenderly smoothing back -her straggling hair. “Who _are_ you?” inquired the sufferer. “I am -Katie. Don’t you know Katie?” The words seemed to waken no remembrance. -She closed her eyes, and tears oozed slowly from them, as she murmured -piteously, “I want to go home to my _mother_.” - -In this state of half consciousness she lingered two or three days. It -was a mild, bright morning, and the terraced hills looked beautiful in -the golden light, when she woke from a deep slumber, with a natural -expression in her eyes, and asked, “Where am I?” “You are in Kansas, -dear,” replied Katie. A shadow passed quickly over the thin pale face, -and she pressed her emaciated hand against her heart. Again the eyelids -closed, and the tears oozed through, as she answered feebly, “Yes--I -remember.” - -All was still, still, in the wilderness. The human wolves were for the -present glutted with their prey, and Lawrence lay silent in its ruins. -Mr. Bradford was in prison, in danger of a traitor’s death. The inmates -of the hut looked at each other mournfully, but no one spoke. Presently, -the invalid made a restless movement, and Katie stooped over her, to -moisten her parched lips. She opened her eyes, which now seemed -illuminated with a preternatural, prophetic light; and, for the first -time since her husband was murdered, she smiled. “Oh, Katie,” she said, -“I have been with William, having such a happy time walking over the -hills! From Mount Oread, he showed me the prairies all covered with -farm-houses and fields of corn. Bells were ringing, and swarms of -children pouring into the school houses. All round the horizon were -church-spires, and beautiful houses, with windows glittering in the -sunlight. When I told him it seemed just like dear New England, he -smiled, and said, ‘This is Free Kansas!’ Then he pointed to a great -University on the highest of the hills, and said, ‘Little Johnny is -President, and the Blue Mound is called Free Mont.’” - -“I hail the omen!” exclaimed Kate. The thin lips of Alice quivered -tremulously. It was her last smile on earth. - - - - -I WANT TO GO HOME. - - - There once wandered with me a beautiful child, - With eyes like the antelope, lambent and mild; - And she looked at me long, with an earnest gaze, - As I watched the sun sink in a golden haze. - - She knew not the thoughts that were floating away, - Through the closing gates of that radiant day; - But a something she read in my dreaming eyes, - Of the pale autumn leaves, and the sunset skies; - - And a chill came over her, she knew not whence-- - ’Twas the shadow of older experience. - She looked up afraid at the heaven’s blue dome, - And murmured, “I’m _tired_. I want to go _home_.” - - The child’s timid glance, and her quivering tone, - Came gliding like ghosts, when my soul was alone; - And oft, when I gazed at the heaven’s blue dome, - She seemed to be saying, “I want to go _home_.” - - She grew up a woman, that lovely young child, - With eyes like the antelope, lambent and mild; - But she lived not to see life’s drear autumn day - Fade slowly in silence and darkness away. - - In her spring-time of freshness, fragrance, and bloom, - Disease stole her roses to strew on the tomb. - Then often she looked at the heaven’s blue dome, - And sighed, “I am _tired_. I want to go _home_.” - - My autumn of life is fast passing away, - Bringing on the long night, and cold winter day; - And I often remember her childish sigh, - As she turned from my face to the twilight sky. - - When I sit on her grave, at sunset, alone, - Her voice seems to speak in that tremulous tone; - And longing I look up to heaven’s blue dome, - Saying, “Father! I’m _tired_. I want to go _home_.” - - - THE END. - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AUTUMNAL LEAVES: TALES AND -SKETCHES IN PROSE AND RHYME *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following -the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use -of the Project Gutenberg trademark. 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