THE CONTINENTAL MONTHLY: DEVOTED TO LITERATURE AND NATIONAL POLICY. VOL. 11.JULY, 1862. No.1. WHAT SHALL BE THE END? Jr we look to the development of popular doctrine now is, that slavery is slavery the past thirty years, we shall the corner-stone of republican institu- see that the ideas of Calhoun respecting tions, and essential for a manly devel- State Sovereignty have had a mighty opment of character uj~on the part of influence in gradually preparing the the white population. Formerly slavery slave States for the course which they was looked upon as peculiarly pernicious have taken. Slavery, in its political to the diffusion of wealth and the prog- power, has steadily become more ag- ress of national greatness; now the South gressive in its demands. A morbid is intoxicated with ideas of the profit- jealousy of Northern enterprise and ableness of slave labor, and the power thrift, with the contrast more vivid of King Cotton in controlling the ex- from year to year, of the immeasurable changes of the world. And the same superiority of free labor, has brought change has taken place in relation to about a growing aversion, in the South, the African slave-trade. While the laws to the. free States, until with every op- of the land brand as piracy the capture portunity presented for pro-slavery ex- of negroes upon their native soil, and tension, there has resulted the present or- the transportation of them over the ganized combination of slave States that ocean, it is nevertheless true that a have seceded from the Union. When mighty change in Southern opinion has the mind goes back to the early forma- taken place in respect to the character tion of our Government and the adop- of this business. It is not looked upon tion of the Constitution, it will be found with the same horror as formerly. It that an entire revolution of opinion and is apologized for, and in some places feeling has taken place upon the subject openly defended as a measure indispen- of slavery. From being regarded, as for- sable to the prosperity of the cotton merly, an evil by the South, it is now pro- States. As a natural inference from the claimed a blessing; from being viewed theory of those who hold to the, views as opposed to the whole spirit and teach- of Calhoun upon State sovereignty,, the ings of the Bible, it is now thought to doctrine of coercion in any form by the be of divine sanction; from being re- Federal Union is denounced, and to at- garded as opposed to political liberty, tempt to put it in practice even so far and the elevation of the masses, the as the protection of national property VOL. IL I What shall 6e the End? is concerned, is construed into a war upon the South. Thus, while it is perfectly proper for the slave States to steal, and plunder the nation of its prop- erty, to leave the Union at their pleas- ure, and to do every thing in their power to destroy the unity of the National Gov- ernment, it is made out that to attempt to recover the property of the Federal Union is unjustifiable aggression upon the slave States. Thus we see eleven States in a confederate capacity openly making war upon the Federal Government, and compelling it either into a disgraceful surrender of its rights as guaranteed by the Constitution, or war for self-defense. Fort Sumter was not allowed to be pro- visioned, nor was there any disposition manifested to permit its possession in any manner honorable to the Govern- ment, although its exclusive property. It must be surrendered unconditionally, or be attacked. The worst feature connected with the secession movement is the hot haste with which the most important ques- tions connected with the interests of the people are hurried, through. The ordinance of secession is not fairly sub- mitted to the people, but a mere oli- garchy of desperate men themselves as- suine to declare war, and exercise all the prerogatives of an independent and sovereign government. And yet the terms submitted in the Crittenden Res- olutions as a peace-offering to the seced- ing States to win them back by conces- sions from the North, present a specta- cle quite as mournful for the cause of national unity and dignity as the open rebellion of the secedin~, States. The professed aim of these States is either a reconstruction of the Constitution in a way that shall nationalize slavery and give it supreme control, or a forcible dis- ruption of the Union. What are the terms proposed that alone appear to satisfy the South? They may be brief- ly comprehended in a short extract from a speech delivered by Senator Wilson, of Massacl~usetts, February 21, 1861 But the Senator from Kentucky asks us of the North by irrepealable constitutional amendments to recognize and protect slavery in the Territories now existing, or hereafter acquired south of thirty-six degrees, thirty minutes; to deny power to the Federal Gov- ernment to abolish slavery in the District of Columbia, in the forts, arsenals, navy-yards, and places under the exclusive jurisdiction of Congress; to deny the National Govern- ment all power to hinder the transit of slaves through one State to another ; to take from persons of the African race the elective fran- chise, and to purchase territory in South- A merica, or Africa, and send there, at the expense of the Treasury of the United States, such free negroes as the States may desire removed from their limits. And what does the Senator propose to concede to us of the North l The prohibition of slavery in Ter- ritories north of thirty-six degrees and thirty minutes, where no one asks for its inhi- bition, where it has been made impossible by the victory of Freedom in Kansas, and the equalization of the fees of the slave Com- missioners. Here we have the true position in which the free States are placed to- ward the ~laveholding States. Seven States openly throw off all allegiance to the Federal Union, do not even profess to be willing to come back upon any terms, and then such conditions are pro- posed by the other slaveholding States as leads to the repudiation of the Con- stitution in its whole spirit and import upon the subject of slavery. The alter- native, in reality, is either civil war or the surrender of the Constitution into the hands o~C pro-slavery men to be molded just as it may suit their con- venience. The price they ask for peace is simply the liberty to have their own way, and that the majority should be willing to submit to the minority. They aim for a reconstruction of the Union that shall incorporate the Dred Scott decision into the whole policy of the Government and make slavery the su- preme power of the country, and all other interests subservient to it. The North has its choice of two evils unconditional and unqualified submis- sion to the demands of slavery, or civil war. It is expected, since the country has yielded step by step to the exactions of slavery ever since the Government was instituted, that the free States will 2 IVi~at shall be the End? keep on yielding until the South has nothing more to ask for, and the North has nothing more to give. With such a servile compliance, the free States are assured that they will have no difficulty in keeping the peace. But the question to be decided is: Is such a kind of peace worth the price demanded for it? May it not be true that great as is the evil of civil war, it is less an evil than an un- resisting acquiescence to the exactions of slavery, and the admission that any State that pleases can leave the Union? The theory of secession involves, if ad- mitted, a greater disaster to the Federal Union than even the slow eating at its vitals of the cancer of slavery. National unity, one country, the sovereignty of the Constitution, are all sacrificed by secession. It involves in it either the worst anarchy or the worst despotism. United, the States can stand, and com- mand the respect of the world, but se- cession is an enemy to the country, the most cruel. Rev. Dr. Breckinridge, of Kentucky, most forcibly says: Every man who has any remaining loyal- ty to the nation, or any hope and desire for the restoration of the seceding States to the Confederacy, must see that what is meant by the outcry against coSrelon is in the interest of secession, and that what is meant is, in effect, that the Federal Government must be terrified or seduced into complete codpera- tion with the revolution which it was its most binding duty to have used all its power and influence to prevent. Jefferson Davis, in his late message, says: Let us alone, let us go, and the sword drops from our hands. But what does this involve? The admission of the right of secession, which, as has been proved, is fatal to all national unity and preservation. Even if this arrogant demand was complied with, would peace be thus possible? Would not the break- ing up of the Union involve the people in calamities that no patience, or wis- dom upon the part of the North could avert? Remember a long border in an open country, stretching from the Atlan- tic, possibly even to the Pacific, is to be defended. Will the bordering people sink down from war, and all its exasper ations, and become as peaceful as lambs? Constituted as human nature now is, will the dissolution of the Union create with the great North and South the ex- perience of millennium prediction, The wolf shall dwell with the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the kid, and the calf and the young lion and fatling together; and a little child shall lead them~? here is a line crossed by great rivers; we are to shut up the mouth of the Chesapeake bay, on Ohio and West- ern Virginia; we are to ask the Western States to give up the mouth of the Mis- sissippi to a foreign power. Is it rea- sonable to suppose that no provocation will occur on this long frontier? Will no slaves run away? What is to be gained by a dissolution of the Union? Not peace; for if when united, there exists such cause of dissension, the evil will be tenfold greater when separated. Not national aggrandizement, for divi- sion brings weakness, imbecility, and a loss of self-respect; it invites aggres- sions from foreign powers, and compels to submission to insults that otherwise would not be given. Not general com- petence, for the South is quite as depend- ent upon the North as the North upon the South. Disunion is a violent disruption of great material interests that now are wedded together. The dream of sepa- rate State sovereignty, our great Union split into two or more confederacies, prosperous and peaceable, is Utopian. So far from the secession doctrine car- ried out leading to peace and prosperity, it can only lead to perpetual war and adversity. The request to be ~1et alone,~ is simply a request that the nation should consent to see the Constitution and Union overthrown, slavery triumphant, and the great problem that a free people can not choose its own rulers against the will of a minority prove a disgraceful failure. It is a request that a nation should pur- chase a temporary peace at the price of all that is dear to its liberty and self- respect. The arrogance of the demand to 13e let alone, is only equaled by the iniquity of the means resorted to, to 3 What 8hall be the End? break up the best Government under the sun. The question of disunion, of separate State sovereignty, was fully dis- cussed by our fathers. Thus Hamilton, whose foresight history has proved to be prophetic, says: If these States should be either wholly disunited, or only united in partial Confed- eracies, a man must be far gone in Utopian speculations, who can seriously doubt that the subdivisions into which they might be thrown would have frequent and violent contests with each other. To presume a want of motives for such contests, as an argument against their existence, would be to forget that men are ambitious, vindictive, and ra- pacious. To look for a continuation of har- mony between a number of independent, unconnected sovereiguties, situated in the same neighborhood, would be to disregard the uniform course of human events, and to set at defiance the accumulated experience of ages. From a consideration of the true im- port of the Constitution, in relation to slavery and the fallacy and wickedness of the doctrine of Secession, we are now prepared to deduce, from what has been said, the following reflections: First, the war in which the nation is now plunged should have strictly for its great end, the restoration of the Consti- tution and the Union to its original in- tegrity; all side issues, all mere party questions should be now merged in one mighty effort, one persevering and self- sacrificing aim to maintain the Constitu- tion and the Union. As essential for this purpose, it is indispensable that all the rights guaranteed to loyal citizens in the slave States should be respected. The reason is twofold. First, this war, upon the part of the North, is for the maintenance of the Constitution as our fathers gave it to us. Its object is not a crusade against slavery What may be the results of the war in relation to slavery is one thing; what should be the simple purpose of the North is an- other. That this war, however it may turn, will be disastrous to slavery, is evident from a great variety of consider- ations. But that we should pretend to fight for the Constitution and the Union, and yet against its express provisions, in respect to those held in bondage by loyal citizens, is simply to act a part subversive of the true intent of the Constitution. To violate its provisions, in relation to loyal citizens South, is in the highest degree impolitic and suicidaL It is the constant aim of the enemies now in armed rebellion against the Union, to misrepresent the North upon this very point. By systematic lying, they have induced thousands South to believe that the election of Lincoln was designed as an act of war upon slave institutions, and to subvert the Consti- tution that protects them in all that they call their property. There is nothing that the rebels South are moi~e anxious to see than the Gov- ernment adopting a policy that will give them a plausible pretense for continuing in rebellion. The Constitution places the local institution of slavery under the exclusive control of those States where it exists. Its language, faithfully interpreted, is simply this: Your own domestic affairs you have a right to manage as you please, so long as you do not trespass upon the Union, or seek its ruin. All loyal citizens should be en- couraged to stand by the Union in every Southern State, with the unequivocal declaration that all their rights will be respected, and that their true safety, even as noblest interests, must hem upholding the North in the effort made to put down the vilest rebellion under the sun. My second reflection is, that those South, who are in armed rebellion against the Constitution and the Union, must make up their minds to take what the fortune of war gives them. This rebellion should be handled without gloves. The North should permit noth- ing to stand in the way of a complete and permanent triumph. As Northern p,roperty is all confiscated South; as Union men there are treated with the utmost barbarity; as nothing held by the lovers of the Union is respected, the greatest injury in the end to the Consti- tution and the Union is, an unwise clemency to armed rebellion. In this death-struggle to test the vital questions 4 Bone Ornaments. 5 whether the majority shall rule, let there be no holding back of money or men. Dear as war may be, a dishonor- able peace will prove much dearer. Great as may be the sufferings of the camp and the battle-field, yet the pro- longed tortures of a murdered Union, a violated Constitution, and Secession rampant over the country, will be found to be greater. My third reflection is, that the main cause of our civil war is slavery. It has now assumed gigantic proportions of mischieg and with its hand upon the very throat of the Con- stitution and the Union, it seeks its death. The worst feature connected with it has ever been, that it is satisfied with no concession, and the more it has, the more it asks. By the very admis- sion of the chiefs of this rebellion, it is confessedly got up for the sake of slav- ery, and to make it the corner-stone of the new Confederacy of States. The real issue involved by the rebellion is, complete independence of the North, the dissolution of the Union, and ex- clusive possession of all the territories south of Mason and Dixons line; or re construction upon such conditions a~ would result in the repudiation cf the old Constitution, the nationalization of slavery, and giving complete political control to a slaveholding minority of the country. This rebellion has placed the North where it must conquer, for its own best interests, and dignity, and the salvation of free institutions. It must conquer, to command future friendship and that respect without which Union itself is a mockery. Let the South see that the North can not be beaten, and th~ universal consciousness of this fact will command an esteem, and the useful fear of committing offense, that will do more to keep the peace than all, the ab- ject. professions or humble submissions in the world. Having found out that the North not only is conscious of its rights, but has the willingness and the ability to defend them, it is certain that the country will yet have as much peace, general thrift, and noble enterprise with the onward march of virtue and intelli- gence, as may be reasonably expected of any community upon the face of the earth. DONE ORNAMENTS. SILENT the lady sat alone: In her ears were rings of dead mens bone; The brooch on her breast shone white and fine, Twas the polished joint of a Yankees spine; And the well-carved handle of her fan, Was the finger-bone of a Lincoln man. She turned aside a flower to cull, From a vase which was made of a human skull; For to make her forget the loss of her slaves, Her lovers had rifled dead mens graves. Do you think Im describing a witch or ghoul? There are no such things and Im not a fool; Nor did she reside in Ashantee; No the lady fair was an F. F. V. &

Bone Ornaments. 5 whether the majority shall rule, let there be no holding back of money or men. Dear as war may be, a dishonor- able peace will prove much dearer. Great as may be the sufferings of the camp and the battle-field, yet the pro- longed tortures of a murdered Union, a violated Constitution, and Secession rampant over the country, will be found to be greater. My third reflection is, that the main cause of our civil war is slavery. It has now assumed gigantic proportions of mischieg and with its hand upon the very throat of the Con- stitution and the Union, it seeks its death. The worst feature connected with it has ever been, that it is satisfied with no concession, and the more it has, the more it asks. By the very admis- sion of the chiefs of this rebellion, it is confessedly got up for the sake of slav- ery, and to make it the corner-stone of the new Confederacy of States. The real issue involved by the rebellion is, complete independence of the North, the dissolution of the Union, and ex- clusive possession of all the territories south of Mason and Dixons line; or re construction upon such conditions a~ would result in the repudiation cf the old Constitution, the nationalization of slavery, and giving complete political control to a slaveholding minority of the country. This rebellion has placed the North where it must conquer, for its own best interests, and dignity, and the salvation of free institutions. It must conquer, to command future friendship and that respect without which Union itself is a mockery. Let the South see that the North can not be beaten, and th~ universal consciousness of this fact will command an esteem, and the useful fear of committing offense, that will do more to keep the peace than all, the ab- ject. professions or humble submissions in the world. Having found out that the North not only is conscious of its rights, but has the willingness and the ability to defend them, it is certain that the country will yet have as much peace, general thrift, and noble enterprise with the onward march of virtue and intelli- gence, as may be reasonably expected of any community upon the face of the earth. DONE ORNAMENTS. SILENT the lady sat alone: In her ears were rings of dead mens bone; The brooch on her breast shone white and fine, Twas the polished joint of a Yankees spine; And the well-carved handle of her fan, Was the finger-bone of a Lincoln man. She turned aside a flower to cull, From a vase which was made of a human skull; For to make her forget the loss of her slaves, Her lovers had rifled dead mens graves. Do you think Im describing a witch or ghoul? There are no such things and Im not a fool; Nor did she reside in Ashantee; No the lady fair was an F. F. V. & The Jfolly OiJfolly Papers. THE MOLLY OMOLLY PAPERS. V. HEARTS are trumps, is a gamblers cant phrase. That depends oa the game you are playing. In many of the games of life the true trump cards are Dia- monds; which, according to the fortune- tellers lore, stand for wealth. Indeed, Hearts are by many considered so value- less that they are thrown away at the very outset; whereas they should, like trumps, only be played as a last resort. No trick that can be won with any oth- er card, should be taken with a heart the card will be gone and nothing to show for it. If you wish wealth, win it if you canhonestly, of coursebut dont throw in the heart. Are you am- bitious would you win honor ~ Very well, if for political honor you can en- dure it to be spit upon by the crowd, to have all manner of abuse heaped on you and your forlears to the remotest generation a ceremony that in Africa follows the election, but is preliminary to the crowning, but in this country is preliminary to the election but if you can make up your mind to pass through this ordeal, well and good but dont throw in the heart Yet in games on which is staked all that is worth playing for, hearts are trumps; and he who holds the lowest card, stands a better chance of winning than he who has none, though in his hand may be all the aces of the others, diamonds in- eJuded. But, lest I go too far beyond the analogy as I might ignorantly do, being unskilled in the many games of cardsI will drop the figurative Keep your heart for faith, love, friend- ship, for God, your country, and truth. And where the heart is given, it should be unreservedly. Its allegiance is too often withheld where it is due, yet this is better than a half-way loyalty; there should be no i1 followed by self-inter est The seal of confederate no bles, opposed to some measures of Pe- ter IV. of Aragon, represents the king sitting on his throne, with the confed- erates kneeling in a suppliant attitude, around, to denote their loyalty and unwillingness to offend. But in the back-ground, tents and lines of spears are discovered, as a hint of their ability and resolution to defend themselves. This kind of allegiance no true heart will ever give. I take it for granted that you have a heart not merely anatomically speak- ing, an organ to circulate the blood, but a something that prompts you to love, to self- sacrifice, to scorn of meanness, and, it may be, to good, honest hatred. All metals can be separated from their ores; but meanness is inseparable from some natures, so it is impossible to hate the sin without hating the sinner; we cant, indeed, conceive of it in the ab- stract. I dont mean hate in a malig- nant sense here I may as well express my scorn of that sly hatred that is too cowardly to knock a man down, but quietly trips him up. It is well enough for those who think that life is a jest, (and a bitter, sarcas- tic one it must be to them,) to mock at all nobler feelings and sentiments of the heart. tone do they more contemn than friendship. I would not sit in the seat of these scornful, however they may have found false friends. Yet every man capable of a genuine friend- ship himselg will in this world find at least one true friend. Oxygen, which comprises one fifth of the atmosphere, is said to be highly ma~,netic; and any ordinary, healthy soul can extract mag- netism enough from the very air he breathes to draw at least one other soul. Some people have an amazing power of absorption and retention of this mag- netism. You feel irresistibly drawn to- ward them and it is all right, for they are noble, true souls. There is a great difference between their attractive force and that kind of power of charming innocence that villainy often has just 6

The Jfolly OiJfolly Papers. THE MOLLY OMOLLY PAPERS. V. HEARTS are trumps, is a gamblers cant phrase. That depends oa the game you are playing. In many of the games of life the true trump cards are Dia- monds; which, according to the fortune- tellers lore, stand for wealth. Indeed, Hearts are by many considered so value- less that they are thrown away at the very outset; whereas they should, like trumps, only be played as a last resort. No trick that can be won with any oth- er card, should be taken with a heart the card will be gone and nothing to show for it. If you wish wealth, win it if you canhonestly, of coursebut dont throw in the heart. Are you am- bitious would you win honor ~ Very well, if for political honor you can en- dure it to be spit upon by the crowd, to have all manner of abuse heaped on you and your forlears to the remotest generation a ceremony that in Africa follows the election, but is preliminary to the crowning, but in this country is preliminary to the election but if you can make up your mind to pass through this ordeal, well and good but dont throw in the heart Yet in games on which is staked all that is worth playing for, hearts are trumps; and he who holds the lowest card, stands a better chance of winning than he who has none, though in his hand may be all the aces of the others, diamonds in- eJuded. But, lest I go too far beyond the analogy as I might ignorantly do, being unskilled in the many games of cardsI will drop the figurative Keep your heart for faith, love, friend- ship, for God, your country, and truth. And where the heart is given, it should be unreservedly. Its allegiance is too often withheld where it is due, yet this is better than a half-way loyalty; there should be no i1 followed by self-inter est The seal of confederate no bles, opposed to some measures of Pe- ter IV. of Aragon, represents the king sitting on his throne, with the confed- erates kneeling in a suppliant attitude, around, to denote their loyalty and unwillingness to offend. But in the back-ground, tents and lines of spears are discovered, as a hint of their ability and resolution to defend themselves. This kind of allegiance no true heart will ever give. I take it for granted that you have a heart not merely anatomically speak- ing, an organ to circulate the blood, but a something that prompts you to love, to self- sacrifice, to scorn of meanness, and, it may be, to good, honest hatred. All metals can be separated from their ores; but meanness is inseparable from some natures, so it is impossible to hate the sin without hating the sinner; we cant, indeed, conceive of it in the ab- stract. I dont mean hate in a malig- nant sense here I may as well express my scorn of that sly hatred that is too cowardly to knock a man down, but quietly trips him up. It is well enough for those who think that life is a jest, (and a bitter, sarcas- tic one it must be to them,) to mock at all nobler feelings and sentiments of the heart. tone do they more contemn than friendship. I would not sit in the seat of these scornful, however they may have found false friends. Yet every man capable of a genuine friend- ship himselg will in this world find at least one true friend. Oxygen, which comprises one fifth of the atmosphere, is said to be highly ma~,netic; and any ordinary, healthy soul can extract mag- netism enough from the very air he breathes to draw at least one other soul. Some people have an amazing power of absorption and retention of this mag- netism. You feel irresistibly drawn to- ward them and it is all right, for they are noble, true souls. There is a great difference between their attractive force and that kind of power of charming innocence that villainy often has just 6 The 3liolly OAfolly Paper8. as I once saw a cat charm a bird, which circled nearer and nearer till it almost brushed the cats whiskers and had he not been chased away, he would have that day daintily lunched and there would have been one songster less to join in that evenings vespers. False s there areI will not call them false friends this noun should never follow that adjective. To what shall I liken them to the young gorilla, that even while its master is feeding it, looks trustingly in his face and thrusts forth its paw to tear him? Who blames the gorilla? Torn from its dam, caged or chained, it owes its captor a grudge. To the serpent? The story of the warming of the serpent in the mans bosom, is a mere fable. No man was ever fool enough to warm a serpent in his bosom. And the serpent never crosses the path of man if he can help it. The most deadly is that which is too sluggish to get out of his way therefore bites in self-defense. And the serpent gen- erally gives some warnin~ hiss, or a rat- tle. Indeed, almost every animal gives warning of its foul intent. The shark turns over before seizing its prey. But the false friend (I am obliged to couple these words) takes you in without changing his side In truth, a man, if he has a vice, be it treachery or any other, goes a little beyond the other ani- mals, even those of which it is charac- teristic. We say, for instance, of a treacherous man, He is a serpent; but it would be hyperbole to call a serpent a treacherous man. But these false friends, who deceive you out of pure malignity, who would rather injure you than not, who, per- haps, have an old, by you long-forgot- ten, grudge, and become your apparent friends to pay you back these are few. human nature, with all its depravity, is seldom so completely debased. But there are many who are only selfishly your friends. When you most need their friendship, where is it? When some great calamity sweeps over you, and, bowed and weakened, you would lean on this friendship, though it were but a broken reed, you stretch forth your hand feel but empty space. Then there are some who let go the band of a friend because they feel sure of him, to grasp the extended hand of a former enemy. Politicians, especially, do this. An enemy can not so easily be transformed into a friend. As in those paintings of George III., on tavern-signs, after the Revolution changed to George Washington, there will still be the same old features The opposite of this is what every generous nature has tried. To revive a dying friendship, this is im- possible. If you find yourself losing your friendship for a person, there must be some reason for it. If the former dear name is becoming indistinct on the tablet of your heart, the attempt to re- write it will entirely obliterate it. It is said that a sure way to obliterate any writin~,, is to attempt to re-write it. . But it is not true that hot love soon cools. With all my faultsand to say that I am an OMolly is to admit that I have faults, and I am not sure that I would wish to be without them. To speak paradoxically, a fault in some cases does better than a virtue as on some organs the wrong note in certain passages has a better effect than the right. But, as I was saying, with all my faults, I have never yet changed toward a friend; I will not admit even to the ante-chamber of my heart a sin- gle thought untrue to my friend. Though it is true my friends are so few that I could more than count them on my fingers, had I but one hand And these few friends what shall I say of them? They have become so a part of my constant thoughts and feel- ings, so a part of myself that I can not project them if I may so speakfrom my own interior selg so as to portray them. Have you not such friends? Are there none whom to love has become so a haldt of your life that you are almost unconscious of it that you hardly think of it, any more than you think There is probably no one who has not some time in his or her life felt the Pr 8 The M~3lly OJiIoll~y Papere. dreariness of fancied friendliness. I can recall in my own experience at least one time when this dreary feeling came over me. It was during a twilight walk home from a visit. I can convey to you no idea of the utter loneliness of the un- loved feeling; it seemed that not even the love of God was mine, or if it was, there was not individuality enough in it; it was so diffused; this one, whom I disliked that insignificant person, might share in it. I know not how long I indulged in these thoughts, with my eyes on the ground, or seeing all things as though I saw them not, but when I did raise them to take cogni- zance of any thing, there was, a few degrees above the horizon, the evening star; it shone as entirely on me as though it shone on me exclusively. It is thus, I thought, with His love; thus it melts into each individual souL Such gentle thoughts as these, long after the star had sunk behind the western mountains, were a calm light in my souL And I awoke the next morning, the old cheerful MOLLY OMOLLY. Y. I have often thought what splendid members of the diplomatic corps women would make, especially married women. As much delicate management is re- quired of them, they have as much financiering to do as any minister pleni- potentiary of them alL Let a woman once have an object in view, and oer bog, or steep, through strait, rough, dense or rare; with head, hands, or feet, she pursues her way, and swims, or sinks, or wades, or creeps, or flies; but she attains her o?jeet. You poor, hood-winked portion of humanitymanyou think you know woman; that she cant pull the wool over your eyes. Just take a retrospec- tive view. Did your wife ever want any trying that she didnt somehow get it? Whether a new dress, or the dear- est secret of your soul, she either, Deli- lah-like, wheedled it out of you, or, in a passion, you almost flung it at her, as an enraged monkey flings cocoa-nuts at his tormentor. And how she has changed your habits, has turned the course of your life, made it flow in the channel she wished, instead of; as heretofore, wan- dering at its own sweet will, as the gently-winding but useless brook has been converted into a mill-race. There is Mr. Jones. Before he mar-. ned, as free and easy a man as ever smoked a meerschaum. Mrs. Jones is considered a pattern woman; but of that you can judge for yourself. Her first reformation was in regard to his club, from which he returned home late, redolent of brandy-punch, and lavish of my dears. All she could say to him had no effect, till, after the birth of lit- tle Nellie, she joined a Ladies Reading Society, meeting on his club evening; he wouldnt leave the baby to the care of a servant, consequently staid at home himself. He was also in the habit of resorting to the gymnasium, ostensibly for exer- cise, as he was dyspeptic; but his wife suspected it was more to meet his old cronies. Finding retrenchment neces- sary, and looking on gymnastics some- what as a Yankee looks on a fine stream that turns no mill, she dismissed one of the servants, and so arranged it that the surplus strength that formerly so ran to waste should make the fires, rock the cradle, and split certain hickory logs. Very soon Mr. Jones, who is a lawyer, found his business so much in- creased that he was obliged to remain in his office all day, except at mcal-time; after which, however heartily he might have eaten, he never complained of in- digestion. With this, thrifty Mrs. Jones was delighted, till one day she surprised him in his office, enveloped in tobacco- smoke, with elevated feet, reading a nice new novel; you may be sure that after that, she insisted on the exercise. As their family increased, thinking still further retrenchment necessary, she gently broached the relinquishing of the meerschaum. Finding him obsti- nate in his opposition, she one day acci The A1~3lly OiWiolly Papers. 9 dentally broke it. It was one that he had been coloring for years; he had de- voted time and attention to it, that, if properly directed, might have made him a German philosopher, an antiquary, or a profound theologian; or, if devoted to his law studies, would have fitted him for Chief-Justice of the United States. The countryman who mistook for a bell-rope the cord attached to a shower- bath, was not more astonished at the re- sult of pulling it, than she was at the result of this trifling accident. Such an overwhelming torrent of abuse as was poured on her devoted head; such an array of offenses as was marshaled before her; Banquos issue wasnt a cir- cumstance to the shadowy throng. She had recourse to womans only means of assuaging the angry passions of man tears, (you know the region of constant precipitation is a perpetual calm;) but these, instead of operating like oil pour- ed on the troubled waters, were rather like oil thrown on the fire. Pleading her delicate health, she hinted that his unkindness would kill her, and that, when she was gone, her sweet face would haunt him. Muttering some- thing about one consolation, ghosts couldnt speak till spoken to, and he was sure he wouldnt break the spell of silence, he picked up his hat and strode out of the house~ slamming the door after him. For a while, Mrs. Jones was struck with consternation; she felt somewhat as the woman must have felt who, in attempting to pull up a weed, overturned the monument that crushed her; and, though not quite crushed by the weight of Mr. Joness indignation, she inly resolved to give no more tugs at the weed that had taken such deep root in his heart; and that, if he brought home another meerschaum, (which he did that evening,) it was best to ignore its existence. Mrs. Jones says she believes that the meerschaum ab- sorbs the disagreeable of a mans tem- per, as it is said to absorb that of to- bacco; at least, her husband is never so serene as when smoking one. Indeed, it is said that the fiercest birds of prey can be tamed by tobacco-smoke. Dont think that after this little cen- tretemps all Mrs. Joness authority was at an end; no, indeed; though she had, by stroking the wrong way the docile, domestic animal, roused him into a tiger, she hastened to smooth him down; and time would fail me to give even a list of her reforms. After having heard her story, as I did, chiefly from her own lips, my won- der at the immense Union army, raised on such short notice, was considerably diminished. Extremes meet. Prob- ably Union and disunion sentiments met in the mind of many a volunteer Jones. Then, too, I used to wonder at the ease with which men apparently forget their buried wives, and marry again; and, as I then had a great respect for the race, thought their hearts must be very rich, new affections spring up with such amazing rapidity; like the soil of the tropics, whose vegetation is hardly cut down before there is a new, luxuriant growth. Ive, however, since come to the conclusion, that the poor man, some- how feeling that he must marry, chooses in a manner at random, having, the first time, taken the greatest care, and caught a Tartar, in the same sense that the man had with whom the phrase originated, that is, the Tartar had caught him. In my childhood I was particularly fond of the hoidenish amusement of jumping out of our high barn-window, and landing on the straw underneath. The first few times I went to the edge then drew backlooked again almost sprangagain stepped backtill finally I took the leap. Thus old bachelors take the matrimonial leap not so wid- owers how is it to be accounted for? Well, brother man, (for this is the near- est relationship to you that I can claim,) you do about as well in this way as in any other. You are destined to be taken in as effectually as was Jonah, when he made that exploration of the interior, or, as was the fly, when Dame 10 Glance8 front the Senate-Gallery. Spiders parlor proved to be a dining- room. Sam Slick says that man is common clay woman porcelain. Alas! there is but little genuine porcelain. It is a pity that you couldnt contrive to have a few jars before matrimony, to crack off some of the glazing, and show the true character of the ware. And you, sister woman, learn a lesson from the tiny nautilus, which, by yielding, can defy the most violent rag. ings of the sea. And, though man is so nicely adapted to your management that it is obviously the end of his cre- ation, remember Mrs. Joncss trifling miscalculation in regard to the meer- schaum, and N ~v~illez paz le oh t qui dort. Abruptly yours, MOLLY OMoLLY. GLANCES FROM TIlE SENATE-GALLERY. THE comparative excellence of differ- ent periods of eloquence and states- manship affords a subject of curious and profitable contemplation. The action of different systems of government, encour- aging or depressing intellectual effort, the birth of occasions which elicit the powers of great minds, and the peculiar characteristics of the manner of think- ing and speaking in different countries, are observable in considering this topic. A pardonable curiosity has led the writer frequently to visit the United States Sen- ate Chamber, and to place mentally the intellectual giants of that body in con- trast with their predecessors on the same scene, i~nd with the eminent orators and statesmen of other countries and other ages; and the result of such compari- sons has always been to awaken national pride, and to convince that the polity bequeathed us by our fathers, no less than the distinctive genius of the race, have practically demonstrated that a free system is the most prolific in the production of animated oratory and vig- orous statesmanship. Undoubtedly, the golden age of American eloquence must be fixed in the time of General Jackson, when Webster, Clay, Calhoun, Rives, Woodbury, and ilayne sat in the Upper House; and whatever may be our won- der, when we contemplate the brilliant orations of the British statesmen who shone toward the close of the last cen- tury, if we turn from Burke to Webster, from Pitt to Calhoun, from Fox to Clay, and from Sheridan to Randolph and to Rives, Americans can not be disappoint- ed by the comparison. Since the death of the last of that illustrious trio, whose equality of powers made it futile to award by unanimity the superiority to either, and yet whose greatness of intel- lect placed them by common assent far above all others, the eloquence of the Senate has been less brilliant and less interesting. And yet it has not fallen below a standard of eloquence equal, if not superior, to that of any other na- tion. Unlike the English and the French, who have to go back more than half a century to deplore their greatest Sen- ators and Ministers, the grave closed over the greatest American intellects within the memory of the present gen- eration; and the contrast between the Senate of to-day and the Senate of a score of years ago, is too striking, perhaps, to give us an impartial idea of the abilities which now guide the nation. The Senate which is at present delib- erating on the gravest questions which our legislature has been called upon to consider since the establishment of the Constitution, is, without doubt, inferior in point of eminent talent, to the Senate of Websters time, and even to the Sen- ate which closed its labors on the day of Mr. Lincolns inauguration. In this latter body were three men, who, though far below the great trio preceding them, still occupied in a measure their com- manding influence on the floor and be-

10 Glance8 front the Senate-Gallery. Spiders parlor proved to be a dining- room. Sam Slick says that man is common clay woman porcelain. Alas! there is but little genuine porcelain. It is a pity that you couldnt contrive to have a few jars before matrimony, to crack off some of the glazing, and show the true character of the ware. And you, sister woman, learn a lesson from the tiny nautilus, which, by yielding, can defy the most violent rag. ings of the sea. And, though man is so nicely adapted to your management that it is obviously the end of his cre- ation, remember Mrs. Joncss trifling miscalculation in regard to the meer- schaum, and N ~v~illez paz le oh t qui dort. Abruptly yours, MOLLY OMoLLY. GLANCES FROM TIlE SENATE-GALLERY. THE comparative excellence of differ- ent periods of eloquence and states- manship affords a subject of curious and profitable contemplation. The action of different systems of government, encour- aging or depressing intellectual effort, the birth of occasions which elicit the powers of great minds, and the peculiar characteristics of the manner of think- ing and speaking in different countries, are observable in considering this topic. A pardonable curiosity has led the writer frequently to visit the United States Sen- ate Chamber, and to place mentally the intellectual giants of that body in con- trast with their predecessors on the same scene, i~nd with the eminent orators and statesmen of other countries and other ages; and the result of such compari- sons has always been to awaken national pride, and to convince that the polity bequeathed us by our fathers, no less than the distinctive genius of the race, have practically demonstrated that a free system is the most prolific in the production of animated oratory and vig- orous statesmanship. Undoubtedly, the golden age of American eloquence must be fixed in the time of General Jackson, when Webster, Clay, Calhoun, Rives, Woodbury, and ilayne sat in the Upper House; and whatever may be our won- der, when we contemplate the brilliant orations of the British statesmen who shone toward the close of the last cen- tury, if we turn from Burke to Webster, from Pitt to Calhoun, from Fox to Clay, and from Sheridan to Randolph and to Rives, Americans can not be disappoint- ed by the comparison. Since the death of the last of that illustrious trio, whose equality of powers made it futile to award by unanimity the superiority to either, and yet whose greatness of intel- lect placed them by common assent far above all others, the eloquence of the Senate has been less brilliant and less interesting. And yet it has not fallen below a standard of eloquence equal, if not superior, to that of any other na- tion. Unlike the English and the French, who have to go back more than half a century to deplore their greatest Sen- ators and Ministers, the grave closed over the greatest American intellects within the memory of the present gen- eration; and the contrast between the Senate of to-day and the Senate of a score of years ago, is too striking, perhaps, to give us an impartial idea of the abilities which now guide the nation. The Senate which is at present delib- erating on the gravest questions which our legislature has been called upon to consider since the establishment of the Constitution, is, without doubt, inferior in point of eminent talent, to the Senate of Websters time, and even to the Sen- ate which closed its labors on the day of Mr. Lincolns inauguration. In this latter body were three men, who, though far below the great trio preceding them, still occupied in a measure their com- manding influence on the floor and be- 11 Glances from the Senate-Gallery. fore the country: one of whom now holds an Executive office, another sits in the Lower House, and the third has passed away from the scenes of his triumphs forever. Mr. Seward, whose keen logic, accurate statement of details, and imperturbable coolness, remind one of Pitt and Grey, was considered, while Senator from New-York, as the leading statesman of the body, and was the nucleus around which concentrated the early adherents of the now dominant party. Mr. Crittendens fervent and earnest declamation, wise experience, and good-nature, gave him a high rank in the respect and esteem of his col- leagues, while his age and life-long devo- tion to the service of the state, endowed him with unusual authority. The la- mented Douglas, who surpassed every other American statesman in casual dis- cussion, and whose name will rank with that of Fox, in the art of extempore de- bate, could not fail to be the leader of a large party, and the popular idol of a large mass, by the manly energy of his character, his devotion to popular princi- ples, and a rich and sonorous eloquence, which convinced while it delighted. It must also in candor be admitted, that the secession of the Southern Sen- ators from the floor, made a decided breach in the oratorical excellence of that body. However villainous their statesmanship, and to whatever traitor- ous purposes they lent the power of their eloquence, there were several from the disaffected States who were eminent in a skillful and brilliant use of speech. Probably the n~an who possessed the most art in eloquence, and who united a keen and plausible sophistry with great brilliancy of language and decla- mation with the highest skill, was Ben- jamin, of Louisiana. Born a Hebrew, and bearing in his countenance the un- mistakable indications of Jewish birth, his person is small, thick, and ill-pro- portioned; his expression is far less intellectual than betokening cunning, while his whole manner fails to give the least idea, when he is not speaking, of the wonderful powers of his mind. Shrewd and unprincipled, devoting him- self earnestly and without the least scruple of conscience to two objects the acquisition of money and the suc- cess of treason he yet concealed the true character of his designs under an apparently ingenuous and fervent deliv- ery, and in the garb of sentiments wor- thy a Milton or a Washingtoit His voice, deeply musical, and uncommonly sweet, enhanced the admiration with which one viewed his matchless deliv- ery, in which was perfect grace, and entire harmony with the expressions which fell from his lips. How mourn- ful a sight, to see one so nobly gifted, leading a life of baseness and vice, de- voting his immortal qualities to the vilest selfishness, and to the betrayal of his country and of liberty! Should the descendant of an oppressed and per- secuted race take part with oppressors? Senator Benjamin is a renegade to the spirit of freedom which animated his ancestors. He who, among the Southern Sen- ators, ranked as an orator next to Ben- jamin, now leads the rebellious hosts against the flag under which he was reared, and lends~ his unquestioned powers to the demolition of the great Republic of which he was once a bril- liant ornament. Certainly endowed with more forethought and practical wisdom than any of his Democratic colleagues, well qualified by his calm survey of every question and every political move- ment, to lead a large party, and forcible and ironical in debate, Jefferson Davis stood at the head of the disaffected in the Senate, as he now does in the field. Cautious and deliberate in speech, he yet never failed to launch out in strong invective, and to make effective use of irony in his attacks. He is in personal appearance, rather small and thin, with a refined and decidedly intellectual coun- tenance, and a not unamiable expression. His health alone prevented his rising to the first rank of American orators; and what of his statesmanship was not di- rected to the accomplishment of parti- san purposes, gave him much consider- 12 Glances from the Senate-Gallery. ation. He was incapable, from a weak constitution, of sustaining, at great length, the vivacity and energy with which he commenced his speeches; and therefore, their sharp sarcasm and great power, made them appear more consid- erable in print than in the delivery. Even after he had enlisted all his ener- gies in the detestable scheme which he is now trying to fulfill, his prudence halted at the rash idea he had embraced and he attempted for a moment to stem the torrent, by voting for the Crittenden propositions. His delivery was grace- ful and dignified, his manner sometimes courteous, often contemptuous, and al- ways impressive. His eloquence con- sisted rather in the lucid logic and deliberate thought evinced than for rhe- torical beauty or range of imagination; occasionally, however, he would diverge from the plain thread of argument, and rise to declamation of striking brilliancy and power. Over - quick, with all his natural phlegm, to discern and to re- sent personal affrontsoftentimes when there was no occasion therefor he was a favorable exemplar of that peculiar, and to our mind, somewhat incompre- hensible quality, which the Southern people glory in, and which they dignify by the stately epithet of chivalry. On the whole, he must be regarded as the ablest, and therefore the most culpa- ble and dangerous of the insurgent lead- ers; and he may, perhaps, be considered the first of Southern statesmen since the time of Calhoun. Another Senator who occupied a high rank as a partisan and statesman among the Southern Democracy, was Hunter, of Virginia. He is a thickly-built per- son, with a countenance possessing but little expression, and far from intellect- ual; and would rather be noticed by one sitting in the gallery for the negli- gence of his dress, utter want of dig- nity, and exceedingly unsenatorial bear- ing, than for any other external quali- ties. But when he had spoken a few moments, a decided soundness of head, and shrewdness, appeared to enter into the composition of his mind. No man in the Senate had a juster idea of finan- cial philosophy; and his services on the Committee devoted to that department, were highly appreciated by ever.y one. He was, however, little trusted by loyal Senators, and his frequent professions of devotion to the Union, failed to con- ceal the bent of his mind toward those with whom he is now in intimate con- cert. Sincerity had least place of all the virtues in his breast; and his hypoc- risy, somewhat hidden by the apparent ingenuousness and conciliatory address of his manner, became manifest in ac- tions and votes, rather than in words. He was, so far as can now be ascertained, one of the prime movers of the Senato- rial cabal, or caucus, which was devoted either to the complete dominance of the Southern element in the Union, or to their forcible secession from the Union; and was probably as active and earnest a traitor, long before the doctrine of se- cession was ventured upon, as the most fiery of South-Carolina fire-eaters. Mr. Hunter is, in private, courteous and affa- ble, and, indeed, in the debates in which he took part, he never transgressed the rules of respect due to his colleagues, or violated the dicta of parliamentary etiquette. His colleague, Mason, is an irritable, petulant, arrogant man, not without a certain ability in debate, but censorious, and unconfined by the restraints of de- cency in his tirades against the North. He was one of the finestlooking men,~ if we speak phrenologically, in the last Senate; and would always be noticed for his dignified manner and fine head, by a stranger visiting the Chamber for the first time. We have briefly noticed him, rather on account of the notoriety recently attached to his name by the Trent~ affair, than from his prominence among Southern orators and statesmen his talent. being, in fact, of a dccidedly mediocre description. While speaking of Mason, it will be apropos to allude to his late companion in trouble, John Slidell, who was cer- tainly the shrewdest politician and party tactician among his friends on the north Glances from~ the Senate- Gallery. 13 side of the chamber; he is indeed the Nestor of intriguers. From the time when, early in life, he aspired to, and in a degree succeeded in controlling the politics of the Empire City, up to this hour, when he is with snake-like subtle- ness attempting to poison French honor, his career has been a series of success- ful intrigues. Utterly devoid of moral principle, he resembles his late colleague, Benjamin, in the immorality of his life, and the baseness of his ends, attained by as base means. He is rather a good- looking man, short, with snowy-white hair and red face, his countenance indi- cative of the secretiveness and cunning of his character. He was rather the caucus adviser and manager than one of the orators of his party; seldom speak- ing, and never except briefly and to the point. Imagination in him has been warped and made torpid by a life of dis- sipation, as well as by his practical ten- dencies. He is, like many other South- ern statesmen, courteous and pleasing in social conversation; but is heartless, selfish, and malignant in his enmities. Robert Toombs stood deservedly high in the traitorous cabal in the Senate; for, to a bold and energetic spirit, great arrogance of manner, and activity, he added a powerful mind and a clear head. In the street, he would strike you as a self-conceited, bullying, contemptuous person, with brains in the inverse pro- portion to his body, which was large and apparently strong. His manner, when addressing the Senators, had indeed much of an overbearing and insolent spirit; but the impression, in regard to his character, after hearing him speak, was much better than before. There was an indication of strength behind the bullying, blustering air which he put on, which raised ones respect for his attainments. One of the most rabid and uncompromising of secession lead- ers, and bigoted in his hatred of the North, he was yet, in private, a court- eous and hospitable gentleman, and, ap- parently at least, frank in the expression of opinion. Probably he had as little principle in political and social life as most of his associates in treason; while his great self-reliance, activity, and men- tal ability gave him a very high position in their confidence. He was tall and stout, though not corpulent; and was very negligent of his toilet and dress. Self-conceit was written on his counten- ance, and displayed itself in his arro- gant assumptions of superiority. But his method of dealing with his Northern opponents was open and bold, although insolent and overbearing, and not like Hunter, Davis, and Benjamin, using in- genious sophistry and hidden sarcasm, cautiously smoothing over their real purpose, by rhetoric and elegant senti- ment. Mr. Toombs became early an object of peculiar dislike to Northern men, by the rude ingenuousness with which he announced the last conclusions of his political creed, and the intoler- able insolence with which, not heeding the admonitions of his more cautious confederates, he thundered out his an- athemas of hatred and vengeance on what he was pleased to call Northern tyranny. It was only when the crisis came, that others unfolded together their base character and their hypoc- risy. Davis, who had been fondled by New - Englanders but a year or two since, and Hunter, who had cried for peace and compromise, standing forth at last in the true light of traitors, and thereby proclaiming their past life a game of hypocrisy. Toombs, therefore, who was an original fire-eater, and hence could not be called a hypocrite, has be- come less an object of hatred to us of the loyal States, than those who, while they sat at the cabinet councils, or were admitted to the confidence of the Ex- ecutive, or were sent to foreign courts, or presided over the Upper House, were using the power of such high trusts for the consummation of a conspiracy against their country, yet retaining the cant of patriotism and feigning a devo- tion to the Union. We have dwelt al- most exclusively, in the present chapter, upon Senators whose highest honors have been tarnished or obliterated by the gravest of crimes, that of treason ijilaccaroni and Canvas. toward a vast community. But it has been with the idea that the least should be presented first, and that the greater should close the scene; as in royal pro- cessions, the monarch always brings up the rear. We conceive that the great talents which we have acknowledged, and which doubtless all will agree with us in acknowledging, the leaders of the Southern rebellion to possess, only en- hance the magnitude of their offense, and serve to illustrate with greater force the enormity of their purposes. That a brainless fanatic like Lord George Gordon, or the Neapolitan fisherman, Massaniello, should stir up tremendous agitation, may be matter for critical study, but is hardly a subject of wonder. But that men gifted with exalted ability, undoubted caution, well-balanced intel- lect, and apparently refined reason, all of which have been appreciated and ac- knowledged, should propound an erro- neous doctrine of a chaotic system, and proceed to the violence of civil war, on what they must know to be a false and heretical plea, can only remind us of those devils who have been pictured by the matchless art of Milton, of Dante, and of Goethe, as possessing stately in- tellects with perfectly vicious hearts. XYe propose, in a future number, if these remarks on public characters are accept- able, to continue our remarks, by intro- ducing the loyal Senators of the last Congress, a band of men who will be found to equal in talent, and immeasur- ably to surpass in moral rectitude and earnest patriotism, the bad company from whom we now part. MACCARONI AND CANVAS. V. THE GREcO. The Cafd Greco, like the belle of many seasons, lights up best at night. In morning, in de8hct~ille, not all the ven- erability of its age can make it respect- able. Caper declares that on a fresh, sparkling day, in the merry spring-time, he once really enjoyed a very early breakfast there~ and that, with the windows of the Omnibus-room open, the fresh air blowing in, and the sight of a pretty girl at the fourth-story win- dow of a neighboring house, feeding a bird and tending a rose-bush, the old cafd was rose-colored. This may be so; but seven oclock in the evening was the time when the Greco was in its prime. Then the front- room was filled with Germans, the sec- ond room with Russians and English, the third room the Omnibus with Americans, English, and French, and the fourth, or back-room, was brown with Spaniards. The Italians were there, in one or two rooms, but in a minority; only those who affected the English showed themselves, and aired their knowledge of the Anglo-Saxon tongue and habits. I habituate myselg said a red-haired Italian of the Greco to Caper, to the English customs. I myself lave with hot water from foot to head, one time in three weeks, like the English. It is an idea of the most superb, and they tell me I am truly English for so performing. I have not yet arrive to perfection in the lessons of box, but I have a smart cove of a bool-dog. Caper told him that his resemblance to an English gent was perfect, at which the Italian, ignorant of the mean- ing of that fearful word, smiled assent. The waiter has hardly brought you your small cup of caffe nero, and you are preparing to light a cigar, to smoke while you drink your coffee, when there comes before you a wandering bouquet- 14

ijilaccaroni and Canvas. toward a vast community. But it has been with the idea that the least should be presented first, and that the greater should close the scene; as in royal pro- cessions, the monarch always brings up the rear. We conceive that the great talents which we have acknowledged, and which doubtless all will agree with us in acknowledging, the leaders of the Southern rebellion to possess, only en- hance the magnitude of their offense, and serve to illustrate with greater force the enormity of their purposes. That a brainless fanatic like Lord George Gordon, or the Neapolitan fisherman, Massaniello, should stir up tremendous agitation, may be matter for critical study, but is hardly a subject of wonder. But that men gifted with exalted ability, undoubted caution, well-balanced intel- lect, and apparently refined reason, all of which have been appreciated and ac- knowledged, should propound an erro- neous doctrine of a chaotic system, and proceed to the violence of civil war, on what they must know to be a false and heretical plea, can only remind us of those devils who have been pictured by the matchless art of Milton, of Dante, and of Goethe, as possessing stately in- tellects with perfectly vicious hearts. XYe propose, in a future number, if these remarks on public characters are accept- able, to continue our remarks, by intro- ducing the loyal Senators of the last Congress, a band of men who will be found to equal in talent, and immeasur- ably to surpass in moral rectitude and earnest patriotism, the bad company from whom we now part. MACCARONI AND CANVAS. V. THE GREcO. The Cafd Greco, like the belle of many seasons, lights up best at night. In morning, in de8hct~ille, not all the ven- erability of its age can make it respect- able. Caper declares that on a fresh, sparkling day, in the merry spring-time, he once really enjoyed a very early breakfast there~ and that, with the windows of the Omnibus-room open, the fresh air blowing in, and the sight of a pretty girl at the fourth-story win- dow of a neighboring house, feeding a bird and tending a rose-bush, the old cafd was rose-colored. This may be so; but seven oclock in the evening was the time when the Greco was in its prime. Then the front- room was filled with Germans, the sec- ond room with Russians and English, the third room the Omnibus with Americans, English, and French, and the fourth, or back-room, was brown with Spaniards. The Italians were there, in one or two rooms, but in a minority; only those who affected the English showed themselves, and aired their knowledge of the Anglo-Saxon tongue and habits. I habituate myselg said a red-haired Italian of the Greco to Caper, to the English customs. I myself lave with hot water from foot to head, one time in three weeks, like the English. It is an idea of the most superb, and they tell me I am truly English for so performing. I have not yet arrive to perfection in the lessons of box, but I have a smart cove of a bool-dog. Caper told him that his resemblance to an English gent was perfect, at which the Italian, ignorant of the mean- ing of that fearful word, smiled assent. The waiter has hardly brought you your small cup of caffe nero, and you are preparing to light a cigar, to smoke while you drink your coffee, when there comes before you a wandering bouquet- 14 .Miaccaroni and Canvct8. seller. It is, perhaps, the dead of win- ter; long icicles are hanging from foun- tains, over which hang frosted oranges, frozen myrtles, and frost-nipped olives. Alas! such things are seen in Rome; and yet, for a dime you are offered a bouquet of camellia japonicas. By the way, the name camellia is derived from CameUas, a learned Jesuit; probably La Dame aux Camdia8 had not a sim- ilar origin. You dont want the flowers. Signore, says the man, behold a ruined flower-merchant! You are unmoved. Have you not seen or heard og many a time, the heav- iest kind of flour-merchants ruined by too heavy speculations, burst up so high the crows couldnt fly to them; and heard this without changing.a muscle of your face? But, signore, do buy a bouquet to please your lady? Havent one. Altro! answers the man, triumph- antly, whom did I see the other day, with these eyes, (pointing at his own,) in a magnificent carriage, beside the most beautiful Donna In~flesa in Rome? Iddio giusto! . . . At this period, he sees he has made a ten strike, and at once follows it up by knocking down the ten-pin boy, so as to clear the alley, thus: For her sake, signore. You pay a paul, (and give the bouquet to your landladys daughter,) while the departing mercante di fiori assures you that he never, no, never expects to make a fortune at flowers; but if he gains enough to pay for his wine, he will be very tipsy as long as he lives! Then comes an old man, with a chess- board of inlaid stone, which he hasnt an idea of selling; but finds it excellent to move on, without being checkmated as a beggar without visible means of sport. The first time he brought it round, and held it out square to Caper, that cool young man, taking a handful of coppers from his pocket, arranged them as checkers on the board, without taking any notice of the man ; and after he had placed them, began playing de- liberately. He rested his chin on his hand, and with knitted brows, studied several intricate moves; he finally jump- ed the men, so as to leave a copper or two on the board; and bidding the old man good-night, continued a conversa- tion with Rocjean, commenced previous to his game of draughts. Next approaches a hardware - mer- chant, for, in Imperial Rome, the peddler of a colder clime is a merchant, the shoe- maker an artist, the artist a professor. The hardware-man looks as if he might be touter to a broken-down brigand. All the razors in his box couldnt keep the small part of his face that is shaved from wearing a look as if it had been blown up with gunpowder, while the grains had remained embedded there. lie tempts you with a wicked-looking knife, the pattern for which must have come from the litreus of Etruria, the land called the mother of suj}erstitions, and have been wielded for auguries amid the howls and groans of lucomones and priests. He tells you it is a Campagna- knife, and that you must have one if you go into that benighted region; he says this with a mysterious shake of his head, as if he had known Fra Diavolo in his childhood and Fra Tonelli in his riper years. The crescent-shaped handle is of black bone; the pointed blade long and tapering; the three notches in its back catch into the spring with a noise like the alarum of a rattle-snake. You conclude to buy one for a curiosity. You ask why the blade at the point fin- ishes off in a circle? He tells you the government forbids the sale of sharp- pointed knives; but, signore, if you wish to use it, break off the circle under your heel, and you have a point sharp enough to make any man have an aceidente di freddo~ (death from cold steel.) Victor Hugo might have taken his character of Quasimodo from the wild figure who now enters the Greco, with a pair of horns for sale; each horn is nearly a yard in length, black and white in color; they have been polished by the hunchback until they shine like glass. Now he approaches you, and with deep, rough voice, reminding you 15 16 Afiaccaroni and Canvas. of the lowing of the large grey oxen they once belonged to, begs you to buy them. Then he facetiously raises one to each, side of his head, and you have a figure that Jeroxiie Bosch would have rejoiced to transfer to canvas. His por- trait has been painted by more than one artist. Caper, sitting in the Omnibus one evening with Rocjean, was accosted by a very seedy-looking man, with a very peculiar expression of face, wherein an awful struggle of humor to crowd down pinching poverty gleamed brightly. He offered for sale an odd volume of one of the early fathers of the Church. Its probable value was a dime, whereas he wanted two dollars for it. Why do you ask such a price? asked Rocjean, you never can expect to sell it for a twentieth part of that. The moral of which, said the seedy man, no longer containing the struggling humor, but letting it out with a hearty laugh; the moral of which is give me half a baioccho! Ever after that, Caper never saw the man, who henceforth went by the name of Lc& Jiforale ~ un. Miezzo Bajoceho! without pointing the moral with a cop- per coin. Not content with this, he once took him round to the Lepre res- taurant, and ordered a right good supper for him. Several other artists were with him, and all declared that no one could do better.justice to food and wine. After he had eaten all he could hold, and drank a little mort~ than he could carry, he arose frpm tabi~, having dur- ing the entire meal sensibly kept silence, and wiping his mouth on his coat-sleeve, spoke: The moral this evening, signori, I shall carry home in my stomachs As he was going out of the restau- rant, one of the artists asked him why he left two rolls of bread on the table; saying they were paid for, and belonged to him. I left them, said he, out of regard for the correct usages of society; but, having shown this, I return to pocket them. This he did at once, and Caper stood astonished at the seedy-beggars phrase- ology. In addition to these characters, wan- dering musicians find their way into the cafil, jugglers, peddlers of Roman mo- saics and jewelry, plaster-casts and sponges, perfumery and paint-brushes. Or a peripatetic shoemaker, with one pair of shoes, which he recklessly offers for sale to giant or dwarf. One morn- ing he found a purchaser a French artist who put them on, and threw away his old shoes. Fatal mistake. Two hours afterward, the buyer was back in the Greco, with both big toes sticking out of the ends of his new shoes, looking for that eocho~ of a shoe- maker. To those who read men like books, the Oreco offers a valuable circulating library. The advantage, too, of these artistical works is, that one needs not be a Mezzofanti to read the Russian, Spanish, German, French, Italian, Eng- lish, and other faces that pass before one panoramically. There sits a rela- tion of a hospodar, drinking Russian tea; he pours into a large cup a small glass of brandy, throws in a slice of lemon, fills up with hot tea. Do you think of the miles he has traveled, in a telega, over snow-covered steppes, and the smoking samovar of tea that await- ed him, his journey for the day ended? Had he lived when painting and sculp- ture were in their ripe prime, what a fiery life he would have thrown into his works! As it is, he drinks cognac, hunts wild-boars in the Pontine marshes and paints Samson and Delilah, after models. The Spanish artist; over a cup of chocolate, has lovely dreams, of burnt umber hue, and despises the neglected treasures left him by the Moors, while he seeks gold in castles in the air. The German, with feet in Italy and head far away in the Fatherland, fre- quents the German-club in preference to the Greco; for at the club is there not lager beer ? In imperial Rome, there are lager beer breweries! He has Jifaccaroni and Canvas. the profundities of the esthetical in art at his finger-ends; it is deep-sea fishing, and he occasionally lands a whale, as Kaulbach has done; or very nearly catches a mermaid with Cornelius. Let us respect the man he works. The French artist, over a cup of black coffee, with perhaps a small glass of cognac, is the lightning to the German thunder. If he were asked to paint the portrait of a potato, he would make eyes about it, and then give you a little pic- ture fit to adorn a boudoir. He does every thing with a flourish. If he has never painted Nero performing that cele- brated violin-solo over Rome, it is be- cause he despaired of conveying an idea of the tremulous flourish of the fiddle- bow. He reads nature, and translates her, without understanding her. He will prove to you that the cattle of Rosa Bonheur are those of the fields, while he will object to Landseer that his beasts are these of the guinea cattle- show. He blows up grand facts in the science of art with gunpowder, while the English dig them out with a shovel, and the Germans bore for them. He finds Raphael, king of pastel artists, and never mentions his discovery to the English. He is more dangerous with the fleurette than many a trooper with broadsword. Every thing that he ap- propriates, he stamps with the character of his own nationality. The English race-horse at Chantilly has an air of curl-papers about his mane and tail. The Italian artist the night-season is for sleep. The English artist hearken to Rus- kin on Turner! When one has hit the bulls-eye, there is nothing left but to lay down the gun, and go and have a whitebait dinner. The American artistthere is danger of the youthful giant kicking out the end of the Cradle of. Art, and scatter- lophisticating rampageously over all the nursery. Id jest give a hun-dred dol-lars tmorrow, ef I could find out a way to cut stat-tures by steam, said Chapin, the sculptor. VOL. it. 2 I cant see why a country with great rivers, great mountains, and great insti- tutions generally, can not produce great sculptors and painters, said Caper sharply, one day to Rocjean. It is this very greatness, answered Rocjean, that prevents it. The aim of the people runs not in the narrow chan- nel of mountain-stream, but with the broad tide of the ocean. In the hands of Providence, other lands in other times have taken up painting and sculpture with their whole might, and have wield- ed them to advance civilization. They have played are playing their part, these civilizers; but they are no longer chief actors, least of all in America. Painting and sculpture may take the character of subjects there; but their r6le as king is played out. Much as you know a1~out it, answer- ed Caper, you are all theory! That may be, quoth Rocj can; you know what GEOX means in Greek, dont you? AMONG TIlE WILD EzAsTs. There came to Rome, in the autumn, along with the other travelers, a caravan of wild beasts, ostensibly under charge of Monsieur Charles, the celebrated Tamer, rendered illustrious and illus- trated by Nadar and Gustave Dora, in the Journal pour 1?ire. They were ex- hibited under a canvas tent in the Piazza Popolo, and a very cold time they had of it during the winter. Evidently, Monsieur Charles believed the climate of Italy belonged to the temperance so- ciety of climates. He erred, and suffer- ed with his superle et manufique ~LLLLLtPHANT! and when we re- flee, ladies and gentlemen, that there are persons, forty and even fifty years old, who have never seen the Elllle- phant and who DARE TO SAY so!!! . . . Monsieur Charles made his explanations with teeth chattering. Caper, anxious to make a sketch of a very fine Bengal tiger in the collection, easily purchased permission to make studies of the animals during the hours when the exhibition was closed to the 17 Afaccaroni and Canvas. public; and as he went at every thing vigorously, he was before long in posses- sion of several 1ine sketches of the tiger and other beasts, besides several secrets only known to the initiated, who act as keepers. The royal Bengal tiger was one of the finest beasts Caper had ever seen, and what he particularly admired was the jet-black lustre of the stripes on his tawny sides and the vivid lustre of his eyes. The lion curiously seemed labor- ing under a heavy sleep at the very time when he should have been awake; but then his mane was kept in admirable order. The hair round his face stood out like the bristles of a shoe-brush, and there was a curl in the knob of hair at the end of his tail that amply compen- sated for his inactivity. The hyenas looked sleek and happy, and their teeth were remarkably white; but the ele- pliant was the constant wonder of all beholders. Instead of the tawny, blue- gray color of most of his species, he was black, and glistened like a patent- leather boot; while his tusks were as white as ivory; yea, more so. I dont understand what makes your animals look so bright, said Caper one day to one of the keepers. Come here to-morrow morning early, when we make their toilettes, and youll see, replied the man, laughing. Why, theres that old hog of a lion, hes as savage and snaptious before he has his medicine as a corporal; and looks as old as Methusaleb, until we arrange his beard and get him up for the day. As for the ellllephant . . . ugh! Capers curiosity was aroused, and the next morning, early, he was in the menagerie. The first sight that struck his eye was the elephant, keeled over on one side, and weaving his trunk about, evidently as a signal of distress; while his keeper and another man were blacking-pot and shoe-brushes in hand going all over him from stem to stern. Good day, said the keeper to him, heres a pair of boots for you! put outside the door to he blacked every morning, for five francs a day. Its the dearest job I ever undertook. and the boots are ungrateful! Here, Pierre, he continued to the man who helped him, he shines enough; take away the breshes, and bring me the sand-paper to rub up his tusks. Talk about polished beasts! I believe, myself; that we beat all other shows to pieces on this crc point. Some beasts are more knowing than others; for example, them monkeys in that cage there. Give that big fool of a shimpanzy that bresh, Pierre, and let the genleman see him operate on tother monkeys. Pierre gave the large monkey a brush, and, to Capers astonishment, he saw the animal seize it with one paw, then springing forward, catch a small monkey with the other paw, and holding him down, in spite of his struggles, admin- ister so complete a brushing over his entire body that every hair received a touch. The other monkeys in the ca0e were in the wildest state of excitement, evidently knowing from experience that they would all have to pass under the large ones hands; and when he had given a final polish to the small one, he commenced a vigorous chase for his mate, an aged female, who, evidently disliking the ordeal, commenced a series of ground and lofty tumblings that would have made the fortune of even the dis- tinguished Leotard. In vain: after a prolonged chase, in which the inhabit- ants of the cage flew round so fast that it appeared to be full of flying legs, tails, and fur, the large monkey seized the fe- male and, regardless of her attempts to liberate herself; he brushed her from head to foot, to the great delight of a Swiss soldier, an infantry corporal, who had entered the menagerie a few minutes before the grand hunt commenced. Mia voi! said the Swiss, pronounc- ing French with a broad German accent, it would keef me krate bleshur to have dat pig monkey in my gombany. He would mak virst rait brivate. The keeper, who was still polishing away with sand-paper at the elephants tusks, and who evidently regarded the soldier with great contempt, said to him: 18 He would have been there l6ii~~nce only he knows too much/ M~ roil thats the reason youre draining him vor a Yrench gavalry gom- bany. Yell, I likes dat. Oh! no, said the keeper, his prin- ciples ant going to allow him to enter our army. Yell, what are his brincibles? To serve those who pay best! quoth the Frenchman,who, in the firm faith that he had said a good thing, called Pierre to help him adorn the lion, and turned his back on the Swiss, who, in revenge, amused himself feeding the monkeys with an old button, a stump of a cigar, and various wads of paper. The keeper then gave the lion a nar- cotic, and after this medicine, combed out his mane and tail, waxed his wins- tache, and thus made his toilette for the day. The tiger and leopards had their stripes and spots touched up once a week with hair-dye, and as this was not the day appointed, Caper missed this part of the exhibition. The hyenas submitted to be brushed down; but showed strong symptoms of mutiny at having their teeth rubbed with a tooth- brush and their nails pared. In half an hour more, the keepers la- bors were over, and Caper, giving him a present for his inviting him to assist as spectator at la toilette liem 6~te, or beastly dressing, walked off to break- fast, evidently thinking that Art was not dead in that menagerie, whatever Roe- jean might say of its state of health in the world at large. To think, soliloquized Caper, to think of what a bootless thing it is, to shoe-black oer an elephant! ROMAN MODELS. The traveler visiting Rome notices in the Piazza di Spagna, along the Spanish steps, and in the Condotti, Fratina and Sistina streets, either sunning them- selves or slowly sauntering along, many picturesquely-dressed men, women, and children, who, as he soon learns, are the professional models of the artists. For a fee of from fifty cents to a dollar, they itfaccaroni and Canvas. 19 will give tl~ir professiofial services for a sitting four hours in length, and those of them who are most in dei~and find little difficulty during the business sea- son, say from the months of No~mber to May, in earning from one and a half to two dollars, and even more, every day. Many of them, living frugally, manage to make what is considered a fortune among the contadini in a. few years; and Hawks, the English artist, who spent a summer at Saracenesca, found, to his astonishment, that one of the leading men of the town, one who loaned money at very large interest, owned property, and who was number- ed among the heavy wealthy, was no other than a certain Gaetano, he had more than once used as model, at the price of fifty cents a sitting. The government prohibitin~ female models from posing nude in the ~ifferent life-schools, it consequently follo~rs that they pose in private studios, as they choose; this interdiction does not ex- tend to the male models; and when Caper was in Rome, he had full oppor- tunities offered him to draw from these in the English Academy, and in the private schools of Gigi and Giacinti. Supported by the British government, the English artist has, free of all ex- pense, at this truly National Academy, opportunities to sketch from life, as well as from casts, and has, moreover, access to a weil-chosen library of books. With a generosity worthy of all praise, Amer- ican artists are admitted to the English Academy, with full permission to share with Englishmen the advantages of the lifc-school, free of all cost; a piece of liberality that well might be copied by the French Ac~demy, without at all de- rogating from its high position on the Pincian Hill. If Gigis school is still kept np, (it was in a small street near the Trevi fountain,) we would advise the traveler in search of the picturesque by all means to visit it, particularly if it is in the same location it was when Caper was there. It was over a stable, in the second story of a tumble - down old 20 ilfaecaroni and Canvas. house, frequsTited by dogs, cats, fleas, ~?~-4t~\can tell yQU the name of the and rats; in a room say fifty feet long model it ~w painted from nine times by twenty wide. A semi-circle of desks out of ten I The fact is, they do want and wo0den benches went round the a new model for the Madonna badly in platform where stood the male models Rome, for Giacinta is growing old and nude, or on other evenings, male and fat, and Stella, since she married that female models in costumes, Roman or cobbler, has lost her angelic expression. Neapolitan. Oil lamps gave enough The small boy who used to pose for light to enable the artists who generally angels has smoked himself too yellow, atteiided there to draw, and color in oils and the man who stood for Charity has or water-colors, the costumes. The gone out of business. price of admittance for the costume I have, said Caper to me the other class was one paul, (ten cents,) and as day, too much respect for the public to the model only posed about two hours, tell them who the man with red hair the artists had to work very fast to get and beard used to pose for; but he has even a rough sketch finished in that taken to drinking, and its all up with short time. Americans, Panes, Ger- him. mans, Spaniards, French, Italians, Eng- Spite of fleas, rats, squalling cats, dog- lish, Russians, were numbered among fights, squealing of horses, and braying the atter)dants, and more than once, a of donkeys, lamp-smoke, and heat or sedate-4king English - woman or two cold, the hours passed by Caper in Gigis would ~me in quietly, make a sketch, old barracks were among the pleasantest anYgo away unmolested and almost un- of his Roman life. There was such noticed. novelty, variety, and brilliancy in the More than three - quarters of the costumes to be sketched, that every sketches made by Caper at Gigis cos- evening was a surprise; save those tume-class were taken from models in nights when Stella posed, and these standing positions. At the end of the were known and looked forward to in first hour, they had from ten to fifteen advance. She always insured a full minutes allowed them to rest; but these class, and when she first appeared, was minutes were seldom wasted by the the beauty of all the models. artist, who improved them to finish Caper was sitting one afternoon in the lines of his drawing, or dash in Roejeans studio, when there was a tap color. The powers of endurance of the at the door. female models were better than those Entrctte! shouted Roejean, and in of the men; and they would strike a came a female model, called Rita. It position and keep it for an hour, almost was the month of May, business was immovable. Noticeable among these dull; she wanted employment. Roe- women, was one named Minacucci, who, jean asked her to walk in and rest her- though over seventy years old, had all self. the animation and spirit of one not half Well, Rita, you havent any thing to her age; and would keep her position do, now that the English have all fled with the steadiness of ~ statue. She from Rome before the malaria? had, in her younger days, been a model Very little. Some of the Russians for Canova; had outlived two genera- are left up there in the Fratina; but tions; and was now posing for a third. since the Signore Giovanni sold all his If you have ever seen many figure- paintings to that rich Russian banker, paintings executed in Rome, your chance diavolo / he has done nothing but drink is good to have seen Minacuccis portrait champagne, and he dont want any more over and over again. Caper affirms that models. of any painting made in Rome from the What is the Signore Giovannis last years 1856 to 1860, introducing an Ital- name? asked Caper. ian head, whether a Madonna or sausage- Who knows, Signore Giacomo? I 3liaccaroni and Canva8. 21 dont. We others (noi ctltri) never can pronounce your queer names, so we find out the Italian for your first names, and call you by that. Signore Arturo, the French artist, told me once that the English and Russians and Germans had such hard names they often broke their front-teeth out trying to speak them; but he was joking. I know the real, true reason for it. Come, let us have it, said Rocjean. Aceidente! I wont tell you; you will be angry. No we wont, spoke Caper, and what is more, I will give you two pauls if you will tell us. I am very curious to know this reason.~ Bene, now the prete came round to see me the other day; it was when he purified the house with holy water, and he asked me a great many questions, which I answered so artlessly, yes, 80 artlessly! whew! [here Miss Rita smiled artfully.] Then he asked me all about you heretics, and he told me you were all going to be burned up, as soon as you died;~ for the Inquisition couldnt do it for you in these degenerate days. After a great deal more twaddle like this, I asked him why you heretics all had such hard names, that we others never could speak them? Then he looked mysterious, so! [here Miss Rita diabolically winked one eye,] and said he: I will tell you, per Bctcco! hush, its because they are so abominably wicked, never give any thing to oua Church, never have no holy water in their houses, never go to no confession, and are such monsters generally, that their police are all the time busy trying to catch them; but their names are so hard to speak that when the police go and ask for them, nobody knows them, and so they get off; otherwise, their country would have jails in it as large as St. Peters, and they would be full all the time! llm! said Rocjean, I suppose you would be afraid to go to such horrible countries, among such people? Not 1, spoke Rita, didnt Ida go to Paris, and didnt she come back to Rome with such a magnificent silk dress, and gold watch, and such a bonnet! all full of flowers, and lace, and ribbons? Oh! they dont eat nothing but macca- roni there! And they dont have priests all the time sneaking round to keep a poor girl from earning a little money honestly, and haul her up before the police if her carta di soggiorno [permit to remain in Rome] runs out. I wish [here Rita stamped her foot and her eyes flashed] Garibaldi would come here! Then you would see these black crows flying, Iddio giusto! Then we would have no more of these areiprete making us pay them for every mouthful of bread we eat, or wine we drink, or wood we burn. Why, said Caper, they dont keep the baker-shops, and wine-shops, and wood-yards, do they? No, answered Rita, but they spec- ulate in them, and Fra Tonelli makes. his cousins and so on inspectors; and they regulate the prices to suit them- selves, and make oh! such tremen-di-ous fortunes. [Here Rita opened her eyes, and spread her hands, as if beholdin~ the elephant.] Dont I remember, some time ago, how, when the Pope went out riding, he found both sides of the way from the Vatican to San Angelo croxvd- ed with people on their knees, groaning and calling to him. Said he to Fra Tonelli: What are these poor people about? Praying for your blessed holiness, said he, while his eyes sparkled. But, said the Pope, they are moaning and groaning. Its a way the poldaecio have, an- swered Tonelli, when they pray. The Pope knew he was lying, so, when he went home to the Vatican, he sent for one of his faithful servants, and said he: Santi, you run out and see what all this shindy is about? So Santi came back and told him Tonelli had put up the price of bread, and the people were starving. So thc Pope took out a big purse with a little money in it, and said he: 22 Jifaccaroni and Canvas. Here, Santi, you go and buy me ten pounds of bread, and get a bill for it, and have it receipted! So Santi came back with bread, and bill all receipted, and laid it down on a table, and threw a cloth over it. By and by, in comes Tonelli. Then the Pope says to him, kindly and smiling: I am confident I heard the people crying about bread to-day; now, tell me truly, what is it selling for V Then Tonelli told him such a lie. [Up went Ritas hands and eyes.] Then the Pope says, while he looked so [knitting her brows]: Oblige me, if you please, by lifting up that cloth. And Tonelli did. Bread went down six 1aiocchz~ next morning! By the way, Rita, asked Rocjean, where is your little brother, Beppo? Oh! hes home, she answered, but I wish you would ask your friend En- rico, the German sculptor, if he wont have him again, for his modeL Why, I thought he was using him for his new statue? He was; but oh! so unfortunately, last Sunday, father went out to see his cousin John, who lives near Ponte Mole, and has a garden there, and Beppo went with him; but the dear little fellow is ~o fond of fruit, that he ate a pint of raw horse-beans! Of all the fruit! shouted Caper. Si, signore, its splendid; but it gave Beppo the colic next day, and when he went to Signore Enricos studio to pose for Cupid, he twisted and wrench- ed around so with pain, that Signore Enrico told him he looked more like a little devil than a small love; and when Beppo told him what fruit he had been eating, Signore Enrico bid him clear out for a savage that he was, and told him to go and learn to eat them boiled! be- fore he came back again. I will speak to the Signore Enrico, and have him employ him again, said Rocjean. Oh! I wish you would, for the Sig- nore Enrico was very good to Beppo; besides, his studio is a perfect palace for cigar-stumps, which Beppo used to pick up and sell that is, all those he and father didnt smoke in their pipes. Make a sketch, Caper, said Rocjean, of Cupid filling up his quiver with cigar-stumps, while he holds one be- tween his teeth. Theres a model love for you! Now, give Rita those two pauls you promised her, and let her go. Adjo! GIULIA DI SEGNI. (Lines found written on the back of a sketch in Caper8 portfolio.) By Roman watch-tower, on the mountain- top, We stood, at sunset, gazing like the eagles From their cloud-cyrie, oer the broad Cain- pagna, To the Albanian hills, which boldly rose, Bathed in a flood of red and pearly light. Far off, and fading in the coming night, Lay the Abruzzi, where the pale, white walls Of towns gleamed faintly on their purple sides. The evening air was tremulous with sounds: The thrilling chirp of insects, twittering bird~, Barking of shepherds fierce, white, Roman dogs; While from the narrow path, far down be low, We heard a mournful roudinella ring, Sung by a home-returning mountaineer. Then, as the daylight slowly climbed the bills, And the soft wind breathed music to their steps, Oer the old Roman watch-tower marched the stars, In their bright legions conquerors of night Shedding from silver armor shining light; As once the Roman legions, ages past, Marched on to conquest oer the Latin way, Gleaming, white-stoned, so far beneath our gaze. GIULIA DI Szoxi, mid the Wolsolans born; Streamed in thy veins that fiery, Roman blood, Curled thy proud lip, and fired thy eagle eyes. Faultless in beauty, gs the noble forms Painted on rare Etrurian vase of old; How life, ennobled by thy love, sWept on, Serene, above the mean and pitiful!. JJfaccaroni and Canvas. 23 Stars! that still sparkle oer old Segnis walls Oh! mirror back to me one glance from eyes That yet may watch you from that Roman tower. MR. BROWN BUYS A PAINTING. Capers uncle, from St. Louis, Mr. William Browne, one day astonished several artists who were dining with him: My young men, said he, there is one thing pleases me very much about you all, and that is, you never mention the word Art; dont seem to care any thing more about the old masters than I would about a lot of old worn-out broom- sticks; and if I didnt know I was with artists in Rome, the cribno, what d ye call it? The manger? suggested Rocjean. Yes, continued Uncle Bill, the man- ger of art, I should think I was among a lot of smart merchants, who had gone into the painting business determined to do a right good trade. Cash on delivery, added Caper. Yes, be sure of that. Well, I like it; I feel at home with you; and as I always make it a point to encourage young busi- ness men,lam going to do my duty by one of you, at any rate. I shant show favor to my nephew, Jim, any more than I do to the rest. And this is my plan: I want a painting five feet by two, to fill up a place in my house in St. Louis; its an odd shape, and that is so much in my favor, because you havent any of you a painting that size under way, and can all start even. Ill leave the subject to each one of you, and Ill pay five hundred dollars to the man who paints the best picture, who has his done within seven days, csnd puts the most work on it! Do you all understand? They replied affirmatively. But what the thunder, asked Caper, are those of us who dont win the prize, going to do with paintings of such a size, left on our hands? Nobody, unless a steamboat captain, who wants to orna- ment his berths, just that size, and re- lieve the tedium of his passengers, would ever think of buying them. XVell, replied Uncle Bill, I dont want smart young men like you all, to lose your time and money, so Ill buy the balance of the paintings for what the canvas and paints cost, and give two dollars a day for the seven days employed on each painting. Isnt that liberal? Like Cosmo de Medici, answered Roc- jean; and I agree to the terms in every particular, especially as to putting the most work on it! There are four com- petitors put down their names. L& . gume, you will come in, wont you? Certainly I will, by Jing! answered the French artist, who prided himself on his knowledge of English, especially the interjections. Then, continued Rocjean, Caper, Bagswell, Legume, and I, will try for your five hundred dollar prize. When shall we commence? To-day is Tuesday, replied Uncle Bill; say next Monday that will give you plenty of time to get your frames and canvases. So that ends all partic- ulars. There are two friends of mine here from the United States,one, Mr. Van Brick, of New-York, and the other, Mr. Pinchfip, of Philadelphia, whom I think you all met here last week. The thin gentleman with hair very much brushed, be Gad? asked Li- gume. I dont remember as to his hair, an- swered Uncle Bill, but thats the man. Well, these two I know will act as vam- pires, and I am sure you will be pleased with their verdict. Monday after next, therefore, we will all call, so be ready. The four artists took the whole thing as a joke, but determined to paint the pictures; and at Capers suggestion, each one agreed, as there was a play of words in the clause, most work on it, to puz- zle Uncle Bill, and have the laugh on him. On the day appointed to decide the prize, Uncle Bill, accompanied by Messrs. Van Brick and Pinchfip, called first at Ligumes studio; they found him in the Via Margtttta, (in English, Malicious 24 Jiliaccaroni and Canva8. street,) in a light, airy , furnished with a striking attention to effect. On his easel was a painting of the required size, representing Louis XV. at Ver- sailles, surrounded by his lady friends. By making the figures of the ladies small, and crowding them, L6gume man- aged to get a hundred or two on the canvas. A period in their history to which Frenchmen refer with so much pleasure, and with which they are so conversant, was treated by the artist with professional zeaL The merits of the painting were carefully canvassed by the two judges. Mr. Pinchfip found it exceedingly graceful, neat, and pretty. Mr. Van Brick admired the females, re- marking that he should like to be in old Louiss place. To which L6gume bowed, asserting that he was sure he was in every way qualified to fill it. Mr. Van Brick determined in his mind to give the artist a dinner, at Spillmans, for that speech. Mr. Pinchfip took notes in a book; Mr. Van Brick asked for a light to a cigar. The former congratulated the artist; the latter at once asked him to come and dine with him. Mr. Pinchfip wished to know if he was related to the Count L6gume whom he had met at Paris. Mr. Van Brick told him he would bring his friend Livingston round to buy a painting. Mr. Pinchflp said that it would afford him pleasure to call again. Mr. Van Brick gave the artist his card, and shook hands with him: . . . and the judges were passing out, when L6- gume asked them to take one final look at the painting to see if it had not the most work on it. Mr. Van Brick in- stantly turned toward it, and running over it with his eye, burst into an un- controllable fit of laughter. If the others beat that, I am mis- taken,~ said he. .Look at there! call- ing the attention of Uncle Bill and Mr. Pincbfip to a fold of a curtain on which was painted, in small letters, MOST WORK.~ I say, Browne, continued Mr. Van Brick, he is too many for you; and if the one who puts most work on his painting is to win the five hundred dol- lars, L~gumes chance is good. Very ingenious, said Mr. Pinchfip, very; it is a legitimate play upon words. But legally, I can not affirm that I am aware of any precedent for awarding Mr. Brownes money to Monsieur L6- gume on this score. We will have to make a precedent, then, spoke Van Brick, and do it ille- gally, if we find that he deserves the money. But time flies, and we have the other artists to visit. They next went to Bagswells studio, in the Viccolo dei Greci, and found him in a large room, well furnished, and hav- ing a solidly comfortable look; the walls ornamented with paintings, sketches, costumes, armor; while in a good light under its one large window, was his painting. They found he had left his beaten track of historical subjects, and in the genre school had an interior of an Italian country inna kitchen-scene. It represented a stout, handsome coun- try girl, in Ciociara costume, kneading a large trough of dough, while another girl was filling pans with that which was already kneaded, and two or three other females were carrying them to an oven, tended by a man who was piling brush- wood on the fire. The painting was very life-like, and for the short time em- ployed on it, well finished. It wanted the fire and dash of Legumes painting, but its truthfulness to life evidently made a deep impression on Uncle Bill. Stuck on with a sketching-tack to one corner was a piece of paper, on which was marked the number of hours em- ployed each day on the work; it sum- med up fifty-four hours, or an average each day of nearly eight hours work on it. Mr. Pinchfips note - book was again called into play. Mr. Van Brick had another cigar to smoke, remarking that the artist had triple work in his picture head, bread, and prize-work: his pic- ture representing working in, over, and for bread! They next went to see Rocjean, in the Corso; they found him in a bournouse, ]ifaccaroni and Canvas. 25 with a fez on his head, a lone, chibouk in his mouth, smoking a~~ay, extended at full length on a settee, which he in- sisted was a divan. There was a glass bottle holding half a gallon of red wine on a table near him, also a bottle of Marsala, and half a dozen glasses. There was a roaring wood-fire in his stove-for it was December, and the day was over- cast and cooL This is the most out and out com- fortable old nest Ive seen in Rome, said Mr. Van Brick, as they entered; and as for curiosities and plunder, you beat Barnum. Will I take a glass of wine? I am there! Rocjean filled up glasses. Mr. Pinch- fip declining, as he never drank before dinner, neither did he smoke before din- ner. He told them that the late Doctor Phyzgig, who had always been their (the Pinchfips) family physician, had abso- lutely forbidden it. No one made any remark to this, un- less Mr. Van Bricks expressive face could be translated as observing, in a quiet manner, that the late Doctor was possibly dyspeptic, and probably nerv- ous. Rocjeans painting represented a view of the Claudian aqueduct, mountains in the distance; bold foreground, shep- herd with flocks, a wayside shrine, peas- ants kneeling in front of it. Over all, bold cloud effects. A very ponderous volume balanced on top of the picture, and leaning against the easel, invited Uncle Bills attention, and he asked Rocjean why he had put it there? The artist answered that it was a folio copy of Josephus, his works, and, as he was anxious to comply with the terms of Mr. Browne, he had placed it there in order to put the most work on it. Mr. Pinchfip having asked Rocjean why, in placing that book there, he was like a passenger paying his fare to the driver of an omnibus? The latter at once answered: Igive it up. So you do, replied Pinchfip. You are quick, sir, at answering conun- drums. Mr. Brick saw it. Finally Uncle Bill was made to comprehend. Very excellent, sir; very ingenious! Philadelphians may well be proud of the high position they have as punsters, utterers of bon ~nots and conundrums, said Rocjean; I have had the comfort of living in your city, and thoroughly appreciating your markets. After Rocjeans the judges and Uncle Bill went to Capers studio. As they entered his room they found that inge- nious youth walking, in his shirt-sleeves, in as large a circle as the room would permit, bearing on his head a large can- vas, while a quite pretty female model, named Stella, sat on a sofa, marking down something on a piece of paper, using the sole of her shoe for a writing- desk. We-ell! said Uncle Bill. One more round, quoth Caper, with unmoved countenance, and I will be with you. That will make four hundred and fifty, wont it, Stella? Eh, Cia! one more is all you want. And making an extra scratch with a pencil, the female model surveyed the new-comers with a triumphant air, plain- ly saying: See there! I can write, but I am not proud. What are you about, Jim? Look at that painting! answered Caper. The Blessing of the Donkeys, Horses, etc.; it is one of the most im- posing ceremonies of the Church. As my specialty is animal, I have chosen it for my painting; and not contented with laboring faithfully on it, I have deter- mined, in order to put the thing beyond a doubt as to my gaining the prize, to put the most work on it of any of my rivals; so I have actually, as Stella will tell you, carried it bodily four hundred and fifty times round this studio. Instead of a painting, I should think you would have made a panting of it, spoke Mr. Van Brick. The idea seems to me artful, added Mr. Pinchfip, but after all, this pedes- trian work was not on the painting, but under it; therefore, according to Black- stone on contracts, this comes under the 26 For the Hour of Triumph. head of a consideration do, ut facias, see voL ii. page 360. How far moral obligation is a legal consideration, see note, vol. iii. p. 249 Bossanquet and Pullers Reports. The principle servu~ fcwit, ut herus det, as laid down by... Jove! exclaimed Uncle Bill, couldnt you stop off the torrent for one minute? Im drowning I give up do with me as you see fit. And now, said Mr. Van Brick, that we have seen the four paintings, let us, Mr. Pinchfip, proceed calmly to discover who has won the five hundred dollars. Duly, deliberately, and gravely, let us put the four names on four slips of pa- per, stir them up in a hat. Mr. Browne shall then draw out a name, the owner of that name shall be the winner. It was drawn, and by good fortune for him, Bagswell won the five hundred dollars. Thus Uncle Bill Browne bought one painting for a good round sum, and three others at the stipulated price. Which one of the four had the most work on it, is, however, an unsettled question among three of the artists, to this day. FOR THE HOUR OF TRIUMPH. VICTORY comes with a palm in her hand, With laurel upon her brow; Cypress is clinging about her feet, But its dark blossoms are red and sweet, And the weeping mourners bow. It is welL Through her tears, the widow smiles To the child upon her knee; Thourt fatherless, darling; but he fell Gallantly fighting, and long and well, For the banner of the free! Then, weeping: Alas! for my lost, lost love; Alas! for my own weak heart; I know, when the storm shall pass away, My boy, in manhood, would blush to say: My blood had therein no part. The maiden her lover weeps, unconsoled, So desolate is her gloom; But a voice falls softly through the air, Whispering comfort to her despair, Love here hath fadeless bloom. The father laments for his boy, who fell By Cumberlands river-side; The sister, her brother loved the best, Whose blood, in the dark and troubled West, The father of waters dyed.

26 For the Hour of Triumph. head of a consideration do, ut facias, see voL ii. page 360. How far moral obligation is a legal consideration, see note, vol. iii. p. 249 Bossanquet and Pullers Reports. The principle servu~ fcwit, ut herus det, as laid down by... Jove! exclaimed Uncle Bill, couldnt you stop off the torrent for one minute? Im drowning I give up do with me as you see fit. And now, said Mr. Van Brick, that we have seen the four paintings, let us, Mr. Pinchfip, proceed calmly to discover who has won the five hundred dollars. Duly, deliberately, and gravely, let us put the four names on four slips of pa- per, stir them up in a hat. Mr. Browne shall then draw out a name, the owner of that name shall be the winner. It was drawn, and by good fortune for him, Bagswell won the five hundred dollars. Thus Uncle Bill Browne bought one painting for a good round sum, and three others at the stipulated price. Which one of the four had the most work on it, is, however, an unsettled question among three of the artists, to this day. FOR THE HOUR OF TRIUMPH. VICTORY comes with a palm in her hand, With laurel upon her brow; Cypress is clinging about her feet, But its dark blossoms are red and sweet, And the weeping mourners bow. It is welL Through her tears, the widow smiles To the child upon her knee; Thourt fatherless, darling; but he fell Gallantly fighting, and long and well, For the banner of the free! Then, weeping: Alas! for my lost, lost love; Alas! for my own weak heart; I know, when the storm shall pass away, My boy, in manhood, would blush to say: My blood had therein no part. The maiden her lover weeps, unconsoled, So desolate is her gloom; But a voice falls softly through the air, Whispering comfort to her despair, Love here hath fadeless bloom. The father laments for his boy, who fell By Cumberlands river-side; The sister, her brother loved the best, Whose blood, in the dark and troubled West, The father of waters dyed. 27 In ]7rans~tu. The mother oh! silence your Spartan tales Says bravely, hushing a moan: 1 have yet one left. My boy! go on; Bear freedoms banner high in the sun! Then sits in the house alone. To die for ones country is sweet, indeed! To fight for the right is brave; But there are brave hearts who vainly wait Till triumph shall find them desolate, Their hopes in a far-off grave. O mourners! be patient; the end shall come; The beautiful years of peace. Remember! though hearts rebel the while You hide your tears with a mournful smile, That tyranny soon shall cease. For victory comes, a palm in her hand, Fresh garlands about her brow; But the cypress trailing under her feet, With crimson blossoms, by tears made sweet, Shall wreathe with the laurel now. IN TRANSITU. WnEN the acid meets the alkali, How they sputter, snap, and fly! Such a crackling, such a pattering! Such a hissing, such a spattering I All in foaming discord tossed, One would swear that all is lost. Yet the equivalents soon blend, All comes right at last i the end. Country mine! tis so with thee. Wait and all will quiet be! Men, while working out a mission, Must not fear the fierce transition.

27 In ]7rans~tu. The mother oh! silence your Spartan tales Says bravely, hushing a moan: 1 have yet one left. My boy! go on; Bear freedoms banner high in the sun! Then sits in the house alone. To die for ones country is sweet, indeed! To fight for the right is brave; But there are brave hearts who vainly wait Till triumph shall find them desolate, Their hopes in a far-off grave. O mourners! be patient; the end shall come; The beautiful years of peace. Remember! though hearts rebel the while You hide your tears with a mournful smile, That tyranny soon shall cease. For victory comes, a palm in her hand, Fresh garlands about her brow; But the cypress trailing under her feet, With crimson blossoms, by tears made sweet, Shall wreathe with the laurel now. IN TRANSITU. WnEN the acid meets the alkali, How they sputter, snap, and fly! Such a crackling, such a pattering! Such a hissing, such a spattering I All in foaming discord tossed, One would swear that all is lost. Yet the equivalents soon blend, All comes right at last i the end. Country mine! tis so with thee. Wait and all will quiet be! Men, while working out a mission, Must not fear the fierce transition. 23 Among the Pine8. AMONG THE PINES. I SAUNTERED out, after the events re- corded in the last paper, to inhale the fresh air of the morning. A slight rain had fallen during the night, and it still moistened the dead leaves which car- peted the woods, making an extended walk out of the question; so, seating myself on the trunk of a fallen tree, in the vicinity of the house, I awaited the hour for breakfast. I had not remained there long before I hcard the voices of my host and Madam P on the front piazza: I tell you, Alice, I can not must not do it. If I overlook this, the dis- cipline of the plantation is at an end. Do what you please with him when you return, replied the lady, but do not chain him up, and leave me, at such a time, alone. You know Jim is the only one I can depend on. Well, have your own way. You know, my darling, I would not cause you a moments uneasiness, but I must follow up this d d Moye. I was seated where I could hear, though I could not see the speakers, but it was evident from the tone of the last remark, that an action accompanied it quite as tender as the words. Being unwilling to overhear more of a private conversation, I rose and approached them. Ah! my dear fellow, said the Colo- nel, on perceiving me, are you stirring so early? I was about to send to your room to ask if youll go with me up the country. My d d overseer has got away, and I must follow him at once. Ill go with pleasure, I replied. Which way do you think Moye has gone? The shortest cut to the railroad, probably; but old Ca~sar will track him. A servant then announced breakfast an early one having been prepared. We hurried through the meal with all speed, and the other preparations being soon over, were in twenty minutes in our saddles, and ready for the journey. The mulatto coachman, with a third horse, was at the door, ready to accom- pany us, and as we mounted, the Colo- nel said to him: Go and call Sam, the driver. The darky soon returned with the heavy, ugly-visaged black who had been whipped, by Madam P s order, the day before. Sam, said his master, I shall be gone some days, and I leave the field- work in your hands. Let me have a good account of you when I return. Yas, massa, you shill dat, replied the negro. Put JuleSams Juleinto the field, and see that she does full tasks, con- tinued the Colonel. Haint she wanted mong de nusses, massa? Put some one else there give her field-work; she needs it. I will here explain that on large plant- ations the young children of the field- women are left with them only at night, being herded together during the day in a separate cabin, in charge of nurses. These nurses are feeble, sickly women, or recent mothers; and the fact of Jules being employed in that capacity was evidence that she was unfit for out-door labor. Madam P , who was waiting on the piazza to see us ofi seemed about to remonstrate against this arrangement, but she hesitated a moment, and in that moment we had bidden her Good-by, and galloped away. We were soon at the cabin of the negro - hunter, and the coachman dis- mounting, called him out. Hurry up, hurry up, said the Colo- nel, as Sandy appeared, we havent a moment to spare. Jest so, jest so, Cunnel; Ill jine ye in a jiffin, replied he of the reddish extremities.

23 Among the Pine8. AMONG THE PINES. I SAUNTERED out, after the events re- corded in the last paper, to inhale the fresh air of the morning. A slight rain had fallen during the night, and it still moistened the dead leaves which car- peted the woods, making an extended walk out of the question; so, seating myself on the trunk of a fallen tree, in the vicinity of the house, I awaited the hour for breakfast. I had not remained there long before I hcard the voices of my host and Madam P on the front piazza: I tell you, Alice, I can not must not do it. If I overlook this, the dis- cipline of the plantation is at an end. Do what you please with him when you return, replied the lady, but do not chain him up, and leave me, at such a time, alone. You know Jim is the only one I can depend on. Well, have your own way. You know, my darling, I would not cause you a moments uneasiness, but I must follow up this d d Moye. I was seated where I could hear, though I could not see the speakers, but it was evident from the tone of the last remark, that an action accompanied it quite as tender as the words. Being unwilling to overhear more of a private conversation, I rose and approached them. Ah! my dear fellow, said the Colo- nel, on perceiving me, are you stirring so early? I was about to send to your room to ask if youll go with me up the country. My d d overseer has got away, and I must follow him at once. Ill go with pleasure, I replied. Which way do you think Moye has gone? The shortest cut to the railroad, probably; but old Ca~sar will track him. A servant then announced breakfast an early one having been prepared. We hurried through the meal with all speed, and the other preparations being soon over, were in twenty minutes in our saddles, and ready for the journey. The mulatto coachman, with a third horse, was at the door, ready to accom- pany us, and as we mounted, the Colo- nel said to him: Go and call Sam, the driver. The darky soon returned with the heavy, ugly-visaged black who had been whipped, by Madam P s order, the day before. Sam, said his master, I shall be gone some days, and I leave the field- work in your hands. Let me have a good account of you when I return. Yas, massa, you shill dat, replied the negro. Put JuleSams Juleinto the field, and see that she does full tasks, con- tinued the Colonel. Haint she wanted mong de nusses, massa? Put some one else there give her field-work; she needs it. I will here explain that on large plant- ations the young children of the field- women are left with them only at night, being herded together during the day in a separate cabin, in charge of nurses. These nurses are feeble, sickly women, or recent mothers; and the fact of Jules being employed in that capacity was evidence that she was unfit for out-door labor. Madam P , who was waiting on the piazza to see us ofi seemed about to remonstrate against this arrangement, but she hesitated a moment, and in that moment we had bidden her Good-by, and galloped away. We were soon at the cabin of the negro - hunter, and the coachman dis- mounting, called him out. Hurry up, hurry up, said the Colo- nel, as Sandy appeared, we havent a moment to spare. Jest so, jest so, Cunnel; Ill jine ye in a jiffin, replied he of the reddish extremities. Among the Pines. 29 Emerging from the shanty with pro- voking deliberation the impatience of my host had infected methe clay-eater slowly proceeded to mount the horse of the negro, his dirt bedraggled wife, and clay-incrusted children, following close at his heels, and the younger ones hud- dling around for the tokens of paternal affection usual at parting. Whether it was the noise they made, or their fright- ful aspect, I know not, but the horse, a spirited animal, took fright on their ap- pearance, and nearly broke away from the negro, who was holding him. See- ing this, the Colonel said: Clear out, you young scarecrows. Into the house with you. They haint no more scarecrows The dirteater did as he was bidden, and we soon settled into a gentle gallop. We had passed through a dense forest of pines, but were emerging into a bot- tom country, where some of the finest deciduous trees, then brown and leafless, but bearing promise of the opening beauty of spring, reared, along with the unfading evergreen, their tall stems in the air. The live-oak, the sycamore, the Spanish mulberry, the mimosa, and the persimmon, gayly festooned with wreaths of the white and yellow jessamine, the woodbine and the cypress - moss, and bearing here and there a bouquet of the mistletoe, with its deep green and glossy leaves upturned to the sunflung their broad arms over the road, forming an than yourn, Cunnel J , said the archway grander and more beautiful mother, in a decidedly belligerent tone. than any the hand of man ever wove .You may buse my old man he kin for the greatest heroes the world has stand it but ye shant blackguard my worshiped. young uns! The woods were free from under- The Colonel laughed, and was about brush, but a coarse, wiry grass, unfit to make a good - natured reply, when for fodder, and scattered through them Sandy yelled out: in detached patches, was the only vege- Gwo enter the house and shet up, tation visible. The ground was mainly ye . covered with the leaves and burs of the With this affectionate farewell, he pine. turned his horse and led the way up We passed great numbers of swine, the road. feeding on these burs, and now and The dog, who was a short distance in then a horned animal browsing on the advance, soon gave a piercing howl, and cypress-moss where it hung low on the started off at the speed of a reindeer, trees. I observed that nearly all the He had struck the trail, and urging our swine were marked, though they seemed horses to their fastest speed, we followed, too wild to have ever seen an owner, or We were all well mounted, but the a human habitation. They were a long, mare the Colonel had given me was a lean, slab-sided race, with legs nd shoul- magnificent animal, as fleet as the wind, ders like a deer, and bearing no sort of and with a gait so easy that her back seemed a rocking-chair. Saddle-horses at the South are trained to the gallop Southern riders deeming it unnecessary that ones breakfast should be churned into a Dutch cheese by a trotting nag, in order that one may pass for a good horseman. We had ridden on at a perfect break- neck pace for half an hour, when the Colonel shouted to our companion: Sandy, call the dog in; the horses wont last ten miles at this gait weve a long ride before us. resemblance to the ordinary hog except in the snout, and that feature was so much longer and sharper than the nose of the Northern swine, that I doubt if Agassiz would class the two an one spe- cies. However, they have the ir uses they make excellent bacon; and are death on snakes; Ireland itE elf is not more free from the serpentine, race than are the districts frequented by these long-nosed quadrupeds. We call them Carolina ra 2e-horses, said the Colonel, as he finisb ed an ac- count of their peculiarities. 30 Among tke Pines. Race - horses! Why, are they fleet of foot? Fleet as deer. Id match one against an ordinary horse at any time. Come, my friend, youre practicing on my ignorance of natural history. Not a bit of it. See! theres a good specimen yonder. If we can get him into the road, and fairly started, Ill bet you a dollar hell beat Sandys mare on a half-mile stretch Sandy to hold the stakes and have the winnings. Well, agreed, I said, laughing, and Ill give the pig ten rods the start. No, replied the Colonel, you cant afford it. Hell have to start ahead, but youll need that in the count. Come, Sandy, will you go in for the pile? Im not sure that the native would not have run a race with Old Nicholas himself; for the sake of so much money. To him it was a vast sum; and as he thought of it, his eyes struck small sparks, and his enormous beard and mustachio vibrated with something that faintly resembled a laugh. Replying to the question, he said: Kinder reckon I wull, Cunnel; how- somdever, I keeps the stakes, anyhow? Of course, said the planter, but be honest win if you can. Sandy halted his horse in the road, while the planter and I took to the woods on either side of the way. The Colonel soon maneuvered to separate the selected animal from the rest of the herd, and, without much difficulty, got him into the road, where, by closing down on each flank, we kept him till he and Sandy were fairly under way. Hell keep to the road when once started, said the Colonel, laughing, and hell show you some of the tallest run- ning you ev er saw in your life. Away th2y went. At first the pig seemed not exactly to comprehend the programme, for he cantered off at a leis- urely pace, though he held his own. Soon, howe ier, he cast an eye behind him halte I a moment to collect his thoughts and reconnoiterand then, lowering his head and elevating his tail, put forth ~ll his speed. And such speed! Talk of a deer, the wind, or a steam-engine their gait is not to be compared with it. Nothing in nature I have ever seen run except, it may be, a Southern tornado, or a Sixth Ward politician could hope to distance that pig. He gained on the horse at every pace, and I soon saw that my dollar was gone! In for a shilling in for a pound, is the adage, so turning to the Colonel, I said, as intelligibly as my horses rapid steps, and my own excited risibilities would allow: I see Ive lost, but Ill go you another dollar that you cant beat the pig! Nosir! the Colonel got out in the breaks of his laughing explosions; you cant hedge on me in that manner. Ill go a dollar that you cant do it, and your mare is the fastest on the road. She won me a thousand not a month ago.~ Well, Ill do it; Sandy to have the stakes. Agreed, said the Colonel, and away we went. The swinish racer was about a hun- dred yards ahead when I gave the mare the reins, and told her to go. And she did go. She flew against the wind with a motion so rapid that my face, as it clove the air, felt as if cutting its way through a solid body, and the trees, as we passed, seemed taken with a panic, and running for dear life in the opposite direction. For a few moments I thought the mare was gaining, and I turned to the Colonel with an exultant look. Dont shout till you win, my boy, he called out from the distance where I was fast leaving him and Sandy. I did not shout, for spite of all my efforts the space between me and the pig seemed to widen. Yet I kept on, determined to win, till, at the end of a short half-mile, we reached the Wacca- maw the swine still a hundred yards ahead! There his pig-ship halted, turned coolly around, eyed me for a moment, then quietly and deliberately trotted off into the woods. A bend in the road kept my compan Among the Pines. ions out of sight for a few moments, and when they came up I had somewhat re- covered my breath, though the mare was blowing hard, and reeking with foam. Well, said the Colonel, what do you think of our bacon as it runs? I think the Southern article cant be beat, whether raw or cooked, standing or running. At this moment the hound, who had been leisurely jogging along in the rear, disdaining to join in the race in which his dog of a master and I had engaged, came up, and dashing quickly on to the rivers edge, set up a most dismal howling. The Colonel dismounted and clambering down the bank, which was there twenty feet high, and very steep, shouted out: The d d Yankee has swum the stream! Why so? I asked. To cover his tracks and delay pur- suit; but he has overshot the mark. There is no other road within ten miles, and he must have taken to this one again beyond here. Hes lost twenty minutes by that maneuver. Come, Sandy, call on the dog, well push on a little faster. But he tuk to tother bank, Cunnel. Shant we trail him thar? asked Sandy. And suppose he found a boat here, I suggested, and made the shore some ways down? He couldnt get Firefly into a boat we should only waste time in scour- ing the other bank. The swamp this side the next run has forced him into the road within five miles. The trick is transparent. He took me for a fool, replied the Colonel, answering both ques- tions at once. Ihadreinedmyhorseoutof theroad, and when my companions turned to go, was standing at the edge of the bank, overlooking the river. Suddenly I saw, on one of the abutments of the bridge, what seemed a long, black logstrange to say, in motion! Colonel, I shouted, see there! a living log, as Im a white man! Lord bless you, cried the planter, taking an observation, its an alligator! I said no more, but pressing on aftex the hound, soon left my companions out of sight. For long afterward, the Colo- nel, in a doleful way, would allude to my lamentable deficiency in natural his- tory particularly in such branches as bacon, and living logs. I had ridden about five miles, keeping well up with the hound, and had reached the edge of the swamp, when suddenly the dog darted to the side of the road, and began to yelp in the most frantic manner. Dismounting, and leading my horse to the spot, I made out plainly the print of Fireflys feet in the sand. There was no mistaking it that round shoe on the off fore-foot. (The horse had, when a colt, a cracked hoog and though the wound was outgrown, the foot was still tender.) These prints were dry, while the tracks we had seen at the river were filled with water, thus prov- ing that the rain ceased while the over- seer was passing between the two places. He was then not far off. The Colonel and Sandy soon rode up. Caught a living log! eh, my good fellow? asked my host, with a laugh. No; but heres the overseer as plain as daylight; and his tracks not wet! Quickly dismounting, he examined the ground, and then exclaimed: The dl! its a facthere not four hours ago! He has doubled on his tracks since, Ill wager, and not made twenty miles well have him before night, sure! Come, mount quick. We sprang into our saddles, and again pressed rapidly on after the dog, who followed the scent at the top of his speed. Some three miles more of wet, miry road took us to the run of which the Colonel had spoken. Arrived there, we found the hound standing on the bank, wet to the skin, and lookin0 decidedly chop-fallen. Death and d n! shouted the Colonel; the ,dog has swum the run, and lost the trail on the other side The d d scoundrel has taken to thu water, and balked us after nll! Take 31 32 Among the Pines. up the dog, Sandy, and try him again over there. The native spoke to C~esar, who bound- ed on to the horses back in front of his master. They then crossed the stream, which there was about fifty yards wide, and so shallow that in the deepest part the water only touched the horses breast, but it was so roiled by the recent rain that we could not distinguish the foot-prints of the horse beneath the surface. The dog ranged up and down on the opposite bank, but all to no purpose: the overseer had not been there. He had gone either up or down the stream in which direction, was now the ques- tion. Calling Sandy back to our side of the run, the Colonel proceeded to hold a council of war. Each one gave his opinion, which was canvassed by the others, with as much solemnity as if the fate of the Union hung on the decision. The native proposed we should sepa- rate one go up, another down the stream, and the third, with the dog, fol- low the road; to which he thought Moye had finally returned. Those who should explore the run would easily detect the horses tracks where he had left it, and then taking a straight course to the road, we could all meet some five miles fur- ther on, at a place indicated. I gave in my adhesion to Sandys plan, but the Colonel overruled it on the ground of the waste of time to be incurred in thus recovering the over- seers trail. Why not, he said, strike at once for the end of his route? Why follow the slow steps he took in order to throw us off the track? He has not come back to this road. Six miles below there is another one leading also to the railway. He has taken that. We might as well send Sandy and the dog back at once, and go on by ourselves. But if bound for the Station, why should he wade through the creek here, six miles out of his way? Why not go straight on by the road? I asked. Because he knew the dog would track him, and he hoped by taking to the run to make me think he had crossed the country instead of striking for the rail- road. I felt sure the Colonel was wrong, but knowing him to be tenacious of his own opinions, I made no further objection. Directing Sandy to call on Madam P and acquaint her with our prog- ress, he then dismissed the negro-hunt- er, and we once more turned our horses up the road. The next twenty miles, like our pre- vious route, lay through an unbroken forest, but as we left the water-courses, we saw nothing but the gloomy pines, which there the region being remote from the means of transportationwere seldom tapped, and presented few of the openings that invite the weary traveler to the dwelling of the hospitable planter. After a timethe sky, which had been bright and cloudless all the morning, grew overcast and gave out tokens of a coming storm. A black cloud gathered in the west, and random flashes darted from it far off in the distance; then gradually it neared us; low mutterings sounded in the air, and the tops of the tall pines a few miles away, were lit up now and then with a fitful blaze, all the brighter for the deeper gloom that suc- ceeded. Then a terrific flash and peal broke directly over us, and a great tree, struck by a red-hot bolt, fell with a deaf- ening crash, half-way across our path. Peal after peal followed, and then the rainnot filtered into drops as it falls from our colder sky, but in broad, blind- ing sheets, poured full and heavy on our shelterless heads. Ah! there it comes! shouted the Colonel. God have mercy upon us! Suddenly a crashing, crackling, thun- dering roar rose above the storm, fill- ing the air, and shaking the solid earth till it trembled beneath our horses feet, as if upheaved by a volcano. Nearer and nearer the sound came, till it seemed that all the legions of dark- ness were unloosed in the forest, and were mowing down the great pines as the mower mows the grass with his scythe. Then an awful, sweeping crash Among the Pi~es. 33 thundered directly at our backs, and turning round, as if to face a foe, my horse, who had borne the roar and the blinding flash till then, unmoved, par- alyzed with dread, and panting for breath, sunk to the ground; while close at my side the Colonel, standing erect in his stirrups, his head uncovered to the pouring sky, cried out: THANK GOD, WE ARE SAVED! There not three hundred yards in our rear, had passed the TORNADO uprooting trees, prostrating dwellings, and sending many a soul to its last ac- count, but sparing us for another day! For thirty miles through the forest it had mowed a swath of two hundred feet, then moved on to stir the ocean to its briny depths. With a full heart, I remounted, and turning my horse, pressed on in the rain. We said not a word till a friendly open- ing pointed the way to a planters dwell- ing. Then calling to me to follow, the Colonel dashed up the by-path which led to the mansion, and in five minutes we were warming our chilled limbs be- fore the cheerful fire that roared and crackled on its broad hearth-stone. The house was a large, old-fashioned frame building, square as a packing-box, and surrounded, as all country dwellings at the South are, by a broad, open piazza. Our summons was answered by its own- er, a well-to-do, substantial, middle-aged planter, wearing the ordinary homespun of the district, but evidently of a station in life much above the common corn- crackers I had seen at the country meet- ing-house. The Colonel was an acquaint- ance, and greeting us with great cordial- ity, our host led the way directly to the sitting-room. There we found a bright, blazing fire, and a pair of bright, blazing eyes, the latter belonging to a blithesome young woman of about twenty, with a cheery face, and a half-rustic, half-culti- vated air, whom our new friend intro- duced to us as his wife. I regret not having had the pleasure of meeting Mrs. 5 before, but am very happy to meet her now, said the VOL. II. 3 Colonel, with all the well-bred, gentle- manly ease that distinguished him. The pleasure is mutual, Colonel J, replied the lady, but thirty miles in this wild country should not have made a neighbor so distant as you have been. Business, madam, is atfault, as your husband knows. I have much to do; and besides, all my connections are in the other direction with Charleston. Its a fact, Sally, the Colonel is the d st busy man in these parts. Not content with a big plantation and three hundred Diggers, he looks after all South- Carolina, and the rest of creation to boot, said our host. Tom will have his joke, madam, but hes not far itom the truth. Seeing we were dripping wet, the lady offered us a change of clothing, and re- tiring to a chamber, we each appropriated a suit belonging to our host, giving our own to a servant to be dried. Arrayed in the fresh apparel, we soon rejoined our friends in the sitting-room. The new garments fitted the Colonel tolerably well, but though none too long, they were a world too wide for me, and, as my wet hair hung in smooth, flat folds down my cheeks, and my limp shirt- collar fell over my linsey coat, I looked for all the world like a cross between a theatrical Aminadab Sleek and Sir John Falstaff with the stuffing omitted. When our hostess caught sight of me in this new garb, she rubbed her hands together in great glee, and, springing to her feet, gave vent to a perfect storm of laughter jerking out between the explosions: Whyyouyou look jest like a scare-crow. There was no mistaking that hearty, hoidenish manner; and seizing both of her hands in mine, I shouted: Ive found you out youre a country-wo- man of mine a clear-blooded Yankee! What! you a Yankee! she exclaimed,, still laughing, and here with this horrid seceshener, as they call him. True as preachin, maam, I replied, adopting the drawl all the way from Among the Pine8. Down East, and Union, tu, stiff as buck- ram. Du tell! she exclaimed, swinging my hands together as she held them in hers. If I warnt hitched to this ere feller, Id give ye a smack right on the spot. Im so glad to see ye. Do it, Sally never mind me, cried her husband, joining heartily in the mer- riment. Seizing the collar of my coat with both hands, she drew my face down till my lips almost touched hers, (I was prepar- ing to blush, and the Colonel shouted, Come, come, I shall tell his wife,) but then, turning quickly on her heel, she threw herself into a chair, exclaiming, Iwouldnt mind, but the old man would ~e jealous; and adding to the Colonel, You neednt be troubled, sir; no Yan- kee girl will kiss you till you change your politics. Give me that inducement, and Ill change them on the spot, said the Col- onel. No, no, Dave, twouldnt do, replied the planter, the conversion wouldnt be genuwine besides, such things aint proper, except with blood-relations and all the Yankees, you know, are first- cousins. The conversation then subsided into a more placid mood, but lost none of its genial good-humor. Refreshments were soon set before us, and while partaking of them I gathered from our hostess that she was a Vermont country-girl, who, some three years before, had been in- duced by liberal pay, to come South as a teacher. A sister accompanied her, who, about a year after their arrival, had married a neighboring planter. Wishing to be near the sister, our hostess had also married and settled down for life in that wild region. I like the country very well, she added; its a great sight easier living here than in Vermont; but I do hate these lazy, shiftless, good-for- nothing niggers; they are so slow, and so careless, and so dirty, that I sometimes think Ihey will worry the very life out of me. I du believe Im the hardest mis- tress in all the district. I learned from her that a majority of the teachers at the South are from the North, and principally, too, from New- England. Teaching is a very laborious employment there, far more so than with us, for the Southerners have no methods like ours, and the same teacher usually has to hear lessons in branches all the way from Greek and Latin to the simple A B C. The South has no system of public instruction; no common schools; no means of placing within the reach of the sons and daughters of the poor even the elements of knowledge. While the children of the wealthy are most care- fully educated, it is the policy of the rul- ing class to keep the great mass of the people in ignorance; and so long as this policy continues, so long will that section be as far behind the North as it now is in all that constitutes the elements of prosperity and true greatness. The afternoon wore rapidly and pleas- antly away in the genial society of our wayside friends. Politics were discusscd (our host was a Union man,) the pros- pects of the turpentine crop talked over, the recent news canvassed, the usual neighborly topics touched upon, and I hesitate to confess it a considerable quantity of corn-whisky disposed of; be- fore the Colonel discovered, all at once, that it was six oclock, and we were still seventeen miles from the railway station. Arraying ourselves again in our dried garments, we bade a hasty but regretful good-by to our hospitable entertainers, and once more took to the road. The storm had cleared away, but the ground was heavy with the recent rain, and our horses were sadly jaded with the ride of the morning. We therefore gave them the reins, and as they jogged on at their leisure, it was ten oclock at night before we reached the little hamlet of W Station, in the State of North- Carolina. A large hotel, or station-house, and about a dozen log-shanties made up the village. Two of these structures were negro-cabins; two were small groceries, in which the vilest alcoholic compounds were sold at a bit (ten cents) a glass; 34 Among the Pine8. 35 one was a lawyers office, in which was rate of ten cents a glass, and of ten the post - office, and a justices court, glasses a minute. where, once a month, the small offenders Hello, Colonel! how ar ye? cried the of the vicinity settled up their accounts; red - faced liquor-vender, as he caught one was a tailoring and clothing estab- sight of my companion, and relin- lishment, where breeches were patched quishing his lucrative employment for at a dime a stitch, and payment taken in a moment took the Colonels hand. tar and turpentine; and the rest were Quite well, thank you, Miles, said the private dwellings of one apartment, oc- Colonel, with a certain patronizing air, cupied by the grocers, the tailor, the have you seen my man Moye? switch-tender, the post-master, and the Moye, no! Whats up with him? negro attachis of the railroad. The Hes run away with my horse, Fire- church and the school-house-the first flyI thought he would have made for buildings to go up in a Northern village, this station. At what time does the next I have omitted to enumerate, because train go up? they were not there. Wal, its due half arter leven, but One of the natives told me that the taint ginrally long till nigh one. lawyer was a stuck-up critter; he The Colonel was turning to join me at dont live; he dont he puts-up at th the door, when a well-dressed young hotel. And the hotel! Would Shak- man of very unsteady movements, who speare, had he known of it, have was filling a glass at the counter, and written of taking ones ease at his inn ~ staring at him with a sort of dreamy It was a long, framed building, tvvo amazement, stammered out: Moyc stories in hight, with a piazza extend- run run away, zir! that kkant ing across its side, and a fr4nt door be by G d. I know him, zir crowded as closely into one corner as hes a a friend of mine, and Im the width of the joist would permit. Im d d if he ant hon honest. Under the piazza, ranged along the wall, About as honest as the Yankees run, was a low bench, occupied by about replied the Colonel: hes a d d thief; forty tin wash-basins and water-pails, sir! with coarse, dirty crash towels suspend- Look herehere, zir dont dont ed on rollers7 above them. By the side youyou zay anything gainst the of each of these towels hung a comb and Yankees. D d if if I ant one of a brush, to which a lock of every bodys em mezelfzir, said the fellow stagger- hair was clinging, forming in the total a ing toward the Colonel. / stock sufficient to establish any barber I dont care what you are; youre in the wig business, drunk. It was, as I have said, ten oclock You lieyouyou dL~~d risris- when we reached the station. Throw- tocrat . take that, was the reply, and ing the bridles of our horses over the the inebriated gentleman aimed a blow, hitching-posts at the door, we at once with all his unsteady might, at the Col- made our way to the bar-room. That onels face. apartment, which was in the rear of the The South-Carolinian stepped quickly building, and communicated with by a aside, and dexterously threw his foot long, narrow passage, was filled almost before the other, Who his blow not to suffocation, when we entered, by a meeting the expected resistance was cloud of tobacco-smoke, the fumes of bad unable to recover himself; and fell head- whisky, and a crowd of drunken chival- long to the floor. The Colonel turned on ry, through whom the Colonel with great his heel, and was walking quietly away, difficulty elbowed his way to the counter, when the sharp report of a pistol sounded where mine host and two assistants through the apartment, and a ball tore were dispensing liquid death, at the through the top of his boot, and lodged 36 Among the P~ne8. in the wall within two feet of where I was standing. With a spring, quick and :ure as the tigers, the Colonel was on the drunken man. Wrenching away the weapon, he seized the fellow by the neck- tie, and drawing him up to nearly his full hight, dashed him at one throw to the other side of the room. Then raising the revolver he coolly leveled it to fire. But a dozen strong men were on him. The pist& l was out of his hand, and his arms were pinioned in an instant; while cries of Fair play, sir! Hes drunk! Dont hit a man when hes down, and other like exclamations, came from all sides. Give me fair play, you d d North- Carolina hounds, cried the Colonel, struggling violently to get away, and Ill fight the whole posse of you. Ones nuff for you, ye d d fire- eatin ristocrat, said a long, lean, bushy- haired, be-whiskered individual who was standing near the counter: ef ye want ter fight, Ill tend to yer case to onst. Let him. go, boys, he continued as he stepped toward the Colonel, and parted the crowd that had gathered around him: give him the shootin-iron, and lets see ef hell take a man thets sober. I saw serious trouble was impending, and stepping forward, I said to the last speaker: My friend, you have no quar- rel with this gentleman. He has treated that man only as you would have done.~ Praps thets so; but hes a d d hound of a Seseshener thets draggin us all to hi; itll do th cuntry good to git quit of one on em. Whatever his politics are, hes a gen- tleman, sir, and has done you no harm let me beg of you to let him alone. Dont beg any thing for me, Mr. K growled the Colonel through his barred teeth, Ill fight the d d corn- cracker, and his whole race, at once. No you wont, my friend. For the sake of those at home you wont, I said, as I took him by the arm, and partly led, partly forced, him toward the door. Andwho in hlar ye? asked the corn-cracker, planting himself square- ly in my way. Im on the same side of politics with you, Union to the core! I replied. Ye ar! Union! Then giv us yer fist, said he, grasping me by the hand, by it does a feller good to see a man dressed in yer does thet haint fraid ter say hes Union, so close to South-Car- lina, tu, as this ar! Come, hey a drink: come, boys all round lets liquor! Excuse me now, my dear fellow some other time Ill be glad to join you. Jest as ye say, but thars my fist, enyhow. He gave me another hearty shake of the hand, and the crowd parting, I made my way with the Colonel out of the room. We were followed by Miles, the landlord, who, when we had reached the front of the entrance-way, said: Im right sorry for this row, gentlemen; but th boys will hey a time when they git together. Oh! never mind, said the Colonel, who had recovered his coolness; but why are all these people here? Thars a barbecue cumin off to-mor- rer on the camp-ground, and the house is cram full. Is that so? said the Colonel, then turning to me he added, Moye has taken the railroad somewhere else; I must get to a telegraph-office at once, to head him off. The nearest one is Wilmington. With all these rowdies here, it will not do to leave the horses alone will you stay and keep an eye on them over to- morrow? Yes, I will, cheerfully. Thars a mighty hard set round liar now, Cunnel, said the landlord; and the most peaceable git inter scrapes ef they hant no friends. Hadnt ye bet- ter show the gentleman some of yourn, fore you go? Yes, yes, I didnt think of that. Who is here? Wal, thars Cunnel Taylor, Bill Barnes, Sam H~ddleson, Jo Shackelford, Andy Jones, Rob Brown, and lots of others. Wheres Andy Jones? Reckon hes turned in; Ill see. As the landlord opened a door which Among the Pines. led from the hall, the Colonel said to me: Andy is a Union man, but hed fight to the death for me. Sal! called out the hotel-keeper. Yas, massa, Ise bar, was the answer from a slatternly woman, awfully black in the face, who soon thrust her head from the door. Is Andy Jones har? asked Miles. Yas, massa, hem turned in up thar on de table. We followed the landlord into the apartment. It was the dining-room of the hotel, and by the dim light which came from a smoky fire on the hearth, I saw it contained about a hundred peo- ple, who, wrapped in blankets, bed-quilts and traveling-shawls, and disposed in all conceivable attitudes, were scattered about on the hard floor and tables, sleeping soundly. The room was a long, low apartment extending across the whole front of the house and had a wretched, squalid look. The fire, which was tended by the negro-woman, (she had spread a blanket on the floor, and was keeping a drowsy watch over it for the night,) had been recently replen- ished with green wood, and was throw- ing out thick volumes of black smoke, which, mixing with the effiuvia from the lungs of a hundred sleepers made up an atmosphere next to impossible to breathe. Not a window was open, and not an aper- ture for ventilation could be seen! Carefully avoiding the arms and legs of the recumbent chivalry, we picked our way, guided by the negro-girl, to the corner of the room where the Unionist was sleeping. Shaking him briskly by the shoulder, the Colonel called out: Andy! Andy! wakeup! Whatwhat the d 1 is the mat- ter? stammered out the sleeper, gradu- ally opening his eyes, and raising him- self on one elbow, Lord bless you, Cunnel, is thet you? what in brought you har? Business, Andy. Come, get up, I want to see you, and I cant talk here. The North-Carolinian slowly rose, and throwing his blanket over his shoulders, followed us from the room. When we had reached the open air the Colonel in- troduced me to his friend, who expressed surprise, and a great deal of pleasure, at meeting a Northern Union man in the Colonels company. Look after our horses, now, Miles; Andy and I want to talk, said the planter to the landlord, with about as little ceremony as he would have shown to a negro. I thought the white man did not ex- actly relish the Colonels manner, but saying: All right, all right, sir, he took himself away. The night was raw and cold, but as all the rooms of the hotel were occupied, either by sleepers or carousers, we had no other alternative than to hold our conference in the open-air. Near the railway-track a light-wood fire was blaz- ing, and, obeying the promptings of the frosty atmosphere, we made our way to it. Lying on the ground around it, di- vested of all clothing except a pair of linsey trowsers and a flannel shirt, and with their naked feet close to its blaze roasting at one extremity, and freezing at the other were several blacks, the switch-tenders and woodmen of the sta- tion fast asleep. How human beings could sleep in such circumstances seemed a marvel, but further observation con- vinced me that the Southern negro has a natural aptitude for that exercise, and will, indeed, bear more exposure than any other living thing. Nature in giving him such powers of endurance, seems to have specially fitted him for the life of hardship and privation to which he is born. The fire-light enabled me to scan the appearance of my new acquaintance. He was rather above the medium height, squarely and somewhat stoutly built, and had an easy and self-possessed, though rough and unpolished manner. His face, or so much of it as was visible from underneath a thick mass of reddish gray hair, denoted a firm, decided cha- racter; but there was a manly, open, honest expression about it that won your confidence in a moment He wore a slouched hat and a suit of the ordinary 3,7, 38 Among the Pines. sheeps-gray, cut in the sack fashion, Carolinian, and now shes got out on and hanging loosely about him. He our company, I swear she must keep seemed a man who had made his own out. Wed as soon think of goin to way in the world, and I subsequently h 1 in summer time, as of joining part- learned that appearances did not belie nership with her. Cunnel, youre the him. The son of a poor white man, only decent man in the State d d if with scarcely the first rudiments of book- you hant and your politics are amost education, he had, by sterling worth, na- bad nuff to spile a township. It allers tural ability, and great force of character, seemed sort o queer to me, thet a man accumulated a handsome property, and with such a mighty good heart as yourn acquired a leading position in his adopted could be so short in the way of brains. district. Though on the wrong side of Well, youre complimentary, replied politics, his personal popularity was so the Colonel, with the utmost good na- great that for several successive years ture, but lets drop politics; we never he had been elected to represent his could agree, you know. What shall I county in the State Legislature. The do about Moye V Colonel, though opposed to him in poli- Go to Wilmington, and telegraph all tics and party feeling at the South creation: wait a day to har, then if you runs so high that political opponents are dont bar, go home, hire a native over- seldom personal friends had, in the seer, and let Moye go to the d 1. Ef early part of his career, aided him by itll du you any good, Ill go to Wilming- his indorsements; and Andy had not ton with you, though I did mean to give forgotten the service. It was easy to you secesheners a little h 1 here to- see that while two men could not be morrer. more unlike in character and appearance No, Andy, Ill go alone. Twouldnt than my host and the North-Carolinian, be patriotic to take you away from the they were warm and intimate friends, barbecue. Youd spile if you couldnt So, Moye has been raisin h 1 gin- let off some gas soon. rally, Cunnel, said my new acquaint- I du blieve I shud. llowsumdever, ance after a time. Im not surprised. thars nary a thing I wouldnt do for you I never did blieve in Yankee nigger- you knows thet V drivers sumhow its agin natur for a Yes, I do, and I wish youd keep an Northern man to go Southern principles eye on my Yankee friend here, and see quite so strong as Moye did. he dont get into trouble with any of the Which route do you think he has boys therell be a hard set round, I taken V asked the Colonel, reckon. Wal, I reckon arter he tuk to the Wal, I will, said Andy, but all hes run, he made fur the mountings. He to du is keep mouth shet. knowd youd head him on the traveled That seems easy enough, I replied, routes; so hes put, I think, fur the Mis- laughing. susippe, where hell sell the horse and A desultory conversation followed for make North. about an hour, when the steam-whistle Ill follow him, said the Colonel, to sounded, and the up-train arrived. The the ends of the earth. If it costs me Colonel got on board, and bidding us five thousand dollars, Ill see him hung. good-night, went on to Wilmington. Wal, replied Andy, laughing, if Andy then proposed we should look up hes gone North, youll need a extradition sleeping accommodations. It was use- treaty to kotch him. South-Carlina, I less to seek quarters at the hotel, but blieve, has set up fur a furrin country. an empty car was on the turn-out, and Thats true, said the Colonel, also bribing one of the negroes, we got access laughing, shes furrin to the Yankees, to it, and were soon stretched at full but not to the old North State. length on two of its hard-bottomed seats. IDd if she hant, replied the North- . . . . Among the Pine8. 39 The camp-ground was about a mile from the station, and pleasantly situated in a grove, near a stream of water. It was in frequent use by the camp-meet- ings of the Methodist denomination, which sect, at the South, is partial to these rural religious gatherings. Scat- tered over it, with an effort at regularity, were about forty small but neat log cot- tages, thatched with the long leaves of the turpentine-pine, and chinked with branches of the same tree. Each of these houses was floored with leaves or straw, and large enough to afford sleeping accommodations for about ten person, provided they spread their bedding on the ground, and lay tolerably close to- gether. Interspersed among the cabins were about a dozen canvas tents, which evidently had been erected for this es- pecial occasion. Nearly in the centre of the group of huts, a rude sort of scaffold, four or five feet high, and surrounded by a rustic railing, served for the speakers stand. It would seat about a dozen persons, and was protected by a roof of pine-boughs, interlaced together so as to keep off the sun, without affording protection from the rain. In the rear of this stand were two long tables, made of rough boards, and supported on stout joists, crossed on each other in the form of the letter X. A canopy of green boughs shaded the grounds, and the whole grove, which was perfectly free from underbrush, was carpeted with the soft, brown leaves of the pine. Being fatigued with the ride of the previous day, I did not awake till the morning was well advanced, and it was nearly ten oclock when Andy and I took our way to the camp-ground. Avoiding the usual route, we walked on through the forest. It was mid-winter, and veg- etation lay dead all around us, awaiting the time when spring should breathe into it the breath of life and make it a living thing. There was silence and rest in the deep wood. The birds were away on their winter wanderings; the leaves hung motionless on the tall trees, and nature seemed resting from her ceaseless labor, and listening to the soft music of the little stream which sung a cheerful song as it rambled on over the roots and fallen branches that blocked its way. But soon a distant murmur arose, and we had not proceeded far be- fore as many sounds as were heard at Babel made a strange concert about our ears. The lowing of the ox, the neigh- ing of the horse, and the deep braying of another animal, mingled with a thou- sand human voices, came through the woods. But above and over all rose the stentorian tones of the stump speaker, As he trod the shaky platform, With the sweat upon his brow. About a thousand persons were al- ready assembled on the ground, and a more motley gathering I never beheld. All sorts of costumes and all classes of people were there; but the genuine back-woods corn-crackers composed the majority of the assemblage. As might be expected, much the larger portion of the audience were men; still I saw some women and not a few children, many of the country people having taken advan- tage of the occasion to give their families a holiday. Some occupied benches in front of the stand, though a larger num- ber were seated around in groups, with- in hearing of the speaker, but paying very little attention to what he was say- ing. A few were whittling, a few pitch- ing quoits, or playing leap-frog, and quite a number were having a quiet game of whist, euchre, ~r seven-up. The speaker was a well-dressed, gen- tlemanly-looking man, and a tolerably good orator. He seemed accustomed to addressing a jury, for he displayed all the adroitness in handling his subject, and in appealing to the prejudices of his hearers, that we see in successful special pleaders. But he overshot his mark. To nine out of ten of his audience, his words and similes, though correct and sometimes beautiful, were as unintelli- gible as the dead languages. He advo- cated immediate, unconditional seces- sion; and I thought from the applause which met his remarks, whenever he seemed to make himself understood, 40 Among fl~e Pine8. that the large majority of those present were of the same way of thinking. lie was succeeded by a heavy-browed, middle-aged man, slightly bent, and with hair a little turned to gray, but still hale, athletic, and in the prime and vigor of manhood. His pantaloons and waistcoat were of the common home- spun, and he used, now and then, a word of the country dialect; but as a stump-speaker, he was infinitely supe- rior to the more polished orator who had preceded him. He, too, advocated secession as a right and a duty separation, now and for- ever from the dirt-eating, money-loving Yankees, who, he was ashamed to say, had the same ancestry, and worshiped the same God as himself. He took the bold ground that slavery is a curse to both the black and the white, but that it was forced upon this generation before it was born, by these same greedy, grasp- ing Yankees, who would sell not only the bones and sinews of their fellow- men, butworse than that their own souls, for gold. It was forced upon them without their consent, and now that it had become interwoven with all their social life, and was a necessity of their very existence, the hypocritical Yankees would take it from them, be- cause, forsooth, it was a sin and a wrong as if they had to bear its responsibil- ity, or the South could not settle its own account with its Maker! Slavery is now, he continued, in- dispensable to us. Without it, cotton, rice, and sugar will cease to grow, and the South will starve. What if it works abuses? What if the black, at times, is overburdened, and his wife and daugh- ters debauched? Man is not perfect any where there are wrongs in every society. It is for each one to give his account, in such matters, to his God. But in this are we worse than they? Are there not abuses in society at the North? Are not their laborers over- worked? While sin here hides itself under cover of the night, does it not there stalk abroad at noonday? If the wives and daughters of blacks are de bauched here, are not the wives and daughters of whites debauched there? and will not a Yankee barter away the chastity of his own mother for a dirty dollar? Who fill our brothels? Yan- kee women! Who load our peniten- tiaries, crowd our whipping - posts, de- bauch our slaves, and cheat and defraud us all? Yankee men! And I say unto you, fellow-citizens, and here the speak- ers form seemed to dilate with the wild enthusiasm which possessed him, come out from among them; be ye separate, and touch not the unclean thing, and thus saith the Lord God of hosts, who will guide you, and lead you, if need be, to battle and to victory! A perfect storm of applause followed. The assemblage rose, and one long wild shout rent the old woods, and made the great trees trenible. It was some min- utes before the uproar subsided; when it did, a voice near the speakers stand called out: Andy Jones! The call was at once echoed by another voice, and soon a general shout for Andy! Union Andy! Bully Andy! went up from the same crowd which a mo- ment before had so wildly applauded the secession speaker. Andy rose from where he was seated beside me, and quietly ascended the steps of the platform. Removing his hat, and passing to his mouth a huge quid of tobacco, from a tin box in his pantaloons-pocket, he made several rapid strides up and down the speakers stand, and then turned squarely to the audi- ence. The reader has noticed a tiger pacing up and down in his cage, with his eyes riveted on the human faces before him. He has observed how he will single out some individual, and finally stopping short in his rounds, turn on him with .a look of such intense ferocity as makes a mans blood stand still, and his very breath come thick and hard, as he mo- mentarily expects the beast will tear away the bars of his cage and leap forth on the obnoxious person. Now, Andys fine, open, manly face had nothing of the tiger in it, but for a moment, I could Among the Pine8. 41 not divest myself of the impression, as he halted in his walk up and down the stage, and turned full and square on the previous speakerwho had taken a seat among the audience near me that he was about to spring upon him. Rivet- ing his eye on the mans face, he at last slowly said: A man stands har and quotes Scrip- tur agin his feller-man, and forgets thet God made of one blood all nations thet dwell on the face of the arth. A man stands har and calls his brother a thief; and his mother a harlot, and axes us to go his doctrines! I dont mean his brother in the Scriptur sense, nor his mother in a figrative sense, but I mean the brother of his own blood, and the mother that bore him; for HE, gentlemen, (and he pointed his finger di- rectly at the recent speaker, while his words came slow and heavy with intense scorn,) HE 15 a Yankee! And now, I say, gentlemen, d n sech doctrins; d n sech principles; and dn the man thets got a soul so black as to utter em! A breathless silence fell on the assem- blage, as the person alluded to sprang to his feet, his face on fire, and his voice thick and broken with intense rage, and yelled out: Andy Jones, by you shall answer for this!~ Sartin, said Andy, coolly inserting his thumbs in the armholes of his waist- coat; eny whar you likesharnow ef greeable to you. Ive no weapon here, sir, but Ill give you a chance mighty sudden, was the fierce reply. Suit yourself; said Andy, with per- fect imperturbability; but as you hant jest ready, spose you set down and har me tell bout your relation: theyre a right decent setthem as I knowsand Ill swar theyre shamed of you. A buzz went through the crowd, and a dozen voices called out, Be civil, Andy Let him blow Shet up Go in, Jones with other like elegant exclamations. A few of his friends took the aggrieved gentleman aside, and, soon quieting him, restored order. Wal, gentlemen, resumed Andy, all on you know whar I was raised over thar in South-Carhina. Im sorry to say it, but its true. And you all know my father was a pore man, who couldnt give his boys no chance and ef he could, thar warnt no schules in the dis- trict so we couldnt hey got no book- laming ef wed been a minded to. Wal, the next plantation to whar we lived was old Cunnel J s, the father of this Cunnel. He was a d d old nulli- fier, jest like his sonbut not half so decent a man. Wal, on his plantation was an old nigger called Uncle Pomp, whod sumhow lamed to read. He ~ras a mighty good niggem, and hed hey been in heaven long afore noW ef the Lord hadnt a had sum good use for him down harbut hell be thar yet a d d sight sooner than sum on us white folks thats sartin. Wal, as I was saying, Pomp could read, and when I was bout sixteen, and had never seed the inside of a book, the old darkey said to me one day he was old then, and thet was thirty years ago wal, he said to me: Andy, chile, ye orter lam to read twould be ob use to ye when youre growd up, and it moight make you a good and spected man. Now, come to ole Pomps cabin, and hell lam you, Andy, chile. I reckon I went. He hadnt nothin but a Bible and Watts Hymns; yet we used to stay thar all the long winter evenihgs, and by the light of the firewe war both so durned pore we couldnt raise a candle atween us wal, by the light of the fire he lamed me, and fore long I could spell right smart. Now, jest think on thet, gentlemen! I, a white boy, and, cordin to the Dec- laration of Independence, jest as good blood as the old Cunnel, bein lamed to read by an old slave, and that old slave amost worked to death, and takin his nights, when he orter hey been a restin his old bones, to lam me! Im d d if he dont get to heaven for that one thing, if for nothin else. Wal, you all know the rest how, when Id growd up, I settled har, in the 42 Among the Pine8. old North State, and how the young Cunnel backed my paper and set me a runnin at turpentinin. Praps you dont think this has much to do with the Yankees, but it has a durned sight, as yell see raather sudden. Wal, arter a while, when Id got a little forehand- ed, I begun shippin my truck to York and Bosting; and at last my Yankee factor, he come out har, inter the back- woods, to see me, and says he: Jones, come North and take a look at us. Id sort o took to him. Id had lots to do with him afore ever I seed him, and I allers found him as straight as a shin- gle. Wal, I went North, and he took me round, and showed me how the Yan- kees does things. Afore I knowed him, I allers thought as praps most on ye do that the Yankee war a sort o cross atween the devil and a Jew; but how do you spose I found em? I found that they sent the pore mans children to schule. FREE and that the schule- houses war a d d sight thicker than the bugs in Miles Privetts beds! and thets saying a heap, for ef eny on you kin sleep in his house, excep he takes to the soft side of the floor, Im d d. Yas, the pore mans children are lamed thar FREE! all on em and theyve jest so good a chance as the sons of the rich man! Now, arter that, do you think that Ias got all my schulin from an old slave, by the light of a bor- rored pine-knot der you think that I kin say any thing agin the Yankees? Praps they do steal though I dont know it praps they do debauch thar wives and darters, and sell thar mothers vartue for dollers but ef they do, Im d d ef they dont send pore children ter schule and thats mnoren we do and let me tell you, until we do, we must count on thar bein cuter and smarter nor we are. This gentleman, too, my friends, whos been a givin sech a hard settin down ter his own relation, arter theyve broughten him up and givin him sech a good schulein for nothin, he says the Yankees want to interfere with our nig- gers. Now, thet hant so, and they couldnt ef they would, cause its agin the Constitutionand they stand on the Constitution a durned sight solider minor we do. Didnt thar big gun Daniel Webster didnt he make mince-meat o South-Carolina ilayne on that ar sub- ject? But I tell you they hant a mind to meddle with our niggers; theyre a goin ter let us go ter h 1 our own way and were goin thar mighty fast, or I hevnt read the last census. Praps you hant heerd on th Ab- lisheners, Andy? cried a voice from among the audience. Wal, I reckon I hey, responded the orator. Ive heerd on em, and seed em, too. When I was North I went ter one on thar conventions, and Ill tell you how they look. Theyve all long, wimmins hair, and thin, shet lips, with big, bawlin mouths, and long, lean, tommerhawk faces bout as white as vargin dip and they all talk through the nose, [giving a specimen,] and they look for all the world jest like the South- Carlina fire-eaters and they are as near like em as two peas, excep they dont swar quite so bad, but they make up for that in prayin and prayin too much, I reckon, when a mans a d d hippercrit, is bout as bad as swearin. But I tell you, the decent folks up North hant ablisheners. They look on em jest as we do on mad dogs, the itch, or the nigger-traders. Now, bout this secession bisness though tant no use ter talk on thet, cause this State neverll secedeSouth- Carlina has done it, and Im raather glad she has, for though I was born thar, I say she orter hey gone to h 1 long ago, and now shes got thar let her stay! But, bout thet bisness, Ill tell you a story. I knowd an old gentleman once by the name o Uncle Sam, and hed a heap o sons. They war all likely boysand strange ter tell, though theyd all the same mother, and she a white woman, bout half on em war colored not black, but sorter half-and-half. Now, the white sons war well-behaved, indus- trious, hard-workin boys, who got long Among the Pines. well, edicated thar children, and allers treated the old man decently; but the mulatter fellers war a pesky setthough some on em war better nor others. They wouldnt work, but set up for airy- stocrocy rode in kcrriges, kept fast hosses, bet high, and chawed tobaccer like the deviL Wal, the result was, they got out at the elbows, and cause they warnt gettin long quite so fast as the white uns though that war all ~ thar own fault they got jealous, and one on em, who was blacker nor all the rest a little feller, but terrible big on braggin he packed up his truck one night, and left ~he old mans house, and swore hed nef~er come back. He tried ter make the other mulatters go long too, but they put thar fingers ter thar nose, and says they: No you donfl I was in favor o lettin on him stay out in the cold, but the old man was a bernevolent old critter so he says: Now, sonny, you jest come back and behave yourselg and Ill forgive you all on your old pranks, and treat you jest as I allers used ter; but, ef you wont, why, Ill make you thats all! Now, gentlemen, that querrelsome, oneasy, ongrateful, tobaccer - chawin, high - bettin, hoss - racin, big - braggin, nigger-stealin, wimmin-whippin, yaller son of the devil, is South-Carlina; and ef she dont come back and behave her- self in futur, Im d d ef she wont be ploughed with fire, and sowed with salt, andAndy Jones will help ter do it. The speaker was frequently interrupt- ed in the course of his remarks by up- roarious applausebut as he closed and descended from the platform, the crowd sent up cheer after cheer, and a dozen strong men, making a seat of their arms, lifted him from the ground, and bore him to the head of the table, where din- ner was in waiting. The whole of the large assemblage then fell to eating. The dinner was made up of the barbecued beef and the usual mixture of viands found on a planters table, with water from the lit- tle brook hard by, and a plentiful supply of corn-whisky. (The latter beverage, I thought, had been subjected tc the rite of immersion, for it tasted wonder- fully like water.) Songs and speeches were intermingled with the masticating exercises, and the whole company were soon in the best of humor. During the meal I was introduced by Andy to a large number of the natives, he taking special pains to tell each one that I was a Yankee, and a Union man, but always adding, as if to conciliate all parties, that I was also a guest and a friend of his very particular friend, that d d seceshener, Cunnel J . Before we left the table, the secession orator happening near, Andy rose from his seat, and extended his hand to him, saying: Tom, you think I sulted youpraps I didbut you sulted my Yankee friend har, and your own relation, and I bed to take it up, jest for the looks o the thing. Come, thars my hand; Ill fight you ef you want ter, or well say no more bout it jest as you like. Say no more about it, Andy, said the gentleman, very cordially; lets drink and be friends. They drank a glass of whisky to- gether, and then leaving the table, pro- ceeded to where the ox had been barbe- cued, to show me how cooking on a large scale is done at the South. In a pit about eight feet deep, twenty feet long, and ten feet wide, laid up on the side with stones, a fire of hickory had been made, over which, after the wood had burned down to coals, a whole ox, divested of its hide and en- trails, had been suspended on an enor- mous spit. Being turned often in the process of cooking, the beef had finally been done brown. It was then cut up and served on the table, and I must say, for the credit of Southern cookery, that it made as delicious eating as any meat I ever tasted. I had then been away from my charge the Colonels horses as long as seemed to be prudent. I said as much 43 44 Among the Pines. to Andy, when he proposed to return with me, and turning good-humoredly to his reconciled friend, he said: Now, Tom, no secession talk while Im off. Nary a word, said Tom, and we left. The horses had been well fed by the negro who had them in charge, but had not been groomed. Andy, seeing that, stripped off his coat, and, setting the black at work on one, with a handful of straw and pine-leaves commenced opera- tions on the other, and the horses coat was soon as smooth and glossy as if recently rubbed by an English groom. The remainder of the day passed with- out incident till eleven at night, when the Colonel returned from Wilmington. Moye had not been seen or heard of; and the Colonels trip was fruitless. While at Wilmington, he sent telegrams, directing the overseers arrest, to the various large cities of the South, and then decided to return, make some ar- rangements preliminary to a protracted absence from the plantation, and pro- ceed at once to Charleston, where he would await replies to his dispatches. Andy agreed with him in the opinion that Moye, in his weak state of health, would not undertake an overland jour- ney to the free States, but would en- deavor to reach some town on the Mis- sissippi, where he could dispose of the horse, and secure a passage up the river. As no time was to be lost, it was de- cided that we should return to the plan- tation on the following morning. Ac- cordingly, with the first streak of day, we bade good-by to our Union friend, and started homeward. No incident worthy of mention occur- red on the way, till about ten oclock, when we arrived at the home of the Yankee schoolmistress, where we had been so hospitably entertained two days before. The lady received us with great cordiality, forced upon us a lunch to serve our hunger on the road, and when we parted, enjoined on me to leave the South at the earliest possible moment. She was satisfied it would not for a much longer time be safe quarters for a man professing Union sentiments. Not- withstanding the strong manifestations of loyalty I had observed among the people, I was convinced that the advice of my pretty countrywoman was ju- dicious, and I determined to be govern. ed by it. Our horses, unaccustomed to lengthy journeys, had not entirely recovered from the fatigues of their previous travel, and we did not reach our destination till an hour after dark. We were most cor- dially welcomed by Madam P, who soon set before us a hot supper, which, as we were jaded b~ the long ride, and had fasted for twelve hours on bacon sandwiches and cold hoe-cake, was the one thing needful for us. While seated at the table, the Colonel asked: Has every thing gone right, Alice, since we left home? Every thing, replied the lady, ex- cept, and she hesitated as if she dread- ed the effect of the news; except that Juley and her child have gone. Gone! exclaimed my host, gone where? I dont know. We have searched every where, but have found no clue to them. The morning you left, Sam set Juley at work among the pines; she tried hard, but could not do a full task, and at night was taken to the cabin to be whipped. I heard of it, and forbade Sams doing it. It did not seem to me to be right to punish her for not doing what she had not strength to do. When she was released from the cabin, she came to thank me for having interfered for her, and talked with me awhile. She cried and took on fearfully about Sam, and was afraid you would punish her on your return. I promised you would not, and when she left me, she seemed more cheerful. I supposed she would go directly home, after getting her child from the nurses quarters; but it ap- pears she then went to Pompeys, where she staid till after ten oclock. Neither she nor the child have since been seen. Among tite Fines. 45 Did you get no trace of her in the die. Den I tries to comfut her, massa; morning? I takes her up from de floor, and I say Yes, but soon lost it. When she did to har dat de good Lord he pity her not appear at work, Sam went to her dat he doant bruise de broken reed, and cabin to learn the cause, and found the woant put no more on har dan she kin door open, and her bed undisturbed. bar dat hed touch you heart, massa She had not slept there. Knowing that and I toled har yous a good, kine Sandy had returned, I sent for him, and heart at de bottom and I knows it, with Jim and his dog, he commenced case I toted you fore you could gwo, a search. The hound tracked her di- and when yous a bery little chile, not reetly from Pompeys cabin to the run no great sight biggern hern, youd put near the lower stilL There all trace your little arms round ole Pomps neck, of her disappeared. We dragged the and say dat when you war growd up, stream, but discovered nothing. Jim youd be bery kine to de pore brack and Sandy then scoured the woods for folks, and not leff em be bused like miles in all directions, but the hound dey war in dem days. could not recover the trail. I hope Never mind what you said, inter- otherwise, but I fear some evil has be- rupted the Colonel, a little impatiently, fallen her. but showing no displeasure; what did Oh! no, theres no fear of that, said she say? the Colonel; she is smart she waded Wal, massa, she took on bery hard up the run far enough to baffle the dog, bout Sam, and axed me ef I raily reck- and then made for the swamp. That is oned de Lord had forgibn him, and why you lost her tracks at the stream. tookn him to heseff; and gibn him one Rely upon it, I am right; but she shall of dem housn up dar in de sky. I not escape me. toled har dat I lcnowd it; but she say We shortly afterward adjourned to it didnt pear so to har, case Sam had the library. After being seated there a a been wid har out dar in de woods, all while, the Colonel, rising quickly, as if fru de day; dat shed a seed him, massa, a sudden thought had struck him, sent and dough he hadnt a said nuffin, hed for the old preacher. looked at har wid sech a sorry, grebed The old negro soon appeared, hat in look, dat it went clean fru har heart, till hand, and taking a stand near the door, shed no strength lefL and fell down on made a respectful bow to each one of de ground amost dead. Den she say us. big Sam come long and fine har dar, Take a chair, Pompey, said Madam and struck har great, heaby blows wid P kindly. de big whip! The black meekly seated himself The brute! exclaimed the Colonel, when the Colonel asked: Well, Pomp, rising from his chair, and pacing rapidly what do you know about Jules going up and down the room. off? But praps he warnt so much ter Nuffin, massa; I shures you, nuffin. blame, massa, continued the old negro, De pore chile say nuffin to ole Pomp in a deprecatory tone; may be he spose bout dat. she war shirking de work. Wal, den What did she say? she say, she knowd nuffin more, till Wal, you see, massa, de night arter byme-by, when she come to, and fine you gwo way, and arter shed worked big Sam dar, and he struck har agin, and hard in de brush all de day, and been a make her gwo to de work; and she did strung up in de ole cabin for to be gwo, but she feel like as ef shed die. whipped, she come to me wid her baby I toled her de good maam wudnt leff in her arms, all a-faint and a-tired, and big Sam buse har no more fore you her pore heart clean broke, and she say cum hum, and dat youd hab passion dat shem jess ready to drop down and on har, and not leff har out in de woods, 46 Among the Pines. but put har mong de nusses, like as she war afore. Den she say it twarnt de work dat trubble bar dat she orter work, and orter be bused, case shed been bad, bery bad. All she axed was dat Sam would forgib bar, and cum to liar in de oder worle, and tell bar so. Den she cried, and took on awful; but ~de good Lord, massa, dat am so bery kine to de bery wuss sinners, he put de words inter my mouf; and I tink dey gabe bar com- fut, fur she say it sort o peared to bar den dat Sam would forgib bar, and take bar inter his house up dar, and she warnt afeard ter die no more. Den she takes up de chile and gwoes way, pearin sort o happy, and more cheerful like dan Id a seed bar eber sense pore Sam war shot. My host was sensibly affected by the old mans simple tale, but continued pacing up and down the room, and said nothing, Its plain to me, Colonel, I remark- ed, as Pompey concluded, she has drowned herself and the childthe dog lost the scent at the creek. Oh! no, he replied, I think not. I never heard of a negro committing suicidetheyve not the courage to do it. I fear she ha8, David, said the lady. The thought of going to Sam has led her to it; yet we dragged the run, and found nothing. What do you think about it, Pompey? I dunno, maam; but I se afeard oh dat. And now dat I tinks on it, Ise afeard dat what I tole har put bar up to it, replied the old preacher, bursting into tears. She peared so happy like, when I say shed be long wid Sam in de oder worle, dat Ise afeard shes a gone and done it wid bar own hands. I tole bar, too, dat de good Lord ober- looked many tings dat pore sinners does when dey cant help emseffs, and it make bar do it, oh! it make bar do it! and the old black buried his face in his hands, and wept bitterly. Dont feel so, Pomp, said his master tery kindly. You did the best you could; no one blames you. I knows you doant, massaI knows you doant, and yous bery good notter; but oh! and his body swayed to and fro with the great grief; I fears de Lord do, inassa, for Ise sent bar to him wid bar own blood and de blood of dat pore, innercent chile on bar hands. Oh! I fears de Lord neberll forgib me neberll forgib me fur dat. He will, my good Pomp, he will! said the Colonel, laying his hand tender- ly on the old mans shoulder. The Lord will forgive you, for the sake of the Christian example youve set your master, if for nothing else; and then the proud, strong mans feelings over- powering him, his tears fell in great drops on the breast of the old slave, as they had fallen there when he was a child. Such scenes are not for the eye of a stranger, and turning away, I left the room. The family met at the breakfast-table at the customary hour on the following morning; but I noticed that Jim was not in his accustomed place behind the Colonels chair. That gentleman exhib- ited his usual good spirits, but Madam P looked sad and anxious, and I had not forgotten the scene of the pre- vious evening. While we were seated at the meal, the negro Junius hastily entered the room, and in an excited manner ex- claimed: 0 massa, massa! you muss cum ter de cabinJim bali drawd his knife, and be swar hell kill de fuss un dat touch him! He does, does he! said his master, springing from his seat, and abruptly leaving the apartment. Remembering the fierce burst of pas- sion I had seen in the negro, and fear- ing there was danger a-foot, I rose to follow, saying as I did so: Madam, can not you prevent this? I can not, sir; I have already done all I can. Go and try to pacify the ColoneL Jim will die before hell be whipped. Jim was standing at the farther end Among the Pirtee. 47 of the old cabin, with his back to the wall, and the large spring-knife in his hand. Some half-dozen negroes were in the centre of the room, apparently cowed by his fierce and desperate looks, and his master stood within a few feet of him. I tell you, Cunnel, cried the negro, as I entered, you touch me at your peril. You d d nigger, do you dare to speak so to me? said his master, taking a step toward him. The knife rose in the air, and the black, in a cool, sneering tone, replied: Say your prayers fore you come ony nigher, for, so help me God, youre a dead man! I laid my hand on the Colonels arm, to draw him back, saying as I did so: Theres danger in him! I know it. Let him go, and he shall as~ your par- don. I shant ax his pardon, cried the black, leff him and me be, sar; well fix dis ourselfs. Dont interfere, Mr. K ,~ said my host, with perfect coolness, but with a face pallid with rage. Let me govern my own plantation. As you say, sir, I replied, stepping back a few paces; but I warn you there is danger in him! Taking no notice of my remark, the Colonel turned to the trembling negroes, and said: One of you go to the house and bring my pistols. You kin shoot me, ef you likes, said Jim, with a fierce, grim smile; but Ill take you to h 1 wid me, 8hore. You knows wz wont stand a blow! The Colonel, at the allusion to their relationship, started as if shot, and turn- ing furiously on the negro, yelled out: Ill shoot you for that, you d d nig- ger, by . It pears ter me, Cunnel, yeve hed bout nuff shootin round har, lately; better stop thet sort o bisness; it moight give ye a sore throat, said the long, lean, loose-jointed stump - speaker of the previous Sunday, as he entered the cabin and strode directly up to my host. What brought you here, you d -~ d insolent hound? cried the Colonel, turn- ing fiercely on the new-coiner. Wal, I cum to du ye a naboorly turn Ive kotched two on yer niggers down ter my still, an I want ye ter take em way, returned the corn-cracker, with the utmost coolness. Two of my niggers! exclaimed the Colonel, perceptibly moderating his tone, which ones? A yaller gal, and a child. I thank you, Barnes; excuse my hard words I was excited. All right, Cunnel; say no more bout thet. Will ye send fur em? Id hey fotched em long, but my waggins off jest now. Yes, Ill send at once. Have you got them safe? Safe? I reckon so! Kotched em las night, arter dark, and theyve kept right still ever sense, I sure yebut th gal holes on ter th young un ter kill we couldnt get it way no how. How did you catch them? The got gainst my turpentime raft th current driv em down, I spose. What! are they dead? exclaimed the Colonel. Dead? Deadern drownded rats! was the natives reply. 48 Was he Succe& ~ful? WAS HE SUCCESSFUL? Do but grasp into the thick of human life! Every one lives itto not many is It kseow~e; and seize it where you will, it is interesting.6oethe. SUccEasFuLTerminating in accomplishing what is wished or intended.Websters Dicti arg. CHAPTER III. Ties people are anxious for the detail of senti- ments, not for general results.Lamartine. hIRAM exhibited almost from his boy- hood a fondness for female society. Even when at the district-school, he preferred spending noon-time among the girls to racing around with the boys, pitching quoits, wrestling at arms-end, back- hold, or playing base-ball and goal. His mother was careful to encourage Hirams predilections. She remarked that noth- ing was so well calculated to keep a young man from going astray as for him to frequent the society of virtuous fe- males. Before Hiram had got into his teens, he appeared to be smitten with at least half a score of little girls of his own age. As he grew older, his fondness for the sex increased. I do not record this. as any thing extraordinary, except that in his case a characteristic selfishness seemed to be at the bottom even of these manifestations. Hiram was not influ- enced by those natural emotions and impulses which belong to youth, and which, unless kept under proper re- straint, are apt frequently to lead to indiscretions. For there ran a vein of calculation through all he did, whose prudent office it was to minister to his safety. After Hiram joined the church he was regular in his attendance on the evening meetings. He always went to these meetings with some young girl, whom, of course, he accompanied home after the services were over. As I have said, he was a handsome fellow, and bestowed particular care on his dress and his ap- pearance generally. He was good-na- tured and obliging, and withal sensible, so that the young men who envied him and might be inclined to call him a fop or a dandy, could not prefix brainless to these epithets and thus cast ridicule on him. The fact is, he was shrewder than any of them, and he knew it. They soon discovered it, and so did the girls, to the utter discomfiture of his rivals. At all the village gatherings, including the sewing - societies, and the lectures, the prayer - meetings, and meetings of Sunday-school teachers, and so forth, Hiram was not only a favorite, but the. fa~iorite with the other sex. He had a winning, confidential manner, when ad- dressing a young lady even for the first time, which said very plainly, We know all about and appreciate each other, and which was very taking. He assumed various little privileges, such as calling the girls by their first name, giving no- tice that a curl was about to fall, and offering to fix it properly, picking up a bow which had been brushed oW and pinning it securely on again, holding the hand with a kind and amiable smile for a brief space after he had shaken it, and sometimes, when he had occasion to see one of his friends home, keeping her hand in his all the way after it was placed within his arm. You may ask why such liberties were permitted. Simply because they were so very equally distributed they had come to be regarded as a matter of course. In fact, Hiram was a privileged person. He was so polite, so at-tentive, so considerate, what if he did have his peculiarities how ridiculous to make a fuss about such trifles! So the trifles were acquiesced in. Besides, I am in- clined to think each fair one supposed she was the especial obj ect of Hiram~ s regard, and that his attentions to others were mere civilities. I do not say Hi- ram so announced it. I know he did not; for he was not a person, even when a youth, to commit himself foolishly. Yet if they would mistake general po

48 Was he Succe& ~ful? WAS HE SUCCESSFUL? Do but grasp into the thick of human life! Every one lives itto not many is It kseow~e; and seize it where you will, it is interesting.6oethe. SUccEasFuLTerminating in accomplishing what is wished or intended.Websters Dicti arg. CHAPTER III. Ties people are anxious for the detail of senti- ments, not for general results.Lamartine. hIRAM exhibited almost from his boy- hood a fondness for female society. Even when at the district-school, he preferred spending noon-time among the girls to racing around with the boys, pitching quoits, wrestling at arms-end, back- hold, or playing base-ball and goal. His mother was careful to encourage Hirams predilections. She remarked that noth- ing was so well calculated to keep a young man from going astray as for him to frequent the society of virtuous fe- males. Before Hiram had got into his teens, he appeared to be smitten with at least half a score of little girls of his own age. As he grew older, his fondness for the sex increased. I do not record this. as any thing extraordinary, except that in his case a characteristic selfishness seemed to be at the bottom even of these manifestations. Hiram was not influ- enced by those natural emotions and impulses which belong to youth, and which, unless kept under proper re- straint, are apt frequently to lead to indiscretions. For there ran a vein of calculation through all he did, whose prudent office it was to minister to his safety. After Hiram joined the church he was regular in his attendance on the evening meetings. He always went to these meetings with some young girl, whom, of course, he accompanied home after the services were over. As I have said, he was a handsome fellow, and bestowed particular care on his dress and his ap- pearance generally. He was good-na- tured and obliging, and withal sensible, so that the young men who envied him and might be inclined to call him a fop or a dandy, could not prefix brainless to these epithets and thus cast ridicule on him. The fact is, he was shrewder than any of them, and he knew it. They soon discovered it, and so did the girls, to the utter discomfiture of his rivals. At all the village gatherings, including the sewing - societies, and the lectures, the prayer - meetings, and meetings of Sunday-school teachers, and so forth, Hiram was not only a favorite, but the. fa~iorite with the other sex. He had a winning, confidential manner, when ad- dressing a young lady even for the first time, which said very plainly, We know all about and appreciate each other, and which was very taking. He assumed various little privileges, such as calling the girls by their first name, giving no- tice that a curl was about to fall, and offering to fix it properly, picking up a bow which had been brushed oW and pinning it securely on again, holding the hand with a kind and amiable smile for a brief space after he had shaken it, and sometimes, when he had occasion to see one of his friends home, keeping her hand in his all the way after it was placed within his arm. You may ask why such liberties were permitted. Simply because they were so very equally distributed they had come to be regarded as a matter of course. In fact, Hiram was a privileged person. He was so polite, so at-tentive, so considerate, what if he did have his peculiarities how ridiculous to make a fuss about such trifles! So the trifles were acquiesced in. Besides, I am in- clined to think each fair one supposed she was the especial obj ect of Hiram~ s regard, and that his attentions to others were mere civilities. I do not say Hi- ram so announced it. I know he did not; for he was not a person, even when a youth, to commit himself foolishly. Yet if they would mistake general po TV~s he Successful? 49 liteness for pa~ticular attentions, surely it was not his fault oh! no. There were those who refused to give their adherence to Hirams almost un- limited sway. And as parties generally proceed to extremes, the girls who formed the opposition generally declared him to be a pusillanimous, mean - spirited fel- low; they detested the very sight of his smooth, hypocritical face; he had better not come fooling around them no, in- deed! Let him attempt it once, they would soon teach him manners. It is to be observed that these remarks did not emanate from the prettiest or most attractive girls of the village all of whom were decidedly and emphatically on Hirams side. They seemed to enjoy the excitement under which their adver- saries were laboring, and retorted by exclaiming, Sour grapes! asserting that those who so shamefully vilified Hiram, would be glad enough to accept his attentions if they only had the opportunity. Hiram, meantime, pursued the even tenor of his way, secure in his position, enjoying to the full extent of his selfish nature all his blessings and privileges, for which he thanked God twice daily, wondering how men could be so blind and misguided as to turn their backs on religion when there was such happiness and peace in giving up all to God! CHAPTER IV. Mr. Bennett was correct in his sur- mise that there were two stores in the little village of Hampton. Of one of these Thaddeus Smith was proprietor. He wa~ one of the solid men of the place, and had kept store there for the last forty years, succeeding his fa- ther, who was one of the early settlers in the town. He had continued on with his customers in the good old fashion, extending liberal credits and charging a regular, undeviating profit of thirty-three and a third per cent. About five years previous to Hiram Meekers leaving school, Mr. Smiths peace was greatly disturbed by the advent of a rival, in the person of Benjamin Jessup, who VOL. IL 4 took possession of an advantageous lo- cality, and after a weeks bustle with teams and workmen transporting, un- packing, and arranging, displayed his name, one fine morning, in large gilt letters to the wondering inhabitants of Hampton, and under it the cabalistic words: CHEAP CASH STORE. A large number of handbills were posted about the village, informing the good people of the opening of the aforesaid cash store, and that the proprietor was prepared to sell every variety of goods and mer- chandise cheap for cash or ready pay, by which last expression was meant ac- ceptable barter. Of course, the whole town flocked to inspect Mr. Jessups stock and price hisgoods. The cunning fellow had valued them only at about cost, while he declared he was making a living profit at the rates charged, and a living profit was all he wanted. Fur- thermore, he allowed the highest prices for the commodities brought in by the farmers, and gave them great bargains in return. He was especially accommo- dating to the ladies, permitting them to tumble his whole stock of dry goods for the sake of selecting a pretty pattern for an apron, or finding a remnant which they were ~relcome to. Mr. Smith was sadly grieved. Al- though some very old-fashioned people stuck sternly to him, refusing to be al- lured by the bait of great bargains, and so forth and so forth, yet his store was nearly deserted. Thaddeus Smith was a perfectly upright man. It is true, he charged a large profit on his goods-this was because it had always been his hab- it, and that of his father before him. But he was accommodating in his credit and lenient to debtors in default. His word could be relied on implicitly, and his dealings were marked by scrupulous honesty. On this trying occasion he called his son, who was supposed to be his part- ner, into consultation, and asked him what he thought of the state of things. I think this, father, was the reply, that we can not expect to go on longer in the old style. We must reduce our 50 Tha8 he Suece88ful? profits one halg and to do this, we must be more particular in our credits, and buy with more care and of different people. In this way I will engage by pursuing a straightforward, energetic course, we shall hold our own against the cashman over the way.~ It was some time before Mr. Smith, Senior, could be persuaded. It was not just the thing, taking advice from a boy, although the boy was past thirty, and had a family of his own. He yielded, however, and Thaddeus, Junior, was per- mitted to carry out his plan. He made a trip to New-York and purchased goods, instead of sending an order for them as had been their habit, where he could find the best bargains at least ten per cent cheaper than his father was in the habit of buying, came home, got out handbills in his turn, requesting the people to call at the old stand, look at the fresh stock, selected personally with great care, and bought cheap for cash, but which would be sold as usual on approved credit. This gave the tide a turn in the old directi6n, and Mr. Jessup had to set to work anew. He was not a bad man in his way, but neither was he a good one. He was not over-scrupu- lous nor severely honest. His prices varied, so the folks discovered, and he, or rather his clerks, sometimes made mistakes in the quality of articles sold. After a while the cash system sensibly relaxed, and at last both establishments settled down into a severe and uncom- promising opposition. There was a pret- ty large back country which received its supplies from Hampton, and so both stores managed to do a thriving trade. The Smiths retaining as customers the large portion of the staid and respectable population, while Mr. Jessups business depended more on his dealings with the people from the surrounding country. There was a very different atmosphere around the stores of these two village merchants. The Smiths were religious people, father and son, not merely so in name, but in reality. A child could have purchased half their stock on as the place. Mr. Jessup, on the contrary, varied as he could light of chaps, that is, according to circumstances. He was, however, an off-hand, free-and-easy fe\- low, with many generous qualities, which made him popular with most who knew him. He did not hesitate to declare that his views on religious subjects were lib- erala bold announcement for a man to make in Hampton. Indeed, his enemies put him down for a Universalist, or at best a Unitarian, for which they claimed to have some reason, since he seldom went to church, although his wife was a communicant, and very regular in her attendance. I have been thus particular in describ- ing the two rival establishments because Hiram Meeker i~ to enter one of them. The reader will naturally suppose there can be little doubt which, and he has a right to exhibit surprise on learning that Hiram decided in favor of Mr. Jessup. I say HIaAM decided. His father pre- ferred that he should go with the Smiths. His mother was of the same opinion, but she permitted her son, who now was very capable of acting for himselg to persuade her that Jessups was the place for him: More going ongreater vari- ety of businessmuch more enterprise, and consequently more to be learned. It would be difficult to follow closely the train of reasoning which led Hiram to insist so perseveringly in favor of Mr. Jessup. For the reasons he gave were on the surface, while those which really decided %dm were keen and subtle~ based on a shrewd appreciation of the position of the two merchants, and his probable relation to one or the other. With the Smiths, Hiram saw no room for any fresh exhibition of talent or enterprise; in the other place he saw a great deal. Once decided on, he was speedily set- tled in his new abode, where he formed a part of the household of the proprietor, together with the head-clerk, a cute fel- low of five and twenty, who was report- ed to be as keen as a razor. It was evident Mr. Jessup valued him highly, from the respect he always paid to his favorable terms as the shrewdest man in advice and from his giving up so much ITFas he Succe& ~ful? of the management of the business to him. Besides, it was rumored he was engaged to Mr. Jessups oldest daughter, a handsome, black-eyed girl of eighteen, ~i little too old for the meridian of Hi- ram; but who, with her mother, was on excellent terms with the Meeker family. The name of the head-clerk was Pease Jonathan Pease; but he always wrote his name J. Pease. There was also a boy, fourte~n years old, called Charley, who boarded at home. This, with Mr. Benjamin Jessup, constituted the force at the cash store. Hiram had taken the place of a pale, milk-and-water-looking youth, with weak lungs, who had been obliged to quit on account of poor health. This youth had been entirely under the control of Pease, so much so that he dared not venture an opinion about his own soul or body till he was satisfied Pease thought just so. All this helped add to the importance of the head-clerk, so that even Mr. Jessup unconsciously felt rather nervous about differing with him. Indeed, Pease was fast becoming master of the establish- ment. This Hiram Meeker knew per- fectly well before he entered it. When Pease ascertained that Hiram was about to come there as clerk, without his advice being asked, he regarded it as an invasion of his rights. He did not hesi- tate to speak his mind on the subject to Mr. Jessup. He tried strongly to dis- suade him from taking a gentleman- clerk, and declared it would require an extra boy to wait on him and another to correct his blunder.s. It was of no rise; Mr. Jessup had not the slightest idea of the peculiar qualities of Hiram, hut he knew if he received him, it would be the means of making an inroad into the conservative quarter, and he should secure the trade and influence of the Meekers beside. He went so far as to explain this to Pease, in the most confi- dential and friendly manner; but the latter was not to be persuaded or molli- fied. As he could not prevent the ad- possibly could. But he little knew the stuff he had to deal with. The first morning after he had taken possession of his new quarters his sleeping-room was over the store Hi- ram rose early, and was looking careful- ly about the place, when Pease came in and asked him why he did not sweep out. I have not yet learned the regulations, Mr. Pease, but am ready to begin any time, was Hirams quiet reply. Now, Pease had purposely sent Char- ley away on an early errand, so as to be able to put this work on the new-coiner. He simply replied, in an arrogant tone, that it was his business every morning to sweep out the store, and then sand the floors, adding, in order to preserve a semblance of truth When the boy happens to be here, he will help you. Pease was a little astonished to see how readily Hiram set to work. The store was not only carefully swept, and the floors sanded, but many articles which were scattered about were put in their place, and carefully arranged, so that after breakfast, when Mr. Jessup came in, he remarked on the neat appearance of the store, without knowing to what it was owing. Thus was the first at- tempt of J. Pease to annoy Hiram com- pletely foiled. Furthermore, Hiram kept on sweeping and sanding, although Charley was present; indeed, he de- clined his assistance altogether, and once, when Mr. Jessup remarked (he had observed to whom the change in the appearance of the store was due) that it was quite unnecessary for him to do the boys work, Hiram quietly answered, that he much preferred to do it to seeing the store look as it did when he first came there. It took our hero but a short time to familiarize himself with the minutiie of Mr. Jessups business. It was not long before Pease began to feel that there was a person every way his su- perior who was fast acquiring a more~ thorough insight into affairs than he vent of hiram, he resolved to make his had himself. He began to fear that position just as uncomfortable as he certain private transactions of his own 51 52 Was he Succe& fzd? would not escape Hirams observation. He felt magnetically that instead of bul- lying and domineering over the new- comer, Hirams eyes were on him whatever he did. This was insupport- able; but how could he help it? The more work he imposed on Hiram, the better the latter seemed to like it, and the more he accomplished. Damn him! said Pease between his teeth; but cursing did not help the matter, so Pease discovered. By degrees, several young ladies who were not in the habit of calling at Jes- sups began to drop in to look at the dry- goods. It was in vain Pease stepped briskly forward to wait on them, with his most fascinating smile; they wanted to see Mr. Meeker. Pease was bursting with rage, but he was forced to restrain his passion. On one occasion, on seeing two attractive-looking girls approach- ing, he sent Hiram to the cellar to draw a gallon of molasses, and as the weather was cold, he calculated he would have to wait at least a quarter of an hour for it to run. When the young ladies entered, they inquired for Hiram; Pease reported Mr. Meeker as particular- ly engaged, and offered his services in the most pathetic manner. Oh! we are in no hurry, was the re- ply, we can wait. And they did wait, greatly to Peases disgust, and to Mr. Jessups delight, who happened to come in at that moment, for he knew Itiram would be sure to make some handsome sales to them. At length came poor Peases crowning misfortune. Mary Jessup began to give token that she was not slow to discover Hirams agreeable qualities, and his su- periority in every respect over his rivaL Now, if there is any one thing which the sex admire in a man more than an- other, it is real ability. Mary Jessup was a quick-witted girl herself; and she could not fail to perceive this quality in Hiram. She had heretofore regarded him as a boy; but the boy had grown up almost without her observing it, and now stood, with his full stature of me- dium hight, admirably proportioned. It was not long before she consented to accompany Hiram to the Thursday-even- ing lecture. What a pleasant walk they had each way, and how gracefully he placed her shawl across her shoulders. Pease was furious. How absurd you act, that was all Mary Jessup said in re- ply to his violent demonstrations, and she laughed when she said it. What could Pease do for revenge? He thought, and cogitated, and dreamed over it; it was of no use. He began to feel himself under the fascination of Hirams calm, persevering, determined manner, a man- ner distinguished by tokens of latent pow- er. For no one in praising him ever made the ordinary exclamations, Such a smart, energetic fellow, So active and efficient, A driving business chap. No; on the contrary, one would set him down as quite the reverse, for he was always very quiet, never in a hurry, and by no means rapid in his motions. Yet he impressed you with an idea of his superiority, which his peculiar repose of manner served to highten. It can easily be guessed that Mary Jessup and J. Pease quarreled, at last seriously, and the engagement, if there had been any, was broken. The next eVening, on her return from the sewing-society with Hi- ram, he ventured to retain her hand in his, and from that time she felt that there was an understanding between them. She would have found it difficult to say why, for Hiram had never spoken sentimentally to her. His conversation was on ordinary topics, yet always in a low, meaning, confidential tone. [Has the reader any desire that I should lay bare the innermost thoughts and feelings of this youth not yet eight- een? Would you like to be told how curi- ously he smiled to himself as he continued to sweep out and sand that little village store? Would you care to know how he gloated over the discomfiture of his rival? Shall I endeavor to depict his feelings when he saw he had actually gained the affections of Mary Jessup, for whom, beyond a sensuous enjoyment of her presence and her society, he did not care a fig? Shall I explain how, TFas he Successful? while acting for his employer quite as a good, honest man would act, his motive was to serve self and self only? or shall I permit the reader gradually to acquire a knowledge of Hirams characteristics as the narrative proceeds?] This brings us to the end of Hirams first year with Mr. Jessup. He had ac- complished nothing rapidly, but he had kept on accomplishing something every day. He had not made a single false step. The consequence was, he had not a single step to retrace. The end of the year found him already very high in Mr. Jessups esteem. Hiram had proved his value by increasing his employers busi- ness at least ten per cent in the village, while he was daily becoming more pop- ular with all who traded at the store. To Pease this was an enigma, for Hiram never volunteered to wait on a customer, when the former was present, and only stepped forward when specially sought. Even with the young ladies who came to the place, with whom he was on in- timate terms of acquaintance, Hiram found no time to laugh and talk, although he always managed to say an agreeable word in a quiet, low tone. Toward Pease, Hirams conduct was always the same, perfectly respectful; as if never losing sight of the situation of the one as head-clerk and of the other as sub- ordinate. But by continually making himself so useful in the establishment, he was gradually undermining his com- rades position, and Pease felt his influ- ence dissolving, he hardly knew how or why; but he felt it all the more forcibly for not knowing. Thus the commencement of the new year found the occupants of the cash store. Hirams situation had become very agreeable. He was putting into practice the theories of his education. He was high in favor with his employer, and whenever he entered the house, which was but a few steps from the store, he was greeted by Mary Jessup with that peculiar welcome so charming between those who love each other, yet which to him was pleasing only because it grati- fied his animal nature and his self-love. Early in the second year, an incident occurred which served to bring out Iii- rams character, and change decidedly the state of affairs. One morning, while he was engaged with a customer, Mrs. Es- terbrook entered the store. Now, that lady was the wife of Deacon Esterbrook, one of the most substantial men of the town, and a strong supporter of the Smiths. In fact, she had never set foot in Mr. Jessups place before that morn- ing, but certain goods, lately ordered by the Smiths, were unaccountably delay- ed, while Mr. Jessups were fresh from the city and just opened. The dress- maker had been engaged, and could not come again for she did not know how long, and Ellen must have a nice school- dress ready forthwith. So the lady de- termined for once to break over rule, and step into the opposition store. No doubt the fact that so respectable and pious a young man as Hiram was a clerk there had its influence in the decision; it made the place itself more reputable, many said. And now she came slowly in, a little distrustful, as if entering on forbidden ground, and expecting to see some extraordinary difference between the place of business of an ungodly person like Jessup and that of the hon- est-minded Smith. Thanks, however, to Hirams persevering industry, it was a model of neatness and order, and Mrs. Esterbrook, who was herself a pattern in that way, found her harsh judgment insensibly relaxing, as she stepped to the counter where Pease stood, and asked quite amiably to see some of the best calicoes, just in from New-York. Pease, the narrow-minded idiot, thought this a good time to play off a smart trick on one of Smiths regular customers. So he paraded a large variety of goods before her, and took occasion to recoin- mend a very pretty article, for which he charged a monstrous price, because he said it was a very scarce pattern, and it was with great difficulty they had se- cured a single piece. As the lady her- self could perceive, it had not been opened before; not a soul in the village had even seen the outside of it. Now, 53 54 Was he Sueces8ful? it must not be supposed that Mrs. Ester- brook was different from the rest of her sex, and insensible to the pleasure of having the first dress cut from the piece. Indeed, she determined, on this occasion, to take two dresses instead of one; Em- ily was coming home, and would want it. Just as Pease was about to measure off the desired quantity, Mrs. Esterbrook exclaimed: You are sure those colors are fast? Fast, maam! fast as the meeting- house round the corner. We will war- rant them not to run nor change. Why, for color, we have nothing like it in the store. All this time, Hiram had been serving his customer; but with both ears and at least one eye attentive to what was going on near him. Again Pease commenced to measure, when Hiram stepped deliberately for- ward and said: Mr. Pease is mistaken, Mrs. Ester- brook, those colors are not fast. What the hell do you know about it? Pease was going to say; but he stopped short at the second word, utter- ly abashed and confounded at the extra- ordinary assumption of the junior clerk. Never before had Hiram made such a demonstration. Now he stood calm and composed, firmly fortified by the truth. He looked and acted precisely as if he were the principal, and the objurgation of Pease died on his lips. He attempted to cast on Hiram a contemptuous glance, as he managed to say: Perhaps you know more about it than I do, and turned away to attend to a new-coiner. I am much obliged to you, Mr Meeker, I declare, said Mrs. Ester- brook. On the contrary, it is I who should be obliged to you for looking in. You must excuse the mistake. Mr. Pease is not so familiar with calicoes as I am. But I will now wait on you myself. We have a box of goods in the back-store, not yet open, and I am sure I can find in it just what you want. Any one who had seen Hirams air, and heard him speak, would have taken him for the proprietor. With wh~t a low, respectful tone he addressed the lady. How pleasantly it fell on the ear. An immense box of merchandise to be opened and all the contents overhauled to please her! Charley was summoned, hammer and hatchet freely used, and the goods displayed. Hiram, who knew much better what Mrs. Esterbrook want- ed than she knew herselg selected some- thing very acceptable. The price he put at first cost. Not content with that, he actually sold the lady silk for a dress, putting it at cost also, and no human being could have been in better humor than she. I am very sorry, Mrs. Esterbrook, for your disappointment about the first cali- co you selected, continued Hiram. I do hope you and other members of your family will look in often, even if you do not purchase; it sometimes helps one to form a judgment to look a.t different stocks. But I must be perfectly frank with you. We profess to sell cheap, very cheap, but I can never offer you similar articles at the price you have these; they are given you precisely at cost, as a slight compensation for your trouble in having to look a second time. Besides, it is a matter of mere justice to those worthy people, the Smiths, to say we do not sell our goods at these prices, and I beg you not to so report it. What an excellent young man you are, said good Mrs. Esterbrook, in the fullness of her heart. My dear madam, really I can not see any special excellence in simply d& ing my duty. Hiram smiled one of his amiable, win- ning smiles, and bowed his new custom- er politely out of the store. By this time the dinner-hour had ar- rived. Not a word had been spoken by Pease to Hiram since the scene just re- counted. Not a syllable did he utter at table. Hiram, on the contrary, entered into familiar conversation, placid as usu- al, and enjoyed ~his dinner quite as well as he ever had done. When the meal was over, Pease asked Mr. Jessup if ho Was he Sueces8ful .9 would step into the store a few minutes. Mr. Jessup accordingly walked over. I want to know, Mr. Jessup, he de- manded, when all were together, includ- ing Charley, whether you are the own- er in here or Hiram Meeker? Why do you put such a question, Pease? Thereupon Pease told the whole cir- cumstances very much as they occurred. Mr. Jessup made no reply. He was taken aback himself. Hiram said not a word. Its so, ant it, Charley? cried Pease. Ive nothing to say about it, an- swered the boy. He liked Hiram, and detested Pease, and was glad to see him humiliated. It ~s so, observed Hiram. Mr. Jessup was astounded. I shall think the matter over seri- ously, young men, and make up my mind about it this evening. Now let us attend to business. Mr. Jessup had decided in his own mind that Hirams conduct was very reprehensible not that he cared about Pease being snubbed, that he rather enjoyed than otherwise, but he thought what Hiram had done would serve to cast discredit on the establishment. Before, however, deciding to censure him in presence of his fellow-clerks, he determined to speak with him privately. He took occasion without the knowledge of Pease, to ask Hiram to step to the house, and once there, he requested him to give his version of the affair. Hiram replied that Pease had stated it very correctly. What could be your object, asked Mr. Jessup, in doing what would throw disgrace on my store, for you know such an admission would disgrace us? To serve your interests, as in duty bound, replied Hiram. Mr. Jessup could not so understand it, and Hiram undertook calmly to ex- plain how dishonest it was for Pease to do as he did. It had very little effect on Mr. Jessup. His nerves were too strong to be unsettled by a moral appeal. He told Hiram he was to blame, and said he should be obliged to so express himselg when they all met, and he must add a caution for the future. Fool! exclaimed Hiram, startled out of his usual calm propriety, do you not comprehend if that woman had gone out of your store with the calico, that she not only would never enter it again, but she would publish your name over town as a swindler and a cheat, and you never would hear the end of it. Pease had charged her double prices, and the goods would not stand a single washing. And you know whether or not you are ready to pay off the mortgage Deacon Ester- brook holds on this house. Mr. Jessup colored deeply. When he purchased his house he left a pretty large mortgage on it, which the owner had sold to Deacon Esterbrook, who was a moneyed man, and who now held it quite content with his yearly six per cent. You seem to interest yourself in my private affairs, said Mr. Jessup in a sar- castic tone. Why shouldnt I, sir, so long as I am in your employ, answered Hiram, with- out noticing the irony. Youre a devilish strange fellow, any how, said Mr. Jessup, musingly, but I confess I never had a person about me half so usefuL I could be of much more service to you if you would conduct your business on strict mercantile principles, Why, what would you have me do different from what I am doing? Iwould have every thing done straight and HONEST, Mr. Jessup, said Hiram firmly. Do you mean to say I am not hon- est? It is not necessary for me to say any thing on the subject. I am only talking about the management of your business. You censure me for not standing still and seeing one of your neighbors grossly cheated, by which you would have lost some of the best customers in town, to say the least. By taking the course I did, I saved the credit of the concern instead of injuring it, and I even spoke IYa8 he Successful? of it as a mistake of Pease, instead of a deception. Mr. Jessup was already convinced, as indeed, his petulance proved, that Hiram was right, but he had some pride in not appearing to yield too soon. I understand the matter better now, and really, Hiram, you did just about the right thing, thats a fact. Honesty is the best policy, after alL I shall tell Pease he did very wrong to attempt any of his tricks on such a person as Mrs. Esterbrook, and in future In future one of us must be an ab- sentee from the premises, said Hiram coolly. Why, what do you mean? Just this. Peases year is up next week, and then one of us must leave. Mr. Jessup fell into a brown study. He reflected on the admirable manner Hiram had performed his duties; he could not shut his eyes to the fact that several excellent customers had been secured through his influence; he con- sidered the respectability of the Meeker family, and called to mind how indiffer- ent Mary had become to Pease, while she seemed gratified when Hiram was near. Again, Pease, when measured by Hirams more comprehensive tact and shrewdness, seeemed a booby, a nobody, and Mr. Jessup wondered how he ever acquired such an influence over him, and he was the more disgusted with himself the more he thought about it. It is working right, after all, he said to himself. I shall be well rid of Pease, and Hiram shall take his place. Then rising from his seat, he observed: I will think the matter over carefully, and you shall have my decision on the day. Now set to work as if nothing had hap- pened. Hiram went back to the store as cer- tain of the fate of Pease as if he was himself to decide it. Check-mated something like that passed from his lips. His countenance, however, gave no sign of triumph, nor, indeed, of any feeling. In the evening Mr. Jessup announced that, after due consideration, he was of opinion the conduct of Pease was so censurable that the interference of Hiram was very proper, if not, indeed, praise- worthy. Perhaps you would like to settle with me V said Pease ferociously. Just as you please, replied Mr. Jes- sup. Well, I guess I have staid about long enough in this place when Ive lived to see you coming the honest dodge so strong as that darned if I hant! Next week Pease had quit, and Hiram Meeker was head-clerk. Great was the astonishment through the town when it was ascertained that Pease had been discharged from Jes- sups store for cheating so the story went. Mr. Jessup was too shrewd. not to make the most of the circumstance. He declared, in his off-hand manner, that he never professed to have the strait- laced habits of some people; he con- fessed he did not like a fellow the less for his being cute in a trade, and eyes open, but when it came to lying and cheating, then any of his folks must look out if he caught them at it, thats all. With most of the people this frank, open avowal was very convincing; but there were certain obstinate persons such as are every where to be found, and who are fond of going against the general opinion, who did not hesitate to declare this was all gammon. They knew Jessup too well to allow he cared any thing about it, not he. Noth- ing but the fear of that honest young Meeker led to the disgrace of Pease, who no doubt would now be made the scape- grace for all Jessups shortcomings in the store-way. So it went. But in the balance of accounts Jessup was a great gainer. Of course, numerous were the questions put to Hiram. He preserved great discretion would say little. It did not become him to speak of Mr. Jes- sups private matters. Good Mrs. Ester- brook was not silent, however. The story was repeated and repeated. It reached the parsonage; it found its way among the customers of the Smiths. Mrs. Esterbrook felt herself a good deal raised in her own importance, that the 56 iFas he SztcCe8~fLd? 5~T head-clerk of a store she was never in before should be summarily dismissed for misconduct toward her. She began rather to like that Mr. Jessup, (the cali- coes and silk proved such bargains, and just what she wanted,) a man to do as he did was not so very far out of the way, and as for his wife, she was a charming woman, she always said so. Mary, too, what a sweet girl! Well, she should at least divide her custom between the two stores if the Deacon was willing and the Deacon was will- ing, for he wanted Jessup to do suffi- ciently well to keep up his interest money prompt. Not only did Mrs. Est- erbrook call frequently, but so did many others of the Smith faction. I need not say that Hiram was indefatigable. He secured the services of a nice, active young fellow, whom he took great pains to teach, and every thing went on like clock - work. Mr. Jessup was content, for he saw he was constantly gaining custom, but, in fact, he was a good deal confused, and hardly felt at home in his own place, so completely did Hiram bring it under his own controL The first thing he undertook was an en- tire overhauling of the stock, and a close examination of its value. Then he in- sisted, yes, insisted that the prices should be marked in plain figures on the goods, so every body could see for themselves. Jessup remonstrated: Thunder! what will become of us at this rate? I tell you there are some it wont do to be frank with. Even old Smith never un- dertook to expose his marks! The very reason why we should do so, said Hiram. lEe are honest. I wish you could have heard the tone in which Hiram said that, and have seen the expression of his countenance. It made Jessups flesh creep, he did not know why. So Hiram, as usual, had his own way, and overhauled every thing. Lots of old goods piled away out of sight, as unsalable, were brought forward, carefully examined, and mark- ed down, on an average, to half cost. Then appeared hand-bills to the effect that Mr. Jessup had determined, prior to getting in a complete new, fresh, fashionable lot of dry goods, to dispose of the stock on hand at a tremendous sacrifice. These were sent all over the country into the adjoining villages, every where within twenty miles. How the peo- ple rushed to buy, and when they came, and found really that great bargains were to be had, they resolved to come again when the new goods should arrive. Thus Hiram triumphed. In six montbs after J. Pease left, Benjamin Jessups store was the store of hampton, and Benjamin Jessup himself on the road to prosperity and wealth. Hiram Meeker was sitting alone in his room over the store, late one evening. He had been with Mr. Jessup a year and eleven months. Another month, and the second year would be completed. I believe, so ran the current of his thoughts, I have learned pretty much all there is to be found out here; have not done badly, either. Cousin Ben- netts advice to mother was right. I am not ready to go to New-York yet. There is much country knowledge to be gained. Let me see, I will drive over to Burns- ville next week. Joel Burns is carrying every thing before him, they say. All sorts of business. A first-class man; neither a Smith nor a Jessup. I met Sarah Burns last week at a party over at Crofts lovely girl. I think Burns- ville will suit me. Thereupon Hiram Meeker took up his Bible, which lay on the table near him, drew himself a little closer to the fire, moved the lamp into a convenient posi- tion, and read one chapter in course; it was in Deuteronomy. Then he kneel- ed in prayer for about five minutes. As soon as he had finished, he went to bed, equally satisfied with his labors and his devotions; complacently he laid his head on the pillow, and was soon asleep. I am sorry to go, Mr. Jessup; but I have my fortune to make yet, you know, and I must look a little to my own in- terests. Yes, but confound it, Meeker, what is it you want? I expected to raise 58 Newlern as it was and ~s. your salary; in fact, its no account what you charge me, you mustnt go, thats settled. Indeed I must. Why, what is the matter? If you say so, I will take you into partnership, though you are not one and twenty. Really, Hiram, dont leave us in this way. I repeat, I am sorry .to do so, but as I have no intention of living in Hamp- ton, it is now time I should quit. But what on earth am I to do with- out you? Persevere in the course you are now pursuing. Stick honestly to good prin- ciples, Mr. Jessup, and you will continue to prosper. Damn it, I know better, exclaimed Jessup pettishly; I mean I swear I dont know what I mean, [Hirams cold blue eye was fixed calmly on him,] cussed if I do; but I say tant honesty which has done the thing for me. No; old Smith is honest so is his son I respect both of them for being so, yes I do. You are honest, too, Hiram; straight as a shinglehave always found you so; but I cant tell why, yours seems another sort of honesty from Smiths honesty, and thats a fact. Benjamin Jessup had a dim percep- tion of the truth, but the more he tried to explain, the more he floundered, till Hiram came to his relief and to his own also, for he did not greatly enjoy the comparison Jessup was attempting to institute. I think I understand you. The fact is, in the management of your business, I have endeavored to combine what tact and shrewdness I am master of with scrupulous fair dealing and integrity. Thats it, Hiram, now youve hit it, but its the shrewdness thats done the work. Oh! I shall never get a man who can fill your place. In due course, Hiram left for Burns- ville, The prayers and good wishes of the village went with him. Mary Jessup was disconsolate; but why? Hiram had never committed himself. All the girls said: What a fool she is to think he was going to marry any body older than himself! an~ they laughed about Mary Jessup. RNA~AS ND~ 4~fP THAT part of North-Carolina 1ch as degraded a ce~munity as there was borders on the Sound, has within the on the continent. Their descendants past six months became the theatre of have, to a considerable extent, overrun events of the most exciting nature, in the South to the Mississippi and on to which Newb~rn, its principal town, has Texas. borne a prominent part. But it was the good fortune of the It may be interesting to review its his- counties on the Neuse to derive their tory, The earliest notice of it dates back immigrants from and to have their insti- to the explorations of Raleighs colony tutions formed by a better class than in 1584, when they visited an Indian the inferior families of Virginia, further town named Newsiok, situated on a degraded by a residence in Eastern goodly river called the Neus, but the North-Carolinm~, at that period known adventurers did not examine the river, as the harbor for rogues and pirates. and more than a century elapsed before The earliest settlers on the Neuse were any further record of the visit of white French Huguenots, who first located on men occurred. The north-eastern coun- the James River, in Virginia, but were ties had, however, been partially settled afterwards induced by the proprietors of by refugees from Virginia, where in the Carolina to accept grants of land in what absence of law and gospel they became is now known as Carteret County, to

58 Newlern as it was and ~s. your salary; in fact, its no account what you charge me, you mustnt go, thats settled. Indeed I must. Why, what is the matter? If you say so, I will take you into partnership, though you are not one and twenty. Really, Hiram, dont leave us in this way. I repeat, I am sorry .to do so, but as I have no intention of living in Hamp- ton, it is now time I should quit. But what on earth am I to do with- out you? Persevere in the course you are now pursuing. Stick honestly to good prin- ciples, Mr. Jessup, and you will continue to prosper. Damn it, I know better, exclaimed Jessup pettishly; I mean I swear I dont know what I mean, [Hirams cold blue eye was fixed calmly on him,] cussed if I do; but I say tant honesty which has done the thing for me. No; old Smith is honest so is his son I respect both of them for being so, yes I do. You are honest, too, Hiram; straight as a shinglehave always found you so; but I cant tell why, yours seems another sort of honesty from Smiths honesty, and thats a fact. Benjamin Jessup had a dim percep- tion of the truth, but the more he tried to explain, the more he floundered, till Hiram came to his relief and to his own also, for he did not greatly enjoy the comparison Jessup was attempting to institute. I think I understand you. The fact is, in the management of your business, I have endeavored to combine what tact and shrewdness I am master of with scrupulous fair dealing and integrity. Thats it, Hiram, now youve hit it, but its the shrewdness thats done the work. Oh! I shall never get a man who can fill your place. In due course, Hiram left for Burns- ville, The prayers and good wishes of the village went with him. Mary Jessup was disconsolate; but why? Hiram had never committed himself. All the girls said: What a fool she is to think he was going to marry any body older than himself! an~ they laughed about Mary Jessup. RNA~AS ND~ 4~fP THAT part of North-Carolina 1ch as degraded a ce~munity as there was borders on the Sound, has within the on the continent. Their descendants past six months became the theatre of have, to a considerable extent, overrun events of the most exciting nature, in the South to the Mississippi and on to which Newb~rn, its principal town, has Texas. borne a prominent part. But it was the good fortune of the It may be interesting to review its his- counties on the Neuse to derive their tory, The earliest notice of it dates back immigrants from and to have their insti- to the explorations of Raleighs colony tutions formed by a better class than in 1584, when they visited an Indian the inferior families of Virginia, further town named Newsiok, situated on a degraded by a residence in Eastern goodly river called the Neus, but the North-Carolinm~, at that period known adventurers did not examine the river, as the harbor for rogues and pirates. and more than a century elapsed before The earliest settlers on the Neuse were any further record of the visit of white French Huguenots, who first located on men occurred. The north-eastern coun- the James River, in Virginia, but were ties had, however, been partially settled afterwards induced by the proprietors of by refugees from Virginia, where in the Carolina to accept grants of land in what absence of law and gospel they became is now known as Carteret County, to Newbern a~ ~it wa~ and is. 59 which place they removed in 1707. In He first resided at Brunswick, on the 1710 a colony from Switzerland and Ger- Cape Fear River, then a town of note, many, under the management of Baron but now a complete ruin, and where de Graffenreid and Louis Michell arrived, among its remains are still seen the mas- and were settled between the Neuse and sive walls of St. Philips Church, built the Trent, and in the triangle formed by by his request, at the expense of the these rivers, laid out a town with wide British government. streets and convenient lots, which in re- As Newbern was a more central posi- membrance of the capital in the Old tion, and possessed more social advan- World, was called New-Bern. tages, Tryon took up his abode there, The settlers who already resided north not, however, till he had made himself of New-Bern soon rebelled against their odious by irritating the people of the local government, and by continued de- western part of the province into a re- predations on the Indian tribes in their bellion, and had butchered many who vicinity at last brought on a fearful war, were contending only for justice and during which a large part of both the their rights. white and red men were exterminated, Tryon was aristocratic, tyrannical, so that many of the poor Swiss and Ger- and vindictive. To gratify his pride he man Protestants found they had only conceived the idea of erecting a magnifi- escaped their vindictive persecutors at cent palace, and to obtain an appropria- home to find a bloody grave in the for- tion from the Provincial Assembly he ests of Carolina. exhausted all his promises and intrigues. After the surrender of their grant to In this effort on the legislators he was the crown by the lords proprietors of aided by the blandishments of his lady Carolina, in 1729, a better state of affairs and her sister, Miss Wake, relatives of succeeded, and a more energetic govern- Lord Hillborough, and he was finally ment, with its blessings and prosperity successfuL The result was, that he was the result. The country was then erected in Newbern, in 1770, the most settled and Newbern gradually rose to elegant and expensive building on the be a place of importance, and subse- continent, the cost of which was far be- quently the capital of the province. yond the resources of the province. The The first printing-press in the province plans of it, which are still preserved, was established in 1764, and the first show that the old descriptions of its periodical, The North- Carolina Afcqya- splendor are not overwrought. Its zine, issued the same year, but it is foundations can still be traced, and a doubtful if any book excepting the State part of one of the wings, though in a laws was ever published there. A pub- dilapidated state, is yet in existence. lic school was incorporated the same A Provincial Congress was held at year, and Newbern became the principal Newbern, in August, 1774, of which seat of education and social intelligence John Harvey was President. In April, in the province. As the seat of govern- 1775, they elected delegates to the fa- ment and the residence of the royal Gov- mous Continental Congress which met ernors, it attracted much wealth, and de- at Philadelphia, and Newbern was for veloped a degree of culture which it has some time the most important place in retained to a later day. the province. Arthur Dobbs, for a long period the During the Revolution, the State was Colonial Governor, was at this time twice invaded by the Britisb, and many closely identified with the history of towns suffered severely, but Newbern Newbern. He was by birth an Irish- being remote from the seat of war, did man, and by nature an aristocrat. He not particularly feel its effects. died at an advanced age in 1764. It is somewhat strange that in New- In 1765, William Tryon succeeded bern secession once found its strongest Dobbs as Governor of North-Carolina. opposition, and finally its death-blow. 60 .N~wbern as it was and is. It will be recollected that North-Carolina once extended to the Mississippi, and in- chided all of what is now the State of Tennessee, the whole of which territory was ceded to the United States in 1784. It was then partially settled, and before the general Government had accepted the grant, the residents established a temporary government, and formally se- ceding from North-Carolina, formed the State of Franklin. On the 1st of June, 1785, the Legisla- ture assembled at Newbern, when Gov- ernor Martin addressed them on this subject Declaring that by such rash and irregular conduct a precedent is formed for every district and eyen for every county in the State, to claim the right of separation and independence for estimable man, who, though a Roman Catholic, was respected by all sects and conditions, even in those days of fierce sectaries. John Stanly for a long time gave celebrity to Newbern as a lawyer and legislator, his oratorical powers being second to those of no man in the State. He was the fi~ther of Edward Stanly, now appointed to act as mili- tary Governor of the State. The country around Newbern was originally moderately fertile, but much of it has become exhausted by reason of improper tillage. The forests which were once a vast extent of stately pines, and from which great quantities of tur- pentine and tar were for a century and a half exported, are now little better than barren fields. Pine lumber and any supposed grievance as caprice, pride, staves have long been a large article of and ambition may dictate, thereby ex- export, which with corn and cotton make hibiting to the world a melancholy in- up nearly all the articles sent abroad. But the pines are now nearly exhausted, the trade in naval stores and lumber les- sened, and in consequence a better state of agriculture has commenced. It is found that by the aid of fertilizers good crops of cotton can be raised on the pine lands and the fields kept in an improv- ing condition. For the last thirty years it can hardly be said that the town has improved; indeed, as a whole it has hardly held its own. Still it is a place of wealth and comfort. There is an air of respectability in its ancient end stately buildings, its wide streets, and abundant shade-trees, and it is as healthy as any Southern town can be. Some twenty years ago Newbern had what no other Southern town possessed, a commerce of its own, that is, vessels built, owned, and sailed by its own peo- ple. Many of these then engaged in the West-India tradewere partly manned by slaves who belonged to the proprietors of the vessel or its captain, and at times, when other seamen could not be procured, these slaves were al- lowed to make a voyage to a Northern port, but as their value yearly augment- ed, and the risk of their suddenly dis- appearing, not again to visit Dixie, in- creased in a corresponding ratio, they stance of a feeble or pusillanimous gov- ernment, that is either unable or dares not restrain the lawless designs of its citizens, he advocated putting down the movements by force if necessary. But the leaders were not to be dissuaded from their ambitious purpose, and being joined by a few adjoining counties in Virginia, they elected General Sevier, a hero of the; Revolution, as Governor, and the insurrection assumed a formidable shape. But the old State met the trouble energetically, and after exhaust- ing all proper conciliatory measures, Sevier, with several of the leaders, was arrested, their councils became divided, and the rebellion was crushed. The leaders asked and obtained pardon, and an act of amnesty was passed, so that in the subsequent political changes the matter was forgotten. For a long period Newbern has been the residence of wealthy and influential families. George Pollock, a descendant of one of the original proprietors, who died some thirty years ago, dwelt there. He owned immense tracts of the best land in the State, and over a thousand slaves. There, too, was the home of Judge Gaston, a learned lawyer and a most Newbe~n as it was and is. 61 and without conferring with a single per- son, made his way to the attorney, from whom he had so lately purchased him- self; and by dint of persuasion succeed- ed in having the trade canceled and his money returned. Jack was then him- self again, He recounted over and over his adventures by flood and field to his wondering friends, and said no man, white or black, could imagine the trouble he felt when floating on that plank, the waves breaking over him every moment, when he considered he had just bought half of dat nigger that was now going to destruction, and paid all the money he had for him. But he had traded back, and then if he was drowned, he wouldnt lose a cent by it. It was long after this event when he told me he would never again risk a cent in nig- ger property, it was too onsartin en- tirely. Jack was a good deal of a wag, and told this story with a gusto I can not describe.* But if Captain Jack is still on this side of Jordan, he has doubtless ere this found nigger prop- erty still more onsartin. Let us, however, turn from the past to the present condition of affairs in Newbern. Secession would never have originated there. When South-Carolina passed its act of folly and madness, it met with a firm opposition from the old Whig party, which still had here a vital existence. Every exertion was made throughout the State to repel the insidi- ous influences of the demagogues of South - Carolina and Virginia, and but for the Jesuitical management of the politicians at Richmond, the Old North would have remained loyal. But all the efforts of the true Union men could not avail in warding off the storm that swept over the South; and the Convention at Raleigh passed, or rather was forced to assent to, the Act of Secession, on the gradually retired to other duties where their services were less precarious. And here I will relate an anecdote which an old salt once told me when I was strolling along the wharves of this ancient town in his company. In consequence of a bar, or swash, which stretches inside Ocracoke Inlet, (at that time the only passage to the sea,) the vessels take in but a part of their cargoes at Newbern, while light- ers with the remainder accompany them across the swash, where the lading is completed. Quite a number of small craft are thus constantly employed, and they are generally manned and com- manded by slaves. In this trade was once engaged Jack Devereaux, an intel- ligent black man who formerly belonged to the Devereaux family one of the F. F.s of Newbern but who had lat- terly become the property of H & o , a mercantile firm then doing a flourishing business there. He was cap- tain of a famous lighter, which for its enormous carrying capacity had received the cognomen of Hunger and Thirst. In due time the firm of H & C dissolved, and C moved West, leaving an undivided half of Captain~ Jack in the hands of his attorney. Jack had sailed the craft on shares, and compromised his services by monthly wages to his masters, and so had grad- ually accumulated some hundreds of dollars. Not fancying his new share- holder, he concluded to invest his hard- earned dollars in his own bone and mus- cle, or in other words, buy half of him- self. After considerable higgling, he made the bargain, paying five hundred dollars for the share. On the next trip to the bar, as the entrance to the sea is usually called, there came up one of those sudden hurricanes known as a Southeaster, whose force nothing can withstand. The small craft was foun- twentieth of May, 1861. In August the dered, and Jack, after floating for a long fortifications below Newbern were com- time on a plank, finally drifted on to a menced, and continued for some months, sand-spit, and was saved, and well garrisoned, till they were sup- Finding a passage home, he landed on the old County Wharf, a melancholy, disheartened, and depressed individual, * This anecdote has frequently gone the rounds in an abbreviated form. It may interest the reader to see it in authentic detaiL ~32 Our Brak~e ZThmes. posed capable of defending the town against any force that might be brought against it. General Burnside, however, attacked them on the fourteenth of March, 1862, and after a sharp battle the rebels fled, and he occupied the old place as a military conquest. All the wealthy and prominent citizens fled, and have not returned. The present condition of things will not long continue; a more permanent government, either civil or military, will soon be established, and with it must come a new era which will settle for all time the destiny of Newbern. Should the leading men of the town and all Eastern North-Carolina make an effort and throw off the incubus that slavery has for a century placed over it, a l)right career of prosperity would open before them. A new emigration, bring- ing energy and industry, would restore their worn-out lands, drain their swamps, educate their youth, and make Newbern echo with the hum of manufactures and commerce. The enterprise of such a people would soon open a channel from the Neuse to Beaufort harbor, and so avoid the shoals and dangers of Ocra- coke and Hatteras, and with the present railroads, make it the port of exchange for a wide extent of country. The times are propitious; already the true men of the State and their name is legion are anxiously awaiting the fall of Rich- mond, when they will decide for the old flag and the Union, never again to repu- diate it. OUR BRAVE TIMES. I WONDER if we, as a people, have any conception of the grandeur and glory of the Times in which we are living; if we at all appreciate the importance of the history which is being lived all around us; if we feel the colossal magnitude of the every-day events which so crowd upon us that we have hardly time to grasp them; if we are fully aware of the infinite possibilities of what has been so well called this fearfully glorious present? I think not, and I do not know that it is possible for us to do so. Only when we look back upon it from the hight of the far-off future, shall we see the country through which we are journeying in all its grand, sweeping outlines, its majestic proportions, and its imperial tints of coloring. The days of peace and tranquillity in a nation as in a life are robed in colors sweet and grateful to the eye softened hues of green and gold but the days of war and tribulation are days of scarlet and crimson, and all that can be seen in heaven and earth is black and flame but the days when Right achieves great triumphs, even through bloodshed and desolation, are days of imperial purple, hues royal in their magnificence. Thank Heaven that, through the days of blood and black, we have at last reached the purple days of life as a nation. A little more than a year of war, and now the skies are brightening. Thank God! for they have been black, black, black with horror and suffering and crime. And yet such a year as this, I am almost persuaded, is worth a score of years of peace. It certainly has achieved more for truth and humanity and God than the score of years which preceded it. As a nation, we had become almost des- picable. Such supple, yielding slaves of Democratic demagogues; such cring- ing, fawning, knee-bending, hand-kissing agents of the diabolical, traitorous Slave- Power; such apologists and supporters of Wrong; such pusillanimous, weak- hearted advocates of the unpopular Right; such slaves to Cotton and its threats, that we had almost lost the God-given independence of American freemen, and seemed thank God! events have proved only seemed to be entirely given up to money and inechan

~32 Our Brak~e ZThmes. posed capable of defending the town against any force that might be brought against it. General Burnside, however, attacked them on the fourteenth of March, 1862, and after a sharp battle the rebels fled, and he occupied the old place as a military conquest. All the wealthy and prominent citizens fled, and have not returned. The present condition of things will not long continue; a more permanent government, either civil or military, will soon be established, and with it must come a new era which will settle for all time the destiny of Newbern. Should the leading men of the town and all Eastern North-Carolina make an effort and throw off the incubus that slavery has for a century placed over it, a l)right career of prosperity would open before them. A new emigration, bring- ing energy and industry, would restore their worn-out lands, drain their swamps, educate their youth, and make Newbern echo with the hum of manufactures and commerce. The enterprise of such a people would soon open a channel from the Neuse to Beaufort harbor, and so avoid the shoals and dangers of Ocra- coke and Hatteras, and with the present railroads, make it the port of exchange for a wide extent of country. The times are propitious; already the true men of the State and their name is legion are anxiously awaiting the fall of Rich- mond, when they will decide for the old flag and the Union, never again to repu- diate it. OUR BRAVE TIMES. I WONDER if we, as a people, have any conception of the grandeur and glory of the Times in which we are living; if we at all appreciate the importance of the history which is being lived all around us; if we feel the colossal magnitude of the every-day events which so crowd upon us that we have hardly time to grasp them; if we are fully aware of the infinite possibilities of what has been so well called this fearfully glorious present? I think not, and I do not know that it is possible for us to do so. Only when we look back upon it from the hight of the far-off future, shall we see the country through which we are journeying in all its grand, sweeping outlines, its majestic proportions, and its imperial tints of coloring. The days of peace and tranquillity in a nation as in a life are robed in colors sweet and grateful to the eye softened hues of green and gold but the days of war and tribulation are days of scarlet and crimson, and all that can be seen in heaven and earth is black and flame but the days when Right achieves great triumphs, even through bloodshed and desolation, are days of imperial purple, hues royal in their magnificence. Thank Heaven that, through the days of blood and black, we have at last reached the purple days of life as a nation. A little more than a year of war, and now the skies are brightening. Thank God! for they have been black, black, black with horror and suffering and crime. And yet such a year as this, I am almost persuaded, is worth a score of years of peace. It certainly has achieved more for truth and humanity and God than the score of years which preceded it. As a nation, we had become almost des- picable. Such supple, yielding slaves of Democratic demagogues; such cring- ing, fawning, knee-bending, hand-kissing agents of the diabolical, traitorous Slave- Power; such apologists and supporters of Wrong; such pusillanimous, weak- hearted advocates of the unpopular Right; such slaves to Cotton and its threats, that we had almost lost the God-given independence of American freemen, and seemed thank God! events have proved only seemed to be entirely given up to money and inechan Our Brave TThte8. ics, to have become, indeed, a nation of peddlers. So much so, indeed, that our prophets were stoned in their own lands, our apostles stricken down in the na- tional councils, and the few voices that were raised for God and humanity, from out the miry slough of a trafficking age, were almost unheard in the general din which went up from all the nations, and the burden of whose song seemed to be: There is no God but Cotton, and we are all his prophets. But the mo- ment the first gun was fired, how all this changed! How regally the whole nation rose up! How magnificently she threw off the garment of rags and filth which had hidden her fair propor- tions, and donned the imperial toga of humanity, and wrapping the rich folds of the gorgeous mantle around her, stood out before the world in all the dignity of freedom and virtue a form which made the whole earth glad and the heavens clap their hands in exulta- tion. What giant leaps the nation made in manhood and heroism, strides follow- ing each other thick and fast, until the most cynical of the doubters of human- ity began to open their eyes, and ac- knowledge that they would not have thought her capable of such unexampled deeds. The national heroism which the Northern people have displayed is in- deed unparalleled. They have risen up as one man to the support of the Gov- ernment. They have offered property and life and the most sacred treasures of the heart upon the shrine of consti- tutional liberty. At the sound of the drum, they have left the farm and the barn, the anvil and the mill, the church and the forum, and formed into the grand army of Invincibles which, at the word of command, have marched for- ward, conquering and resistless. They have borne patiently with delay and de- feat, with blunders and crimes, with humiliation and taxation, and have, in short, proved themselves Americans worthy of the name. Of course, na- tional heroism has inspired individual heroism, and to-day the country blazes from frontier to metropolis with gallant records of daring deeds. Their number is infinite; they can not be individually remembered, but only massed together, one sublime mosaic by which the gal- lantry and heroism of the free, untram- meled North is proved. We doubt not there is a leaf for each hero in the hero- ic record of heaven, and the due share of hero-worship paid to each by those angels who love to pore over the chron- icles of earth. And we mourn less over the coming of this war at the present time than we should, did we not per- ceive that sooner or later it was inevit- able. It was written in the fate-book of God. Never before was war so em- phatically a war of principle. It miti- gates the suffering much to know this. It is something to know that all the brave men who have fallen have fallen for the right; and when we believe so, we do firmly believe that their death will give liberty and happiness to mil- lions yet to be. We can not think but that their lives are well spent. There are some who are written upon Gods muster-scroll as martyrs to liberty. Who would not esteem it a happiness and a glory to belong to this Old Guard, who from age to age have rallied and rallied and rallied to the support of liberty, to the rescue of this holy sepulchre from the hands of desolators and barbarians, who have ever fought where the fight was thickest, have ever been the advance- guard of the world in its onward pro- gress, and been enshrined in the great heart of the world, there to glow like the stars forever and ever? Is it a hard. ship to die that one may live forever? Is it a hardship to die that millions who now live in wailing and woe, in chains and degradation, may live in happiness and freedom in all time to come? The voice of the great army of American freemen rolls back the answer, like the majestic anthem of the sea, No! a deep, continuous no, which echoes from the broad Atlantic to the sunset-dyed Pacific, from the summits of Nevada to the great lakes of the North. Yes, I tell you the whole people feel the depth and sacred- ness of this war; they feel it to be, as 63 64 Our Brave Times. Carlyle said of the French Revolution, truth, though a truth clad in hell-fire. Then forward, noble army of the brave and true! Rally and forward, and for- ward again, until every Malakoff of Wrong is reduced, and every suffering Lucknow of our country hears the slo- gan of deliverance. You have glorious successes to cheer you now. You can think of Somerset and Donelson, and all the glorious battles of the warof forts taken, of enemies driven, of towns evac- uated, of the great cities of the enemy in our hands, of all the stirring, glorious successes of our army and our flag and even had you none of these to think og you could think of our cause, and this would be enough. Then let the bugles sound, the trumpets clang, the drums beat, the cannons roar, and we will march, and rally, and forward, and charge and charge and charge, until vic- tory. or death crown our labors; and if death to us, so let it be it will be vic- tory to our successors. This is the spirit of our Northern army. Sing plaudits to it, ye sons of song. Let your eloquence be inspired by it, ye golden-mouthed menye Everetts and Sumners. Write of them, ye gifted who would live in the coming time. Weave garlands for them, ye white-handed and lily-browed. Write anthems and oratorios for them, on picket, and of whose humble. exit from the stage of life little is thought, some one mourns. Nor this alone. For every soldier disabled; for every one who loses an arm or a leg, or who is wounded or languishes in protracted suffering; for every one who has only camp - fever, some heart bleeds, some tears are shed. In far-off humble house- holds, perhaps, sleepless nights and anx- ious days are passed, of which the world never knows; and every wounded and crippled soldier who returns to family and friends, brings a lasting pang with him. Oh! how the mothers feel this war! If ever God is sad in heaven, it seems to me it must be when he looks upon the hearts of mothers. We who are young, think little of it, know noth- ing of it; neither, I think, do the fa- thers or the brothers know much of it; but it is the poor mothers and wives of the soldiers. God help them! But the theme is too sadlet us leave it. And amid this wild rush of war, let us not forget our individual duties and respon- sibilities. Carlyle truly says: Each of us here, let the world go how it will, and be victorious or not victorious, has he not a little life of his own to lead? One life a little gleam of life between two eternities no second chance to us for evermore. Let us not forget the ye men of music. Pray for them, each loves, the amenities and charities of so- and all of you, night and day, with heart cial life. Let us not forget that the edu- and voice. But we can not, if we would, cation of the world must go on as ever, overlook the desolation which the war has that the great virtues of charity and brought and must bring upon our favored self-denial must more than ever be cx- land. We can not conceal from ourselves the fact that, end when it will, or how it may, it must bring desolation to thou- sands of happy households, and inflict never-healing wounds upon thousands of happy hearts. For every man who falls in battle some one mourns. For every man who dies in hospital-wards, and of whom no note is made, some one mourns. For the humblest soldier shot ercised, and that the discipline and per- fection of our own characters is as ever our grand life-work. Then let the angry waves of tumult dash up and froth at our feet, let the skies blacken and the tempest roar, God is over alL This one thing we are to remember, and be cheer- ful. Browning says: God s in his heaven Alls right with the world. The Crisis and the Parties. THE CRISIS AND TILE PARTIES. FROM two points of view, the great and preeminently Ameriea~ nation vi- brates at present in a crisis of immense historical significance. The first is, that of the war between the United and so- called Confederate States, which is vir- tually a strife between Free Labor seek- ing to enlarge its sphere and retain its power against agricultural aristocracy maintained by slave labor. All the en- ergies and theories of industrial pro- gress, of science, and of constant intel- lectual development; in a word, all that is most characteristic of the spirit of the Nineteenth Century, is enlisted on the one side; all that is fading out and wearing away, with all that character- izes the unwisest conservatism has taken its last stand on the other. It is the old story of the generation which comes and of that which goes, reduced to the intense form of a fierce fight. All of this but little understood with- in a very few years has been of late made generally intelligible on this side of the border, thanks, perhaps, as much to Mr. Hammonds word mudsill as to any other cause. In the short sentence which declared that there should always exist, in every community, one ever- sunken and permanently degraded class, the great point of difference between the South and North was set forth in a form intelligible to the humblest ca- pacity, and it was understoodhow well has been shown in many a bloody field. The other crisis in which we are at present involved is domestic and purely politicaL It is the growth of opposing political parties, and its existence is un- doubtedly to be regretted, if we take only a superficial view of the causes of its birth. We could all wish for some time to come perhaps forever to see only a single Union-party, with all men, looking neither to the right nor the left, pushing steadily on to the great goal of unity, commercial development, and so- cial progress. But we forget that so von. mm. 5 surely as night follows day, even so surely, in every community, will there be a conservative section and a progress- ive; the extreme right of the former consisting of frozen conservatives, advo- cating the preservation of every anti- quated evil, because it has acquired in their eyes a halo of respectability, while on the extreme left of their op- ponents will be found the radical inno- vators, for whom no extravagance of re- form i~ too great; so that as each mole- cule or group of atoms has its positive and negative electrical point, and as each atom in turn obeys the same law, so we see the positive and negative poles of North and South again reflected in the rapidly increasing divisions among us of Conservatives, who, by a singular fatality, still indicate the plebeian origin which they would now so gladly disown by the term Democrats; and, on the other hand, of Republicans, nick-named at present Radicals somewhat unjust- ly; since the term is strictly applicable only to a very limited portion of their number. There were men of high intelligence among the founders of the old Demo- cratic party; men who understood in many respects the true interests of hu- manity and its inevitable tendency, un- der the influences of free labor, free schools, and science. But with the masses, it owed its growth to the old assumed natural antagonism of labor to capital, or of the poor against the rich. It was essentially the same party as that which was played upon by low demagogues like Cleon in the old Greek day; by men who stirred up the poor and ignorant against the privileged and rich, for their own selfish advantage. Of late years, more enlightened and in- telligent views have prevailed in all par- ties, and the Cleons of the presenim day have been compelled to adventure more and more among the lowest and most ignorant for dupes. For the womkinan 65

The Crisis and the Parties. THE CRISIS AND TILE PARTIES. FROM two points of view, the great and preeminently Ameriea~ nation vi- brates at present in a crisis of immense historical significance. The first is, that of the war between the United and so- called Confederate States, which is vir- tually a strife between Free Labor seek- ing to enlarge its sphere and retain its power against agricultural aristocracy maintained by slave labor. All the en- ergies and theories of industrial pro- gress, of science, and of constant intel- lectual development; in a word, all that is most characteristic of the spirit of the Nineteenth Century, is enlisted on the one side; all that is fading out and wearing away, with all that character- izes the unwisest conservatism has taken its last stand on the other. It is the old story of the generation which comes and of that which goes, reduced to the intense form of a fierce fight. All of this but little understood with- in a very few years has been of late made generally intelligible on this side of the border, thanks, perhaps, as much to Mr. Hammonds word mudsill as to any other cause. In the short sentence which declared that there should always exist, in every community, one ever- sunken and permanently degraded class, the great point of difference between the South and North was set forth in a form intelligible to the humblest ca- pacity, and it was understoodhow well has been shown in many a bloody field. The other crisis in which we are at present involved is domestic and purely politicaL It is the growth of opposing political parties, and its existence is un- doubtedly to be regretted, if we take only a superficial view of the causes of its birth. We could all wish for some time to come perhaps forever to see only a single Union-party, with all men, looking neither to the right nor the left, pushing steadily on to the great goal of unity, commercial development, and so- cial progress. But we forget that so von. mm. 5 surely as night follows day, even so surely, in every community, will there be a conservative section and a progress- ive; the extreme right of the former consisting of frozen conservatives, advo- cating the preservation of every anti- quated evil, because it has acquired in their eyes a halo of respectability, while on the extreme left of their op- ponents will be found the radical inno- vators, for whom no extravagance of re- form i~ too great; so that as each mole- cule or group of atoms has its positive and negative electrical point, and as each atom in turn obeys the same law, so we see the positive and negative poles of North and South again reflected in the rapidly increasing divisions among us of Conservatives, who, by a singular fatality, still indicate the plebeian origin which they would now so gladly disown by the term Democrats; and, on the other hand, of Republicans, nick-named at present Radicals somewhat unjust- ly; since the term is strictly applicable only to a very limited portion of their number. There were men of high intelligence among the founders of the old Demo- cratic party; men who understood in many respects the true interests of hu- manity and its inevitable tendency, un- der the influences of free labor, free schools, and science. But with the masses, it owed its growth to the old assumed natural antagonism of labor to capital, or of the poor against the rich. It was essentially the same party as that which was played upon by low demagogues like Cleon in the old Greek day; by men who stirred up the poor and ignorant against the privileged and rich, for their own selfish advantage. Of late years, more enlightened and in- telligent views have prevailed in all par- ties, and the Cleons of the presenim day have been compelled to adventure more and more among the lowest and most ignorant for dupes. For the womkinan 65 66 The Crisis and the Parties. is gradually learning with his employer that there is a harmony of interests and a gradual adjustment of the prices al- lotted to the relative values of time, labor, brains, and capital, and that the most serious obstacle to this adjustment is, the keeping up of a constant warfare between laborers and employers. It is the skilled employ~ who becomes him- self the capitalist in due time, under a peaceable and well-organized system, as labor and brains rise in value, and the greatest impediment to his rise is a et- tied state of war between himself and the employer. Education and political equality, the competition of capital, and the ever-increasing appreciation of in- telligence, are constantly promoting this harmony and enabling labor to secure its rights. - It is easy to see how the ancient De- mocracy, or rather its leaders, having for many years held political supremacy and shared the spoils, actually took the place of their opponents, and, in their decline, naturally enough, formed a coalition with the intensely aristocratic South. Meanwhile, what became of the once aristocratic Opposition, with its silk-stocking gentry, as they were termed? Like the Democracy, it died a natural death, so far as the active en- forcement of its principles was concern- ed, after those principles had no longer a foundation in the social developments of the age. Here and there, an old and incurable devotee to mere forms or party shibboleth, who could not comprehend the new order of thought, went over to the Democratic~ conservatives. Of such were the old gentlemen who, in Phila- delphia, voted for the white waistcoat and immaculate snowy neck-tie of James Buchanan. They fled to their ancient foes, that they might die happily in the holy odor of respectability, quite igno- rant that a new gospel of what may be termed Respect Ability was being preached, and building up a higher and grander order of nobility than they had ever dreamed of Meanwhile, the arrogance of the South and .~ despez~te struggle to secure p0- litical preponderance, by extending slav- ery to the territories, developed in the North a free-soil and free-labor party, which received, most appropriately, the name of Republican. The doctrine of free-labor being intimately allied to every other form of social freedom, and of ac- tive thought and social science, had a natura.l affinity for intellect. The old Opposition, which had boasted ,or been taunted with, possessing all the dig- nity, including that of superior culture, swelled the ranks of this new party with writers and thinkers of eminence. So it grew in power, taking in, of course, many varied elements, both good and bad. As might have been expected, the proper conduct of the war, and tM dis- posal of the enemy in case of victory, soon led to decided differences between the Democracy, who could not owing to ancient custom throw aside their love for the name, or their antipathy to the new doctrines which threatened their power. The mass of them had grown up in firm alliance with the South, and duped and cats-pawed as they had been irritated as they were at the treachery of their old allies and despite the noble service which many of them rendered, in fighting the com- mon foe many have never been able to hate ab imo pectore the men of that false and foul feudal party which, when the rupture fairly came, expressed for their old allies a scorn and contempt deeper even than they felt for the Abo- litionists. In vain the South protested fiercely that it meant disunion and no- thing but disunion, and made its words good by offering, both in Europe and in its own press, to eacriflce, if need be, even slavery, rather than be longer bound to the North; still, the remain- ing ultra Democracy could not, would not, even now will not believe that the South would or could be so unfriendly. It was this hope of compromise and conciliation which lost us forts; and ships, and millions of dollars in muni- tions of war; for it was said: The South is only boasting, and must not be driven to extremes. With eyes wide The Crisis and the Parties. 67 open to the thefts, the Democratic lead- ers smiled a languid, cowardly assent, and let the enemy prepare for war. And war came. It might have been prevented; it might, beyond all doubt, have been limited and crushed; but the hand of the braggart South had been so long on the throat of the doughfaces, that they dared not move, and the doughfaces were in power. The country at large has had to pay dearly for that old doughface love for the South; it is paying every day in lives and money. Even now, it is amazing to see how the leaders among the Democracy, while pecking the South with the bill, continue to fondle it with the wing. Again and again, since the war began, they have humiliated the North and encouraged the desperate foe by efforts at peace- parties, conciliations, outcries for am- nesty, and entreaties not to exasperate the enemy. They have urged and ad- vocated the maintenance of slavery, the great cause of Southern arrogance and secession, with as much zeal as any Sonthron of them all, and fiercely de- precated any allusion to a subject which can no more be kept from consciousness than can a deadly and madly irritating cancer. Every suggestion, even the mildest and most equitable, for arrang- ing this difficulty, has been stigmatized by them as out of place and time, while their press has, without exception, as we believe, given currency to statements denouncing directly as swindlers and prostitutes the innocent and well-mean- ing men and women who went South with the sole object of clothing, nursing, and teaching the disorganized masses of blacks set free by our army. In all of this, we have a melancholy illustration of the difficulty with which unthinking men of the blind mass which rolls itself away into parties, and follows its leaders, embrace new truths or shake off old habits of slavery. While the modern Democratic party firmly believed as its majority still seems to that all this trouble was caused solely by the Abolitionists, and simply for the sake of liberating some four millions of blacks, they had at least some color for their iron conserv- atism. European humanity did not agree with us; but we of America are more tropical in our feelings, and so we made up our minds that it was too bad to cut one anothers throats for the sake of benefiting certain fat and lazy nig- gers, who were probably rather better off as chattels than as free men. But it is not from this point of view that the world is now beginning to view the sub- ject. Common - sense has ascertained clearly enough that without the agitation of Abolition, the South would have become intolerable and tyrannical it was imperious, sectional, and arrogant in the days of its weakness, while the Abolitionists scarcely existed, and given to secession for any and every cause. The insolent, individual independence which prompted the wearing of weapons, wild law and wild life, free from mutual social obligations, contained within it- self the germs of withdrawal from a civilized and superior people and a stable government. For such men, one pre- tense served as well as another. They of South-Carolina employed Nullification long before they dreax~ed of Anti-Abo- lition. Still more absurd is the Democratic opposition, since Abolition for the sake of the Negro has been changed into the cry of Emancipation for the salce of the White iIkn. Before this cry, before the inevitable and mighty demand of the free white labor of the future on the territories of the South, all protest- ations against meddling with emanci- pation shrivel up into trifles and become contemptible. The prayer of the ant petitioning against the removal of a mountain, where a nation was to found its capital, was not more verily frivolous and inconsiderable than are thcse timid ones of let it alone! And why let it alone? The Emancipation-for-the-sake- of-the-white-man party, as represented by President Lincolns Message, com- mending remuneration, asks for no un- due haste, no violent or sudden aggress- ive measures. It is satisfied to let the The Criei8 and the Partie~s. South free itself when it shall be dis- posed so to do; simply offering it a kindly aid when this measure shall oecome popular and expedient. More than this we have never asked for in these columns; yet it would be hard to imagine a term of newspaper abuse, which has not been given us by the Democratic press. Yes, at a time when ninety-nine men in a hundred in the free States avow that they would like to see slavery out of the way, if only to avoid the endless war which its con- tinuance must entail, all mention of it is tabooed by the men who claim to head the party of the virtual majority! No matter how far off the friends of Eman- cipation and of the Administration are willing to postpone the practical execu- tion of the measure, it must not be mentioned. For the greater part, these Northern friends of the South at present still earnestly desire the perpetual establishment of slavery on a constitu- tional basis. The contemptible efforts at Washing- ton to build up a separate and distinct Democratic party, when no party save that of the Union existed, will condemn to everlasting opprobrium the ~[allan- dighams, Carlisles, Garret Davises, and other false friends of freedom, who at such a time crowded together like hun- gry political cormorants, to hatch out the egg of faction, and secure a prospect- ive share of the spoils. Have these Conservatives reflected on the dis- graceful show which their names will make in history, in after - years, when freedom shall have been proclaimed throughout the land, and when those who opposed its progress will appear like nothing else than traitors! heaven help the men who, at a time when others were gathering in full measure of glory in a holy cause, were piling up naught but shame for their posterity. For it is not more certain that God is just, than that the full measure of in- iquity will be heaped upon their names in the after-chronicles of freedom. Even to the present moment, the Conservative, alias the Democratic or the Black, alias, the Whiteparty struggles with might and main to defend and protect its old Southern whippers- in, even at the risk of dividing and dis- tracting the Union. To effect this, it has almost successfully insolently thrust the Commander-in-chief forward as its centre, and broadly slandered the Secretary of War and President in no measured terms, as having toiled to de- feat McClellan and prolong the war. Through all the glossy web of lies, the light of truth shines or will shine to their disgrace. Chiefly and most unwisely is the conservative hand shown at present in opposition to every proposition for con- fiscation or punishing the rebels. After having hurried us by their cowardice and Southern toad-eating into this war; after urging it by their contemptible procrastination to its present tremen- dous proportions, they cry out human- ity! for the men who have murdered our relatives, and shake the Constitution for protection over estates which have been directly used to contribute to Southern war! While every mail from the South gives fresh instances of des- peration, and while we search in vain for a trace of proof that there is the slightest hope of reconciliation, we are still entreated to restore every thing in statu quo ante bellum, and bear all the results of the war ourselves, as if for- sooth we had been after all in the wrong. And so the Vallandighams and Davises declare that we were. Aboli- tionism caused it all, they say, nothing but Abolition. Meanwhile, the question urges itself on us every day with more pressing power, how we are really to settle the whole difficulty? We see but one course the Northing of the South. We are content to waive for the present all theory or project of confiscation, save so far as promoting the settlement of those soldiers and emigrants who may wish to settle in the South is con- cerned. This question demands con- sideration, and must have it. Whether the lands to be appropriated for this 68 I Wait. 69 greasy mechanics, filthy operatives, and small-fisted farmers. The task is great; but it must be accomplished. The war purpose come from rebel estates which have ministered to the war, or whether they are to be taken from State property, they must be had; for the settlement is drawing to an end; but a greater and of the South and the proper rewarding nobler task lies before the soldiers and of the army are matters of paramount mportance. The South can no longer ~xist in its present social condition. People who believe, to use the language of their most respectable journal, the Richmond JYhig, that: Yankees are the most contemptible and detestable of Gods creation; vile wretches, whose daily sustenance consists in the re- fuse of all other people: for they eat nothing that any body else will buy; . . . who have long very properly looked upon them- selves as our social inferiors, as our serfs: People, we say, who believe this of us, must be taught to think differently and truthfully. If they lived in China, it would be otherwise; but linked to us as they are, we can no longer tolerate such outrageous superciliousness as they manifest. Those among them who will learn, may be taught; those who will not, must be supplanted by people who are not too proud to work, who do not abominate the system of free schools, because the schools are free, * and re- vile free labor, because it consists of * aichmond K~, iner~ the free men of America the extend- ing of civilization into the South. Let us lift our minds above the narrow limits of party, and realize the mighty woi~k which we have in hand. Let the introduction of free labor to the South be in future the subject to which every thinking American mind shall be de- voted. Let them stream in by millions! the free laborers of all the world! there is room for them all; and the right of man to work never yet had such fair and just opportunity to have justice done it. Agricultural aristocracy, sup- ported by involuntary servitude and unsupported by manufactures, has been tried, and found worse than wanting. Let its place be filled as promptly as possible by that truly higher aristocracy of industry and of culture which is at present common to Europe and our own portion of America. The turn of the North to rule has at length come. Let its reign be inaugurated by great, noble, and philanthropic efforts to extend the blessings of true civilization to all the continent. I WAIT. I WAIT watching and weary, I wait; You wander from the way! My heart lies open, however late, However you delay I I wait watching and weary, I wait; But day must dawn at last! Together, beyond the reach of fate, Love shall redeem my past. I wait, all forever I can wait; Forever? I am brave: Time can not fathom a love so great It waits beyond the grave!

I Wait. 69 greasy mechanics, filthy operatives, and small-fisted farmers. The task is great; but it must be accomplished. The war purpose come from rebel estates which have ministered to the war, or whether they are to be taken from State property, they must be had; for the settlement is drawing to an end; but a greater and of the South and the proper rewarding nobler task lies before the soldiers and of the army are matters of paramount mportance. The South can no longer ~xist in its present social condition. People who believe, to use the language of their most respectable journal, the Richmond JYhig, that: Yankees are the most contemptible and detestable of Gods creation; vile wretches, whose daily sustenance consists in the re- fuse of all other people: for they eat nothing that any body else will buy; . . . who have long very properly looked upon them- selves as our social inferiors, as our serfs: People, we say, who believe this of us, must be taught to think differently and truthfully. If they lived in China, it would be otherwise; but linked to us as they are, we can no longer tolerate such outrageous superciliousness as they manifest. Those among them who will learn, may be taught; those who will not, must be supplanted by people who are not too proud to work, who do not abominate the system of free schools, because the schools are free, * and re- vile free labor, because it consists of * aichmond K~, iner~ the free men of America the extend- ing of civilization into the South. Let us lift our minds above the narrow limits of party, and realize the mighty woi~k which we have in hand. Let the introduction of free labor to the South be in future the subject to which every thinking American mind shall be de- voted. Let them stream in by millions! the free laborers of all the world! there is room for them all; and the right of man to work never yet had such fair and just opportunity to have justice done it. Agricultural aristocracy, sup- ported by involuntary servitude and unsupported by manufactures, has been tried, and found worse than wanting. Let its place be filled as promptly as possible by that truly higher aristocracy of industry and of culture which is at present common to Europe and our own portion of America. The turn of the North to rule has at length come. Let its reign be inaugurated by great, noble, and philanthropic efforts to extend the blessings of true civilization to all the continent. I WAIT. I WAIT watching and weary, I wait; You wander from the way! My heart lies open, however late, However you delay I I wait watching and weary, I wait; But day must dawn at last! Together, beyond the reach of fate, Love shall redeem my past. I wait, all forever I can wait; Forever? I am brave: Time can not fathom a love so great It waits beyond the grave! Taking the Censu8. TAKING THE CENSUS. MOSES GRANT sat in his vine-grown Moses Grant. What in the world are arbor one fine afternoon in August. A you doing with that great book? fine afternoon, I call it a little sultry, I am taking the census. And he to be sure, which made Moses Grants began turning the leaves as if searching eyes heavy ; but the hum of the bees for a lost place, remarking, laconically: that played around the white clover- Sultry. blossoms, and the sound of the leaves Yes, a very close afternoon. But is as they rustled in the warm wind, and it ten years since the census was taken? the richly colored clouds that floated It seems but as many months. Oh! around in the deep, deep blue of the well, time flies! summer sky, and a thousand other And he looked at the beautiful sky things which I will not pause to note, and at the beautiful landscape, and lin- but which every observing reader has geringly at his own stately mansion, noted on many an August day, made the guarded by venerable trees that his own afternoon I speak of as glorious as any hand had transplanted from the forest afternoon could be in all our glorious and the great truth, half-realized, yet summer. almost as common as our daily life, that Moses Grants eyes were heayy or time was sweeping all things into the eye-lids, if the reader should be a critic, dead past, day by day and year by year, He had brought a book from his daugh- gave him a passing thought of how much ters book-case. He remembered the he loved them. volume it was called A Book of a The name of Moses Grant was duly Thousand Storie8 as the one his inscribed in the book. Then the ques- daughter Mary read aloud one evening, tion was asked by neighbor Johnson: when the witty turns of speech put all When were you born? the company into the best of humor. In the year 1800 sixty years ago But, somehow, the wit had now lost its the day before yesterday though I point the joke had lost its zest and declare I forgot all about my birthday. let him try as he would to collect his Well, how much real estate shall I scattered thoughts, and let him set his set down to you? eyes on his book never so firmly, his I have said that I owned about fifty fancy would go on long journeys into thousand dollars in that kind of prop- the past, and come back again, wearied. erty, perhaps a little more, but not half more and more with each journey, till as much as some persons estimate. at last it had sunk to rest, and Moses Well, how much personal property? Grants eyes were closed. The bees I guess about twenty thousand will. buzzed on, the leaves quivered as be- not go far out of the way, reckoning fore, and the great world moved in its mortgages and alL wonted way, yet our hero did not heed After a few minutes, which neighbor it; the world moved on just the same, Johnson occupied by telling how Sime O reader! as it will one day move one Jones tried to get the appointment of long, long day when you and I will census-taker by wriggling about in an not heed it. undignified way, and in talking about Suddenly Moses Grant heard his the prospects of his political party, the name spoken. When aroused, he saw visitor left the old man, (such we have his neighbor, Johnson, seated in the a right to call him since he has con- rustic chair that mated the one in which fessed his age,) and the old man (he he himself sat. would not thank us for using the term Good - day, neighbor Johnson, said so often, for he tries to think he is still

Taking the Censu8. TAKING THE CENSUS. MOSES GRANT sat in his vine-grown Moses Grant. What in the world are arbor one fine afternoon in August. A you doing with that great book? fine afternoon, I call it a little sultry, I am taking the census. And he to be sure, which made Moses Grants began turning the leaves as if searching eyes heavy ; but the hum of the bees for a lost place, remarking, laconically: that played around the white clover- Sultry. blossoms, and the sound of the leaves Yes, a very close afternoon. But is as they rustled in the warm wind, and it ten years since the census was taken? the richly colored clouds that floated It seems but as many months. Oh! around in the deep, deep blue of the well, time flies! summer sky, and a thousand other And he looked at the beautiful sky things which I will not pause to note, and at the beautiful landscape, and lin- but which every observing reader has geringly at his own stately mansion, noted on many an August day, made the guarded by venerable trees that his own afternoon I speak of as glorious as any hand had transplanted from the forest afternoon could be in all our glorious and the great truth, half-realized, yet summer. almost as common as our daily life, that Moses Grants eyes were heayy or time was sweeping all things into the eye-lids, if the reader should be a critic, dead past, day by day and year by year, He had brought a book from his daugh- gave him a passing thought of how much ters book-case. He remembered the he loved them. volume it was called A Book of a The name of Moses Grant was duly Thousand Storie8 as the one his inscribed in the book. Then the ques- daughter Mary read aloud one evening, tion was asked by neighbor Johnson: when the witty turns of speech put all When were you born? the company into the best of humor. In the year 1800 sixty years ago But, somehow, the wit had now lost its the day before yesterday though I point the joke had lost its zest and declare I forgot all about my birthday. let him try as he would to collect his Well, how much real estate shall I scattered thoughts, and let him set his set down to you? eyes on his book never so firmly, his I have said that I owned about fifty fancy would go on long journeys into thousand dollars in that kind of prop- the past, and come back again, wearied. erty, perhaps a little more, but not half more and more with each journey, till as much as some persons estimate. at last it had sunk to rest, and Moses Well, how much personal property? Grants eyes were closed. The bees I guess about twenty thousand will. buzzed on, the leaves quivered as be- not go far out of the way, reckoning fore, and the great world moved in its mortgages and alL wonted way, yet our hero did not heed After a few minutes, which neighbor it; the world moved on just the same, Johnson occupied by telling how Sime O reader! as it will one day move one Jones tried to get the appointment of long, long day when you and I will census-taker by wriggling about in an not heed it. undignified way, and in talking about Suddenly Moses Grant heard his the prospects of his political party, the name spoken. When aroused, he saw visitor left the old man, (such we have his neighbor, Johnson, seated in the a right to call him since he has con- rustic chair that mated the one in which fessed his age,) and the old man (he he himself sat. would not thank us for using the term Good - day, neighbor Johnson, said so often, for he tries to think he is still Taking the (Jen8u8. /~i young the old man, I must again re- peat) fell a-thinking. His eyes were no longer closed, although his book vcts; he leaned forward in his rustic chair, and commenced to talk aloudwhich is said to be a growing habit with most old men: Sixty years of human life! The words were uttered slowly, as though their full meaning were felt in the speak- ers heart. After a little while they were repeated: Sixty years of human life.! There was a mournfulness in his voice now; it had sunk to the low, ten- der tones that, years before, when his faithful wife vanished from earth, re- vealed to all his friends that there was sadness in his heart, while there seemed cheerfulness in his words. Wella- day! he continued; I have, at any rate, been a successful man. My busi- ncss has prospered beyond my expect- ations, and I am what people call a rich man. There was a time when I feared I should come to want; but now, if I could but think so, I have enough. And mine has been an industrious life. When I was elected to the State Senate wasnt my name held up in the newspapers as an example for young men? Wasnt my reputation admitted to be spotless? Yes, I have been a successful man more successful than nearly all who started with me. And he began to look more cheerful and contented. He again looked at his mansion and broad fields, and again he opened his book. The jokes were bet- ter now than a little while before. But the bees buzzed on; the trees sang their old soothing song; the air remained warm; and soon Moses Grant began to nod assent to his book, though the matters it contained were not of opinion, but of fancy. By which I mean that he grew sleepy. Sudden darkness fell upon the earth. The sun, after sending its rays to glitter in the river so brightly that Moses Grant put his hand over his eyes as he looked from his arbor-door, went out, and the blackness of night wrapped itself about the world. The elms, that had rattled their deep green leaves in the wind, and the birch, that had so gracefully bowed its slender, yellowish head, were all col- orless now. There was no storm-cloud to veil the heavens, and yet the sad-faced moon came not out to remind the world of their lost loves and deferred hopes nor the stars, to twinkle in their silence, as though there were a great Soul in the skies that longed to speak to men, but had no utterance save a thousand love- lit eyes. All was darknessdense, uni- versaL Yet Moses Grant had sat unmoved in his vine-grown arbor. His, soul wam passionless, his face was calm. His book had fallen to the ground, and his head rested on the back of his chair. Suddenly there came a visitor to the arbor. Moses raised his head and saw a being whether man or woman I can not tellwith a face, oh! so bright and calm, with eyes that looked from the deepest soul, and a pure forehead that spoke of unworldly rest a face that shone in its own vista of light when all around was dark. The Presence bore an open book in its hands, and came and stood before Moses Grant and looked earnestly into his face. Who are you? he cried, half in fear before the calm look of his visitor, and half in confidence, because of the look of love. I am the census-taker. No, no; it was he who came a little while ago. He was one census-taker he came to learn how much you seemed to pos- sess; I. come to learn your reed posses- sions. I am the real census-taker. Moses Grant knew not what it meant; he sat speechless, in wonder. He would have fled, but he knew not where he could flee in the darkness; he must re- main with his strange visitor, as all men must one day stand alone with an awak- ened Conscience. When were you born? asked the Presence. Sixty years ago, answered Moses. You understand me not. I do not 72 Taking the Censu8. ask for the time when you were born into your outward show of life, but when you commenced to live. Still I do not know your meaning, said Moses. Then you have not yet been born. You exist you do not live. Say not again that you have lived sixty years, for your being has not yet expanded into life. Oh! what great thoughts and dark memories came into the mind of Moses Grant! Great thoughts of a nobler life of love than he had ever known of realities to which he was fast ap- proaching and a thousand dark mem- ories that he had often tried to obliterate from his n~ind. A little while before, he thought he possessed a spotless rep- utation and so he did possess a spot- less reputation when judged by human law. No man ever knew him to steal; no man ever knew him to transgress any important law. Nevertheless, he had had his own ends to gain, and he had gained them. Yes we might as well confess it Moses Grant had lived a selfish life. He knew how to take advantage of the technicalities of law, and he knew how to be severe and un- merciful toward the poor. He rcmem- bered how, years before, his son had longed for an education, and how the mother had pleaded that he might go to school and to college, and how sternly he said, No, I want him in my busi- ness; and he remembered how he kept him slaving at his uncongenial tasks, how he scolded because he still pored over his books, until at last the mother had laid the poor boy in the grave before he had attained to manhood. He re- membered how the mother grew paler day by day she who had been such a help-meet in all his selfish schemes of hoarding and saving; how she had talked more and more about her dear lost boy, till he, Moses Grant, com- manded her never to utter that name again in his presence; how the mother still faded and faded, till at last she too, was laid in a quiet grave beside her boy. All this came into th~ mind of Moses Grant. And then he remembered how he had taken a poor widows cottage, because his mortgage-deed gave him the privilegehe never thought the right to take it; he remembered her sad face, that told of silent suffering, when she moved with her children from the cottage her husband had built. How, he asked, in the silence of his own mind, oh! how could they say my reputation was unspotted? Yet he had transgressed no outward law, had forged no mortgage- deed. He only acted like a man who thought that this world could only be enjoyed when he possessed a title-deed to it all; like one who thought that above and beyond this world there was nothing. All this time has the Presence stood before Moses Grant, looking into his troubled face with its piercing eyes, and reading his every thought. Answer me now, it said, have you yet begun to live? Then there was another and greater struggle in the mind of Moses. Pride said to him: Send this intrusive visitor. away, or flee yourself. But still the visitor stood there, waiting so calmly, and again Moses realized that the great world had faded from his vision; so he could neither send away the intruder, nor fly himself. Still those calm eyes looked into his inmost soul. Oh! he cried at last, you have searched me through and through. No, I have not livedI have not been born, I have no life for you to record in your book. Now, pray leave me leave me in peace! That were impossible, said the Pres- ence, you know not peace. You pride yourself on your possessions; but can you have life or possessions, if they are not recorded in my book? The earth, that you love so well, has faded away. It will return to you for a brief moment, and then it will fade forever. What you now possess is but a shadow, like a sun-gilt cloud in a summer sky changing and changing, and fading and fading, till at last it disappears. You have, if God wills, a few more years of Taking the cen& us. mortal existence, and then, oh! then, you must exchange shadows for reali- ties. Leave me, oh! leave me! cried Mo- ses. Not yet; my mission is not fulfilled. Here in this book your name was writ- ten sixty years age, as one to 13e born. Here your ledger has been kept, though you knew it not. Read the pages with your soul, and see how your account stands. Oh! how dark the page. A line was drawn through the middle, from top to bottom, and the good deeds were record- ed on one side, in letters of gold, and the bad deeds on the other side in let- ters of ink. As the pages were turned, Moses looked eagerly for the bright let- ters, but they were few too few; while every page was almost filled with the black records of selfish and sinful deeds. Every page made Moses Grant sicker at heart, and he would gladly have with- drawn his eyes from the book, but they were riveted, and he could not. 0 poor man! exclaimed the Pres- ence, in pity; how poor do you find yourself; you who were a little while ago so rich! But you must read no more, lest you sink in despair.~ And the book was closed. Moses Grant said not a word; his heart was too full to speak too full of grief too empty of hope. Despair not, continued the strange Presence. Your record is not yet com- pleted. You may yet cancel all those black letters by writing golden ones over them which is to pray with your re- maining strength and days for forgive- ness. You have been a hard, selfish man, for sixty years. Men, for their 73 own interests, have called you respect- able; but before God you have merited displeasure and disapprobation. In the little time you have left, perhaps you may not be able to leave the world as pure as you began it; but you may hope for wonderful mercy and forbear- ance from God our Father. Have cour- age, and faith, and hope, and you will yet be rich indeed rich in love and joy and peace undefiled, that fadeth not away.~ Then the Presence vanished. Still Moses sat in his chair. But a hand was laid on his forehead, arid he awoke as he heard Mary say: Father, supper is ready. He drew his hand across his eyes, and arose from his chair. He looked from his arbor-door. The world was all bathed in the light of the de- clining sun. As he came out and looked on the landscape, he thought that never before had he seen it so dreamy never before had he seen it so beautiful and so glorious, for never before had he so felt the use of this world as a place in which to attain to the good and to shun the evil, to overcome temptation and to aspire to life. His daughter wondered what caused his tone to be so tender that night; the next day his neighbors wondered that he visited a certain poor, struggling widow, and gave her the house her hus- band once owned; and in the months that have since passed, many a poor family has wondered what has turned their former oppressor into such a prov- ident friend. I only wonder that so old and selfish a man could have had so bright and heavenly a dream. A SENSIBLE EPITAPH. Reader, pass on: neer waste your time On bad biography or bitter rhyme: For what I am, this cumbrous clay insures, And what I was, is no affair of yours~

Taking the cen& us. mortal existence, and then, oh! then, you must exchange shadows for reali- ties. Leave me, oh! leave me! cried Mo- ses. Not yet; my mission is not fulfilled. Here in this book your name was writ- ten sixty years age, as one to 13e born. Here your ledger has been kept, though you knew it not. Read the pages with your soul, and see how your account stands. Oh! how dark the page. A line was drawn through the middle, from top to bottom, and the good deeds were record- ed on one side, in letters of gold, and the bad deeds on the other side in let- ters of ink. As the pages were turned, Moses looked eagerly for the bright let- ters, but they were few too few; while every page was almost filled with the black records of selfish and sinful deeds. Every page made Moses Grant sicker at heart, and he would gladly have with- drawn his eyes from the book, but they were riveted, and he could not. 0 poor man! exclaimed the Pres- ence, in pity; how poor do you find yourself; you who were a little while ago so rich! But you must read no more, lest you sink in despair.~ And the book was closed. Moses Grant said not a word; his heart was too full to speak too full of grief too empty of hope. Despair not, continued the strange Presence. Your record is not yet com- pleted. You may yet cancel all those black letters by writing golden ones over them which is to pray with your re- maining strength and days for forgive- ness. You have been a hard, selfish man, for sixty years. Men, for their 73 own interests, have called you respect- able; but before God you have merited displeasure and disapprobation. In the little time you have left, perhaps you may not be able to leave the world as pure as you began it; but you may hope for wonderful mercy and forbear- ance from God our Father. Have cour- age, and faith, and hope, and you will yet be rich indeed rich in love and joy and peace undefiled, that fadeth not away.~ Then the Presence vanished. Still Moses sat in his chair. But a hand was laid on his forehead, arid he awoke as he heard Mary say: Father, supper is ready. He drew his hand across his eyes, and arose from his chair. He looked from his arbor-door. The world was all bathed in the light of the de- clining sun. As he came out and looked on the landscape, he thought that never before had he seen it so dreamy never before had he seen it so beautiful and so glorious, for never before had he so felt the use of this world as a place in which to attain to the good and to shun the evil, to overcome temptation and to aspire to life. His daughter wondered what caused his tone to be so tender that night; the next day his neighbors wondered that he visited a certain poor, struggling widow, and gave her the house her hus- band once owned; and in the months that have since passed, many a poor family has wondered what has turned their former oppressor into such a prov- ident friend. I only wonder that so old and selfish a man could have had so bright and heavenly a dream. A SENSIBLE EPITAPH. Reader, pass on: neer waste your time On bad biography or bitter rhyme: For what I am, this cumbrous clay insures, And what I was, is no affair of yours~ 74 TAe Peloponne8us in Jiliarok. THE PELOPONNESUS IN MARCH. FAIR clime! where every season smiles, in the history of the Greek Revolution, a strange, rambling town, picturesquely There, mildly dimpling, Oceans cheek situated on a cleft in a bare island of Reflects the tints of many a peak Caught hy the laughing tides that lave gray rock, and shortly after at Spetzia, These Edens of the Eastern wave, a town of much the same character; then And if, at times, a transient hreeze toward night sailed into the beautiful Break the blue crystal of the seas, bay of Napoli, or Nauplia, once the cap- Or sweep one blossom from the trees, ital of Greece. How welcome is each gentle air It had been our intention to procure That wakes and wafts the odors there! horses that night, and ride as far as My. IT was with thoughts like these run- ceum, but we were too late, so content- ning in our heads, that we found our- ed ourselves with a walk to Tir us and selves, at about half-past four oclock, a rapid examinatjon of its y ruins. The on a dark, cloudy, windy morning, March massive walls of this venerable town fifteenth, 18, rolling slowly along the they were a wonder in the age of Pen- uneven road that leads from Athens to des as in ours still stand in their the Pirmus. Our guide was iDhemetri, whole circuit, and here and there appar- of coursewho ever heard of a guide that ently in their whole hight. It is a small, was not named iDhemetri ~ An excellent steep, mound-like hill you can walk :,uide he was, too, never missing his way, around it in fifteen minutesand within answering correctly all our questions to the walls the terraced slope, thickly which he knew the answers, and fabri- sprinkled with fragments of ruins, is cating answers to the rest as near the grown over with the tall purple flowers truth as his moderate knowledge of an- of the asphodela fit monument to the tiquity would permit; providing us sed- perished city. From the citadel of Ti- ulously with creature comforts, and be- ryus the view over the wide plain of the sieging our hearts daily with delicious Iiiachus, the broad bay beyond, covered omelettes and endless strings of figs. with sails, the bold headland of Napoli Arrived at the Pin~eus, we were trans- crowned with the ruined castle, the no- ferred, with beds, cooking apparatus, ble citadel .of Argos, and the mountain and baggage, to the Lloyd steamer, ranges on every side, made a picture whose cloud of steam and smoke was beautiful even under the dull sky of seen dimly in the gray morning. At a that March evening. Our walkquick reasonable time after the hour adver- ened by the fear that the city gates tised, we sailed into the open bay, passed would be found closedgave us a hearty near enough the island of gina to see appetite, and a classic smack was im the ruined temple on one of its hights parted to our modest viands by the fact almost to count its columnsthen coast- that Orestes himself waited on our table. ed along the rugged shores of Argolis, We slept well, notwithstanding the un- which we eagerly studied with the aid comfortable reputation of the inn, and of a map. Here was the peninsula Me- set off early the next morning upon our thana, and half hiding it, the island Ca- wanderings. lauria, where Demosthenes put an end Traveling in Greece is no childs play. to his life, once the seat of a famous Roads there are none, except between Amphictyony. Then the bold promon- some large towns; indeed, the nature tory which shuts in the fertile valley of of the country hardly allows of them, Troezer, then the territory of ilermione, as it is made up chiefly of mountain stretching between the mountains and ridges and ravines. Neither would the the sea. We touched at Hydhra, famed poverty-stricken inhabitants be able at

74 TAe Peloponne8us in Jiliarok. THE PELOPONNESUS IN MARCH. FAIR clime! where every season smiles, in the history of the Greek Revolution, a strange, rambling town, picturesquely There, mildly dimpling, Oceans cheek situated on a cleft in a bare island of Reflects the tints of many a peak Caught hy the laughing tides that lave gray rock, and shortly after at Spetzia, These Edens of the Eastern wave, a town of much the same character; then And if, at times, a transient hreeze toward night sailed into the beautiful Break the blue crystal of the seas, bay of Napoli, or Nauplia, once the cap- Or sweep one blossom from the trees, ital of Greece. How welcome is each gentle air It had been our intention to procure That wakes and wafts the odors there! horses that night, and ride as far as My. IT was with thoughts like these run- ceum, but we were too late, so content- ning in our heads, that we found our- ed ourselves with a walk to Tir us and selves, at about half-past four oclock, a rapid examinatjon of its y ruins. The on a dark, cloudy, windy morning, March massive walls of this venerable town fifteenth, 18, rolling slowly along the they were a wonder in the age of Pen- uneven road that leads from Athens to des as in ours still stand in their the Pirmus. Our guide was iDhemetri, whole circuit, and here and there appar- of coursewho ever heard of a guide that ently in their whole hight. It is a small, was not named iDhemetri ~ An excellent steep, mound-like hill you can walk :,uide he was, too, never missing his way, around it in fifteen minutesand within answering correctly all our questions to the walls the terraced slope, thickly which he knew the answers, and fabri- sprinkled with fragments of ruins, is cating answers to the rest as near the grown over with the tall purple flowers truth as his moderate knowledge of an- of the asphodela fit monument to the tiquity would permit; providing us sed- perished city. From the citadel of Ti- ulously with creature comforts, and be- ryus the view over the wide plain of the sieging our hearts daily with delicious Iiiachus, the broad bay beyond, covered omelettes and endless strings of figs. with sails, the bold headland of Napoli Arrived at the Pin~eus, we were trans- crowned with the ruined castle, the no- ferred, with beds, cooking apparatus, ble citadel .of Argos, and the mountain and baggage, to the Lloyd steamer, ranges on every side, made a picture whose cloud of steam and smoke was beautiful even under the dull sky of seen dimly in the gray morning. At a that March evening. Our walkquick reasonable time after the hour adver- ened by the fear that the city gates tised, we sailed into the open bay, passed would be found closedgave us a hearty near enough the island of gina to see appetite, and a classic smack was im the ruined temple on one of its hights parted to our modest viands by the fact almost to count its columnsthen coast- that Orestes himself waited on our table. ed along the rugged shores of Argolis, We slept well, notwithstanding the un- which we eagerly studied with the aid comfortable reputation of the inn, and of a map. Here was the peninsula Me- set off early the next morning upon our thana, and half hiding it, the island Ca- wanderings. lauria, where Demosthenes put an end Traveling in Greece is no childs play. to his life, once the seat of a famous Roads there are none, except between Amphictyony. Then the bold promon- some large towns; indeed, the nature tory which shuts in the fertile valley of of the country hardly allows of them, Troezer, then the territory of ilermione, as it is made up chiefly of mountain stretching between the mountains and ridges and ravines. Neither would the the sea. We touched at Hydhra, famed poverty-stricken inhabitants be able at The Peloponne8us in .Jifarch. present to make much use of them. When I expressed to Dhemetri the great benefits I conceived that roads would confer upon the community, he asked contemptuously: What good would roads be to them, when they have no carriages? Inns, too, there are none, or almost none; after leaving Napoli we found none until we returned to Athens. In their stead, each village has its khan, a house rather larger than ordinary, and containing one large unfurnished room for guests. Here a fire is made on the hearth, (the smoke escaping, or intended to escape, through a hole in the roog for chimneys do not exist,) and the traveler pitches his tent metaphorically in this apartment. The beds, which he carries with him, are spread on the floor, to do double duty as seats during the evening and beds by night. Thus the accom- modations are reduced to their lowest termsshelter and fire; to which add a lamb from the flock, eggs in abundance, or sometimes a chicken, loaf of bread, or string of figs. Wine, too, flavored with resin in true classic style, and tast- ing like weak spirits of turpentine, is to be had every where. But for ~ny enter- tainment beyond this, the host is no- way responsible. If you do not choose to sleep on the bare floor, you must bring beds and bedding with you. If you wish the luxury of a knife and fork, you must furnish them yourself. Ket- tles, plates, saucepans, cups, coffee, su- gar, salt, candles, all came from that mysterious basket which rode on the pack-horse with the baggage. Were I visiting Greece again, I. would eschew all these vanities carry nothing but a Beisesaclo, or travel-bag, as the Germans are wont to call every variety of knap- sack a shawl, and a copy of Pausa- nias, and live among the Greeks as the Greeks do; but I was inexperienced then. So we set out with great pomp and circumstance, each on his beastalogon, the Unreasonable Thing, is the word for horse while a fifth, with two drivers, carried our goods. A ride of about three hours passing the silent and deserted Tiryus brought us to the village of Charv~ti, the modern repre- sentative of the rich Mycena~. Here, while Dehmetri prepared our breakfast, we followed a villager, who led us by rapid strides up the rocky hill toward the angle formed by two mountains. As we rose over one elevation after an- other, he plucked his hands full of dry grass and brush, and then leading us into a hole in the side of the hill, in- formed us in good classic Greek that it was the tomb of Agamemnon. It is a large, round apartment, rising to the hight of forty-nine feet, and of about the same width, the layers of masonry gradually approaching one another until a single stone caps the whole; not con- ical in shape, however, but like a bee- hive. A single monstrous stone, twen- ty-seven feet long and twenty wide, is placed over the doorway. The whole isThuried with earth, and covered with a growth of grass and shrubs, and a pas- sage leads from it into a smaller cham- ber hewn in the solid rock, in which our guide lighted the fuel he had gath- ered. The gloomy walls were lighted up for a moment, then when the fire died away, we returned to the open air. A little further on is the famous gate- way with two lionesses carved in relief above the armorial bearings, we may call it, of the city and in every direc- tion are seen massive walls, foundation- stones, ruins of gates and of subterra- neous chambers like the first we visited, conical hillocks, probably containing oth- ers in equally good preservation, an4 other marks of the busy hand of man Spuren~ ordnender illenschenhand unter dern Gestrauch. Sidney Smith says: It is impossible to feel affection beyond seventy-eight degrees or below twenty de- grees of Fahrenheit~ . - . Man only lives to shiver or to perspire. I think it is so with the sublime and beautiful, and deeply as I felt in the abstract the privi- lege I enjoyed in standing on the citadel of Agamemnon, and seeing the most yen- erable ruins that Europe can boast, that keen March wind was too much for me, and I was not sorry to return to the 76 The Peloponmesu8 im iWiarch. khan, where, sitting cross-legged on the floor, we ate with our fingers a roast chicken dissected with the one knife of the family, and drank a bumper of res- inous wine. After dinner we remounted and rode back through the broad plain to Argos, traversed its narrow, dirty streets, stared at by the Argive youth, examined its grass-grown theatre, cast wistful eyes at the lofty citadel of Larissa, which time forbade us to ascend, then wound along the foot of the mountain - range, saw at a distance on the seashore a spot of green, which we were told was Lerna, where Hercules slew the hydra, and near the road an old ruined pyramid, which we afterward examined more closely, then followed a mountain-path, catching now and then a glimpse of the bay, fol- lowing the crest of the rid,,e into the valley beyond. On one of the undula- tions of the path we passed1 over the site of an ancient city, evidenced only by that most sure sign, a soil thickly covered with potsherds. No classic -writer mentions it, no inscription gives it a name; perhaps the careless traveler would pass without a suspicion that he was treading on the street, or forum, or temple of a once thriving town. Strik- ing soon into the carriage-road from Na- poli to Tripolitza, and descending into a charming little valley with the eupho- nious name of Achladh6kamvo, we were not sorry to find a khan, and take up our quarters for the night. We found the family sitting on the floor around a fire blazing on a hearth in the middle of a room, and here we placed ourselves, watching the women spinning aud Dhe- metri making his preparations for sup- per. Out of the afore - mentioned bas- ket quickly came all the afore-mentioned articles. A lamb was killed, and shortly an excellent supper was served up to us. Soon the guest-chamber was announced to be ready for us, a large open room having a fire at one end, and containing our beds, spread on the floor, a cricket three inches high, that served as a table, two windows closed .by shutters instead of glass, and a large quantity of smoke. The next morning a steep and pictur- esque path over Mount Parthenionthe same path, I suppose, on which Phidip- pides had his well-known interview with the god Pan brought us to Arcadia. And at the name of Arcadia let not the fond mind revert to scenes of pastoral innocence and enjoyment, such as poets - and artists love to paint a lawn of ever-fresh verdure shaded by the sturdy oak and wide-spreading beech, watered by never - failing springs, swains and maidens innocent as the sheep they tend, dancing on the green sward to the music of the pipe, and snowy mountains ~n the distance lending repose and majesty to the scene. Nothing of this picture is realized by the Arcadia of to-day, but the snowy mountains, and they, indeed, are all around and near. No, let your dream of Arcadia be something like this: A bare, open plain, three thousand feet above the level of the sea, fenced in on every side by snow-topped mountains, and swept incessantly by cold winds, the sky heavy with clouds, the ground sown with numberless stones, with here and there a bunch of hungry - looking grass pushing itself feebly up among them. Not a tree do you behold, hardly a shrub. You come to a river it is a broad, waterless bed of cobble - stones and gravel, only differing from the dry land in being less mixed with dirt, and wholly, instead of partly, destitute of vegetation. But your eye falls at last on a sheet of water there is surely a placid lake giving beauty and fertility to its neighborhood. No, it is a icetta- vothron, or chasm, in which the accu- mulated waters of the plain disappear. For as these Arcadian valleys are so shut in by mountains as to leave no natural egress to the water, it gathers in the lowest spot it can reach, and there stag- nates, unless it can wear a passage for itselg or find a subterraneous channel through the limestone mountain, and come to light again in a lower valley. Such a re& ppearance we saw near Argos, a broad, swift stream- the Erasmus rushing from under a mountain with such force as to turn mills; it is believed The Pclopolrne8u8 in iJIiarch. 77 to come from a kcttcevothron in the north- ern part of Arcadia. And not far from thence a fountain of fresh water bubbles up in the sea a few yards from the shore; this is traced to a similar source. In some parts of Greece the remains may still be seen of the subterranean chan- nels by which in ancient tim~s the kata- rothra were kept clear, and thus pre- vented from overflowing. In this way much land was artificially redeemed to agriculture. If, now, you seek for the dwellers in this paradise, behold them in yon shep- herd and his faithful dog Arcades ambo the shepherd muffled against the searching wind in hood and cloak, under his arm a veritable crook, while his sheep and goats are browsing about wherever a blade of grass or a green leaf can be found. His invariable com- panion is I was about to say a tamed wolf; but in reality, an untamed animal of wolfish aspect and disposition, always eager to make your acquaintance. These creatures are the torment of the traveler throughout Greece, and m~ost of all in Arcadia. If on foot, he can pick up a stone, at sight oT which the enemy will beat a hasty retreat. ~reece seems to have been bountifully supplied with loose stones of the right size for this very purpose, just as the rattlesnake- plant is said to grow wherever the rattle- snake itself is found. If on horseback, he can easily escape, although the ani- mal will not scruple to hang to the horses tail or bite his heels. Such was Arcadia in March. No doubt, at another season it is a delightful retreat from the overpowering heat of the Greek sum- mer~ It may have a beauty of its own at that season ; but there can be little of that quiet rural landscape which we call Arcadian. After crossing this plain, visiting by the way the ruins of Tegea, which con- sisted of a potato-field, sprinkled with bits of brick and marble, and a medieval church, with some ancient marble built into its walls, we came to a broad river, the Alpheus, whose water, wben it has any, empties in a katavotkron which we left on our right; followed it up in a southerly direction until we came to a little water in its bed, then crossing over some rolling land which divides the water-courses of Arcadia from those of Laconia, we found ourselves in a country of a very different character. The land was better, and was covered with a low growth of wood; we could even see ex- tensive forests on the sides of Parnon. The scenery became highly picturesque, and the weather, although still rigorous, was more comfortable than in the morn- ing. Night came on us long before we reached our journeys end, the wayside khan of KrevatiL. There was a little parleying at the door, and Dhemetri seemed dissatisfied with what he saw, and disposed to carry us on to another resting-place. But thoroughly benumb- ed as we were, the blaze of light that fell upon us from the half-open door quite won our hearts, and we felt will- ing to risk whatever discomforts the place might have rather than go further. As we entered the door, the scene was striking. A large fire was roaring in the middle of the room, filling it with smoke. On cushions and scraps of car- pet, disposed about the fire, were crouch- ed six or eight men and women, dressed in their national costume, very dirty and equally picturesque. Two or three children were among them, or lay stretched at random on the floor asleep. A large, swarthy man opposite us held a child of two or three years, now nest- ling in its fathers arms, now climbing over to its mother, now gazing bashfully and curiously at the strangers. Basil, ever ready on occasion, seized his pencil and soon transferred the group to paper, to the admiration of them alL They moved to right and left as we came in, and made room for us on the side next the door, where our faces were scorched, our backs shivering, and our eyes smart- ing with the smoke. An old woman wh& sat next me eyed us inquisitively, and would gladly have entered into con- versation; but almost our sole Greek phrase, It is cold, (eeny lcri6,) we had exhausted immediately on entering the The Peloponne8us im iWiarch. room. Basil essayed Italian, having a vague idea that it would pass any where in Greece, as French does in Italy, but with no success. Neither was our con- versation among ourselves brilliant. We were tired, cold, sleepy, and hungry, and we thought despairingly on the long miles back that we had last seen our baggage. At length a shout at the door gladdened our hearts; our beds and that ever-welcome basket were handed in, and Dhemetri was soon deeply en- gaged in preparing supper. Meanwhile, a fire had been built in the upper room, and we went up by a ladder. But here we were worse off than below. Roof, floor, walls, and (wooden) windows, all were amply provided with cracks and knot-holes, through which the wind roved at its wilL A wretched fire was smoldering on the hearth, and a candle was burning in a tin cup hanging by its handle on a nail in the wall, which, set it where we would, flickered in the wind. And when our supper came, fricassee, boiled chicken, roast hare, omelette, bread, cheese, figs, and wine ~for such a bill of fare had Dhemetri made ready for us we swallowed it hastily, huddled our beds about the fire, wrapped ourselves in our blankets, and lay down at once. The inquisitive old lady below, on seeing the extensive preparations for the supper of three fel- low-mortals, was struck with reverence for us, and expressed her belief that those. who lived on such marvelous and unheard-of delicacies would never die. We, indeed, had requested Dhemetri to cater more simply for us; but his pro- fessional pride would not suffer it. We were right glad when morning came, and after a mug of thick coffee, a bit of bread, and a handful of figs, we bid farewell to KrevatA with no regrets. A short ride brought us to the brow of the range on which we were traveling, and there lay the valley of Sparta at our feet, and beyond it the Taygetus, if not the highest, the boldest and sharp- est mountain-range in Greece. Its white and jagged crest was still tipped with clouds, and it appeared to rise from the valley of Sparta in an almost unbroken ascent to its hight of seven thousand feet. This was the finest single prospect of our journey; but we gladly left it, after a short pause, to push on to the warmth ~tnd sunshine of the valley be- low. The precipitous descent was soon accomplished; we forded the Eurotas, a broad, clear, shallow stream, the only real river we saw in Greece, and stood in Sparta, its site marked by a group of low hills and a few unimportant ruins. The ground is good, and was then green with young wheat; the valley was sheltered from the winds which had persecuted us on the highlands, and for a few hours in the middle of the day, the clouds were scattered, and we bask- ed in the suns rays. It seemed an Elysium. A small and thrifty village has recently sprung up south of this group. of hills, still within the limits of the ancient city, and here we dined in a cafe (kapheterion) kept by one Lycur- gus, not on black broth, but on roast lamb, omelette, figs, oranges, and wine. Truly, if national character depended wholly on physical geography, we should be inclined to look in the valley of the Eurotas for the rich and luxurious Athens, and seek its stern and simple rival among the bleak hills and sterile plains of Attica. We had a short ride that afternoon up the valley of the Eu- rotas, with a keen north wind in our faces, and were not sorry to reach Kaly- via at an early hour. Dhemetri had sent the pack-horse with our baggage across by a shorter path, and now announced that we were to sleep to-night in a house instead of a khan, that the mayor (demarehos) of Kalyvia had consented to receive us. Great was our exultation at the prospect of spending a night in this aristocratic mansion, and in truth we found the ac- commodations here much the most com- fortable nay, we reckoned them lux- urious which we had on our journey. We were first shown into a small room with one glass window, with tight walls, and a chimney. A fire was burning cheerfully on the hearth that is to 78 The Pelopo~rnesus iz~ iJfarch. 79 say, a stone platform slightly elevated above the floor. The floor around the fire was spread with mats, and in one corner the lady of the house waswhat shall I say ? squatted upon the floor, engaged in domestic work. Her daughter, a pretty, blue-eyed maiden, of some four- teen years, named Athena, (y2~avic~3wt~ A~va,) was working by her side, and the demarch himselg with his stalwart son, were similarly seated on the oppo- site side of the hearth. Three rough, unpainted stools, an extra luxury for guests, were brought in for us, and we at once plunged into conversation. Eeny kri6! said we. 3iidlista, mdlista, eeny kri6 I was the prompt reply. Stimulated by our success, we made another attempt, and were overwhelmed by a flood of Romaic, to which we could only nod our heads gratefully, with Mi- lista, m6lista, chari, chari, (certainly, ccrtainly, thank you, thank you.) When we retired to our room, we found our beds laid on a sort of shelf along the wall, instead of on the floor, and our supper was served on a table instead of in our laps, as we were used. The fam- ily shook hands with us cordially when we took leave, in the morning, placing their hands on their hearts. This day we rode through a rolling country, quite well watered and wooded, separating the waters of the Eurotas from those of the Alpheus, Laconia from Arcadia. As we reached the highest point, and were about to descend, Dhe- metri pointed out a village, distinguished by a single tall, slender cypress, with the words: There is Megalopolis. This is the city founded by Epaminondas, almost the only statesman of antiquity who seems to have had a dim conception of the modem policy of the balance of power, as a point of union for the jealous and disunited States of Arcadia, and as a sentinel stationed at a chief entrance to Laconia. The whole of his great project was not realized, and Megalopolis, instead of becoming the great city of Arcadia, was only a mate to Tegea and Mantinea. Even thus, the work was by no means lost; a Spartan army, to reach Messenia, whose independence was to be secured, must pass through the territory of Megalopolis, and even a second-rate city would answer as a guard. But not even Epaminondas could make of Arcadia a first-class power, and a sufficient coun- terpoise to Sparta. Megalopolis is now wholly deserted, and represented only by the little village of Sinanu, half a mile distant, where we stopped at a khan kept by an old soldier of Colocotroni, and ran, while dinner was preparing, to examine the scanty ruins of the great city interesting only from their asso- ciation with a great name. Reluctantly, we now turned our backs upon Messene, with its renownedfortress of Ithome, the sacred Olympia, and the beautiful temple of Phigalia, and began our homeward journey. Passing over a mountain from which we had a wide and beautiful view, we rode through a barren and uninteresting plain to the lonely khan of Frankovrysi, and early the next day arrived at Tripolitza. We had had a clear sky at Megalopolis and Frankovrysi, but here, in the high table- land of Arcadia, we found the self-same leaden sky and bleak winds we left three days before. This valley or table-land stretches from north to south, nearly divided in two by the approach of the mountains from east and west. Thus the valley takes the shape rudely of the figure eight; the southern part, through one corner of which we had passed be- fore, being occupied by Tegea, the north- ern by Mantinea. Tripolitza, to the northwest of Tegea, represents the an- cient Pallantium, the birthplace of Evan- der. Here Dhemetri brought us bad news. We had intended to go to Man- tinea, thence north through Orchomenus, Stymphalus, and ~icyon, to Corinth; but the passes, we learned, were impractic- able for the snow, and we must recross Mount Parthenion, and revisit Achia- dhokamvo and Argos. First, however, we took a rapid ride to Mantinea, about eight miles through a level, tolerably well-cultivated country. At the narrow passage between the mountains, there The Pelo2onne8u8 in ilfarch. stood in ancient times a grove of cork- trees, called Pelagus, the sea. Epam- inondas, warnect by an oracle to beware of the Pelagus, had carefully avoided the sea. But it was just in this spot that he drew up his troops for the great battle whicb cost him his life. When mortally wounded, he was carried to a high place called Skope identified with the sharp spur of Mount M~enalus, which projects just here into the plain, and from this he watched the battle, and here he died, like Wolfe, at the moment of victory. The well-built walls of Man- tinea still stand in nearly their entire circuit, built in the fourth century before Christ, after Agesipolis of Sparta had captured the city, by washing away its walls of sun-burnt brick, and had dis- persed the inhabitants among the neigh- boring villages. The restoration of the city was a part of the great system of humbling Sparta, set on foot by Epami- nondas after the battle of Leuctra. After spending the night at Achla- dhokamvo, where we visited the ruins of Ilysime close by, we went next day through Argos, passing wlthin sight of Mycenmn, to Nemea, where, in a beauti- ful little valley, three Doric columns, still standing, testify to the former sanc- tity of the sp~t. Then to Kurtissa, the ancient Cleonme, to pass the night. When Dhemetri pointed it out to us from the hill above, it looked like a New- England farm-house, a neat white cot- tage peeping out from among the trees, and we rejoiced at the prospect. But lo! the neat white cottage was a guard- house, and our khan was the rude, un- painted, windowless barn. It was, nev- ertheless, very comfortable. There was a ceiling to the room, and the board windows were tight The floor, to be sure, gaped in wide cracks; but as there was a blazing fire in the room beneath, the cracks let in no cold air, nothing but smoke, a sort of compensation, as it seemed, for our having a chimney, lest we should be puffed up with pride and luxury. For we not only had a chim- ney, but a table and two stools, one sit- ting on an inverted barrel spread with a horse-blanket. Here IDhemetri concoct- ed for our supper an Hellenic soup,of royal flavor, the recollection of which is still grateful to my palate. And here a youth, named Agamemnon, son of George, came and displayed to us his school-books, a geography, beginning with Greece and ending with America, where Boai-eva was put down as capital of Mauaa~ovria. Longing to hear a Greek war-song, we requested him to sing, at which he warbled AriThe ~razer~ ~ vcav to a tune which we strongly sus- pected he composed for the occasion, following it up with others, with such delight that we were fain at last to plead sleepiness and let him depart. We were up betimes the following morning, for we had a long days work before us. We were approaching Co- rinth, and knew that from the Acrocorin- thus, a very high and steep hill over- hanging it, a prospect was to be had inferior to none in Greece. The morn- ing, though not actually unpleasant, was chill and hazy, and Dhemetri tried to dissuade us from wasting the time. But we were determined to see what there was to be seen, and after a ride of two or three hours over a rough country, we entered the fortifications of this chief citadel of Greece. It is now guarded by a handful of soldiers, two or three neglected cannons thrust their muzzles idly over the rampart, and shepherds with their flocks roam at will within. A sharp wind was sweeping over the summit, and the mountains and islands Parnassus, Cyllene, Helicon, Penteli- con, Salamis, gina were veiled with a dull, opaque haze. While Basil, with stiff fingers, was sketching the view from the top, I wandered about with my other companion, picking spring flowers, reading the descriptions of Pausanias, and studying the distant landscape. There is a thriving town at the bottom of the hill, and hither we descended, asking for the inn (Xenodhokeon) where IDhemetri had told us to meet him. But alas! modern Corinth can not sustain an inn; and we were obliged to eat our dinner in a grocery, stared at by all the 80 The Peloponne8us ~m hi/larch. 81 youth of Corinth. Ilaif a dozen Done columns, belonging to a very old tem- ple, are the only considerable relics of ancient Corinth. And as we had a long afternoons work before us, we set off before twelve. We galloped at good speed across the Isthmus, about an hours ride; Dhemetri, who understood the management of Greek horses, driv- ing us before him like a flock of sheep. We paused a moment at the Jsthmic sanctuary of Poseidon, passed through the village of Kalamt~ki, whence steam- ers run to Athens, then continued along the shore between Mount Geroneia and the sea, through a low, uneven country, well grown with pine, heather, arbute, gorse in the full splendor of its yellow blossoms, and sweet - smelling thyme. The afternoon was warm and bright. Here and there were flocks of long-haired sheep and sturdy black goats, cropping the grass and the shrubs, and it was well in keeping with the scene when we passed a shepherd, with his cloak thrown carelessly aside, leaning on his crook, and playing a few simple notes not a tune on his flageolet to while away the time. We delayed half an hour at the miserable hamlet of Kineta, to rest one of the horses, exhausted with our fast riding, then began the ascent of our last mountain - pass. A spur of Mount Geroneia runs boldly into the sea, form- ing a wall between the territories of Co- rinth and Megara. It is called Rake- Scala, Bad Ladder, an odd mixture of Greek and Italian. Here, as the ancients fabled, dwelt the robber Skiron, plunder- ing and mutilating all wayfarers, and throwing them into the sea; but The- seus subdued him and subjected him to a like treatment, and thereafter traveling was secure. No doubt Theseus crowned his labors by building a road, as we know one existed here in antiquity, but it has long since disappeared, and King Otho was then imitating him, as we found, presently, to our cost. The sun had already set, when the road became impassable, and shouts from two men some distance above, informed us that the building of the new road had ren voL. II. 6 dered the old bridle-path impracticable. We had to urge our horses down a steep, narrow path to the waters edge, then as the beach was blocked up with huge rocks, to ride a rod or two through the water, then climb up the steep rocks on the other side, where one horse slippcd and came near tumbling with his rider into the sea below. Ten minutes later, and we must have returned to Kineta, or waited an hour or two for the moon, for as soon as we were over this dangerous spot it became quite dark; but the path was now safe and easy to find. The full moon was up when we reached the top of the clifi and the valley of Megara, the mountains, the bay, and the islands of IEgina and Salamis lay distinctly be- fore us. We made all speed to Megara, cheered by the fame of its khan as one of the best in Greece, and by the cer- tainty that there was now a good road all the way to Athens. It was suggested that we should take a carriage the rest of the way, but as our horses were hired to Athens, we de- cided not to incur the extra expense. Soon after arriving, however, while Dhe- metri was making us a soup, and Di- omedes was taking care of our horses, and Epaminondas was roasting us a joint of lamb, while we were squatting half- asleep on bolsters on the floor, hugging our. knees, looking dreamily at the fire, and longing for supper and bed, the driver of the carriage came in, and ad- dressed us in recommendation of his es- tablishment in his choicest Frank, Car- rozzavery qoodye-e-e-8! then squat- ted down on the hearth beside us, hug- ged his knees, and looked at the fire with infinite self-satisfaction. Whether it was his eloquence that prevailed on our attendants, I know not, but it was determined to provide us with a carriage the next day, at no extra expense. The day was perfect, and the luxury of an easy drive of four hours was very grate- ful to us after our uncomfortable ride in the Peloponnesus. We dined at Eleusis, and reached Athens early in the after- noon. Adonium. ADONIUM. FAR dimly back in distant days of eld, There lived a pretty boy, as parchments tell, As formed for love and life in lonely deli, With mien as fair as never eyes beheld; Because who saw, to love him was compelled Straightway, so wizardly he wielded Beautys spelL His name Adonis sad of memory! Whose life, though fair, his death was fairer still, In dying for a cause, or good or ill; For he heart-crazed the daughter of the sea, Who loved him well, though wisely loved not she: True hearts are never wise, as worldlings selfish wilL Him Venus loved Loves cherished creatures they! And Venus wooed with perseverance sore, Till weary was the lad, the wooing oer; And while he, hiding in the forest lay, Oershaded from the suns unfriendly ray, Ah me! there came to kill a maddened, foaming boar! Oh! see! from limbs too fair for touch of earth, As tusk and tusk is savage through them drove, While vain their dainty power fending strove, The pure red liquid life all wasting forth! All wasted, lost ~ Nay! thence, thence took its birth ADONrUR, eternal bloom of martyred Love! Loves martyr is a-bleeding now again; Sweet Liberty, beloved of earth, doth bleed: The maddened, foaming boar hath come indeed, And tears our life on many a gory plain; But we as bled the boy bleed not in vain: Our blood-drops our sons will be Adonium seed! Who die for Libertythey never die! Adonis, dead for Love, doth live anew! They bloom blood-flowers in the tearful dew, Forever falling on their memory! In veins that are and veins that are not to be, They ever coursing live, the right, the good, the true! Where sinks the martyrs blood within the sod, A spirit-plant of universal root, Divinely radiant, doth upward shoot, Appealing from a wicked world to God! And seen for once, down drops the tyrants rod; For men at last have tasted of a heavenly fruit. 82

Adonium. ADONIUM. FAR dimly back in distant days of eld, There lived a pretty boy, as parchments tell, As formed for love and life in lonely deli, With mien as fair as never eyes beheld; Because who saw, to love him was compelled Straightway, so wizardly he wielded Beautys spelL His name Adonis sad of memory! Whose life, though fair, his death was fairer still, In dying for a cause, or good or ill; For he heart-crazed the daughter of the sea, Who loved him well, though wisely loved not she: True hearts are never wise, as worldlings selfish wilL Him Venus loved Loves cherished creatures they! And Venus wooed with perseverance sore, Till weary was the lad, the wooing oer; And while he, hiding in the forest lay, Oershaded from the suns unfriendly ray, Ah me! there came to kill a maddened, foaming boar! Oh! see! from limbs too fair for touch of earth, As tusk and tusk is savage through them drove, While vain their dainty power fending strove, The pure red liquid life all wasting forth! All wasted, lost ~ Nay! thence, thence took its birth ADONrUR, eternal bloom of martyred Love! Loves martyr is a-bleeding now again; Sweet Liberty, beloved of earth, doth bleed: The maddened, foaming boar hath come indeed, And tears our life on many a gory plain; But we as bled the boy bleed not in vain: Our blood-drops our sons will be Adonium seed! Who die for Libertythey never die! Adonis, dead for Love, doth live anew! They bloom blood-flowers in the tearful dew, Forever falling on their memory! In veins that are and veins that are not to be, They ever coursing live, the right, the good, the true! Where sinks the martyrs blood within the sod, A spirit-plant of universal root, Divinely radiant, doth upward shoot, Appealing from a wicked world to God! And seen for once, down drops the tyrants rod; For men at last have tasted of a heavenly fruit. 82 83 Polytechnic Institutes. All good and beautiful of soul thus sprung From blood, een as the Adonium I sing; And where the blood is purest, thence doth spring Such flowers as by heavenly bards are sung; For since from Christ the fierce blood-sweat was wrung, Have growths of nobler fruit on earth been ripening 1 POLYTECHNIC INSTITUTES. THERE 15 positively no class of writers entitled to higher praise, or actuated by nobler motives, than those who are now distinguishing themselves by their la- bors for Education. They have laid their hands on what is to be the great social motive power of the future the great subject of the politics of days to come and are working bravely in the sacred cause. Yet it can hardly be denied that amid the vast mass of every practical observ- ation and suggestion contained in the educational works with which we are familiar, or even among the really scien- t{flo contributors to it, there is very little founded on the great social wants and tendencies of the age. Education is, at present, merely an art; it has a right, in common with every conceivable department of knowledge, to be raised to the rank of a science. This can only be done by putting it on a progressive basis, and placing it in such a position as to aid in supplying some great de- mand of the age. The great fact of the time is, the ad- vance from mere art upward to science, from the blossom to the fruit. Practical wants, the greatest good for the great- est number, the fullest development of free labor, the increase of capital, the diminution of suffering, the harmony of interests between capital and labor all of these are the children of Science and Facts. During the feudal age, near- ly all the resources of genius all the capital of the daywas devoted to mere Art, for the sake of setting off social position and idealisms. As with the nobility and royalty of England at the present day, society enormously overpaid what is, or was, really the policewhose mission it was to keep it in order. But from Friar Bacon to Lord Bacon, a movement was silently progressing, which the present century has just begun to realize. This movement was that of the development of all human ability and natural resources, guided by science. It was a tendency toward the practical, the positive, which is destined in time to bring forth its own new art and literature, is breaking away from the trammels of the old literary or im- aginative sway. At the present day, up to the present hour, Education especially the higher education, destined to fit men for leading positions is still under the old literary regime. We laugh when we read of the two first years of medical study at the school of Salerno being devoted to dry logic, yet the four years course at near- ly all our modern Universities, or, in fact, the course of almost any high- school, is as little adapted to the real wants of the practical leading men of this age as a study of the Schoolmen would be. The literature of the past still rules the practical wants of the present. It is not that the study of the thought of the past is not noble, nay, essential, to the highly cultivated man; but it should be pursued on a large, scientific scale. The study of Greek and Latin, as languages, is not so dis- ciplining nor so valuable as that of the

83 Polytechnic Institutes. All good and beautiful of soul thus sprung From blood, een as the Adonium I sing; And where the blood is purest, thence doth spring Such flowers as by heavenly bards are sung; For since from Christ the fierce blood-sweat was wrung, Have growths of nobler fruit on earth been ripening 1 POLYTECHNIC INSTITUTES. THERE 15 positively no class of writers entitled to higher praise, or actuated by nobler motives, than those who are now distinguishing themselves by their la- bors for Education. They have laid their hands on what is to be the great social motive power of the future the great subject of the politics of days to come and are working bravely in the sacred cause. Yet it can hardly be denied that amid the vast mass of every practical observ- ation and suggestion contained in the educational works with which we are familiar, or even among the really scien- t{flo contributors to it, there is very little founded on the great social wants and tendencies of the age. Education is, at present, merely an art; it has a right, in common with every conceivable department of knowledge, to be raised to the rank of a science. This can only be done by putting it on a progressive basis, and placing it in such a position as to aid in supplying some great de- mand of the age. The great fact of the time is, the ad- vance from mere art upward to science, from the blossom to the fruit. Practical wants, the greatest good for the great- est number, the fullest development of free labor, the increase of capital, the diminution of suffering, the harmony of interests between capital and labor all of these are the children of Science and Facts. During the feudal age, near- ly all the resources of genius all the capital of the daywas devoted to mere Art, for the sake of setting off social position and idealisms. As with the nobility and royalty of England at the present day, society enormously overpaid what is, or was, really the policewhose mission it was to keep it in order. But from Friar Bacon to Lord Bacon, a movement was silently progressing, which the present century has just begun to realize. This movement was that of the development of all human ability and natural resources, guided by science. It was a tendency toward the practical, the positive, which is destined in time to bring forth its own new art and literature, is breaking away from the trammels of the old literary or im- aginative sway. At the present day, up to the present hour, Education especially the higher education, destined to fit men for leading positions is still under the old literary regime. We laugh when we read of the two first years of medical study at the school of Salerno being devoted to dry logic, yet the four years course at near- ly all our modern Universities, or, in fact, the course of almost any high- school, is as little adapted to the real wants of the practical leading men of this age as a study of the Schoolmen would be. The literature of the past still rules the practical wants of the present. It is not that the study of the thought of the past is not noble, nay, essential, to the highly cultivated man; but it should be pursued on a large, scientific scale. The study of Greek and Latin, as languages, is not so dis- ciplining nor so valuable as that of the 8+1: Polytechnic In8titutes. science of language, as taught by Max Mfihler; and if these languages must be learned, (and we do not deny that they should,) they can better be studied in their relations to all languages than simply by themselves. And as if to make bad worse, the genial and strictly scientific use of literal translations, ad- vocated by Milton and Locke, and gen- erally employed at the Revival of Letters, and during the days when Europe boast- ed its greatest classic scholars, is pro- hibited. A college education suggests the employment of the best years of life in studies of little practical use in them- selves, and seldom revived, save for pleasure, after graduation. And even where such studies are exceptionally practical; nay, where science and a free choice of languages and literature are left to the somewhat advanced student, we still find the shadow of the past of the old, formal, and rapidly growing obsolete literature overawing the more enlightened effort. Deny it as we may, the University is still a feudal institution. Within the memory of man, there exist- ed in England positively no school where the would-be engineer or manufacturer could be fitted for his career and at the same time be well educated. George Stephenson was obliged to send his son to an University, where some scraps of practical sciencescanty scraps they were most insufficiently repaid the expense of education. The great want of the age is the Poly- technic School, or more correctly speak- ing, of the Technological Institute, in which the labors of the Society of Arts, aided by the Museum and Library, may serve the two-fold object of informing the public on all matters of science and industry and of aiding the School of In- dustrial Science. Developed on its larg- est scale, such an institute should de devoted to the acquisition and dissemina- tion of all knowledge, but under strictly scientific guidance and influences. Liter- ature should there be taught historically, in close connection with mental philo- sophy, a system which, it may be observ- ed, results in interesting the pupil more in details than the old plan devoted to a few mere details ever did. Art should there be taught, not in rhapsodies over Raphael, Turner, and the favorite fancies of an individual, but according to its un- foldings in human culture, based on ar- chitecture as an illustrative medium. The lines of connection between these and the exact sciences should be ever kept in sight, so that the student may never forget the countless connecting threads woven into one indissoluble texture, forming that ever-enlarging web which is the blended product of the worlds scientific and industrial activity. The great aim of such an institute should be the aiding of industrial pro- gress, and the application of generous, intelligent culture to practical pursuits the whole to be based on exact science. When we look into this community, and see the vast demand for talent in its manufactures, and see how many thou- sands there are who would gladly be liberally educated men, if the educa- tion could only be allied to practically useful knowledge, we at once feel that the time has come for the establishment of such institutes. The demand exists on every side; the supply must come, and that speedily. England, France, and Germany are rapidly improving their manufactures by scientifically edu- cating their master-workmen the Con- servatoire des Arts, and Ecole Centrale, of Paris, the art-schools of the British capital and provinces, the many mu- seums devoted to scientic collection, are all keeping up their factories shall we be behind them? Let Capital consult its interests, and answer. We have been induced to put the query, from a perusal of two pamphlets, both directly bearing on this subject. The first is the Ninth Annual An- nouncement of the Polytechnic College of the State of Penneylvania, Session 18611862, and Catalogue of the Officers and Students; while the second sets forth the Objects and Plan of an Insti- tute of Technology, including a Society of Arts, a Museum of Arts, and a School of Industrial Science, proposed to be Polytechnic Institutes. 85 established in Boston. * This latter, it may be added, was prepared by direc- tion of the Committee of Associated In- stitutions of Science and Arts, and is addressed to manufacturers, merchants, agriculturists, and other friends of en- lightened industry in the commonwealth. The Polytechnic College of Philadel- phia, now in its ninth year, is a truly excellent institution, the practical results of which are shown in the fact that its students, immediately on graduating, have generally received appointments as civil and mechanical engineers, or other- wise stepped at once into active and re- munerative employment. Its object, as we are told, is to afford to the young civil, mining, or mechanical engineer, chemist, architect, metallurgist, or stu- dent of applied science, every facility whereby he may perfect himself in his destined calling. It is, in fact, a collec- tion of technical schools, or schools of instruction in the scveral departments of learned industry. It comprises the school of mines, for professional training in mine-engineering, in the best methods of determining thG value of mineral lands and of analyzfng and manufactur- ing mine products. Also the schools of civil engineering, of practical chemistry, of mechanical engineering, architecture, general science, and agriculture. To these is added a military department, now under superintendence of a former instructor in West-Point, with the use of the State armory near the college, generously granted by the State, with a supply of arms. We are glad to say that in all these schools the instruction is thorough, not only in theory but in * To which we add, An Account of the Proceed- ings preliminary to the Organization of the Massa- chusetts Institute of Technology, with a List of the Memhers thus far associated, and an Appendix, con- taining Petitions and Resolutions in aid of the ohjects of the committee of Associated Institutions of Sci- ence and Art. Boston, 1861. Also the Ohiects and courses of Instruction in the Lawrence Scientific School, in the catalogue of the Officers and Students of Harvard University, for the Academical Year 18601861. The Editor will hold himself greatly in- dehted to any one who will kindly forward him cata- logues or prospectuses relative to any scientific schools or institutes whatever, either in this country or Euroise. actual practice. The course of the school of chemistry, for instance, coin- prehends the principles of the science and their actual application to agricul- ture, to the arts, and to analysis; to the examination and smelting of ores; to the alloying, refining, and working of metals; to the arts of dyeing and pot- tery; to the starch, lime, and glass manufacture; to the preparation and du- rability of mortars and cements; to means of disinfecting, ventilating, heat- ing, and lighting. Its students are also practiced in manipulations, testing in the arts qualitative and quantitative; in analysis of minerals and soils, and in many other important practical matters. The students of geology and mining, of machinery and metallurgy, make, with their professors, frequent visits to the many interesting localities in Penn sylvania or New-Jersey, to the many large machine-shops with which Phila- delphia abounds, visit mines and fur- naces, and are in everyway practically familiarized with their future callings. Instruction in languages and literature, in drawing and in the elements of prac- tical law is, we believe, given in common to all. It is the first, we may say, un- avoidable, characteristic of a scientQlc school, that its work is always well done. Other schools may or may not be specious contrivances, well or ill managed; but the very nature of science is to clear itself in whatever it touches, and be honest and practicaL Its ten- dency is to classify and select, to cast away the obsolete and test and adopt the new and true. Such is by no means an exaggerated statement of the real condition of the excellent college to which we refer, which testifies, by its success, to the excellence of its plan and the competency of its teachers, es- pecially to the administrative ability of its worthy President, Dr. Alfred L. Kennedy. It can not be denied, that for many years, radicals have inveighed against Greek and Universities, but it has been in a narrow, vulgar, and simply destruc- tive manner, with no provision to sub- Polytechnic In8tituteg. stitute any thing better in their place. The growth of science, of the know- ledge of history, of culture in every branch, has, however, of late, so vastly increased, that the proposition to reform the old system of study is really one not to tear it down, but to build it up, to extend it and develop iton a grand scale. Since, for example, the influence of sci- ence has been felt in philology, how in- considerable do the Bruncks and Por- sons of the old school, appear before the Bopps, Schlegels, Burnoufs, and Mfrllers of the new! For as yet, even where here and there in colleges a liberal and enlightened method is partially attempt- ed, still the old monkish spirit appears, driving away with something like a mystery~ or guild feeling the merely practical man, and interposing a mass of dead vocables, which must be learn- ed by years of labor, between him and the realization of an education. The young man who is to be a miner, a cot- ton-spinner, an architect, or a merchant, may possibly find here and there, at this or that college, lectures and instruction which may aid him directly in his future career, but he soon realizes that the gen- eral tendency and tone of the college is entirely in favor of abstract studies quite useless out in the world, and apart from preparation for one of the three profes- sions. He himself is as a marine~ among the regular sailors, a surgeon among regular doctors, or as a dentist among surgeons. And this in an age when we may say that, what is not to be studied scientifically is not worth study- ing. As our principal object in writing these remarks has been to assert that the Po- lytechnic Institute, in its either partial or entire form, should exist entirely in- dependent of all other influences, we might be held excused from any men- tion of such scientific schools as are attached to our Universities. That of Cambridge, Massachusetts, would, how- ever, deserve special mention, from the celebrity of its teachers. In this insti- tute, which has between seventy and eighty students, we have a single school divided into the following departments: that of Chemistry, under supervision of Professor Horseford, in which instruction is both theoretical and practical; that of Zo6logy and Geology, in which the teaching consists alternately of a course of lectures by Professor Agassiz, on Zo- ology, embracing the fundamental prin- ciples of the classification of animals as founded upon structure and embryonic development, and illustrating their natu- ral affinities, habits, distribution, and the relations which exist between the living and extinct races, and a course of geology, both theoretical and practical. To this are added the departments of Engineering under Professor Eustis, that of Botany, under Professor Gray, that of Comparative Anatomy and Physiolo- gy, under Professor J. Wyman, that of Mathematics, under Professor Peirce, and that of Mineralogy, under Professor Cooke. It is needless to speak in praise of a school boasting men of such world- wide names as teachers, or to commend it as affording facilities for bestowing a sound education. We do it no injustice, however, in asserting that its tendency is to develop students of abstract science and teachers, while the aim of the Poly- technic school proper is, in addition to this, to supply the manufactures of the country with working men, and the coun- try at large, including those already en- gaged in labor, with technological inform- ation of every kind. It should be a vast reservoir of practical knowledge, where the man of the print-works, in search of a certain dye or of a new form of machinery, may apply, certain that all the latest discoveries will be found reg- istered there. It should he a place where capitalists may go as to an intelligence- office, confident of finding there the as- sistants which they may need. It should be, in fact, in every respect, an institute simply and solely for the people, and for the development of manufacturing in- dustry. If, as we have urged, it should embrace eventually thorough instruction in every branch of knowledge, this should be because experience shows that the most commonplace branches require the 86 Polytec4nic In8titutes. stimulus of genius, which can only be fairly developed by universal facilities. No young man, however practical, could have his Th~itigkeit or available ener- gy other than stimulated by even an extensive familiarity with every detail of philosophy, literature, and art, pro- vided that these were properly scieflced, or taught strictly according to their his- torical development. It is, therefore, needless to say that we welcome with pleasure the plan of An Institute of Technology, which it is proposed to establish in Boston, and which, to judge from its excellently well prepared prospectus, will fully meet, in every particular, all the requirements which we have laid down as essential to a perfect Polytechnic Institute. Indeed, the wide scope of this plan, its capacity for embracing every subject in the range of science, and of communicating it to the public either by publication, by free lec- tures, by a museum of reference, or by collegiate instruction, leaves but little to be desired. That there is great need of such an institution in this State is appar- ent from many causes. In the words of the prospectus, we feel that in New- England, and especially in our own Com- monwealth, the time has arrived when, as we believe, the interests of Commerce and Arts, as well as General Education, call for the most earnest cooperation of intelligent culture with industrial pur- suits. It is no exaggeration to state that probably no project was ever before pre- sented to the wealthy men of Massachu- setts which appealed so earnestly to their aid or gave such fair promise of doing good. The institute in question is one which will in every respect, socially and mentally, elevate the business man or practical man to a level with the college graduate or the practitioner in the three learned professions. It will stimulate progress by still further refining indus- try, and ally the action of capital to the advance of intellect. It will perform a noble and distinguished part in the great mission of the age and of future ages - that of vindicating the dignity of free labor and showing that the humblest work may be rendered high-toned and raised to a level with the calling of scholar or diplomatist through the influ- ence of science. If we were called on to set forth the noble spirit of the North with all its free labor and all its glorious tendencies, we should, with whole heart and soul, choose this magnificent con- ception of an institute whose aim is to confer dignity on what the wretched and ignorant slaveocracy believe is cursed into everlasting vulgarity. It is fitting that this practical and eminently intelli- gent and progressive community should build up, on a grand scale, an institution which will be not only eminently useful and profitable, but serve as a culminat- ing exponent of the great and liberal ideas for which the North has already made in every form the most remarkable sacrifices. While the vast and increasing magnitude of the industrial interests of New-England furnishes a powerful incentive to the estab- lishment within its borders of an institution devoted to technological uses, it can not be doubted that the concentration of these in- terests in so great a degree, in and around Boston, renders the capital of the State an eligible site for such an undertaking. In- deed, considering the peculiar genius of our busy population for the Practical Arts, and marking their avidity in the study of scien- tifle facts and principles tending to explain or advance them, we see a special and most striking fitness in the establishment of such an Institution among them, and we gather a confident assurance of its pre~iminent utility and success. Nor can we advert to the intel- ligence which is so well known as guiding the large munificence of our community, without taking encouragement in the ine~p- tion of the enterprise, and feeling the assur- ance, that whatever is adapted to advance the industrial and educational interests of the Commonwealth will receive from them the heartiest sympathy and support. As we have stated, the plan proposed is to establish an Institution to be de- voted to the practical arts and sciences, to be called the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, having the triple organ- ization of a Society of Arts, a Museum or Conservatory of Arts, and a School of Industrial Science and Art. Under the first of these three divisions that of 87 Polytechnic Institutes. the Society of Arts the Institute of Technology would form itself into a de- partment of investigation and publica- tion devoting itself in every manner to collecting and rendering readily avail- able to the public all such information as can in any way aid the interests of art and industry. If our manufacturers will reflect an instant on the vast amount of knowledge relative to their specialties extant in the world, which they have as individuals great difficulty in procuring, and which would be useful, but which an Institute devoted to the purpose could furnish without difficulty, they will at once appreciate the good which may be done by it. For many years the only comprehensive summaries of American Manufactures were a German work by Fleischmann, On the Branches of Ameri- can Industry, to which was subsequent- ly added Whitworth and Walliss Re- port drawn up for the British govern- ment, and Freedleys Philadelphia Man- uflicturesto which we should in justice add the invaluable series of Hunts iJIier- chants JUfagazine, and the Patent Office Reports. The community needs more, however, than books can furnish. It requires the constant accumulation and dissemination of technological know- ledge of every kind. It is proposed in the new Institute to effect this partly by publication and in a great measure by the labor of committees, devoted to the following subjects: 1. JUl9ineral Jllaterialshaving charge of all relating ~to the mineral substances used in building and sculpture, ores, metals, coal, and in fact, all mineral sub- stances employed in the useful arts, as well as what pertains to mining, quarry- ing, and smelting. 2. Organic Jifaterials -~-- embracing whatever is practically interesting in all vegetable and animal substances used in manufacturing, having in view their sources, culture, collection, com- mercial importance and qualities as con- nected with manufacturing. This de- partment presents a vast field of im mense importance to every merchant and importer of raw material. 3. On Tools and Instruments de- voted to all the implements and appa- ratus needed in all processes of manu- facture. 4. On JUfacliinery and ilfotive Powers. 5. On Textile Jtlianufactures. 6. On Jilanufactures of Wood, Lea- ther, Paper, India-Pul~ber, etc. 7. On Pottery, Glass, and Precious Afetals. 8. On Chemical Products and Pro- cesses. 9. On Household Economy. This de- partment would embrace attention to whatever relates to warming, illumina- tion, water-supply, ventilation, and the preparation and preservation of food, as well as the protection of the public health. 10. On Engineering and Architecture. 11. On Commerce, Navigation, and Inland Transport. This department alone, developed in detail, and on the scale proposed, would of itself amply repay any amount of encouragement and investment. To collect and classify for the use of the public all available in- formation on the subject of shipping, the improvement of harbors, the con- struction of docks, the. location and effi- ciency of railroads, and other channels of inland intercourse; keeping chiefly in view the economical questions of trade and exchange, which give these works of mechanical and engineering skill their high commercial value, is a project as grand as it is useful. 12. On the Graphic and Fine Arts. Of the importance of the proposed Museum of Industrial Science and Art, it is needless to speak. It would be for the public the central feature of the In- stitute, and of incalculable value not only to it, but to all engaged in all active industry whatever. As regards the School of Industrial Science and Art, with its divisions, we see no occasion for material cause of difference between its constitution and 88 Slavery and Nobility vs. Democracy. 89 that of the excellent Polytechnic Col- lege in Philadelphia. New departments of instruction could be added as the means and power of the Institute in- creased, until it would ultimately form what the world needs but has never yet seen a thoroughly scientific Universi- ty, in which every branch of human knowledge should be clearly taught on a positive basis a school where litera- ture and art would be ennobled and refined by elevation from mysticism, rhapsody, and obscurity, to their true position as historical developments and indices of human progress. We are pleased to see that in the plan proposed, provision would be made for two classes of persons those who enter the school with the view of a progressive scientific training in applied science, and the fhr more numerous class who may be ex- pected to resort to its lecture-rooms for such useful knowledge of scientific prin- ciples as they can acquire without con- tinually devoted study, and in hours not occupied by active labor. This whole plan, though in the high- est degree practical, has, it will be ob- served, no affinity with that instruction in mere empirical routine which has sometimes been vaunted as the proper education for the industrial classes an absurd and shallow system which has been urged by quacks and dabblers in world-bettering, and which has been ex- hausted without avail in England the system dear to single-sided Gradgrinds and illiterate men who grasp a twig here and there without knowing of the exist- ence of the trunk and roots. It lays down a perfectly scientific and universal basis, believing that the most insignifi- cant industry, to be perfectly understood and pursued, must proceed from a know- ledge of the great principles of science and of all truth. Under the charge of Professor W. B. Rogers, Messrs. Charles H. Dalton, E. B. Bigelow, James M. Beebee, and other members of a committee embracing some of the most public-spirited men of Bos- ton, this plan has been thus far matured, and now awaits the sympathy, aid, and counsel of the friends of industrial art and general education throughout the community. We have gladly set forth its objects and claims, trusting that it may be fully successful here, and serve as an exemplar for the establishment of similar institutions in every other State. SLAVERY AND NOBILITY vs. DEMOCRACY. FEW political convulsions have hither- to transpired, which have so much puz- zled the world to get at the entire mo- tives of the revolt, as the present insur- rection in this country. Were public opinion to be made up from the political literature of Great Britain, or its: lead- ing journals, very little certainty would be arrived at as to the merits or demer- its of the attempted revolution. The articles of De Bows Review smack lit- tle more of a secession origin than the late dissertations on American politics appearing in the British periodicals. The statements of most of the leading English journals are quite in keeping. Any one accustomed to the ear-marks of secession phraseology and declama- tion would be at little loss to identify the Southern emissary in connection with the periodicals and press of the British islands. Hence the hypocrisy and studied concealment of those hid- den motives necessary to be made ap- parent, in order to judge of the merits of secession. The world has known that for thirty years past there has been a feverish and jealous discontent expressed in the cot- ton States. It had its first ebullition in 1832, when South-Carolina assumed the right to nullify the revenue laws of Con- gress. Since that time the North has continually been accused of an aggress-

Slavery and Nobility vs. Democracy. 89 that of the excellent Polytechnic Col- lege in Philadelphia. New departments of instruction could be added as the means and power of the Institute in- creased, until it would ultimately form what the world needs but has never yet seen a thoroughly scientific Universi- ty, in which every branch of human knowledge should be clearly taught on a positive basis a school where litera- ture and art would be ennobled and refined by elevation from mysticism, rhapsody, and obscurity, to their true position as historical developments and indices of human progress. We are pleased to see that in the plan proposed, provision would be made for two classes of persons those who enter the school with the view of a progressive scientific training in applied science, and the fhr more numerous class who may be ex- pected to resort to its lecture-rooms for such useful knowledge of scientific prin- ciples as they can acquire without con- tinually devoted study, and in hours not occupied by active labor. This whole plan, though in the high- est degree practical, has, it will be ob- served, no affinity with that instruction in mere empirical routine which has sometimes been vaunted as the proper education for the industrial classes an absurd and shallow system which has been urged by quacks and dabblers in world-bettering, and which has been ex- hausted without avail in England the system dear to single-sided Gradgrinds and illiterate men who grasp a twig here and there without knowing of the exist- ence of the trunk and roots. It lays down a perfectly scientific and universal basis, believing that the most insignifi- cant industry, to be perfectly understood and pursued, must proceed from a know- ledge of the great principles of science and of all truth. Under the charge of Professor W. B. Rogers, Messrs. Charles H. Dalton, E. B. Bigelow, James M. Beebee, and other members of a committee embracing some of the most public-spirited men of Bos- ton, this plan has been thus far matured, and now awaits the sympathy, aid, and counsel of the friends of industrial art and general education throughout the community. We have gladly set forth its objects and claims, trusting that it may be fully successful here, and serve as an exemplar for the establishment of similar institutions in every other State. SLAVERY AND NOBILITY vs. DEMOCRACY. FEW political convulsions have hither- to transpired, which have so much puz- zled the world to get at the entire mo- tives of the revolt, as the present insur- rection in this country. Were public opinion to be made up from the political literature of Great Britain, or its: lead- ing journals, very little certainty would be arrived at as to the merits or demer- its of the attempted revolution. The articles of De Bows Review smack lit- tle more of a secession origin than the late dissertations on American politics appearing in the British periodicals. The statements of most of the leading English journals are quite in keeping. Any one accustomed to the ear-marks of secession phraseology and declama- tion would be at little loss to identify the Southern emissary in connection with the periodicals and press of the British islands. Hence the hypocrisy and studied concealment of those hid- den motives necessary to be made ap- parent, in order to judge of the merits of secession. The world has known that for thirty years past there has been a feverish and jealous discontent expressed in the cot- ton States. It had its first ebullition in 1832, when South-Carolina assumed the right to nullify the revenue laws of Con- gress. Since that time the North has continually been accused of an aggress- 90 Slavery and No6ili~y V8. Democracy. ive policy. Various extravagant pre- tenses have from time to time been raised up by the South, and urged as causes for dissolving the Union. They have always, until recently, been met by forbearance and compromise. The extension and perpetuation of slavery has been prominent as the open motive for Southern political activity; and equally prominent as one of the motives for dismembering the Union. There has been another project, however, in con- nection with the attempted dissolution of the Union, of a most alarming na- ture: that project was the intended prostration of the democratic principle in Southern politics. While a privileged order in government was made the basis of political ambition by the aspirants or leading spirits, it was also to be made the means of perpetuating the institu- tion of slavery. Whether these adjuncts, slavery perpetuation, and government through a privileged class, were twins of the same birth, is not very material; but whether they existed together as the joint motive to overthrow the na- tional jurisdiction, involves very deeply the present and continuing questions in American politics. To many gentlemen of intelligence and high standing in the South, the intended establishment of a different order of government, based on privilege of class, has appeared to be the ruling motive. They have set down the ex- pressed apprehension as to the insecu- rity of slavery as a hypocritical pretext for revolution; believing that the more absorbing motive was to establish an order of nobility, either with or without monarchy. There is some plausibility for giving the ambitious motive the greater prominence; but a more severe analysis of the whole question will, it is believed, place slavery perpetuation in the foreground as the origin of all other motives for the conspiracy. In classifying slaveholders, it is un- doubtedly true that a small portion of them were Democrats in principle, and ardently attached to the National Gov- ernmentperhaps would have preferred the abolition of slavery to the subver. sion of its jurisdiction. Another class, composing a majority, though distrust- ing the National Government, connected as it was and must be with a voting power representing twenty-six or seven millions of free labor, yet more distrust- ed the attempt at revolution. This class saw more danger in the proposed revolt than from continuing in the Union. Another class were politically ambi- tious; had ventured upon the revile- ment of the Democratic principle; had become secessionists per se, and were the instruments and plotters of the treason. This was substantially the condition of public opinion among slaveholders at the time of the election of Mr. Lincoln to the Presidency. These three classes, embracing the slaveholders and their families, composed about one million five hundred thousand of the white population of the South. Of the seven millions non-slaveholding population South, a small portion was engaged in trade and commerce, and naturally inclined to oppose secession; but timid in its apprehensions as to protection, was ready to acquiesce in the most extravagant opinions; in other words, like trade and commerce every where, too much disposed to make mer- chandise of its politics. The balance of the non-slaveholding population, if we except a venal pulpit and press, had not even a specious motive, pecuniary or political, moral or social, that should have drawn it into rebellion. It was a part and portion of the great brother- hood of free labor, and could not by any possibility raise up a plausible pretense of jealousy against its natural allyfree labor in the North. In estimating the strength of a cause, we are obliged to take into account the actually existing reasons in favor of its support. Delusion, founded on a ficti- tious cause of complaint, is but a weak basis for revolution. It may have an apparent strength to precipitate revolt, but has no power of endurance. There is a reflection that comes through ca- lamity and suffering that rises superior Slavery and Nobility V8. Democracy. 91 to sophistry in the most common minds. If not already, this will soon be the case with the whole Southern population. The slaveholder and the man of trade and commerce who feared the tumult, and would have avoided it, will have seen their apprehensions turned into the fulfillment of prophecy. The non-slave- holding farmer, mechanic, or laborer, will be made to see clearly that his in- terest did not lie on the side of treason. The political adventurer who planned the conspiracy, is already brought to see the fallacy of his dream. He may now consider the incongruous materials of Southern population. He may view that population in classes. He may contem- plate it throubh the medium of its nat- ural motives of fidelity to the Govern- ment on the one hand, and of its artifi- cial delusion on the other. He may now go to the bottom of Southern so- ciety, and find in its conflicting elements the antagonistic motives that render the plans of treason abortive. These will be sure to continue, and sure to strength- en on the side of fidelity to the National Government. When the South is made a solid, compact unit in political motive, it will become so, disarmed of all pur- poses of treason. It has been repeatedly asserted that the South was a political unit on the question of the attempted revolution. This declaration has been reiterated by the Southern press, by travelers, and by all the influences connected with the rebellion. It is not now necessary to delineate the quasi military organization of the Knights of the Golden Circle, or their operations in cajoling and terror- izing the Southern population into ac- quiescence. Much unanimity through this process was made to appear on the surface; but it is more palpable to the analytic mind acquainted with Southern society, that the very means employed to enforce acquiescence afforded also the evidence that there was a strong under - current of aversion. Willing apostasy from allegiance to the Union needed no terrorizing from mobs or murders. The ruffianism of the South had been fully armed in advance of the full disclosure of the plot to secede. Loyalty had been as carefully disarmed by the same active influences. It had nothing to oppose to arms but its un- protected sentiments. As soon as the law of force was invoked by the conspir- ators, the day of reasoning was wholly past. Flight or conformity became the condition precedent of safety, even for life. The bulk of the Southern popula- tion was as much conspired against as the Government at Washington; and force against the same population was rigorously called,into requisition to con- summate what fraud and political crime had concocted. This was the boasted unity of the South. The inquiry is often made: How was it possible to have inaugurated the re- bellion, without the bulk of the slave- holders, at least, acting in concert? This inquiry is not easily answered, un- less its solution is found in the fact that slaveholders, through jealousy, had part- ed with their active loyalty to the Na- tional Government. This was generally the case. Whilst the bulk of them hesi- tated for a little to take the fearful step of revolt, their hesitation was more con- nected with apprehension of its conse- quences than with any attachment to the Government. The deceptive idea of peaceable secession first drew them within the lines of the open traitor. The supposed probability of success made them allies in rebellion. As a general sentiment, they made their im- aginary adieux to the Government of their fathers without apparent regret. There has been much misapprehension as to the process of reasoning that brought slaveholders in the main to re- pudiate their Government. They were influenced by no apprehension of pres- ent danger to the institution of slavery. It was something far beyond the power of any party to stipulate against. Their apprehensions were connected with the laws of population and subsistence and the certain motive to political affiliation that underlies the platform of free-labor society. When indulging in the belief Slavery and Nobility vs. Democracy. of peaceable sccession, they expressed their sentiments truly in the declaration that they would not remain in the Union, were a blank sheet of paper pre- sented, and they permitted to write their own terms. This declaration merely characterized the foregone conclusion. It was the evidence of a previous deter- mination, merely withheld for a season, in order to gain time. But to come to a more definite delinea- tion of the reasons that operated to raise up the conspiracy. There was a partial feud that had long existed in the mutual jealousies between the,slaveholders and non - slaveholding population. Nothing very remarkable, however, had transpir- ed to indicate an outbreak. Southern white labor was continually annoyed with the appellation ofwhite trash, and other contemptuous epithets; but still was obliged to toil on under the continuous insult. The habits and usages of slave- holders and their families, indicated by manners toward white labor, that white labor did not command their respect. Too many of the accidental droppings of fool- ish and stupid arrogance were let fall within the hearing of white labor to make it fully reconciled to the pretended mo- nopoly of respectability by slaveholders. Under this corroded feeling, much of the white labor of the South had ensi- grated to the free States. In 1850, seven hundred and thirty - two thousand of these emigrants were living. Their communications and intercourse showed to their old friends, relatives, and ac- quaintances, that they had found homes and friendly treatment on Northern soil; and in addition thereto, a much better and more encouraging condition of soci- ety for the industrious white man. The feeling reflected back from the free to the slave States was analogous to that thrown back from the United States to Ireland. Its effect was also the same. Under its influence, nearly two millions are now living in the free States, who are the offshoot and increase of a South- ern extraction. Slaveholders merely complained of this flow of population, on the ground that it contributed to overthrow the balance of political power. It would not, perhaps, be amiss to con- clude that they saw with equal clearness the incentives that induced the emigra- tion a silent logic of facts against slavery. The census statistics, commencing with 1840, have contributed much to play the mischief with the equanimity of slaveholders. They have always known that thorough education in the South was mainly confined to their own families. When, how ever, the discovery was made public that only one in seven of the aggregate white population of the South was receiving instruction during the year, the disclosure became alarm- ing.* It stood little better than the edu- cational progress of the British Islands, * EDUCATIONAL CONDITIONCENSUS 1550. Maine, 1 in SX Iowa, 1 in 5X New-hampshire, SX Florida, 10 Vermont, SX Louisiana, 8 Michigan, 5~s Texas, 5 Ohio, SX Virginia, 5 New-York, native- Alabama, T born, SX Arkansas, I Aggregate, 4X Georgia, I Massachusetts, na- Maryland, I tive-born, 5% South-carolina, I Aggregate, 4X Mississippi, OX Pennsylvania, na- Kentucky, 6 tive-born, 4 Missouri, 6 Aggregate, 4X New-Jersey, 5X Rhode-Island, 4X North-carolina 5X Connecticut, 4X Wisconsin, 534 Indiana, 434 Tennessee, 5 Illinois, 434 Delaware, S EUROPEAN STATES. Denmark, 1 in 434 Ireland, 1 in 14 Sweden, 534 Belgium, 834 Saxony, 6 France, 1034 Prussia, 634 Austria, 1334 Norway, I Holland, 1434 Great Britain, 834 Greece, 15 Actually re- Hussia, 50 ceiving instruc- Portugal, 81 tion, I Spain, Not known. FREE COLORED POPULATION UNITED STATES. Maine, 1 in S Vermont, 1 in S Rhode-Island, 634 connecticut, 6 Massachusetts, OX Pennsylvania, 8 New-Hampshire, I New-York, 9 It may be seen, by the foregoing table, that a thorough system of education for the masses requires that one third of the aggregate population should be kept at school for a goodly portion of the year. This is essential, under Democratic Government, in order to bring each gener tion up to the appreciative point. 92 Slavery and Nobility vs. Democracy. which had crept up, under the fight with Toryism, to the alarming extent of one in eight. That one in four and a half of the aggregate population of the free States was receiving school instruction, made the contrast unpleasant to the mind of the slaveholder. He knew that the fact was world - wide, that slaveholders had always controlled the policy of Southern legislation. He was aware that slaveholders had made them- selves responsible for this neglect of the children of the South; and knew also that public opinion would visit the blame where it legitimately belonged. Pro- slavery sagacity was quick-sighted in its apprehensions that it could not dodge the inquiry, Whence comes this dis- parity? The statistics of the two sections pre- sented a still more obnoxious comparison to the pro-slavery sensibilities, as it re- spects the physical condition of the re- spective populations. The cotton States have mostly been the advocates of free trade, some of them tenaciously so. They deemed it impossible to introduce manufacturing, to much extent, into sections where the yearly surpluses in production were wholly absorbed by in- vestment in land and negroes. The consequence has been, want of diversi- fied industry and want of profitable occupation for the poorer classes. In the Northern and in some of the Border States, a different industrial policy has been pursued. Diversified occupation has raised up skilled labor in nearly every branch of industry. Notwith- standing the greater rigor of climate, adult labor on the average, under full and compensated employment, performs nearly three hundred solid days work in the year. The eight millions of white population in the South, in consequence of this want of profitable occupation, perform much less, perhaps not one hundred and fifty days work on the average. The following table, published in 18561857, by Mr. Guthrie, then Secretary of the Treasury, discloses a condition of things very remarkable; but no wise astonishing to those who have investigated the causes of the dis- parity. The ratio of annual per capita production to each man, woman, and child, white and black, in the respective States, exclusive of the gains or earn~ ings of commerce, stood as follows: Massachusetts,.. $166 60 llhode-Island, ... 164 61 connecticut 156 05 california 149 60 New-Jersey 120 82 New-Hampshire,.. 111 17 New-York 112 00 Pennsylvania 99 00 vermont 96 62 Illinois 89 94 Missouri 88 06 Delaware, 55 21 Maryland 83 85 Ohio 75 82 Michigan 72 54 Kentucky 11 82 Maine 71 11 Indiana $69 121 Wisconsin 68 41 Mississippi 61 50 Iowa, 65 41 Louisiana 65 00 Tennessee 63 10 (feorgia 61 45 virginia 59 42 South-Carolina,... 56 91 Alabama 55 12 Florida 54 17 Arkansas, 52 04 District of Colum bia 52 00 Texas 51 13 North-Carolina,... 49 38 It is seen by this table that the in- come, or product of the non-slavehold- ing population South, mainly disconnect- ed as it is with mechanical industry, is reduced to the extreme level of bare subsistence, while the population of the States which have introduced diversified industry stand on a high scale of pro- duction. Contrast Massachusetts and South-Carolina, the two leading States in the promulgation of opposite theories. These two States have often been cen- sured for the contumelious manner in which they have sometimes sought to repel each others arguments. The one is in favor of free trade. The other says: No State can flourish to much extent without diversified industry. The one says: Open every thing to free competition. The other replies: Are you aware that the interest on manufacturing capital in Europe is much lower; that skilled labor there is more abundant; and that it would dash to the ground most of the manufacturing we have started into growth under pro- tection through our revenue laws ? Let it be so, says Carolina; what right exists to adopt a national policy that does not equally benefit all sec- tions? The very object of the policy, replies Massachusetts, is, that it 8110u1d 93 94 Slavery and Nobility vs. Democracy. benefit all sections; and the most desir- able object of all, in the eye of benefi- cence, would be, that it 3hould benefit the laboring white population of the cotton States, as well as others. But, says Carolina, this diversified industry can not be introduced, to much extent, where slavery exists. That is an argu- ment by implication, says Massachu- setts, that you more prize slavery than you do the interests and welfare of the bulk of your white population. Who set you up to be a judge on the ques- tion of the welfare of any part of the population South? says Carolina. I assume to judge for myself; replies Massachusetts, as to that national pol- icy which is designed to affect benefi- cially the twenty-seven millions of peo- ple who are obliged to obtain subsist- ence through personal industry; theirs is the great cause of white humanity in its shirt - sleeves; and it behooves the National Government to take care of that cause, and to foster it; and not to submit to the narrow selfishness of a few slaveholders. It may readily be seen that this con- troversy, growing out of the opposite theories of selfish slaveholders on the one hand, and a spirit of beneficence, blended with the idea of a wide-spread advantage on the other, not only involves directly the demerits of slavery, in its prejudicial effect on the non-slavehold- ing population South, but also the great question of raising up skilled labor in all the States. It is thus clearly demon- strated that our national policy should be exempt from the control of an arro- gant and selfish class. Slaveholders have had little sympathy with the great bulk of the white people in the Union; at most, they have never manifested it. Few of them can be trusted politically, where a broad industrial policy is con- cerned. No one is better aware than the political slaveholder of the crushing effect of slavery on the interests of the non-slaveholding population in the slave States: hence their jealousy of this pop- ulation as a voting, governing power. The Southern political mind, connected with slaveholding, is astute when sharp- ened by jealousy. There is no phase in political economy, bearing on the dis- parity of classes in the South, that has not been taken into the account and analyzed. The fear with slaveholders has been, that the great majority, com- posed of the white laboring population South, would become able to subject matters to the same scrutinizing analy- sis. It would be difficult to convince the American people that slavery is not the skeleton in their closet. Any one who has encountered for years the pro-slavery spirit; who has watched it through its unscrupulous deviations from rectitude, morally, socially, and politically, will have been dull of comprehension not to have appreciated its atrocious disposi- tion. Its great instrumentality in the management of Southern masses, con- sists not only of a disregard, but of a positive interdict of the principles of civil liberty, in all matters wherein the prejudicial effects of slavery might di- rectly, or by implication, be disclosed. It is true, people are permitted to adu- late slavery so they are allowed to adulate kings, where kings reign. No one in recent years has been allowed the open expression of opinion or argument as to the bad effect of a pro-slavery pol- icy on the great majority of Southern white population. This would bring the offender within the Southern defini- tion of an incendiary, and the offense would be heinous. The pro - slavery spirit has always demanded sycophancy where its strength was great enough to enforce it, and has ever been ready to invoke the law of force where its the- ones were contradicted. Even the fun- damental law of the South, contained in Southern State Constitutions in favor of the freedom of speech, and freedom of the press, is mere rhetorical flourish, where slavery is concerned. It means that you must adulate slavery if you speak of it; and woe to the man that gives this fundamental law any broader interpretation. In its amiable moods, the pro-slavery spirit is often made to Slavery and NoliiUty vs. Democracy. appear the gentleman. In its angry, jealous moods, it is both a ruffian and an assassin. Mr. Sumner, of the Sen- ate, once sat for its picture twice in his turn he drew it each portrait was a faithful resemblance. Had we been exempt from slavery and its influences, it is difficult to conceive what possible pretense could have been raised up for revolution. What position could have been taken showing the ne- cessity of disenthrallment from oppress- ive government? There would have ex- isted no element of political discontent that could by any possibility have cul- minated in rebellion, aside from the active, jealous, and unscrupulous influ- ence of slaveholders. Rebellion and treason required the lead and direction of an ambitious and reckless class; a class actuated by gross and selfish pas- sions, in disconnection with sympathy for the masses. It required a class stripped and bereft by habits of think- ing of the spirit of political beneficence, devoid of national honor, national pride, and national fidelity. Nothing less un- scrupulous would have answered to plot, to carry forward, and to manage the incidents of the attempted dismember- ment of the Union. It required some- thing worse in its nature than Benedict Arnold susceptibility. His might have been crime, springing from sudden re- sentment or imaginary wrong. The other is the result of thirty years con- coction under adroit, hypocritical, and unscrupulous leaders. The slavehold- ers rebellion has assumed a magnitude commensurate only with long contem- plation of the subject. Making all due allowance for the honorable exceptions, this is substantially the phase of pro- slavery infidelity to the Union. Were further argument needed to es- tablish this position, it is found in the fact that the seeds of rebdlion are want- ing in proportion to the absence of slavery. There is no reason to believe that Kentucky or Maryland, without slavery, would have been less loyal than Ohio. In Eastern Kentucky, Western Virginia, Eastern Tennessee, Western North-Carolina, a small portion of Geor gia, and Northern Alabama, the Union cause finds a friends country. These sections, in the main, contain a popula- tion dependent upon its own labor for subsistence. Schooled by diligent in- dustry to habits of perseverance, and learning independence and manhood by relying on itselg it has preserved its patriotism and attachment to the Gov- ernment under which it was born. It saw no cause of complaint, imaginary or reaL Six or seven per cent of slave population has not proved sufficient as a slave interest, to prostrate or corrupt its national fidelity, nor to undermine its national pride. It still retains its rep- resentation in Congress against the in- fluences of surrounding treason. There is a cheering satisfaction in the belief that this plateau of civil liberty and freedom, even unassisted, could not have been permanently held in subjection by the myrmidons of rebellion. The se- cessionists themselves bestow a high compliment to the patriotism of this people, when they complain of its idol- atrous attachment to the old Govern- ment. The time has come when the Ameri- can people, from necessity, must analyze to their root the whole aptitudes and incidents of slavery. They are now obliged to deal with it, unbridled by the check - rein of its apologists. Under the best behavior of slaveholders, the institution could not rise above the point of bare toleration. There is so much inherent in the system that will not bear analysis, so much of collateral mischieg so much tending to overturn and discourage the principles of justice that ought to be interwoven into the relationships of society, that it is impos- sible for the ingenuous mind to advocate slavery per se. It is not, however, to the bare dominion itselg that the objec- tion is exclusively raised up. It is the inevitable result of that dominion, in connection with the worst cultivated passions of human nature, that the ex- ception is more broadly taken. The dominion of the master over the slave 96 Slavery and Nobility v~. Democracy. involves in a great measure the neces- sary dominion over the persons and in- terests of the balance of society where it exists. The lust of power on the part of slaveholders, and on the part of the privileged classes in Europe, in nature, is the same. The determination through the artificial arrangements of power, to subsist on the toil of others, is the same. The arrogant assumption of the right to maintain as privilege what originated in atrocious wrong, is the same. The disposition to crush by force any at- tempt to vindicate natural rights, or to modify the status of society under the severity of oppression, is the same and no tyranny has yet been found so tenacious or objectionable as the tyranny of a class held together by the bond of iniquity. Our forefathers had a just conception of the nature of the case, on one hand, when they interdicted by fundamental law the establishment of any order of nobility. Many of them were sorely distressed at the contem- plation of slavery on the other hand, in connection with its probable results upon the national welfare. Our calam- ity is but the fulfillment of their proph- ecies. They well knew the nature of the evil we have to deal with. It is matter of astonishment to most minds that slaveholders should have contemplated the bold venture of sub- ordinating the Democratic principle in government. It will be less astonish- ing, however, when it is duly considered that it is utterly impossible for Democ- racy and Slavery to abide long together. The one or the other must ere long have been prostrated under the laws of popu- lation, and it is not very likely that the twenty-seven millions and their increase would consent to be subordinated to the policy of three hundred and fifty thou- sand slaveholders. Slavery must exist as the ruling political power, or it can not long exist at all. This the slave- holders well knew; hence the necessity of fortifying itself through some political arrangement against the Democratic power of the masses. The South - Carolina platform for a new government had close resemblance to the ancient Roman a patrician or- der of nobility, founded on the interest- ed motive to uphold slavery; but allow- ing plebeian representation, to some ex- tent, to the non - slaveholding classes. Others in the South had preference for constitutional monarchy, with a class of privileged legislators, and House of Commons, composing a government of checks and balances, analogous to the English government. Whatever the plan adopted, the leading idea was to institute a government that should be impervious, through one branch, to the future influence of the non-slaveholding majority. It is difficult to make entirely clear the ambitious motives and mixed appre- hensions that have combined to precipi- tate the Southern slaveholders into re- bellion. The defectiveness of the edu- cational system of the South, and the known responsibility of slaveholders for such defect and its consequences; the defect in the industrial policy, and the responsibility of slavery itself for the depressing consequences to the non- slaveholding population, were fearful charges. A knowledge that the causes of depression must soon be brought to the examination of Southern masses, in contrast with a better state of things in the North, filled the minds of slavehold- ers with jealous and fearful apprehen- sions toward the non-slaveholding popu- lation. They knew that its interests were identified with the Northern edu- cational and industrial policy. They appreciated fully that,through these in- terests, free labor in the South had every motive to affinity with the North, edu- cationally, politically, and industrially. They were astute in the discovery that under the operation of the Democratic principle, free discussion, and fair play of reason, the pro-slavery prestige must soon go down in the South before the greater numerical force of Southern masses. It was, therefore, not only necessary, as supposed, to overturn the power of the masses in the South, but also to make them the instruments of Slavery and Nobility V8. Democracy. their own overthrow as to political power. The measurable acquiescence of the non-slaveholding population was indis- pensable to the revolutionary project. Without it, there was but little numeri- cal force. It was, therefore, of entire consequence to make this population hate the North to hate the National Government, and to train it for the pur- poses of rebellion. The press was sub- orned wherever it could be. The pulpit manifested equal alacrity, in order to keep pace with the workings of the virus of treason. Leading men, assum- ing to be statesmen and political econo- mists, taxed their ingenuity in the in- vention of falsehood. The effort of the press and politicians was directed to misrepresenting and disparaging the condition of free labor in the North; whilst the Southern pulpit was religious- ly engaged in establishing the divinity of shivery. It would require a volume to delineate the arts and hypocrisy re- sorted to, and the false reasoning em- ployed, to impose upon the masses of white labor South, and to make them con- tented with their disparaged condition. It is needless to say, the work of impo- sition was too effectually accomplished. It must be confessed that too much of the non-slaveholding population had been induced to follow the political lagos of the South, and thus to assist the first act in the plan for its own subversion separation from the North. The next step in the plan of subversion, the abrogation of a government of major- ities, was carefully kept from the public view. The inquiry naturally arises, as to how or why this design for the arrange- ment of political power in the Southern Confederacy has been confined within such narrow degrees of disclosure. The answer is plain. A bold proposi- tion to change the principles of their govi~rnment would have alarmed the people of the South into an intensified opposition. The politicians of South~ Carolina, more open and frank in the exposition of their views than other VOL. H. leaders in the South, have been obliged to submit the control of their discretion to the more crafty and subtle influences of other States. Policy required that the contemplated new form of govern- ment should be confined to the know- ledge of the leading spirits only. It would not bear the hazards of submis sion to the people as a basis of revolu- tion. Its success depended upon secresy and coupling the adoption of the plan with a sudden denouement after revolu- tion. Any one conversant with the pages of De Bows Review for the last ten years, and who has watched the drift of argument in reviling the masses, and contemning their connection with government; and accustomed also to the accidental droppings from seces- sionists in their cups, has had little difficulty in determining the ultimatum in the designs of treason. He will have become convinced that it is nothing less than a warfare against the continuation of Democratic government in the South that this warfare is stimulated by the fixed belief that a government of major- ities must be superseded, in order to perpetuate the institution of slavery. Were argument wanting to force this conclusion on the mind, it would be supplied in the established affinity be- tween the emissaries of secession in Eu- rope and the virulent haters of Demo- cratic government there found. The liberalists of England and elsewhere have been sedulously avoided; not so those who would connive to bring De- mocratic government into disrepute. With these last-mentioned classes, the secessionists have met with a ready sympathy and encouragement, almost as much so, as if treason in America in- volved directly the stability of privileged power on that continent. The Tories of England, the Legitimists of France, the nauseous ingredients of the House of Hapsburg, the degenerate nobility of Spain, and from that down to the Ger- man Prince of a five-acre patch, have been the congenial allies of secession emissaries in Europe. It mattered not to these haters of enfranchised masses 98 Slavery and No6iUty ye. Democracy. how much misery might be inflicted on the American people. They cared little for the anguish of mind that was being every where felt by the supporters of liberalized opinions. They rejoiced at the supposed calamities of that govern- ment whose beneficent policy had al- ways been to keep the peace, to avoid the necessity of standing armies, to foster industry and education, and in addition thereto, to encourage the de- pressed of Europe to come and accept homes and hospitable treatment on the soil of the country. These revilers of Democracy in Europe were long advised with, were consulted beforehand, and knew the plottings of the pro-slavery spirit, in its preparation for rebellion. They were indifferent as to the charac- ter or hateful deformity of the agency to be employed, provided it could be made instrumental in breaking the juris- diction of a government, heretofore more esteemed by the enlightened liberalists of the world than any other that ever existed. Neither the secessionists nor their co-plotters in Europe required se- ducing or proselyting. They stood on the same level of affinity, the moment the secessionists proposed the overthrow of the Democratic principle. This was the promise, the condition precedent, and this the basis of alliance between the plotters of treason in free America and their co~djutors abroad. It would be both shallow and useless to charge the origin of sympathy with rebellion projects, expressed by political circles in Europe, to the mercenary motives of commerce, trade, or manufactures. Those were standing on a broad founda- tion of contented reciprocity, and were the first to dread the tumult that could not fail to prove prejudicial. We shall hunt in vain to find the motive for Euro- pean sympathy in rebellion, elsewhere than in hatred of Democracy. We shall also search in vain to find the motive for the wide-spread sympathy expressed by the liberalists of Europe in the Union cause, elsewhere than in their attach- ment to liberalized institutions. Having glanced at the compound mo tive for establishing the Southern Con- federacy, that is, slavery perpetuation through prostration of the Democratic principle, it may not be amiss to refer to the contemplated management of its politico-economic interests. These were to be built up, of course; but not through a system of diversified indus- try; for free trade, as is well known, would have the effect to prostrate what little manufacturing had been eom- menced in the South, and afford a per- petual bar to the success of future un- dertakings. It was believed that the foul elements North and South, and the illicit traders of the world beside, could be brought together in the business of free trade and smuggling. The immense frontier would render it impossible for the Northern States to protect them- selves to much extent from illicit trade, through any preventive service possible to be adopted. The Mexican frontier would be entirely helpless. Thus rea- soned Secesh. This was to have been the basis of competition with Northern mechanism. The reasonings of the con- spirators were consistent with the merits and morals of the conspiracy. They calculated upon the active cooperation of the mercenary in the North, and ac- tually believed that the temptation to gain would prove predominant over any effbrts the Northern Government could make to protect its revenue policy. They boldly ventured upon the assump- tion that the influences of illicit traffic would soon become too strong to be re- sisted, and that in this manner, in con- junction with the agency of King Cot- ton, the commerce of the North would be transferred to the South. Another item in Southern political economy was the project of re6pening the African slave-trade. The leaders of the secession programme had made this a prominent feature in starting the re- bellion into growth. The various phases which this branch of the question after- ward underwent, was owing to the op- position of the Border States. So much were the people of the Border States averse to being brought into competition Slavery and Nobility V8. Democracy. 99 with slave-breeding in Dahomey, that the original conspirators were obliged to forego, for a time at least, this incident in the motives of the earlier revolution- ists. A government founded on the su- premacy of a class, and that class to be composed of slaveholders; a political economy founded on slave labor, free trade, illicit trade, and African kidnap- ping, were associations that would re- quire great strength and influence to sustain them. The strongest military organization was therefore contemplated. In this, much employment could be given to the non-slaveholding masses, while military qualities of supposed su- periority would enable the Southern Confederacy to enter into a successful contest with the North for empire. The potency of King Cotton was to be made the powerful agency with which the rest of the civilized world was to be dragooned into acquiescence. On this delusive dream was built the fabric of that mighty empire, whose history, from its origin to its subversion, is nearly ready to be written. It must be acknowledged that the leading influences of the rebellion were as sharp-sighted as political vice, or po- litical immorality is ever capable of be- coming. Like all other vice, however, itbased its reasonings and supposititious strength exclusively on its powers of deception, in conjunction with the in- iquitous aptitudes of itself and its co- adjutors. It found co-plotters in Mozart Hall, in the stockholders of the African Slave-trade Association, scattered from Maine to Texas, and in its suborned press in New-York, Baltimore, Charles- ton and New-Orleans. It had bargain- ed with the politically vitiated portion of the Northern Democracy for assist- ance, and had received a wicked though fallacious assurance from the Northern kidnappers, to the effect, that the Democracy of the North would neu- tralize any attempt to oppose secession by force. They had arranged for their diplomatic influence on the other side of the Atlantic, and bargained for the subversion of Democracy in the South. It planned beforehand for arming trea- son and disarming the Unionf and most adroitly were its plans in this respect carried into effect. It had gained over to its side most of the Southern material in the little army and navy of the coun- try, and prepared it for perfidy, in com- mitting devastation or theft on the pub- lic property. Thus allied and thus equipped, in the confidence of its per- nicious strength, it commenced its war- fare on society. How much injury can we inflict upon the North? How much of the debts owing to Northern citizens can we con- fiscate? How much property in the South owned by Northern men can we appropriate? how much can we make Northern commerce suffer by depression of business, privateering, or otherwise? To what extent can we paralyze North- ern mechanical industry, subvert North- ern trade, and lay it under disabilities? How much can we distress the laboring classes in England, in France, in other countries in Europe, whereby we may compel them to clamor for the interven- tion of their respective governments against the North, and against its at- tempts to uphold the Union? The whole reasoning of the conspirators was based on the supposed power, coupled with the intent and effort to inflict wide- spread and common injury. The scheme and all its contemplated and attempted incidents of management were such as the pro-slavery spirit in politics only could engender. It required many years of gradual de- velopment, in connection with the ulti- mate culmination of treason, to shake the confidence of the North in the dis- position of the people of the South. There was, and could be, no possible intelligent motive for the masses of the South to change their form of govern- ment, or to enter into rebellion against it. The arguments of the plotters of treason against a government of ma- jorities the doctrine of State rights, with the right to secede at the option of a Statethe quadsi repudiation of the 100 Slavery and Nobility vs. Democracy. white trash, so called, as an element of political equality, were regarded as the ebullitions of a politically vitiated class who would be willing to overthrow the National Government, but who were supposed to be too few in numbers to taint with poisonous fatality the politi- cal mind of the South. It is not estab- lished as yet that the Southern political mind in the main has become depraved. It is, however, established, that the leading political influences South have cajoled and terrorized the bulk of the Southern population into apparent ac- quiescence in treason. It yet remains to be seen what disposition will be dis- closed by the Southern people, as soon as protection is guaranteed to them against the tyranny and usurpations of the rebel influence. It is prophesied that there will be found a heart in the bulk of the Southern population; that it will still cling with affection and pride to that government which was their guar- antee, and which no power now on earth is competent to shake. It is not against the deluded, the timid, or the helpless of the South that we would make the indictment for political crime. It is the perfidious pro-slavery spirit in politics that we seek to arraign. The analysis of developed motives in which the slaveholders rebellion had its origin, must naturally excite the inquiry in the American mind, as to how far the slaveholding element can be trusted. Asia political force, we find it sowing the seeds of political discontent. As an anti-democratic element, we find it plot- ting the overthrow of democratic gov- ernment. In its efforts to denationalize republican government in America, it has not scrupled to seek aid from, and alliance with, the haters of republican institutions every where. Under such calamitous teachings as it has inflicted, can we longer conclude that it can, from its aptitudes and nature, be converted into an element of national strength? There is a South, and a great South, and would continue to be, were there not a negro or slaveholder sojourning there. The seven millions non - slaveholding population in the Southern States have rights, social and political, based on the motive to maintain republican govern- ment. The Constitution of the Union, as the highest principle of fundamental law, guarantees in express terms, to ev- ery State, the form of a republican gov- ernment; and not less by implication, the essential qualities of an actual one. It matters not how much the non-slave- holding population of the South may have been deluded, nor how much it may have been incited, under that delu- sion, to act as the instrument of its own overthrow. This population is not less the object of just political solicitude than any equal number of people North. That its general education has not been advanced to the appreciative point, is its misfortune. That it has been surround- ed by a pro-slavery influence, selfish, arrogant, and contemptuous of the in- terest of the masses, is equally so. That it has been less favored than its brother- hood of free labor in the Norththat it has been placed under disabilities in the comparison, are only additional reasons for increased solicitude for the welfare and future advancement of this portion of Southern population. WhUe it has been imposed upon, and much of it de- luded in its motives to action, its actual condition is in reality coupled with every natural incentive to alliance and adhe- sion to the National Government. It has drunk the bitter cup of calamity in rebellion. It has tasted the dregs of treason that lie at the bottom of politi- cal vice, and been victimized by desti- tution, by the diseases of camp-life, by the casualties of the battle-field, and by the widowhood and orphanage that have followed the train of rebellion. This population is a natural element of na- tional strength, having the same incen- tives as its brotherhood in the North. Arms will soon remove the blockade to its intercourse with the North, and civil liberty once established, will most likely secure it to the side of national patriot- ism. There is a question of equal magni- tude respecting the colored population, Slavery and Nobility vs. Democracy. not only of the South, but of the whole country. It is involved in the inquiry: Can the colored population be converted into an element of national strength? Physiologically and mentally, the native negro race stands as the middle-man in the five races the Caucasian and Ma- lay being above, and the American abo- rigines and the Alforian below. The mixture of blood with the Caucasian in America, places the negro element of the United States at least upon a level with the Malay race in natural powers, and from association, much the superior in practical intelligence. Notwithstand- ing the crushing laws designed by slave- holders to perpetuate the ignorance and helplessness of the negro, he qoould im- prove. Notwithstanding the brutal and studied policy of slaveholders to slander and disparage the negro capacity for im- provement, all the arts of lying hypoc- risy have occasionally been set at naught by some convincing exhibition of truth, springing from a fair experiment on the colored mans susceptibilities. The white mans dishonoring inclination to strike the helpless made helpless by brutal laws has occasionally recoiled in an exposure of the atrocious practice. The late attempt to introduce a bill into the South-Carolina Legislature, provid- ing for the sale of the free negroes of the State into slavery, led to a disclos- ure worthy of contemplation. The Com- mittee to whom the bill was referred stated that Apart from the consideration that many of the class were good citizens, patterns of industry, sobriety, and irreproachable con- duct, there were difficulties of a practical character in the way of those who advocated the bill. The free colored population of Charleston alone pay taxes on $1,561,870 worth of property; and the aggregate taxes reach $27,209.18. What will become of the one and a half millions of property which belongs to them in Charleston alone, to say nothing of their property elsewhere in the State? Can it enter into the mind of any Carolina Legislature to confiscate this prop- erty, and put it in the Treasury? We for- bear to consider any thing so full of injust- ice and wickedness. While We are battling for our rights, liberties, and institutions. can we expect the smiles and countenance of the Arbiter of all events, when we make war on the impotent and unprotected, enslavo them against all justice, end rob them of the property acquired by their own honest toil and industry, under your former protection and sense of justice? * This slight exhibition in the Carolina Legislature presents an epitome of the whole argument of cultivated brutality on the one hand, and of humane sense and rationality on the other. What were the protection and sense of justice here spoken of; and what the sequences flowing from such protection and just- ice? The whole question is answered in three words: Improvement, following encouragement. What was the rob- b~ery proposed by the bill, other than the concomitants of slavery, that have robbed the colored man from generation to generation, not only of his toil, but of every practical motive TO BE A MAN? It would be needless, however, to dis- cuss the question of the colored mans capacity to improve, were it not for con- siderations that now make it necessary, under national calamity, to take it into truthful account. The white mans cul- tivation of barbarity under the teachings of slaveholders has hitherto proved an overmatch for the colored mans claims in the abstract. Things and conditions are now changed. The slaveholders rc- bellion has softened the obduracy of manufactured prejudice, and necessity has become allied with humanity. The pro-slavery spirit in politics is now dis- covered to be little short of a demon a snakes egg that hatches treason. The American mind is nearly forced to the conclusion, that as long as colored wo- men are compelled to breed slaves, their white mistresses will continue to breed rebels. Slavery, of course, must yield to the necessity of national security. A * The free colored population of charleston in 1860, did not vary materially from four thousand. The assessed value of their property would give to each $390. Each family of six persons would pos- sess, accerding to this estimate, $2840. This would be a full average of wealth to the free population of the United States the amount varying in the dif- ferent States from $2200 to $2500 to each family of six persons. :1.01 102 remnant may exist for a while, and lin- ger throubh modifications of a broken and hopeless pro-slavery prestige, the duration depending entirely upon the disposition of slaveholders to become subordinated to law. Perpetuation, however, has become a word that has no meaning in connection with the du- ration of slavery. The word in that sense has bccome obsolete; and what shall become of the colored man, and how shall he be treated, is, and is to be, the sequence of the conspiracy to overthrow the jurisdiction of the Government. It being established that the pro-slavery spirit, by nature, is the antagonist of the democratic principle the antago- nist of the interests of the masses, the hot-bed for the cultivation of brutality, devoid of fidelity, and a rebel by prac- tice, it has become an intolerable ele- ment of national weakness. We can not avoid the inquiry, now to be made on the basis of humanity: Can the col- ored man, by proper and just encour- agement, be converted into an element of patriotism and national strength? What is the solution of the riddle as it respects the strength of democratic gov- ernment? It has heretofore been said by the revilers of the masses in Ameri- ca, that for two hundred years the scum, the crime, and poverty of Europe have been cast upon the shores of the Atlan- tic. It is immaterial to the question of humanity, whether such has been the seed from which a new nation has been raised up in the wilderness. A few months since, Democracy on its trial, was the favorite theme of democracy-hat- ers in Europe. The indictment against our free institutions was freighted with fearful charges. The government of the Union was a delusive Utopia. The people of the North had degenerated into a mob. Society was drifting into the maelstrom of anarchy, and law and order becoming extinct. A little time, and an apparently unwarlike people had changed into an astonishing organiza- tion, disciplined for warfare. Seven hun- dred thousand bayonets, as if by en- chantment, bristled in menace to the Slavery and Nobility vs. Democracy. slaveholders rebellion. The navy-yards and arsenals resounded with the clang of hammers, and soon the suddenly cre- ated armaments appeared on the waters. Power in finance exhibited by the Gov- ernment, based on the confidence and patriotism of the people, was no less astonishing. New inventions of warfare changed the scoffings in Europe into alarm for their own security. The trans-Atlantic revilers of republicanism in America have discovered a people who had a heart in them. Patriotism in America is reiissured of success by thc exhibition of a deep-seated attachment on the part of the Northman to his Gov- ernment. Seven words suffice to solve the riddle of free democratic strength THE MASSES CONVERTED INTO BEINGS OF powz~. This is the theory, the basis, the strength of free institutions in Amer- ica. They have no other foundation. They have nothing else to rely on for enduring support. Let the Southern rebel attempt to dis- guise it as he may, the colored man of the South is already a patriot on the side of the Union. He has heard of a people in the North who believed that every human being, by nature, was en- titled to life, li6erty, and the pursuit of happiness. He knows that his op- pressor hates this people of the North, and for the sole reason that they enter- tain this generous sentiment. While the Pharisaic theplogian of the Southern pulpit is expounding his Bible-doctrine in justification of kidnapping, and ap- pealing to Heaven for assistance, the colored man turns in disgust at the ha- piety, and turns into secret places to beseech Omnipotence to favor the suc- cess of the national arms. Perhaps there is an interfering Providence al- ready manifest in results. If the plagues of Egypt had been visited on the rebel- lious States by an overruling Power, they would scarcely have afforded a parallel to the calamity which rebel slaveholders have inflicted on their country. They have exhausted and destroyed much of what the long toil of the colored man South had assisted to raise up. Pevas Slavery and Jlobikty vs. Democracy. 103 tation has followed the train of rebellion. The blood of the first and of the sec- ond-born has been the sacrifice on the altar of slavery. The brutal ruffianism of the pro-slavery spirit has far enough disclosed its natural aptitudes to have become disgustingly odious in compari- son with the positively better character- istics of the colored man. The rebel himself has taught a lesson to the world, which he can never unteach. The twen- ty-seven millions of free labor in the Union have learned a lesson through the teachings of slaveholders in rebellion, which they can not forget. This teach- ing is nothing less than that the colored man is capable, by protection and en- couragement, of being converted into a better element of national strength and national prosperity than slaveholders, as suc1~, would ever become. Could any contemplative mind doubt for a moment the ability of the white population of the Union, if justly dis- posed, to raise the colored population of the country, in a short time, to the plat- form of a decent respectability? With unjust prejudice laid aside, and the work of beneficence acquiesced in, no one could reasonably doubt it. Who de- serves best at the hands of the nations power, the oppressor or the oppressed? The one that grasps at the throat of the nation and attempts its overthrow merely to perpetuate his power of oppression, or the other who is crying to humanity for protection? The voice of nature, if undefiled, will answer this question on the side of humanityif not, NECESSITY WILL. The democratic theory which seeks to absolve humanity from oppression, is not confined to the resistance of a single despot. It goes in the same degree to a privileged class that arrogates to itself the right to oppress; nor does it stop at the half-way house of mere negative pro- tection. It allows in its onward course the full fruition of EQUALITY BEFORE THE LAW. In theory, the law is the sove- reign, and we seek to attach such quali- ties to that sovereign as are compatible with the general good of society. That theory places no man above the law, nor any man below its protection. As soon as the individual in society is raised to the point of negative protection, he is in a measure converted into a being of power. He can then appeal to his sove- reign, THE LAW, for the vindication of his rights. Experience is continually demonstrating that men are respected in proportion to their power to command respect. The very existence of slavery requires and demands the brutalization of the governing power that upholds it. Were society absolved from this tyran- ny, matters would begin to mend. Equal- ized protection would be the consequence. Protection, not only to the colored man, but protection in an almost equal degree to the non-slaveholding white population, hitherto brought under the ban of disa- bility by a depressing pro-slavery policy. Until recently, when the colored race in the United States was spoken of in connection with the subject of its re- lease from oppression, it was subjected to the same arguments that kept the white men in slavery in olden times. The arguments of slaveholders were never truthful, and only convenient for them- selves. They damaged the slave; they damaged every collateral interest; they damaged the strength of nationality; and more than all, they damaged every humane principle of civilization. The whole reasoning in favor of slaveholding has been a vicious fallacy; and perhaps the time has come, attended by sufficient calamity, to set the American population to thinking and acting in the right direc- tion. The colored people South are better fitted for freedom than is commonly im- agined. They are quite well skilled in practical industry, more especially in agricultural pursuits. There are many of them qualified in skilled labor in the coarser mechanic arts. The whole of this population has been trained to dili- gent labor, under habits of continuous toil. It has acquired patience in per- forming labor, by the discipline which unremitting labor gives. The colored man South has not been brought up in 104 Slavery and Nobility v~. Democracy. idleness, or with habits calculated to make him a renegade. Were he per- mitted to enjoy the fruits of his indus- try, there can be no doubt of his dis- position and patience to toil on. In case his rebel master would not hire him for wages, there would be enough amongst the non-slaveholding population who would. Production in the South, under emancipation of the slaves of rebel masters, would not materially fall offi Give to colored men the fruits of their industry, and many of them would soon set up for themselves. Perhaps in connection with the soil of the South, that yields most abundantly in annual value of product, the rest of the color- ed population would soon get to emulate the free colored people of Charleston. The law of subsistence would as much compel the South to go on without com- pulsory labor as it does the North, and there are just as many reasons for it in one section as in the other; that is, just none at all. Under emancipation, there is little doubt that actual production could and would soon be put on the in- crease, with better distribution of wealth, more widely diffused comforts, and a broader and better public policy. The only things that would be curtailed in their proportions would be slave-breed- ing, rebel-breeding, and ruffian cultiva- tion. It may, perhaps, continue to be easier for a time to strike the colored man than to strike off his shackles. There is a mean and low side of humanity, a sort of defiled infirmity, that runs into a dis- position to strike the helpless. This is the bravery of ruffianism. There is apt to be a shrinking away from duty, when the contest involves a conflict with arro- gant power. This is the cowardice of pusillanimity. The American citizen has been noted for his superior bravery. He has certainly shown himself brave in the battle-field, and more brave and determined than any other nation in the vindication and maintenance of the na- tural rights of the white man; but he is not done with the business of disen- thrallment. His language is the lan- guage of liberty. It must not, it will not long continue to be spoken by slaves. This was the meaning of Jefferson, when he penned the text-words of disenthrall- ment: All men are created equal, en- dowed by their Creator with certain in- alienable rights, among which are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.~ Where is to be fbund the evidence that these rights have been forfeited? Who dare deny the right of the colored man morally, religiously, or politically, to assert them? It is true, we have hither- to acted in defiance of these acknow- ledged rights. We have outraged them. We have waged a shameful and shame- less warfare against them. The sequen- ces of that warfare are now upon us. The sin is now being atoned for in blood. It has not yet been ordained that the principles of injustice should have permanent duration. If not re- strained by humane rationality; they will culminate in convulsion. The light is now breaking upon the heretofore obscured vision of the American people. We can now begin to see with clear- ness that the colored mans disenthrall- ment is to become the white mans future security. This would almost seem to be the harmony of divine justice in the affairs of men. No substantial amelioration in the depressed condition of race or class has yet been brought about in disconnection with the powerful agency of such race or class. Human nature forbids it. The selfish tenacity of advantage, rest- ing on what is misnamed vested rights, but having its foundation in vested wrongs, yields only on compulsion. It is only when the depressed race or class, acting in somewhat intelligent concert, exhibits the disposition to aid in the purposes of protection, that the mercen- ary power succumbs to necessity. His- tory furnishes no examples to the con- trary. It may not be impossible that our own times may make history to corroborate the truth of these premises. When it is asserted that the colored man is wanting in bravery, and is not endowed with the natural courage to Watching the Stag. 105 assert and maintain his rights, we are apt to forget that physical bravery is a thing of cultivation: There is not the least evidence that, with military dis- cipline and something to fight for, the colored population of the United States would not prove as brave as the black regiment of the Revolution. With such bravery as that regiment exhibited, the four millions and their prospective in- crease would require a gigantic fbrce~ to make profitable slaves of them. Again, there is something beyond the protec- tion from domestic violence that de- mands consideration, in connection with the military discipline of the colored man. We may reasonably expect that a large colonization in some quarter will soon take place, and be carried forward. Education and military discipline, in addition to knowledge in practical in- dustry, are necessary concomitants to successful colonization. With these qualities, the colored man will cease to feel helpless, and be fitted for enterprise. He will have the confidence to go for- ward, and the aspirations to impel him. It may be the lot of the colored man to encounter in some foreign land powers and influences quite as barbarous as those he has hitherto encountered in the white mans prejudices. If he is armed for the encounter, he will have little inclination to shrink from it. Every humane consideration clusters to the policy of disenthralling the colored man, and of making him a being of power. Nothing can oppose it but the pro-slavery spirit that seeks to enslave the American mind to barbarism and the colored millions and their increase to perpetual bondage. WATCHING THE STAG. [iz UNFINISHED POEM, HY FITZ-JAMES OBRIEN.] HELA and I lie watching here, Above us the sky and below the mere. long Through distant gorges the bluo moors loom Till the heath looks blue in the endless gloom. The eagle screams from the misty cliff With a quivering lamb in his taloned gruff. And the echoes leap over hill and hollow, As the old stag bells to the herd to follow. The purpled heather is wet with mist, Till it shInes like a drown~d amethyst, And the old, old rocks with furrowed faces Start up like ghosts in the lonely places. With forefeet crossed, stanch Hela lies Watching my face through her half-closed eyes, jjcLwzen ;~, ztrcz~-cc1 deer While l~illow my head on the stiffening stag..

Watching the Stag. 105 assert and maintain his rights, we are apt to forget that physical bravery is a thing of cultivation: There is not the least evidence that, with military dis- cipline and something to fight for, the colored population of the United States would not prove as brave as the black regiment of the Revolution. With such bravery as that regiment exhibited, the four millions and their prospective in- crease would require a gigantic fbrce~ to make profitable slaves of them. Again, there is something beyond the protec- tion from domestic violence that de- mands consideration, in connection with the military discipline of the colored man. We may reasonably expect that a large colonization in some quarter will soon take place, and be carried forward. Education and military discipline, in addition to knowledge in practical in- dustry, are necessary concomitants to successful colonization. With these qualities, the colored man will cease to feel helpless, and be fitted for enterprise. He will have the confidence to go for- ward, and the aspirations to impel him. It may be the lot of the colored man to encounter in some foreign land powers and influences quite as barbarous as those he has hitherto encountered in the white mans prejudices. If he is armed for the encounter, he will have little inclination to shrink from it. Every humane consideration clusters to the policy of disenthralling the colored man, and of making him a being of power. Nothing can oppose it but the pro-slavery spirit that seeks to enslave the American mind to barbarism and the colored millions and their increase to perpetual bondage. WATCHING THE STAG. [iz UNFINISHED POEM, HY FITZ-JAMES OBRIEN.] HELA and I lie watching here, Above us the sky and below the mere. long Through distant gorges the bluo moors loom Till the heath looks blue in the endless gloom. The eagle screams from the misty cliff With a quivering lamb in his taloned gruff. And the echoes leap over hill and hollow, As the old stag bells to the herd to follow. The purpled heather is wet with mist, Till it shInes like a drown~d amethyst, And the old, old rocks with furrowed faces Start up like ghosts in the lonely places. With forefeet crossed, stanch Hela lies Watching my face through her half-closed eyes, jjcLwzen ;~, ztrcz~-cc1 deer While l~illow my head on the stiffening stag.. LITERARY NOTICES. BAYARD TAYLORS PROSE WRITINGS. Vol. V. A Journey to Central Africa, with a Map and Illustrations by the Author. New- York: G. P. Putnam. Boston: A. K. Lo- ring. Tins work deservedly ranks as among the best, if not the best, by Bayard Tay- lor. The East, as we feel in his poems, was full of the scenes of his widely varied travels, that which most aroused his sym- pathy and stirred his artistic creative powers, and it is of the East that he speaks most freely and brilliantly. It was in Central Africa that he encoun- tered his most thrilling adventures, and forgot, as we can there only do, the civil- ization of the Western World. Some- thing we would say of the beautiful typography and paper of this series. If the term mise en sc~ne were as applic- able to books as to dramas, it might be truely said of Mr. Putnams that they appear as well between boards as other works do upon them. EL DORADO. PROSE WRITINGS OF BAVARD TAYLOR. Vol. IV. New-York: G. P. Put- nam. Boston: A. K. Loring. 1862. POSSIBLY some twenty years hence El Dorado will be regarded as by far the bestof Bayard Taylors works certain it is that in it he is among the pioneer describers of a land the early accounts of which will be carefully investigated and duly honored. In picturing lands, where others have been noting and sketching before, he is strong indeed who is not driven into mannerism; but in fresh fields and pastures new there is less danger of seeing through thrice-used spectacles. It is this consciousness of being the first that ever burst into their silent seas that made Herodotus and Tn- dela and Rubriquis and Mandeville so fresh and vigorous and there ~is much of the same peculiar inspiration due to first-ness perceptible in this Volume, which we cordially commend to all who would be California-learned or simply entertained. Somewhat we must say however of the fine paper, exquisite typo- graphy, and two neat steel engraYings with which this Caxton edition is made beautiful and most suitable either for a ladys ~tagere-book-shelf or the most elegant library. LEs MISERABLES. I. FANTINE. By VICTOR HUGO. Translated by CHARLES E. WIL- BOUR. New-York: Carleton. Boston: Crosby and Nichols. 1862. A NOVEL written twenty-five years ago by Victor Hugo is a curiosity. The pres- ent was kept in reserve because the sordid publisher, who had a contract for all of Hugos works, would not give the sum den~andedthe author kept raising his priceit was like Nero and the Sybil, or the converse of the conduct of the damsel who annually reduced her terms to Martial: Millia viginti quondam me Galla poposcit; Annus abit: bis quina dabis sestertia? dixit. Finally the publisher died, the work was printed, and its first section now appears in Fantine a capital picture of life, manners, customs, in fact of al- most every thing in France in 181Z. It deals with much suffering, many sorrows, as its title indicates for it is easier to make sensations out of pains than pleas- ures, and M. Hugo is preeminently and proverbially sensationaL Still it is deeply interesting, extremely well man- aged in all art-details, and above all things, is extremely humane as a book by Victor Hugo could hardly fail to be. And as every page bears the impress of a certain characteristic originality of thought and of observation, we may safely predict that Fantine will deserv- edly prove a success. We like the man-

LITERARY NOTICES. BAYARD TAYLORS PROSE WRITINGS. Vol. V. A Journey to Central Africa, with a Map and Illustrations by the Author. New- York: G. P. Putnam. Boston: A. K. Lo- ring. Tins work deservedly ranks as among the best, if not the best, by Bayard Tay- lor. The East, as we feel in his poems, was full of the scenes of his widely varied travels, that which most aroused his sym- pathy and stirred his artistic creative powers, and it is of the East that he speaks most freely and brilliantly. It was in Central Africa that he encoun- tered his most thrilling adventures, and forgot, as we can there only do, the civil- ization of the Western World. Some- thing we would say of the beautiful typography and paper of this series. If the term mise en sc~ne were as applic- able to books as to dramas, it might be truely said of Mr. Putnams that they appear as well between boards as other works do upon them. EL DORADO. PROSE WRITINGS OF BAVARD TAYLOR. Vol. IV. New-York: G. P. Put- nam. Boston: A. K. Loring. 1862. POSSIBLY some twenty years hence El Dorado will be regarded as by far the bestof Bayard Taylors works certain it is that in it he is among the pioneer describers of a land the early accounts of which will be carefully investigated and duly honored. In picturing lands, where others have been noting and sketching before, he is strong indeed who is not driven into mannerism; but in fresh fields and pastures new there is less danger of seeing through thrice-used spectacles. It is this consciousness of being the first that ever burst into their silent seas that made Herodotus and Tn- dela and Rubriquis and Mandeville so fresh and vigorous and there ~is much of the same peculiar inspiration due to first-ness perceptible in this Volume, which we cordially commend to all who would be California-learned or simply entertained. Somewhat we must say however of the fine paper, exquisite typo- graphy, and two neat steel engraYings with which this Caxton edition is made beautiful and most suitable either for a ladys ~tagere-book-shelf or the most elegant library. LEs MISERABLES. I. FANTINE. By VICTOR HUGO. Translated by CHARLES E. WIL- BOUR. New-York: Carleton. Boston: Crosby and Nichols. 1862. A NOVEL written twenty-five years ago by Victor Hugo is a curiosity. The pres- ent was kept in reserve because the sordid publisher, who had a contract for all of Hugos works, would not give the sum den~andedthe author kept raising his priceit was like Nero and the Sybil, or the converse of the conduct of the damsel who annually reduced her terms to Martial: Millia viginti quondam me Galla poposcit; Annus abit: bis quina dabis sestertia? dixit. Finally the publisher died, the work was printed, and its first section now appears in Fantine a capital picture of life, manners, customs, in fact of al- most every thing in France in 181Z. It deals with much suffering, many sorrows, as its title indicates for it is easier to make sensations out of pains than pleas- ures, and M. Hugo is preeminently and proverbially sensationaL Still it is deeply interesting, extremely well man- aged in all art-details, and above all things, is extremely humane as a book by Victor Hugo could hardly fail to be. And as every page bears the impress of a certain characteristic originality of thought and of observation, we may safely predict that Fantine will deserv- edly prove a success. We like the man-

LITERARY NOTICES. BAYARD TAYLORS PROSE WRITINGS. Vol. V. A Journey to Central Africa, with a Map and Illustrations by the Author. New- York: G. P. Putnam. Boston: A. K. Lo- ring. Tins work deservedly ranks as among the best, if not the best, by Bayard Tay- lor. The East, as we feel in his poems, was full of the scenes of his widely varied travels, that which most aroused his sym- pathy and stirred his artistic creative powers, and it is of the East that he speaks most freely and brilliantly. It was in Central Africa that he encoun- tered his most thrilling adventures, and forgot, as we can there only do, the civil- ization of the Western World. Some- thing we would say of the beautiful typography and paper of this series. If the term mise en sc~ne were as applic- able to books as to dramas, it might be truely said of Mr. Putnams that they appear as well between boards as other works do upon them. EL DORADO. PROSE WRITINGS OF BAVARD TAYLOR. Vol. IV. New-York: G. P. Put- nam. Boston: A. K. Loring. 1862. POSSIBLY some twenty years hence El Dorado will be regarded as by far the bestof Bayard Taylors works certain it is that in it he is among the pioneer describers of a land the early accounts of which will be carefully investigated and duly honored. In picturing lands, where others have been noting and sketching before, he is strong indeed who is not driven into mannerism; but in fresh fields and pastures new there is less danger of seeing through thrice-used spectacles. It is this consciousness of being the first that ever burst into their silent seas that made Herodotus and Tn- dela and Rubriquis and Mandeville so fresh and vigorous and there ~is much of the same peculiar inspiration due to first-ness perceptible in this Volume, which we cordially commend to all who would be California-learned or simply entertained. Somewhat we must say however of the fine paper, exquisite typo- graphy, and two neat steel engraYings with which this Caxton edition is made beautiful and most suitable either for a ladys ~tagere-book-shelf or the most elegant library. LEs MISERABLES. I. FANTINE. By VICTOR HUGO. Translated by CHARLES E. WIL- BOUR. New-York: Carleton. Boston: Crosby and Nichols. 1862. A NOVEL written twenty-five years ago by Victor Hugo is a curiosity. The pres- ent was kept in reserve because the sordid publisher, who had a contract for all of Hugos works, would not give the sum den~andedthe author kept raising his priceit was like Nero and the Sybil, or the converse of the conduct of the damsel who annually reduced her terms to Martial: Millia viginti quondam me Galla poposcit; Annus abit: bis quina dabis sestertia? dixit. Finally the publisher died, the work was printed, and its first section now appears in Fantine a capital picture of life, manners, customs, in fact of al- most every thing in France in 181Z. It deals with much suffering, many sorrows, as its title indicates for it is easier to make sensations out of pains than pleas- ures, and M. Hugo is preeminently and proverbially sensationaL Still it is deeply interesting, extremely well man- aged in all art-details, and above all things, is extremely humane as a book by Victor Hugo could hardly fail to be. And as every page bears the impress of a certain characteristic originality of thought and of observation, we may safely predict that Fantine will deserv- edly prove a success. We like the man-

LITERARY NOTICES. BAYARD TAYLORS PROSE WRITINGS. Vol. V. A Journey to Central Africa, with a Map and Illustrations by the Author. New- York: G. P. Putnam. Boston: A. K. Lo- ring. Tins work deservedly ranks as among the best, if not the best, by Bayard Tay- lor. The East, as we feel in his poems, was full of the scenes of his widely varied travels, that which most aroused his sym- pathy and stirred his artistic creative powers, and it is of the East that he speaks most freely and brilliantly. It was in Central Africa that he encoun- tered his most thrilling adventures, and forgot, as we can there only do, the civil- ization of the Western World. Some- thing we would say of the beautiful typography and paper of this series. If the term mise en sc~ne were as applic- able to books as to dramas, it might be truely said of Mr. Putnams that they appear as well between boards as other works do upon them. EL DORADO. PROSE WRITINGS OF BAVARD TAYLOR. Vol. IV. New-York: G. P. Put- nam. Boston: A. K. Loring. 1862. POSSIBLY some twenty years hence El Dorado will be regarded as by far the bestof Bayard Taylors works certain it is that in it he is among the pioneer describers of a land the early accounts of which will be carefully investigated and duly honored. In picturing lands, where others have been noting and sketching before, he is strong indeed who is not driven into mannerism; but in fresh fields and pastures new there is less danger of seeing through thrice-used spectacles. It is this consciousness of being the first that ever burst into their silent seas that made Herodotus and Tn- dela and Rubriquis and Mandeville so fresh and vigorous and there ~is much of the same peculiar inspiration due to first-ness perceptible in this Volume, which we cordially commend to all who would be California-learned or simply entertained. Somewhat we must say however of the fine paper, exquisite typo- graphy, and two neat steel engraYings with which this Caxton edition is made beautiful and most suitable either for a ladys ~tagere-book-shelf or the most elegant library. LEs MISERABLES. I. FANTINE. By VICTOR HUGO. Translated by CHARLES E. WIL- BOUR. New-York: Carleton. Boston: Crosby and Nichols. 1862. A NOVEL written twenty-five years ago by Victor Hugo is a curiosity. The pres- ent was kept in reserve because the sordid publisher, who had a contract for all of Hugos works, would not give the sum den~andedthe author kept raising his priceit was like Nero and the Sybil, or the converse of the conduct of the damsel who annually reduced her terms to Martial: Millia viginti quondam me Galla poposcit; Annus abit: bis quina dabis sestertia? dixit. Finally the publisher died, the work was printed, and its first section now appears in Fantine a capital picture of life, manners, customs, in fact of al- most every thing in France in 181Z. It deals with much suffering, many sorrows, as its title indicates for it is easier to make sensations out of pains than pleas- ures, and M. Hugo is preeminently and proverbially sensationaL Still it is deeply interesting, extremely well man- aged in all art-details, and above all things, is extremely humane as a book by Victor Hugo could hardly fail to be. And as every page bears the impress of a certain characteristic originality of thought and of observation, we may safely predict that Fantine will deserv- edly prove a success. We like the man- Literary Notices. ner in which Mr. Wilbour has translated it neither too slavishly nor too freely, but in one word, admirably. ARTEMUS WARD HIS Boox. New - York: Carleton. Boston: N. Williams and Com- pany. 1862. ONCE in five or six years we have a new humorist at one time a Jack Downing, then a Doesticks, then again a Phmnix- Derby. Last on the list we have Ar- temus Ward, as set forth in letters to the Cleveland Plaindealer and Vanity Fair, purporting to come from the pro- prietor of a side-show, as cheaper, or less than twenty-five cent exhibitions, are called in this country. To say that they are excellent, spirited, and racy full of strong idioms of language and character, and abounding in novelties in type which are no novelties to those familiar with popular lifewould be do- ing them faint justice. They embody a new and perfectly truthful conception of one of the multitude, and have nothing that is hackneyed in them. It is a great test of real stuff in a writer when he dashes ofi; or picks up, phrases which are at once taken up by the peo- ple. Artemus Ward has originated many of these, and is perhaps at the present day as much quoted in the broad and long as any man in the coun- try. It is needless to sa~ that all who relish broad eccentric humor will find his Book very well worth reading. We regret that it does not embrace certain other excellent sketches which we know he has written, but trust that these will appear in due time in a second part or in a new edition. The volume before us is very neatly got up, well illustrated, and tastefully bound. LYRICS FOR FREEDOM AND OTHER POEMS. UNDER THE AUSPIcES OF THE CONTINENTAL CLUB. New-York: Carleton, 413 Broad- way. Boston: Crosby and Nichols. AT a regular meeting of the Conti- nental Club, held at their rooms in New- York, it was resolved and carried that a volume of poems written by certain of the younger members be published un- der its auspices. As a noted Democratic sheet, the Boston Courier, has declined to notice the volume on the plea that the name of the society from which it sprung suggested too forcibly the CON- TINENTAL MONTHLY, possibly a favorable mention by us of our young New-York brother-in-literature may seem partial and too en-famille-iar to be fair. Be this as it may, we can not resist the expres- sion of the honest conviction, for which we have many a good indorser, that while it would be a matter of some diffi- culty to compile a better collection of lyrics from the vast number which the war has thus far called forth, its produc- tion by a limited number of a single as- sociation is indeed remarkable. There is the right ring and the true feeling perceptible in all of them; earnest en- thusiasm flowing bravely on the tide of musical words, and a clear conviction of the justice of our cause springing from liberal and progressive political views. It is enough indeed to say of most of the lyrics that they are written from a prin- ciple, and with faith in the necessity of Emancipation, and are not mere war-songs, full of commonplace, as applicable to one cause as another. They are songs of the American war of freedom in 1861, and as such will rank high in our literary history. THE REJECTED STONE OR, INSURRECTION VERSUS RESURRECTION IN AMERICA. By a Native of Virginia. Second Edition. Bos- ton: Walker, Wise and Company. 1862. WE are as gratified at the reiippear- ance of this glorious work as we are as- tonished to learn that it has only reached a second edition. As it is beyond com- parison the most remarkable literary re- sult thus far of the war, as it has made a strong sensation in very varied circles, as it is a book which has given rise to anecdotes, and as its wild eloquence, biRarre humor and intense earnestness, have caused it to be read with a relish even by many who dissent from its poli- tics, we had supposed that ere this its sale had reached at least its tenth edi- tion. Meanwhile we commend it to all, assuring them that as a fearless, out- spoken work, grasping boldly at the ex

Literary Notices. ner in which Mr. Wilbour has translated it neither too slavishly nor too freely, but in one word, admirably. ARTEMUS WARD HIS Boox. New - York: Carleton. Boston: N. Williams and Com- pany. 1862. ONCE in five or six years we have a new humorist at one time a Jack Downing, then a Doesticks, then again a Phmnix- Derby. Last on the list we have Ar- temus Ward, as set forth in letters to the Cleveland Plaindealer and Vanity Fair, purporting to come from the pro- prietor of a side-show, as cheaper, or less than twenty-five cent exhibitions, are called in this country. To say that they are excellent, spirited, and racy full of strong idioms of language and character, and abounding in novelties in type which are no novelties to those familiar with popular lifewould be do- ing them faint justice. They embody a new and perfectly truthful conception of one of the multitude, and have nothing that is hackneyed in them. It is a great test of real stuff in a writer when he dashes ofi; or picks up, phrases which are at once taken up by the peo- ple. Artemus Ward has originated many of these, and is perhaps at the present day as much quoted in the broad and long as any man in the coun- try. It is needless to sa~ that all who relish broad eccentric humor will find his Book very well worth reading. We regret that it does not embrace certain other excellent sketches which we know he has written, but trust that these will appear in due time in a second part or in a new edition. The volume before us is very neatly got up, well illustrated, and tastefully bound. LYRICS FOR FREEDOM AND OTHER POEMS. UNDER THE AUSPIcES OF THE CONTINENTAL CLUB. New-York: Carleton, 413 Broad- way. Boston: Crosby and Nichols. AT a regular meeting of the Conti- nental Club, held at their rooms in New- York, it was resolved and carried that a volume of poems written by certain of the younger members be published un- der its auspices. As a noted Democratic sheet, the Boston Courier, has declined to notice the volume on the plea that the name of the society from which it sprung suggested too forcibly the CON- TINENTAL MONTHLY, possibly a favorable mention by us of our young New-York brother-in-literature may seem partial and too en-famille-iar to be fair. Be this as it may, we can not resist the expres- sion of the honest conviction, for which we have many a good indorser, that while it would be a matter of some diffi- culty to compile a better collection of lyrics from the vast number which the war has thus far called forth, its produc- tion by a limited number of a single as- sociation is indeed remarkable. There is the right ring and the true feeling perceptible in all of them; earnest en- thusiasm flowing bravely on the tide of musical words, and a clear conviction of the justice of our cause springing from liberal and progressive political views. It is enough indeed to say of most of the lyrics that they are written from a prin- ciple, and with faith in the necessity of Emancipation, and are not mere war-songs, full of commonplace, as applicable to one cause as another. They are songs of the American war of freedom in 1861, and as such will rank high in our literary history. THE REJECTED STONE OR, INSURRECTION VERSUS RESURRECTION IN AMERICA. By a Native of Virginia. Second Edition. Bos- ton: Walker, Wise and Company. 1862. WE are as gratified at the reiippear- ance of this glorious work as we are as- tonished to learn that it has only reached a second edition. As it is beyond com- parison the most remarkable literary re- sult thus far of the war, as it has made a strong sensation in very varied circles, as it is a book which has given rise to anecdotes, and as its wild eloquence, biRarre humor and intense earnestness, have caused it to be read with a relish even by many who dissent from its poli- tics, we had supposed that ere this its sale had reached at least its tenth edi- tion. Meanwhile we commend it to all, assuring them that as a fearless, out- spoken work, grasping boldly at the ex

Literary Notices. ner in which Mr. Wilbour has translated it neither too slavishly nor too freely, but in one word, admirably. ARTEMUS WARD HIS Boox. New - York: Carleton. Boston: N. Williams and Com- pany. 1862. ONCE in five or six years we have a new humorist at one time a Jack Downing, then a Doesticks, then again a Phmnix- Derby. Last on the list we have Ar- temus Ward, as set forth in letters to the Cleveland Plaindealer and Vanity Fair, purporting to come from the pro- prietor of a side-show, as cheaper, or less than twenty-five cent exhibitions, are called in this country. To say that they are excellent, spirited, and racy full of strong idioms of language and character, and abounding in novelties in type which are no novelties to those familiar with popular lifewould be do- ing them faint justice. They embody a new and perfectly truthful conception of one of the multitude, and have nothing that is hackneyed in them. It is a great test of real stuff in a writer when he dashes ofi; or picks up, phrases which are at once taken up by the peo- ple. Artemus Ward has originated many of these, and is perhaps at the present day as much quoted in the broad and long as any man in the coun- try. It is needless to sa~ that all who relish broad eccentric humor will find his Book very well worth reading. We regret that it does not embrace certain other excellent sketches which we know he has written, but trust that these will appear in due time in a second part or in a new edition. The volume before us is very neatly got up, well illustrated, and tastefully bound. LYRICS FOR FREEDOM AND OTHER POEMS. UNDER THE AUSPIcES OF THE CONTINENTAL CLUB. New-York: Carleton, 413 Broad- way. Boston: Crosby and Nichols. AT a regular meeting of the Conti- nental Club, held at their rooms in New- York, it was resolved and carried that a volume of poems written by certain of the younger members be published un- der its auspices. As a noted Democratic sheet, the Boston Courier, has declined to notice the volume on the plea that the name of the society from which it sprung suggested too forcibly the CON- TINENTAL MONTHLY, possibly a favorable mention by us of our young New-York brother-in-literature may seem partial and too en-famille-iar to be fair. Be this as it may, we can not resist the expres- sion of the honest conviction, for which we have many a good indorser, that while it would be a matter of some diffi- culty to compile a better collection of lyrics from the vast number which the war has thus far called forth, its produc- tion by a limited number of a single as- sociation is indeed remarkable. There is the right ring and the true feeling perceptible in all of them; earnest en- thusiasm flowing bravely on the tide of musical words, and a clear conviction of the justice of our cause springing from liberal and progressive political views. It is enough indeed to say of most of the lyrics that they are written from a prin- ciple, and with faith in the necessity of Emancipation, and are not mere war-songs, full of commonplace, as applicable to one cause as another. They are songs of the American war of freedom in 1861, and as such will rank high in our literary history. THE REJECTED STONE OR, INSURRECTION VERSUS RESURRECTION IN AMERICA. By a Native of Virginia. Second Edition. Bos- ton: Walker, Wise and Company. 1862. WE are as gratified at the reiippear- ance of this glorious work as we are as- tonished to learn that it has only reached a second edition. As it is beyond com- parison the most remarkable literary re- sult thus far of the war, as it has made a strong sensation in very varied circles, as it is a book which has given rise to anecdotes, and as its wild eloquence, biRarre humor and intense earnestness, have caused it to be read with a relish even by many who dissent from its poli- tics, we had supposed that ere this its sale had reached at least its tenth edi- tion. Meanwhile we commend it to all, assuring them that as a fearless, out- spoken work, grasping boldly at the ex

Literary Notices. ner in which Mr. Wilbour has translated it neither too slavishly nor too freely, but in one word, admirably. ARTEMUS WARD HIS Boox. New - York: Carleton. Boston: N. Williams and Com- pany. 1862. ONCE in five or six years we have a new humorist at one time a Jack Downing, then a Doesticks, then again a Phmnix- Derby. Last on the list we have Ar- temus Ward, as set forth in letters to the Cleveland Plaindealer and Vanity Fair, purporting to come from the pro- prietor of a side-show, as cheaper, or less than twenty-five cent exhibitions, are called in this country. To say that they are excellent, spirited, and racy full of strong idioms of language and character, and abounding in novelties in type which are no novelties to those familiar with popular lifewould be do- ing them faint justice. They embody a new and perfectly truthful conception of one of the multitude, and have nothing that is hackneyed in them. It is a great test of real stuff in a writer when he dashes ofi; or picks up, phrases which are at once taken up by the peo- ple. Artemus Ward has originated many of these, and is perhaps at the present day as much quoted in the broad and long as any man in the coun- try. It is needless to sa~ that all who relish broad eccentric humor will find his Book very well worth reading. We regret that it does not embrace certain other excellent sketches which we know he has written, but trust that these will appear in due time in a second part or in a new edition. The volume before us is very neatly got up, well illustrated, and tastefully bound. LYRICS FOR FREEDOM AND OTHER POEMS. UNDER THE AUSPIcES OF THE CONTINENTAL CLUB. New-York: Carleton, 413 Broad- way. Boston: Crosby and Nichols. AT a regular meeting of the Conti- nental Club, held at their rooms in New- York, it was resolved and carried that a volume of poems written by certain of the younger members be published un- der its auspices. As a noted Democratic sheet, the Boston Courier, has declined to notice the volume on the plea that the name of the society from which it sprung suggested too forcibly the CON- TINENTAL MONTHLY, possibly a favorable mention by us of our young New-York brother-in-literature may seem partial and too en-famille-iar to be fair. Be this as it may, we can not resist the expres- sion of the honest conviction, for which we have many a good indorser, that while it would be a matter of some diffi- culty to compile a better collection of lyrics from the vast number which the war has thus far called forth, its produc- tion by a limited number of a single as- sociation is indeed remarkable. There is the right ring and the true feeling perceptible in all of them; earnest en- thusiasm flowing bravely on the tide of musical words, and a clear conviction of the justice of our cause springing from liberal and progressive political views. It is enough indeed to say of most of the lyrics that they are written from a prin- ciple, and with faith in the necessity of Emancipation, and are not mere war-songs, full of commonplace, as applicable to one cause as another. They are songs of the American war of freedom in 1861, and as such will rank high in our literary history. THE REJECTED STONE OR, INSURRECTION VERSUS RESURRECTION IN AMERICA. By a Native of Virginia. Second Edition. Bos- ton: Walker, Wise and Company. 1862. WE are as gratified at the reiippear- ance of this glorious work as we are as- tonished to learn that it has only reached a second edition. As it is beyond com- parison the most remarkable literary re- sult thus far of the war, as it has made a strong sensation in very varied circles, as it is a book which has given rise to anecdotes, and as its wild eloquence, biRarre humor and intense earnestness, have caused it to be read with a relish even by many who dissent from its poli- tics, we had supposed that ere this its sale had reached at least its tenth edi- tion. Meanwhile we commend it to all, assuring them that as a fearless, out- spoken work, grasping boldly at the ex Literary Notiee8. citing questions of the day, it has not its equal. We should mention that in the present edition we find given the name of its author, the well-known and elo- quent Rev. Moncure D. Conway, former- ly of Virginia, now of Cincinnati. OUR FLAG: A Poem in Four Cantos. By T. H. UNDERWOOD. New-York: Carleton. Boston: N. Williams. 1862. DURING the past year Mr. Underwood has published several poems of remark- able merit, referring to the war. In the present we have a work of higher ambi- tion, and one which is truly well done. In it the horrors of slavery, the iniqui- tous abuses to which it so often gives rise the tortures, vengeances, murders, and fiendish punishments, which in their turn follow the crime are portrayed with striking truthfulness and real pow- er. The author is evidently no Aboli- tionist on hear-say the whole poem gives evidence of practical familiarity with the institution, and the sense of truth has inspired his pen in many passages with wonderful power. The terrible suf- ferings of an almost white man and slave as here portrayed, his revenge and pun- ishment at the stake, are as moving as they are manifestly true to life. We commend this little pamphlet-poem to every friend of freedom, and sincerely trust that it will attain the large circula- tion which it deserves. SKETCHES or THE RISE, PROGRESS, AND DE- CLINE. or SECESSION. With a Narrative of Personal Adventures among the Rebels. By W. G. BROWNLOW, Edit or of the Thox- rule Wk4j. Philadelphia: Geo. W. Childs. 1862. A DECIDED character this Parson Brownlow, and a representative man; truly and bravely American, very West- ern in his traits; a man fond of fierce argument and tough antagonisms, and not fearing the death either by halter or revolver, which he will probably meet some day, for the sake of Jehovah and his own stern convictions. Not exactly a man of salons and elegant ruunions yet full of real courtesies and gifted with the kind heart of a true hater of wicked- ness, which flashes into fury at witness- ing deeds of cruelty and shame. And he has seen many such seen what few have done and lived he has passed through a lifes warfare with men of his own grim obstinacy without his own honesty and stern Puritan-like morality. We have followed his course for years we have met him afore-time, when quite other subjects of quarrel engaged him, and could have prophesied then with tolerable accuracy what part he would play when it came to a question between bayonets and prisons for the truth. As we have hinted, he is a splendid hater, and a ferocious antagonist, a prince of vituperators and a very vitriol-thrower of savage sarcasms at his enemies and those of humanity. And why should he not be all of this, when we consider that in the stage whereon his part of life is played a more delicate student of all the proprieties would have about the same chances of success as attended the un- fortunate cat which ventured without claws among panthers. Measure such men by their moral worth and by the good they do, ~nd do not require of the hard-shell Methodist preacher and tough polemical grappler with Satan in his most bristly and thick-skinned Western incarnations that he display too much delicacy. Those who will read his book may gather from it, beyond the interest- ing personal and political narrative of which it consists, many useful and curi- ous hints as to the social development of America and of what men the country is truly made. It is a real work one of value interesting to all, and very truly one of the monuments of this war and of the scenes which preceded it in Ten- nessee. 108

Literary Notiee8. citing questions of the day, it has not its equal. We should mention that in the present edition we find given the name of its author, the well-known and elo- quent Rev. Moncure D. Conway, former- ly of Virginia, now of Cincinnati. OUR FLAG: A Poem in Four Cantos. By T. H. UNDERWOOD. New-York: Carleton. Boston: N. Williams. 1862. DURING the past year Mr. Underwood has published several poems of remark- able merit, referring to the war. In the present we have a work of higher ambi- tion, and one which is truly well done. In it the horrors of slavery, the iniqui- tous abuses to which it so often gives rise the tortures, vengeances, murders, and fiendish punishments, which in their turn follow the crime are portrayed with striking truthfulness and real pow- er. The author is evidently no Aboli- tionist on hear-say the whole poem gives evidence of practical familiarity with the institution, and the sense of truth has inspired his pen in many passages with wonderful power. The terrible suf- ferings of an almost white man and slave as here portrayed, his revenge and pun- ishment at the stake, are as moving as they are manifestly true to life. We commend this little pamphlet-poem to every friend of freedom, and sincerely trust that it will attain the large circula- tion which it deserves. SKETCHES or THE RISE, PROGRESS, AND DE- CLINE. or SECESSION. With a Narrative of Personal Adventures among the Rebels. By W. G. BROWNLOW, Edit or of the Thox- rule Wk4j. Philadelphia: Geo. W. Childs. 1862. A DECIDED character this Parson Brownlow, and a representative man; truly and bravely American, very West- ern in his traits; a man fond of fierce argument and tough antagonisms, and not fearing the death either by halter or revolver, which he will probably meet some day, for the sake of Jehovah and his own stern convictions. Not exactly a man of salons and elegant ruunions yet full of real courtesies and gifted with the kind heart of a true hater of wicked- ness, which flashes into fury at witness- ing deeds of cruelty and shame. And he has seen many such seen what few have done and lived he has passed through a lifes warfare with men of his own grim obstinacy without his own honesty and stern Puritan-like morality. We have followed his course for years we have met him afore-time, when quite other subjects of quarrel engaged him, and could have prophesied then with tolerable accuracy what part he would play when it came to a question between bayonets and prisons for the truth. As we have hinted, he is a splendid hater, and a ferocious antagonist, a prince of vituperators and a very vitriol-thrower of savage sarcasms at his enemies and those of humanity. And why should he not be all of this, when we consider that in the stage whereon his part of life is played a more delicate student of all the proprieties would have about the same chances of success as attended the un- fortunate cat which ventured without claws among panthers. Measure such men by their moral worth and by the good they do, ~nd do not require of the hard-shell Methodist preacher and tough polemical grappler with Satan in his most bristly and thick-skinned Western incarnations that he display too much delicacy. Those who will read his book may gather from it, beyond the interest- ing personal and political narrative of which it consists, many useful and curi- ous hints as to the social development of America and of what men the country is truly made. It is a real work one of value interesting to all, and very truly one of the monuments of this war and of the scenes which preceded it in Ten- nessee. 108

Literary Notiee8. citing questions of the day, it has not its equal. We should mention that in the present edition we find given the name of its author, the well-known and elo- quent Rev. Moncure D. Conway, former- ly of Virginia, now of Cincinnati. OUR FLAG: A Poem in Four Cantos. By T. H. UNDERWOOD. New-York: Carleton. Boston: N. Williams. 1862. DURING the past year Mr. Underwood has published several poems of remark- able merit, referring to the war. In the present we have a work of higher ambi- tion, and one which is truly well done. In it the horrors of slavery, the iniqui- tous abuses to which it so often gives rise the tortures, vengeances, murders, and fiendish punishments, which in their turn follow the crime are portrayed with striking truthfulness and real pow- er. The author is evidently no Aboli- tionist on hear-say the whole poem