IIARPERS NEW MONTHLY_MAGAZINE. No. LXVII.PECE1YIBER, 1855.VoL. XII. THE C& NQUEST OF MEXIC& BY HER- NANDO CORTEZ. BY JOhN S. C. ABBOTT. THREE hundred and fifty years ago the ocean which washes the shores of America was one vast and silent solitude. No ship plowed its waves; no sail whitened its surface. On the 11th of October, 1492, three small vessels might have heen seen invading, for the first time, these hitherto unknown waters. They were as specks on the bosom of infinity. The sky ahove, the ocean heneath, gave no promise of any land. Three hundred adventurers were in those ships. Ten weeks had already passed since they saw the hills of the Old World sink heneath the horizon. For weary days and -ecks they had strained their eyes looking toward the west, hoping to see the mountains of a new world rising in the distance. But the blue sky still overarched them, and the heaving ocean still extended in all directions its unbroken and in- terminahle expanse. Discouragement and alarm now pervaded nearly all hearts, and there was a general clamor for return to the shores of Eu- rope. Christopher Columbus, who heroically guided this little squadron, suhlime in the con- fidence which science and faith gave, was still firm and undaunted in his purpose. Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 18 8. hy harper and Brothers, in the Clerks Office of the District Court for the Southern District of New Ysrk. VOL. XJI.No. (IWA The night of the 11th of Octoher, 1492, dark- ened over these lonely adventurers. The stars came out in all the brilliance of tropical splen- dor. A fresh breeze drove the ships with in- creasing speed over the billows, and cooled, as with balmy zephyrs, hrows heated through the day hy the blaze of a meridian sun. Christo- I)her Columbus could not sleep. He stood upon the deck of his ship silent aNd sad, yet indom- itable in energy, gazing with intense and unin- termitted watch into the dusky distance. Sud- denly he saw a light as of a torch far off in the horizon. His heart throbbed with irrepressible tumult of excitement. Was it a meteor, or was it a light from the long-wished-for land? Ii disappeared, and all again was dark. But sud- denly again it gleamed forth, feeble and dim in the distance, yet distinct. Soon again the ex- citing ray was quenched, and nothing disturbed the dark and somhre outline of the sea. The long hours of the night to Columbus seemed in- terminahle, as he waited impatiently for the dawn. But even hefore any light appeared in the east the mountains of the New World rose towering to the clouds before the eyes of the entranced, the now immortalized navigator. A cannon, the signal of the discovery, rolled its peal over the ocean, announcing to the two yes- AMERICA nlscovazan, OCTOBER IR, 140B. 9 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. sels in the rear the joyful tidings. A shout, excited by the hearts intensest emotions, rose over the waves, and with tears, with prayers, and embraces, these enthusiastic men accepted the discovery of the New World. The bright autumnal morning dawned in richest glory, presenting to them the scene as of a celestial paradise. The luxuriance of trop- ical vegetation waved and bloomed enchanting- ly around them. The inhabitants, in the simple and innocent costume of Eden befo~e the fall, crowded the shore, gazing with attitude and ges- ture of astonishment upon the strange phenom- ena of the ships. The adventurers landed, and were received as angels from heaven hy the peaceful and friendly natives. Bitterly has the hospitality been requited. After cruising around for some time among the beautiful islands of the New World, Columbus returned to Spain, to as- tonish Europe with the tidings of his discovery. lie had been absent but seven months. A quarter of a century passed away, during which all the adventurers of Europe were busy exploring the waters which washed those newly- discovered islands and continents. Various colonies were established in the fertile valleys and upon the hillsides which emerged, in the utmost magnificence of vegetation, from the bo- som of the Caribbean Sea. The eastern coast of North America had been, during this time, surveyed from Labrador to Florida. The bark of the navigator had crept along the winding shores of the Isthmus of Darien and of the South American continent, as far as the river La Plata. Bold explorers, guided by intelli- gence from the Indians, had even penetrated the interior of the Isthmus, and from the sum- mit of the central mountain barrier, had gazed with delight upon the placid waves of the Pa- cific. But the vast indentation of. the Mexican Gulf, sweeping far away in an apparently in- terminable circuit to the west, had not yet been penetrated. The field for romantic adventure which these unexplored realms presented, could not, however, long escape the eye of that chiv- alrous age. Some exploring expeditions were soon fitted out from Cuba, and the shores of the Gulf were discovered, and the wonderful empire of Mexico was opened to European cupidity. Here every thing exhibited the traces of a far higher civil- ization than had hitherto been witnessed in the Xew World. There were villages, and even large cities, thickly planted throughout the coun- try. Temples and other buildings, imposing in massive architecture, were reared of stone and lime. Armies, laws, and a symbolical form of writing, indicated a civilization far superior to any thing which had yet been found on this side of the Atlantic. Many of the arts were culti- vated. Cloth was made of cotton and of skins nicely prepared. Astronomy was sufficiently understood for the accurate measurement of time in the divisions of the solar year. It is indeed a wonder, as yet unexplained, where these children of the New World acquired such an accurate acquaintance with the movements of the heavenly bodies. Agriculture was prac- ticed with much scientific skill, and a system of irrigation introduced, from which many a New England farmer might learn a profitable lesson. Mines of gold, silver, lend, and copper, were worked. Many articles of utility and of exqui- site beauty were fabricated from these metals. Iron, the ore of which must pass through so many processes before it is prepared for use, was unknown to them. The Spanish gold- smiths, admiring the exquisite workmanship of the gold and silver ornaments of the Mexicans, bowed to their superiority. Fairs were held in the great market-places of the principal cities every fifth day, where buy- ers and sellers in vast numbers thronged. They had public schools, courts of justice, a class of nobles, and a powerful monarch. The territory embraced by this wonderful kingdom was twice as large as the whole of New England. The population of the empire is not known; it must have consisted, however, of several millions. The city of Mexico, situated on islands in the bosom of a lake in the centre of a vast and magnificent valley in the interior, was the me- tropolis of this realm. Montezuma was king; an aristocratic king, surrounded by nobles upon whom he conferred all the honors and emoluments of the state. His palace was very magnificent. He was served from plates and goblets of silver and gold. Six hundred feudatory nobles composed his daily retinue, paying him the most obsequious hom- age, and exacting the same from those beneath themselves. Montezuma claimed to be lord of the whole world, and exacted tribute from all whom his arm could reach. His triumphant legions had invaded and subjugated many ad- jacent states, as this Roman Empire of the New World extended in all directions its powerful sway. It will thus be seen that the kingdom of Mexico, in point of civilization, was about o an equality with the Chinese empire of the pres- ent day. Its inhabitants were very decidedly elevated above the wandering hordes of North America. Montezuma had heard of the arri- val, in the islands of the Caribbefin Sea, of the strangers from another hemisphere. He had heard of their appalling power, their aggres- sions, and their pitiless cruelty. Wisely he re- solved to exclude these dangerous visitors from his shores. As exploring expeditions entered his bays and rivers they were fiercely attacked and driven away. These expeditions, however, brought back to Cuba most alluring accounts of the rich empire of Mexico and of its golden opulence. The Governor of Cuba now resolved to fit out an expedition sufficiently powerful to sub- jugate this country, and make it one of the vas- sals of Spain. It was a dark period of the world. Human rights were but feebly discerned. Su- perstition reigned over hearts and consciences with a fearfully despotic sway. Acts upon which THE CONQUEST OF MEXICO BY HERNANDO CORTEZ. 8 would now fall the reproach of unmitigated vil- lainy, were then performed with prayers and thanksgivings honestly offered. We shall but tell the impartial story. God, the searcher of all hearts, can alone unravel the mazes of consci- entiousness and depravity, and award the just meed of approval and condemnation. The Governor looked around for a suitable agent to head this arduous expedition. He found exactly the man he wanted in Hernando Cortez. This man was a Spaniard, thirty-three years of age. He was of good birth, and had enjoyed more than ordinary advantages of edu- cation. From his earliest years he had mani- fested a great fondness for wild and perilous adventure. He wrote poetry, was an accom- plished gallant, enjoyed an exuberant flow of spirits, and detested utterly all the ordinary routines of human industry. For such a spirit this New Worldso fresh, so strange, so Eden-likepresented irresistible at- tractions. When twenty-one years of age Cortez landed in Cuba. He immediately repaired to the house of the Governor, to whom he was per- sonally known. The Governor chanced to be absent, but his secretary received the young cav- alier kindly, and assured him that there was no doubt that he would obtain from the Governor a liberal grant of land to cultivate. I came to get gold, Cortez haughtily re- plied, not to till the soil like a peasant. He was, however, induced to accept from the Governor a plantation, to be cultivated by slaves. With his purse thus easily filled, he loitered through several years of an idle and voluptuous life, during which time he was involved in many disgraceful amours, and many quarrels. In one of these affairs of gallantry the Governor re- buked him. The hot blood of the young Cas- tilian boiled over, and Cortez entered into a conspiracy to obtain the removal of the Gov- ernor. But the imprudent and reckless adven- turer was arrested, manacled, and thrown into prison, lie succeeded in breaking his fetters, forced open a window, dropped himself to the pavement, and sought refuge in the sanctuary of a neighboring church. Such a sanctuary, in that day, could not be violated. A guard was secreted to watch him. He re- mained in the church for several days. As he then attempted to escape he was again seized, more strongly chained, and placed on board a ship to be sent to Hispaniola for trial. With extraordinary fortitude he endured the pain of drawing his feet through the irons which shack- led them; cautiously, in the darkness of the night, crept upon deck, let himself down into the water, swam to the shore, and, half dead with pain and exhaustion, obtained again the sanctuary of the church. He now consented to marry a young lady with whose affections he had cruelly trifled. Her powerful family espoused his cause. The Governor relented, and Cortez suddenly emerged from the storm into sunshine and calm. He re- turned to his estates a wiser; perhaps a better man, and by devotion to agriculture, and by working a gold mine in which he was interest- ed, soon acquired quite ample wealth. His wife, though not of high birth, was an amiable and beautiful woman. She won the love of her way- ward and fickle husband. I lived as happily with her, said Cortez, as if she had been the daughter of a duchess. Such was the situation of Cortez when the tidings of the discovery of the wonderful king- dom of Mexico spread, with electric speed, through the island of Cuba. The adventurous spirit of Cortez was roused. His blood was fired. It was rumored that the Governor was about to fit out an expedition to invade, to conquer, to annex. Cortez applied earnestly to be intrust- ed with the expedition. He offered to con- tribute largely of his own wealth to fit out the naval armament, and liberally to disburse its proceeds of exaction and plunder to the govern- ment officials. The Governor was well instruct- ed in the energy, capacity, and courage of the applicant, and without hesitation appoh~ted him to the important post. As Cortez received the commission of Cap- tain General of the expedition, all the glowin~, enthusiasm and tremendous energy of his na- ture were roused and concentrated upon this one magnificent object. His whole character seemed suddenly to experience a total change. He became serious, earnest, thoughtful, enthu- siastic. Mighty destinies were in his hands. Deeds were to be accompli bed at which the world was to marvel. Nay, strange as it may seemfor the heart of man is an inexplicable enigmareligion, perhaps we should say relig- ious s?qJerstitioa, mingled the elements of her majestic power in the motives which inspired the soul of this strange man. He was to march the apostle of Christianityto overthrow the idols in the halls of Montezuma, and there to rear the cross of Christ. It was his heavenly mission to convert the benighted Indians to the religion of Jesus. With the energies of fire and sword, misery and blood, trampling horses and death-dealing artillery, he was to lead back these wandering victims of darkness and sin to those paths of piety which guide to heaven. Such was Hernando Cortez. Let philosophy explain the enigma as she may, no intelligent man will venture the assertion that Cortez was a kypo- crite. He was a frank, fearless, deluded en- thusiast. The energy with which Cortez moved alarm- ed the Governor. He feared that the bold ad- venturer, with his commanding genius, having acquired wealth and fam.e, would become a for- midable rival. He therefore despotically r~- solved to deprive Cortez of the command. The Captain General was informed of his peril. With the decision which marked his character, though the vessels were not prepared for sea, and the complement of men was not yet mustered, he resolved secretly to weigh anchor that very night. The moment the sun went down he called upon his officers and informed them of his purposc. 4 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. Every man was instantly, and silently in motion. At midnight the little squadron, with all on board, dropped down the hay. Intelligence was promptly conveyed to the Governor, informing him of this sudden and unexpected departure. Mounting his horse he galloped to a point of the shore which commanded the fleet at anchor in the roads. Cortez, from the deck, saw the Gov- ernor surrounded by his retinue. He entered a boat and was rowed near to the shore. The Gov- ernor reproached him bitterly for his conduct. Pardon me, said Cortez, courteously. Time presses, and there are some things which should be done before they are even thought of. Then, with Castilian grace, waving an adieu to the Governor, he returned to his ship. The an- chors were immediately raised, the sails spread, and the little fleet was wafted from the harbor of St. Jago, and ere long disappeared in the dis- tant horizon of the sea. Cortez directed his course from St. Jago, which was then the capital of Cuba, to the port of Macaca, about thirty miles distant. Collecting hastily such additional stores as the place would afford, he again weighed anchor, and l)roceeded to Trinidad. This was an important town on the southern shore of the island, where he would be able to obtain those reinforcements and sup- plies without which it would be madness to un- dertake the expedition. Volunteers crowded to the standard. All were animated by the en- thusiasm which glowed in his own bosom, and he immediately acquired over all his followers that wonderful ascendency which is so instinct- ively conceded to genius of a high order. His men were generally armed with cross- bows., though he had several small cannon and some muskets. Jackets thickly wadded with cotton, impervious to the javelins and arrows of the Mexicans, were provided as coats of mail for the soldiers. A black-velvet banner, embroider- ed with gold, and emblazoned with a cross, bore the characteristic device Let us follow the cross. Under this sign, with faith, we conquer. A trading vessel appeared off the coast laden with provisions. Cortez seized both cargo and ship, and, by the combined energies of persua- sion and compulsion, induced the captain to join the expedition. Another ship made its appear- ance. It was a gift from God to these fanat- ical enthusiasts. It was promptly seized with religious praises and thanksgivings. Cortez now sailed around the western point of the island. to Havana. While he was con- tinuing his preparations here, Barba, the com- mander of the place, received dispatches from the Governor of St. Jago, ordering him to ap- prehend Cortez, and seize the vessels. But Cortez was now too strong to be approached by any power which Barba had at his command. Barha, accordingly, informed the Governor of the impracticability of the attempt, and also in- formed Cortez of the orders he had received. Cortez wrote an exceedingly courteous letter to the Governor, informing him that, with the blessing of God, the fleet would sail the next morning. As there was some danger that the Governor might send a force which would em- barrass the expedition, the little squadron the next morning weighed anchor, and proceeded to Cape Antonio, an appointed place of rendezvous at the extreme western termination of the island. Here Cortez completed his preparations, and collected all the force he desired. He had now eleven vessels, the lar~est of ~vhich was of hut one hundred tons. His force consisted of one hundred and ten seamen, five hundred and fifty- conrzz TAKING LEAVE OF THE COvERNOK. THE CONQUEST OF MEXICO BY HERNANDO CORTEZ. 5 three soldiers, two hundred Indians, and a few Indian women for meni- a! service. He had fourteen pieces of artillery, a good supply of ammu- nition, and, more than all, sixteen horses. This noble animal had never yet been seen on the con- tinent of America. With great dif- ficulty a few had been transported across the ocean from Spain. With such a force this bold fanatic un- dertook the conquest of the vast and powerful empire of Montezuma. Cortez was now thirty-three years of age. He was a handsome, well- formed man, of medium stature, of pale intellectual features, a pierc- ing dark eye, and of frank and win- ning manners. He was temperate, indifferent res~)ecting food, hard- ships, and peril, and possessed not a little of that peculiar influence over human hearts which gave Napoleon an ascendency almost supernatural. Assembling his men around him, he thus harangued them: I present before you a glorious prize; lands more vast and opulent than European eyes have yet seen. This prize can only be won by hard- ship and toil. Great deeds are only achieved by great exertions. Glory is never the reward of sloth. I have labored hard, and staked my all on this undertaking; for I love that renown which is the noblest recompense of man. Do you covet riches more? Be true to me, and I will make you masters of wealth of which you have never dreamed. You are few in numbers; but be strong in resolu- tion, and doubt not that the Al- mighty, who has never deserted the Spaniard in his contest with the Infidel, will shield you, though encompassed by enemies. Your ca e is j t. You are to fight under the banner of the cross. Onward, then, with alac- rity. Gloriously terminate the work so auspi- ciously begun. This speech was received with tumultuous cheers. The enthusiasts then partook of the sacrament of the Lords Supper, and with relig- ious ceremonies placed the piratic fleet under the protection of St. Peter. The anchors were raised, the sails spread, and a favoring breeze pressed them rapidly over the waves of the Mexican Gulf. It was the 18th of February, 1519. Proceeding in a southwesterly direction about two hundred miles, they arrived, in the course of a week, at the island of Cozumel, which was separated from the main-land of Yucatan by a hannel from twelve to thirty miles in width. The natives fled in terror. Cortez, however, by means of an interpreter, soon disarmed their fears, and secured friendly intercourse, and a mutually profitable traffic. The island was bar- ren, and but thinly inhabited. But the natives had large and comfortable houses, built of stone, cemented with mortar. There were several spacious temples of stone, with lofty towers, constructed of the same durable material. The adventurers were also exceedingly surprised to find in the court-yard of one of the temples an idol in the form of a massive stone cross. Cortez remained upon the island about a fort- night, during which time all his energies were engrossed in accomplishing the great purposes of his mission. He sent two vessels to the main-land to make inquiries about some Span- iards who, it was reported, had been shipwreck- ed upon the coast, and were still lingering in captivity. Ordaz, who commanded this expedi- tion, was instructed to return in eight days. Several parties were sent in different directions to explore the island thoroughly, and ascertain its resources. 6 HARPEWS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. But the great object, in the estimation of Cor- tgz, to he accomplished, was the conversion of the natives. He had with him several ecclesi- astics, men whose sincerity and piety no candid man can doubt. The Indians were assemhled, and urged, through an interpreter, to ahandon their idols and turn to the living God. The sim- ple natives were horror-stricken at the thought. They assured Cortez that were they to injure their gods, destruction, in every awful form, would immediately overwhelm them. The hold warrior wielded bold arguments. With his mailed cavaliers he made a prompt onslaught upon the idols; hewed them down, smashed them to pieces, and tumbled the dis- honored and mutilated fragments into the streets. He then constructed a Christian altar, reared a cross, and an image of the Yirgin and Holy Child; and Mass, with all its pomp of robes, and chants, and incense, was for the first time performed in the temples of Yucatan. The natives were, at first, overwhelmed with grief and terror, as they gazed upon their pros- trate deities. But no earthquake shook the isl- and. No lightning sped its angry bolt. No thunders broke down the skies. The sun still shone tranquilly; and ocean, earth, and sky smiled untroubled. The natives ceased to fear gods who could not protect themselves, and, without farther argument, consented to ex- change their idols for the far prettier idols of the strangers. The heart of Cortez throbbed with enthusiasm and pride in contemplating his great and glorious achievement; an achieve- meat far surpassing the miracles of Peter or of Paul. In one short week he had converted all these islanders from the service of Satan, and had secured their eternal salvation. The fana- tic sincerity with which this feat was accomplish- ed, does not, however, redeem it from the sub- limity of absurdity. It is true that man is saved by faith; but it is that faith which works by love. One of the ecelesiastics, Father Olmedo, a man of humble, unfeigned piety, recognizing in the religion of Christ the only power which can transform human character and prepare fallen man for heaven, was far from being satisfied with this purely external conversion. He did what he could to instruct and to purify. But it was a dark age, and the most honest minds groped in gloom. In the mean time the parties returned from the exploration of the island, and Ordaz brought back his two ships from the main-land, having been unsuccessful in his attempts to find the shipwrecked Spaniards. Cortez had now been at Cozumel a fortnight. As he was on the point of taking his departure, a frail canoe was seen crossing the strait with three men in it, apparently Indians, and entirely naked. As soon as the canoe landed, one of the men ran franticly to the Spaniards, and informed them that he was a Christian and a countryman. His name was Aguilar. He had been wrecked upon the shores of Yucatan, and had passed seven years in captivity, encountcring adventures more marvelous than the geniusof romance can create. He was sincerely a good man, an ecclesiastic. He had acquired a perfect acquaintance with the language, and the manners and customs of the natives, and Cortez received him as a Ileav- en-sent acquisition to his enterprise. On the 4th of March Cortez again set sail, and crossing the narrow strait, approached the shores of the continent. Sailing directly north some hundred miles, hugging the coast of Yu- catan, he doubled Cape Catoche, and turning his prows to the west, boldly pressed forward into those unknown waters, which seemed to TIlE FIRST MASS IN TIlE TEMPLES OF YUCATAN. THE CONQUEST OF MEXICO BY HEENANDO COETEZ. 7 extend interminably before him. The sbores were densely covered with tbe luxuriant foliage of the tropics, and in many a bay, and on many a headland, could be discerned the thronged dwellings of the natives. After sailing west about two hundred miles the coast again turned abruptly to the south. Following the line of the land some three hundred miles farther, he came to the broad mouth of the river Tabasco, of which he had heard from previous explorers, nnd which he was seeking. A sand-bar at the mouth of the river prevented his vessels from en- tering. He therefore cast anchor, and taking a strong nnd well-armed party iu the boats, as- cended the shallow stream. A forcst of majestic trees, with underbrush, dense and impervious, lined the banks. The naked forms of the natives were seen gliding among the trees, following, in rapidly-accumu- lating numbers, the advance of the boats, and evincing, by tone and gesture, any thing but a friendly spirit. At last, arriving at an opening in the forest, where a smooth and grassy mead- ow extended from the stream, the boats drew near the shore, and Cortez, through his inter- preter, Auuilnr, asked permission to land, avow- ing his friendly intentions. The prompt answer was the clash of weapons and shouts of defiance. Cortez, deciding to postpone a forcible landing till the morning, retired to a small island in the river, which was uninhabited. Here, establish- ing vigilant sentinels, he passed the night. In the early dawn of the next morning his party were in their boats, prepared for the as- sault. But the natives had been busy gathering force during the night. War-canoes lined the shore, and the banks were covered with native warriors in martial array. The battle soon com- menced. It was fierce and bloody, but short. The spears, stones, and arrows of the natives fell almost harmless upon the helmets and shields of the Spaniards. But the bullets from the guns of the invaders swept like halistones through the crowded ranks of the natives. Ap- palled by the thunder and the lightning of these terrific discharges, they broke and fled, leaving the ground covered with their slain. The blood- stained adventurers, under the banner of the cross which they had so signally dishonored, now marched triumphantly to Tabasco, a large town upon the river, but a few miles above their place of landing. The inhabitants fled from it in dismay. Cortez took formal possession of the town in the name of the sovereigns of Spain. But the whole surrounding country was now aroused. The natives, in numbers which could not be counted, gathered in the vicinity of Tabasco, ts repel, if possible, the terrible foe. Cortez sent immediately to the ships for six cannon, his whole cavalry of sixteen horses, and every avail- able man. Thus strengthened, he, with all his men, partook of the sacrament of the Lords Supper, earnestly implored the Divine blessin in extending the triumphs of the cross over the kingdom of Satan, and marched forth to the merciless slaughter of those valiant but power- less men, who were fighting only for their coun- try and their homes. A few miles from the city, on a level plain, the Spanish invaders encountered the Indians. The lines of their encampment were so extend- ed and yet so crowded, that the Spaniards esti- mated their numbers at over forty thousand. Cortez had about six hundred men. The na- tives fought bravely. But the cannon, appallin~ their hearts with its terrific thunders, swept death and awful mutilation through their rani;s. FIRST CAVALRY cIsAuGE, ua~nan BY COBTEZ. S HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. The ground was covered with the dying and the dead. Still they remained firm, with an intre- pidity which merited victory, as they discharged their javelins, arrows, and other powerless mis- sIles, upon the impenetrable coats of mail which protected their foes. At last the whole body of cavalry, sixteen strong, headed by Cortez, having taken a circuit- ous route, fell suddenly upon their rear. The Indians had never seen a horse before. They thought the rider and the steed one animal. As this terrific apparition came bounding over the plain, the horsemen, cnsed in steel, and Ut- tering loud outcries, cutting down the naked na- tives on the right and on the left with their keen blades, while, at the same moment, the artillery and infantry made a charge with their thunder- ing and death-dealing roar, the scene became too awful for mortal courage to endure. The natives, in utter dismay, fledfrom foes of such de- moniac aspect and energy. The slaughter had been so awful before their flight, that the Span- iards extravagantly estimated the number of the dead left upon the ground at thirty thousand. Cortez immediately assemhled his soldiers around him, and, like Nelson at Aboukir, or- dered prayers. He then sent a message to the natives that he would Jbrgive them if they would send in their entire submission. But he threat- ened, if they refused, that he would ride over the land, and put every living thing in it, man, woman, and child, to the sword. The spirit of resistance was utterly crushed. The natives were reduced to abject helplessness. They were now in a suitable frame of mind for conversion. Cortez recommended that they should exchange their idols for the gods of Papal Rome. They made no objections. Their images were dashed in pieces, and, with very imposing religious cere- monies, the Christianity of Cortez a pitiful burlesque upon the religion of Jesus Christ was instituted in the temples of Yucatan. In all this tremendous crime there was ap- parently no hypocrisy. It requires Infinite wis- 1 dom to award judgment to mortals. and iDiaz, were probably sincere The two Catholic priests, Olmedo Christians, truly desiring the spir- itual renovation of the Indians. They felt deeply the worth of the soul, and did all they could, rightly to instruct these unhappy and deep- ly-wronged natives. They sincere- ly pitied their sufferings; but deem- ed it wise that the right eye should be plucked out, and that the right arm should he cut ofl rather than that the soul should perish. He knoweth our frame; He remem- bereth that we are but dust. Cortez having thus, in the cam- paign of a week, annexed the whole of these new provinces, of unknown extent, to Spain, and having con- verted the natives to the Christian- ity of Rome, prepared for his de- parture. Decorating his war-boat~ with palm-leavesthe symbols of peacehe descended the river to his ships, which were anchored nt the mouth. Again spreading his sails and catching a favorable breeze, he passed rejoicingly on toward the shores of Mexico. The newly-converted natives were left to hury their dead, to heal, as they could, their splintered hones and gory wounds, and to wail the dirge of the widow and the orphan. How long they continued to prize a re- ligion forced upon them by such arguments of hlood and woe we are not informed. The sun shone brightly on the broad Mexican Gulf and zephyrs, laden with fragrance from the lux- uriant shores, swelled the flowing sheets. The temples and houses THE CONQUEST OF MEXICO BY HEENANDO CORTEZ. 9 of the natives, and their waving fields of Indian corn, were distinctly visible from the decks. Many of the promontories and headlands were covered with multitudes of tawny figures, dec- orated with all the attractions of barbaric splen- dor, gazing upon the fearful phenomenon of the passing ships. Cortez continued his course several hundred miles, sweeping around the shores of this magnificent gulf, until he arrived at the island of San Juan de Ulna. A pre- vious explorer had touched at this spot. It was the afternoon of a lovely day. Earth, sea, and sky smiled serenely, and all the ele- ments of trouble were lulled to repose. As the ships entered the spacious bay, a scene as of enchantment opened around the voyagers. In the distance, on grassy slopes and in the midst of luxuriant groves, the villages and rural dwell- ings of the natives were thickly scattered. The shores were covered with an eager multitude, contemplating with wonder and awe the sublime spectacle of the fleet. Cortez selected a shel- tered spot, dropped his anchors, and furled his sails. Soon a light canoe, filled with natives, shot from the shore. The ship which conveyed Cortez was more imposing than the rest, and the banner of Spain floated proudly from its topmast. The Mexicans steered for this vessel, and with the most confiding frankness ascended its sides. They were Government officials, and brought presents of fruits, flowers, and golden ornaments. Cortez, to his great chagrin, found that his interpreter, Aguilar, though perfectly familiar with the language of Yucatan, did not understand the language of Mexico. But from this dilemm.a he was singularly extricated. After the terrible battle of Tabasco, Cortez had re.ceived, as a propitiatory offering, twenty beautiful native female. Cortez guiltily al- lowed himself to take one of the most beauti- ful of these, Marina, for his wife. It is true that Cortcz had a worthy spouse upon his plan- tation at Cubait is true that no civil or re- ligious rites sanctioned this unhallowed union it is true that Cortez was sufficiently enlight- aned to know that he was sinning n~ainst the law of God; but the conscience of this ex- traordinary man was strangely seared. Intense devotion and unblushing sin were marvelously blended in his character. It must be admitted that the Romish faith he cherished favored these inconsistencies. For the Church he toiled, and the Church could forgive sin. But Marina was a noble woman. The rela- tion which she sustained to Cortez did no vio- lence to her conscience or to her instincts. She had never been instructed in the school of Christ. Polygamy was the religion of her land. She deemed herself the honored wife of Cortez, and dreamed not of wrong. She was the daughter of a rich and powerful cazique, who had died when she was young. Her career had been ro- mantic in the extreme. Like Joseph, she had been sold, and had passed many years in Mex- ico. She was thus familiar with the language and customs of the Mexicans. Marina was in all respects an extraordinary woman, and she figures largely in the scenes which we are about to relate. Nature had done much for her. In person she was exceedingly beautiful. She had winning manners, and a warm and loving heart. Her mind was of a superior order. She very quickly mastered the difficulties of the Castilian tongue, and thus spoke three languages with native fluencythat of Mexico, of Yucatan, and of Spain. She was bound to Cortez by the tenderest ties, and soon became the mother of his son. Through her interpretation, Cortez ascer- tained the most important facts respecting the great Empire of Mexico. He learned that two hundred miles in the interior was situated the capital of the empire; and that a monarch, named Montezuma, beloved and revered by his subjects, reigned over the extended realm. The country was divided into provinces, over each of which a governor presided. The province in which Cortez had landed was nuder the sway of Teubtllle, who resided about twenty miles in the interior. Cortez immediately and boldly landed his whole force upon the beach, and constructed a fortified camp, which was protected by his heavy cannon planted upon the hillocks. The kind natives aided the strangers in rearing their huts, brought them food and presents, and entered into the most friendly traffic. Thus they warmed the vipers which were to sting them. It was, indeed, a novel scene, worthy of the pencil of the painter, which that beach presented day after day. Men, women, and children, boys and girls, in every variety of barbaric costume, thronged the encampment, presenting the peace- ful and joyful confusion of a fair. The rumor of the strange arrival spread far and wide, and each day accumulating multitudes were gathered. Governor Teuhtlile heard the astounding tid- ings, and, with an imposing retinue, set out from his palace to visit his uninvited guests. The in- terview was conducted with all the splendor of Castilian etiquette and Mexican pomp. The pageant ~vas concluded by a military display of the Spaniards, drawn out upon the beach, cav- alry, artillery, and infantry, in battle array. No words can describe the amazement of the awe- stricken Mexicans, as they witnessed the rapid evolutions of the troops, their burnished armor gleaming in the rays of the sun, and the terrible war-horses, animals which they had never before seen, with their mounted riders, careering over the sands. But when the cannons uttered their tremendous roar, and the balls were sent crash- ing through the trees of the forest, their wonder was lost in unspeakable terror. Cortez informed the governor that he was the subject of a powerful monarch beyond the seas, and that he brought valuable presents for the Emperor of Mexico, which he must deliver in person. Teuhtlile promised to send imme- diate word to the capital of the arrival of the Spaniards, and to communicate to Cortez Mon- tezumas will as soon as it should be ascertuined. 10 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. A week passed while Cortez remained in his encampment awaiting the retnrn of the courier. The friendly natives supplied the Spaniards abundantly with every thing they could need. By the command of the Governor more than a thousand huts, of hranchcs and matting, were reared in the vicinity for the accommodation of the Mexicans, who, without recompense, were supplying the table of Cortez and his men. At the expiration of eight days an embassy arrived at the camp from the Mexican capital. Two nobles of the court, accompanied by a retinue of a hundred soldiers, hearing magnifi- cent gifts from Montezuma, presented them- selves before the pavilion of Cortez. The em- bassadors saluted the Spanish chieftain with the greatest reverence, bowing before him, and en- veloping him in clouds of incense which arose from waving censers home by their attendants. The presents which they broughtin silver, in gold, in works of art, of beauty, and of utility excited the rapture and the amazement of the Spaniards. There were specimens of workman- ship in the precious metals which no nrtists in Europe could rival. A Spanish helmet, which had been sent to the capital, was returned filled with grains of pure gold. These costly gifts were opened before Cortez in lavish abundance, and they gave indications of opulence hitherto undreamed of. After they had been sufficiently examined nd admired, one of the embassadors very courteously said: Our master is happy to send these tokens of his respect to the King of Spain. He regrets that he can not enjoy an interview with the Spaniards. But the distance of his capital is too great, and the perils of the journey are too imminent, to allow of this pleasure. The stran- gers are therefore requested to return to their own homes with these proofs of the friendly feelings of Montezuma. Cortez was much chagrined. He earnestly, however, renewed his application for permission to visit the Emperor. But the embassadors, as they retired, assured him that another applica- tion would be unavailing. They, however, took a few meagre presents of shirts and toys, which alone remained to Cortez, and departed on their journey of two hundred miles with the reiterated application to the Emperor. It was now evi- dent that the Mexicans had received instruc- tions from the court, and that all were anxious that the Spaniards should leave the country. Though the natives manifested no hostility, they were cold and reserved, and ceased to supply the camp with food. The charm of novelty was over. Insects annoyed the Spaniards. They were blistered by the rays of a meridian sun reflected from the sands of the beach. Sickness entered the camp, and thirty died. But the treasures which had been received from Montezuma so rich and so abundant, in- spired Cortez and his gold-loving companions \vitb the most intense desire to penetrate an empire of so much ol)ulence. They, however, waited patiently ten days, when the embas adors again returned. As before, they came laden with truly imperial gifts. The gold alone of the ornaments which they brought was valued by the Spaniards at more than fifty thousand dollars. The message from Montezuma w~ s. however, still more peremptory than the first. lie declared that he could not permit the Span.. lards to approach his capital. Cortez, though excessively vexed, endeavored to smother the out~vnrd expression of his irritation. He gave the embassadors a courteous response, but turn- ing to his officers, he said: INTERvIzw flETWEEN CO~TEZ A~m TIlE zxa~ss~noas OF IdONTEZUMA. THE CONQUEST OF MEXICO BY HERNANDO CORTEZ. 11 This is truly a rich and a powerful prince. Yet it shall go hard but we will one day pay him a visit in his capital. The embassadors again retired, with dignity and with courtesy. That night every hut of the natives was abandoned. Cortez and his com- panions were left to themselves in entire soli- tude. No more supplies were brought to their camp. After a few days of perplexity, and when murmurs of discontent began to arise, Cortez decided to establish a colony upon the coast. A city was founded, called the Rich City of the True Cross; Villa Rica de la V a Cruz. A government was organized, and Cortez accepted the appointment of chief magistrate. He thus assumed the high position of the gov- ernor of a new colony, responsible only to the monarch in Spain. By this bold act he re- nounced all subjection to the Governor of Cuba. He immediately dispatched a strong party into the interior to forage for provisions. Just then five Indians came to the camp, as delegates from a neighboring rebellious province, to solicit the alliance of the Spaniards to aid them in breaking from the yoke of Montezuma. They l)elonged to the powerful nation of the Totonacs, which had been conquered by the Mexican em- pire. The capital of their country, Zempoalla, was an important city of thirty thousand inhab- itants, but a few days march from Vera Cruz. Cortez listened eagerly to this statement. It presented just the opportunity he desired, as it opened the way for a quarrel with Montezuma. He immediately put his heavy guns on hoard the fleet, and ordered it to coast along the shore to an appointed rendezvous at Chiahuitzla. Thea heading his troops, he set out on a hold march across the country to the capital of his new-found allies, which was near the spot to which he had sent his fleet. The beauty of the country through which they passed entranced the hearts even of these stern warriors. They were never weary of expressing their delight in view of the terrestrial paradise which they had discovered. A dele- gation soon met them from the Indian city, large parties of men and women with courteous words, and winning smiles, and gifts of gold, and food, and flowers. The natives had many at- tractions of person and manners; and a peculiar degree of mental refinement was to be seen in their passionate love of flowers, which adorned their persons, and which bloomed in the utmost profusion around all their dwellings. Cortez and his steed were almost covered with wreaths of roses woven by the fair hands of his new- found friends. The narrow streets of Zempoalla were throng- ed with admiring and applaniding thousands as the stern soldiers of Cortez, headed by the cavalry of sixteen horses, and followed by the lumbering artillery, instruments which with thunder roar sped lightning bolts, marched, with floating banners and pealing music, to the spacious court-yard of the temple appointed for their accommodation. The adventurers were amazed in meeting such indications of wealth, of civilization, and of refinement, as they en- countered on every side. The Cazique, with much barbaric pomp, received his formidable guest and ally. The next morning Cortez, with an imposing retinue of fifty men and with all the accom- paniments of Castilian pomp, paid a return visit to the Cazique of Zempoalla in his own palace. He there learned, to his almost un- utterable delight, that it would not be difficult to excite one half of the Mexican nation against the other; and that he, by joining either part with his terrible artillery and cavalry, could easily turn the scale of victory. Cortez now continued his march some sixteen miles farther to the bay of Chiahuitzla, where his fleet had already cast anchor. The Cazique supplied his troops with abundant food, and with four hundred men to carry their baggage. They found a pleasant town, on an abrupt head- land, which commanded the Gulf, and they were received with great kindness. They were still within the ancient limits of the Totonacs, and the Cazique of Zempoalla had followed the Spaniards, borne on a gorgeous palanquin. Many other chiefs were now assembled, and very important deliberations began to arise. In the midst of this state of things a singular commotion was witnessed in the crowd, and both people and chiefs gave indications of great terror. Five strangers appeared, tall, imposing men, with bouquets of flowers in their hands, and followed by.obsequions attendants. Haughtily these strangers passed through the place, look- ing sternly upon the Spaniards, without deign- ing to address them either by a word or a ges- ture. They were lords from the court of Mon- tezuma. Their power was invincible and terri- ble. They had witnessed, with their own eyes, these rebellious indications. The chiefs of the Totonacs turned pale with consternation. All this was fully explained by Marina to the aston- ished Spanish chieftain. The Totonac chiefs were summoned to appear immediately before the lords of Montezuma. Like terrified children they obeyed. Soon they returned trembling to Cortez, and informed him that the lords were indignant at the support which they had afforded the Spaniards, contrary to the express will of their Emperor, and that they demanded, as the penalty, twenty young men and twenty young women of the Totonacs to be offered in sacrifice to their gods. Cortez assumed an air of indignation and of authority. He declared that he should never permit any such abominable practices of heathenism. And he imperiously ordered the Totonacs immedi- ately to arrest the lords of Montezuma and put them in prison. The poor Totonacs were ap- palled at the very idea. Montezuma swayed the sceptre of a Cnesar, and bold indeed must he be who would dare thus to brave his wrath. But Cortez was inexorable. The chiefs were in his power. Should he abandon them now, 12 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. they were ruined hopelessly. It was possible that, with the thunder and the lightning at his command, he might protect them even from the wrath of Montezuma. Thus compelled, the chiefs tremblingly arrested the lords. Cortez then condescended to perform a deed of indelible dishonor. In the night he promoted the escape of two of the Mexican lords; had them brought before him, and expressed his sincere regret at the insult and the outrage which they had received from the Totonacs. He assured them that he would do every thing in his power to aid in the escape of the others, and requested them to return to the court of their monarch, and assure him of the friendly spirit of the Spaniards, of which this act of their liberation was to be a conspicuous proof. The next morning the rest were liberated in the same way. With a similar message they were sent to the capital of Mexico. Such was the treachery with which Cortez rewarded his friend- ly allies. History has no language sufficiently severe to condemn an action so revolting to the instincts of honor. Cortez now informed the Totonacs that mat- ters had gone so far that no possible mercy could be expected from Montezuma. He told them and with truth which was undeniable, that their only possible hope cousistcd now in uniting cordially with him. This was manifest. The terrified chiefs took the oath of allegiance to Cortez, and with all their people became his obsequious vassals. here the spot was selected for the new city, the capital of the Spanish colony. A fort was constructed, public buildings raised, and, all hands being eagerly employed, with the cordial co-operation of the natives, a town rose as by magic. This was the citadel of the Spaniards, where they could form their plans, and from whence they could move forward in their enter- prises. While thus busily employed a new embassy from the court of Montezuma appeared in the unfinished streets of Vera Cruz. Monte- zuma, alarmed by the tidings he received of the appalling and supernatural power of the Span- iards, deemed it wise to accept the courtesy which had been offered in the liberation of his imprisoned lords, and to adopt a conciliatory policy. The Totonacs were amazed that the power of the Spaniards was such as thus to intimidate even the mighty Montezuma. This greatly increased the veneration of the Totonacs for their European allies. Cortez now made very strenuous efforts to induce the Cazique of Zempoalla to abandon his idols and the cruel rites of heathenism, among which were human sacrifices, and to ac- cept in their stead the symbols of the true faith. But upon this point the Cazique was inflexible. He declared that his gods were good enough for him, and that inevitable destruction would over- whelm him and his people were he to incur their displeasure. Cortez finding argument ut- terly in vain, then assembled his warriors, and thus addressed them: Heaven will never smile on our enterprise if we countenance the atrocities of heathenism. For my part, I am resolved that the idols of the Indians shall be destroyed this very hour, even if it cost me my life. The fanatic warriors now marched for one of the most imposing of the Totonac temples. The alarm spread widely through the thronged streets of Zempoalla. The whole population seized their arms to defend their gods, and a scene of fearful confusion ensued. Sternly the inflexi- ble Spaniard strode on. Fifty men climbed to coa~zz azsTuoYIae TEE IDOLS AT ZEMPOALLA. THE CONQUEST OF MEXICO BY HEENANDO CORTEZ. 13 the summit of the pyramidal temple, tore down the massive wooden idols, and tumbled them into the streets. They then collected the muti- lated fragments and burned them to ashes. The heathen temple was then emptied, swept, and garnished. The Totonac chiefs, passively yield- ing, were dressed in the white robes of the Cath- olic priesthood, and, with lighted candles in their hands, aided in installing an image of the Virgin in this shrine which had been polluted by all the horrid orgies of pagan abominations. It was a blessed change. The very lowest and most corrupt form of Christianity is infinitely above the most refined creations of paganism. Mass, with all its pomp, was then performed. The Indians were pleased. It is said that their emotions were so much excited that they wept. They made no farther resistance, and cheerfully exchanged the hideous idols of Mexico for the more attractive and the more merciful idols of Rome. Let no one here accuse us of want of candor; for no one can deny that, to these poor natives, it was merely an exchange of idols. Cortez having accomplished this all-important work of converting his allies into fellow-Chris- tians, returned to Vera Cruz. Some of the companions of Cortez were alarmed by the bold movements of their leader, and a conspiracy was formed to seize one of the vessels and escape to Cuba. The conspiracy was detected. The of- fenders were punished inexorably; and Cortez resolved to prevent the possible repetition of such an attempt by destroyinq his fleet! Most of the troops were in Zempoalla. All the ships but one, after having been dismantled of every movable article, were scuttled and sunk. When the soldiers heard of the deed they were struck with consternation. Escape was now impossible. Murmnrs of indignation, loud and deep, began to rise against Cortez. He im- mediately assembled the troops around him, and by his peculiar tact soothed their anger, and won them to his cause. They could not be blind to the fact that their destiny was now de- pending entirely upon their obedience to their leader. The least insubordination would lead to inevitable ruin. Cortez closed his speech with the following forcible words: As for me, I have chosen my part. I will remain here while there is one to hear me com- pany. If there be any so craven as to shrink from sharing the danger of our glorious enter- prise, let them go home. There is still one ves- sel left. Let them take that and return to Cuba. They can tell there how they have deserted their commander, and can patiently wait till we re- turn loaded with the spoils of the Mexicans. Universal enthusiasm was excited by this ap- peal, and one general shout arose To Mexi- co! to Mexico ! Cortez now made vigorous preparations for his march uninvited, and eyen forbidden, to the capital of Montezuma. He took with him four hundred Spaniards, fifteen horses, and seven pieces of artillery. His al- lies, the Totonacs, also furnished him with two thousand three hundred men. His whole army of invasion amounted to but twenty-eight hun- dred. Cortez made a very devout speech to his companions at the moment of his departure. The blessed Savionr, said he, will give us victory. We have now no other refuge than the kind providence of God and our own stout hearts. It was a bright and beautiful morning in Au- gust, 1519, when this merciless army of fanatics commenced their march of piracy and blood. For two days they moved gayly along through an enchanting country of luxuriance, flowers, and perfume, encountering no opposition. In- dian villages were thickly scattered around, and scenery of surpassing magnificence and loveli- ness was continually opening before their eyes. On the eveningof the second day they arrived at the beautiful town of Xalapa, which was filled with the country residences of the wealthy na- tives, and which commanded a prospect in which the beautiful and the sublime were lav- ishly blended. Still continuing their march through a well-settled country, as they ascend- ed the gradual slope ofthe Cordilleras, on the fourth day they arrived at Naulinco. This was a large and populous town. The adventurers were received with great kindness. Cortez was very zealous, as in all cases, to convert the na- tives to Christianity. He succeeded so far as to raise a cross in the market-place, which it was hoped would excite the adoration of the untu- tored spectators. They now entered into the defiles of the mountains, where they encountered rugged paths and fierce storms of wind and sleet. A. weary march of three days brought them to the high table-lands of the Cordilleras, seven thousand feet above the level of the sea, and ex- tending, a fertile and flowery savanna, before them for many leagues. It was a temperate re- gion beneath a tropical sun. The country was highly cultivated, and luxuriantly adorned with hedges, with groves, with waving fields of maize, and with picturesque towns and villages. God did indeed seem to smile upon these reckless adventurers. Thus far their march had been as a delightful holiday excursion. They soon entered a large city, Tlatlanquite- pee. It was even more populous and more im- posing in its architecture than Zempoalla. But here they witnessed appalling indications of the horrid atrocities of pagan idolatry. They found, it is stated, piled in order, a hundred thousand skulls of human victims who had been offered in sacrifice to their gods. There was a Mexican garrison stationed in this place, but not suffi- ciently strong to resist the invaders. They, however, gave Cortez a very cold reception, and incited rather than discouraged his zeal by glowing descriptions of the wealth and the power of the monarch whose court he. was ap- proaching. Cortez again made a rigorous but an unavailing effort to infroduce among these benighted pagans, in exchange for their cruel superstitions, the infinitely more harmless and mild idolatry of Rome. In his zeal he was just 14 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. about ordering an onslaught upon the hideous idols with sword and hatchet, when the sincere- ly pious Father Olmedo dissuaded him. By thus violently introducing our religion, said this good man, we shall but expose the sacred symbol of the cross and the image of the sacred Virgin to insult as soon as we shall have departed. We must wait till we can instruct their dark minds. The Roman Catholic Church has sent out into the world as self-denying and as devoted Christians as the world has ever seen. Let the truth be fully and cordially admitted. After a rest of five days the route was again commenced. Their road wound aldng the banks of a broad and tranquil stream, fringed with an unbroken line of Indian villages. Some twenty leagues of travel brought them to the large town of Xalacingo. Here they met with friendly treatment, and made another halt of several days. Again resuming their march, they soon entered the country of a powerful people called the Tiascalans. This nation had successfully resisted for many years the assailing legions of Montezuma. The adventurers here met with fortifications of stone of immense strength and magnitude, constructed with much scientific skilL After pressing along some dozen miles in this new country they met a large hostile force of Indians, who attacked them with the fiercest fury. Cortez and his band were nearly over- powered, when the artillery came up and open- ed a dreadful fire. The thunder of the guns, which the Indians had never heard before, and the horrid carnage of the grape-shot sweeping through their ranks, compelled the warlike na- tives at last, though slowly and sullenly, to re- tire. Two of the horses were killed in this con- flict, a loss which Cortez deeply deplored. It was now the 2d of September. Cortez had added some recruits from the natives to his army, so that he now numbered about three thousand men. Prayers and thanksgiving were here offered for the success of the enterprise thus far, and this whole band of blood-stained warriors partook of the sacrament of the Lords Supper in accordance with the rites of the Ro- man Catholic Church. The army now advanced firmly, but with the utmost possible vigilance. They were drilled to the most perfect discipline, and inspired with the highest fnnatic zeal. As they were emerging from a valley into a wide-spread plain they again encountered the enemy, drawn up in battle array, in numbers apparently overwhelming. With plumes and banners, and gilded helmets glittering in the morning sun, the Indian host presented an as- pect truly appalling. Cortez estimated their numbers at one hundred thousand. The battle was fierce in the extreme. Cortez arranged his men in a square. The natives came pouring upon them like ocean billows, rending the heav- ens with their shouts, and deafening the ear with the clangor of gongs and drums. But soon the terrific cannon uttered its roar. Ball and grape-shot swept through the dease ranks, mowing down, in hideous mutilation, whole platoons at a discharge. Immense multitudes of the dead now covered the plain, and eight of the chiefs had fallen. The commander of the native army finding it in vain to contend against these new and apparently unearthly weapons, ordered a retreat. The natives retir~d in as highly disciplined order as would have been displayed by French or Austrian troops. The exhausted victors, many of them wounded and bleeding, encamped upon the ground. The darkness and the silence of the night again overshadowed them. Cortez devoted the next day to the repose and the refreshment of his army, and sent an embassy to the camp of the Tlascalans proposing an armistice, and stating that he wished to visit their capital, Tlascala, as a friend. But in the mean time, to intimidate the natives, he headed a party of cavalry and infantry, and set out on a foraging expedition. Wherever he encountered any resistance he in- flicted condign punishment with fire and sword. The embassy soon returned from the camp ef the natives with the following defiant re- sponse: The Spaniards may pass on, as soon as they choose, to Tlascala. When they reach it, their flesh will be hewn from their bones for sacrifice to the gods. If they prefer to remain where they are, we shall visit them to-morrow. It was a terrible hour. The Tlascalans had recruited their forces, and were prepared for a decisive battle. The stoutest hearts in the Spanish army felt and admitted the magnitude of the peril. Their only hope was in the ener- gies of despair. Every man confessed himself that night to good Father Olmedo, and obtained tibsolution. Then, lulled to peace of spirit by the delusion that they were the accepted sol- diers of the cross of Christ, they fell asleep. The morning of the 5th of September, 1519, dawned cloudless and brilliant upon the adven- turers encamped upon these high table-lands of the Cordilleras. Cortez made energetic ar- rangements for the conflict, addressed a few glowing words to his troops, and advanced to meet the foe. They had marched about a mile and a half when they met the Tlascalan army, filling a vast plain, six miles square, with their thronging multitudes. They were decorated with the highest appliances of barbaric taste. Their weapons were slings, arrows, javelins, clubs, and rude swords. The moment the Span- iards appeared the Tlascalans, uttering hideous yells, and with all the inconceivable clangor of their military bands, rushed upon them. For four hours the dreadful battle raged. Again and again it appeared as if the Spaniards would be overwhelmed and utterly destroyed by over- powering numbers. Every horse was wound- ed. The sky was actually darkened with the shower of arrows and javelins. Nearly every man in the Spanish ranks was bleeding, and several were killed. But at last the terrific en- ergies of gunpowder triumphed. The Indians, leaving the hard-fought field covered with their THE CONQUEST OF MEXICO BY HERNANDO CORTEZ. 15 dead, in confusion retired. The cavalry plunged into the retreating ranks, and cut down the poor natives until weary with slaughter. Cortez now sent an imperious command to the chief of the Tlascalan army, demanding peace and friendship. If this proposition is rejected, said he, I will enter the capital as a conqueror. I will raze every house to the ground. I will put every inhabitant to the sword. To inspire the natives with more terror, Cor- tez placed himself at the head of a detachment of cavalry and light troops, and scoured the ad- jacent country, taking fearful vengeance upon all who manifested any spirit of resistance. The Tlascalans, alarmed, sent an embassyto the Span- ish camp, proposing terms of pence. More than fifty persons, bearing rich presents, composed the embassage. Cortez suspected them, per- haps with good reason, of merely acting the part of spies. He immediately ordered their hands to be cut off. The cruel deed was prompt- ly executed; and the sufferers, thus awfully mu- tilated, were sent to their countrymen with the defiant message: The Tlascalans may come by day or by night; the Spaniards are ready for them. This atrocious act seemed to appall and crush the spirit of the Indians. All further idea of esistance was abandoned. The commander- in-chief of the Tlascalan army, with a numer- ous retinue, entered the Spanish camp with proffers of submission. The brave nind proud chieftain, subdued by the terrors of the thunder and the lightning of their strange assailants, addressed Cortez in language which will com- mand universal respect and sympathy: I loved my country, said he, and wished to preserve its independence. We have been beaten. I hope you will use your victory with moderation, and not trample upon our liberties. In the name of the nation I now tender obedi- ence to the Spaniards. We will be as faithful in peace as we have been bold in war. Cortex, who was aware of the great peril from which he had just escaped, with stern words, but with secret joy in his henrt, accepted this submission, and entered into a cordial alliance with this bold and powerful nation. While these affairs were trnns~iring in the Spanish camp, an embassy arrived from Montezuma. It consisted of five of the most conspicuous nobles of the empire, accompanied by a retinue of two hundred attendants. Montezuma was alarmed by the terrible victories, and the resist- less march of the invaders. He sent many most costly gifts of Mexican manufacture, and the value of about fifty thousand dollars in gold. The Emperor also urgently requested that Cor- tez would not attempt to approach the Mexican capital, since, as he alleged, the unruly disposi- tion of the people on the route would greatly endanger his safety. Cortez returned an an- swer filled with expressions of Castilian court- esy, but declared that he must obey the com- mands of his sovereign, which required him to visit the metropolis of the great empire. Cor- tez ever acted upon the principle that truth was too precious a commodity to be wasted upon the heathen. After an encampment of three weeks upon the bloody and hard-earned field of Tzompach, Cortez again struck his tents and resumed his march. He no longer encountered any opposi- tion. The route led over fertile hills and valleys, and through the villages and towns of a populous, and apparently a contented and happy people. The invading army was every where received with cordiality, and provisions in great abund- ance flowed into their camp. The march of a few days brought them to Tlascala, the capital of this strong nation. It was, indeed, a magnificent city; larger, more populous, and of more imposing architect- ure, Cortez asserts, than the celebrated Moor- ish capital Granada., in old Spain. An im- mense throng flocked from the gates of the city to meet the troops, and the roofs of the houses were covered with spectators. Wild music, from semi-barbarian bands and voices, filled the air; banners floated in the breeze; plumed warriors hurried too and fro, and shouts of welcome seemed to rend the skies, as these hardy adventurers slowly defiled through the crowded gates and streets of the city. The po- lice regulations of the city were extraordinarily effective, repressing all disorder. The Span- iards were surprised to find barbers shops, and baths both for vapor and hot water. The river Zahuatel flowed through the heart of the city. Cortez remained here several days, refresh- ing his troops, but maintaining the utmost vigi- lance of military discipline to guard against the possibility of any hostile attack. Promptly and earnestly he entered upon his favorite effort to convert the natives to Christianity. With his own voice he argued and exhorted, and he also called into requisition all the eloquence of Fa- ther Olmedo. The God of the Christians, they replied, must be great and good. We will give him a place with our gods, who are also great and good. Cortez could admit of no such compromise. Their obduracy excited his impatience. He was upon the point of ordering the soldiers to make an onslaught upon the gods of the Tias- calans, which would probably have led to the entire destruction of his army in the narrow streets of the thronged capital, when the judi- ions and kind-hearted Olmedo dissuaded him from the rash enterprise. With true Christian philosophy he plead that forced conversion was no conversion at all; that Gods reign was only over willing minds and in the heart. Cortez yielded to the pressure of circum- stances rather than to the force of argument. We can not, he said, change the heart; bat we can demolish these abominable idols, clamoring for their hecatombs of human vic- tims; and we can introduce in their stead the blessed Virgin and her blessed Child. Shall 16 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. we not do a part because we can not do the whole ? Though Cortez reluctantly yielded to argu- ment enforced by apparent necessity, he insist- ed upon emptying the prisons of the victims destined to sacrifice. The Tlascalans consent- ed to this. But as soon as the tramp of the Spaniards ceased to echo through their streets, the prisons were again filled, and human blood, in new torrents, crimsoned their altars. The Indians, accustomed to polygamy, select- ed a number of their most beautiful young girls to be presented to the Spanish officers for wives. We can not marry heathen, said Cortez. They were all immediately baptized, and re- ceived Christian names. Louisa, the daughter of Xicotencatl, the highest chief of the Tiascal- ans, was given by her father to the Spanish gen- eral Alvarado. Many of the descendants from this beautiful Indian maiden may now be found among the grandees of Spain. Montezuma, finding that he could not dis- suade Cortez from his march by words, and fear- in~ to provoke the hostility of an enemy wield- ing such supernatural thunders, now endeavor- ed to win his friendship. He accordingly sent another embassy with still richer presents, in- viting Cortez to his capital, and assuring him of a warm welcome. He entreated him, how- ever, not to enter into any alliance with his fierce foes the Tiascalans. After spending three weeks in the city of Tlascala, Cortez again took up his march to- ward the capital of Mexico, by the way of the great city of Cholula. A hundred thousand soldiers, according to the representation of Cur- tez, volunteered to accompany him. He, how- ever, considered this force as too unwieldy, and took but six thousand. The whole population of the city escorted the army some distance from the gates. For several days they contin- ued their march through a beautiful country. densely populated, and cultivated like a garden. At length they arrived at Cholula. They were received with the warmest tokens of cor- diality, in a beautiful city, containing one hun- dred thousand inhabitants, with wide, neatly ar- ranged streets, and spacious stone houses. The more wealthy inhabitants were very gracefully dressed in garments richly embroidered. The aspect of luxury, of refinement, of high attain- ments in the arts of beauty and of utility, great- ly surprised the Spaniards. In a few days, how- ever, very striking indications of coldness, sus- picion, and hostility were perceived. The faith- ful Marina, ever on the watch, detected, as was supposed, a terrible conspiracy for the destruc- tion of the Spaniards. Cortez, with demoniac energy, crushed the attempt. He contrived to assemble an enormous multi- tude of the Cholulans, with their high dignita- ries, in the public square. At an appointed signal every musket and every cannon was discharged into their midst, and a shower of arrows and javelins pierced their thinly-clad bodies. A storm of destruction was swept through the help- less throng, which instantly covered the pave- ments with the dying and the dead. They were taken by surprise, unarmed, without leaders. They were surrounded, hemmed in; there was no escape. Helpless and frantic, they turned in terror and distraction this way and that, but the terrible missiles of lead and iron met them in every direction, and the slaughter was indis- criminate and awful. No quarter was given. The mailed cavaliers on horseback rushed through the streets,. cutting down with their dripping sabres, on the right hand and on the left, the unarmed and distracted fugitives. The Tlascalans, lapping their tongues ia blood, re MASSACRE AT CuOLULA. THE CONQUEST OF MEXICO BY HERNANDO COHTEZ. joiced in the most horrid atrocities perpetrated over their ancient foes. The dwellings were sacked pitilessly, and the city every where kin- dled into flame. The women and children were seized by the semi-barbarian Tlascalans as pris- oners, to grace their triumph, and to bleed upon their altars of human sacrifice. At last, from exhaustion, the carnage ceased. The city was re- duced to smouldering ruins, and pools of blood and mutilated carcasses polluted the streets. The ~vail of the wretched survivors, homeless and friendless, rose to the ear of Heaven more dismal than the shriek and the moan of death. The defense of Cortez is very laconic: Had I not done this to them, they would have done the same to me. Tis true. Such is war. Accursed be the man who unleashes its hell-hounds! This terrible retribution accomplished its end. City after city, appalled by the tidings of the mer- ciless vengeance of those foes who wielded the thunder and the lightning of heaven, and who, with the dreadful war-horse, could overtake the swiftest foe, sent in to the Spanish camp the most humble messages of submission, with ac- companying presents to propitiate favor. Mon- tezuma trembled in every fibre. Cortez thought that the natives were now in a very suitable frame of mind for conversion. Public thanks- ~,ivings were offered to God for the victory he had vouchsafed, and mass was celebrated by the whole army. The natives were very i)liant. They offered no resistance while the Spanish soldiers tumbled the idols out of their temples, and reared in their stead the cross and images of the Virgin. A fortnight had now elapsed, and Cortez re- sumed his march. The country through which they passed still continued populous, luxuriant, and beautiful. They were continually met by Vos~. NILNo. 07li embassies from different places, endeavoring to propitiate their favor by gifts of gold. Day after day they toiled resolutely along, until from the height of land they looked down upon the majestic, the enchanting valley of Mexico. A more perfectly lovely scene has rarely greeted human eyes. In the far distance the dim blue outline of mountains encircled the almost bound- less plain. Forests and rivers, orchards and lakes, cultivated fields and beautiful villages, adorned the landscape. The magnificent city of Mexico was seated, in queenly splendor, upon islands in the bosom of a series of lakes, more than a hundred miles in length. Innumer- able towns, with their white pictureque dwell- ings, studded the blue outline of the water. The Spaniards all gazed upon the enchanting scene with amazement, and many with alarm. They saw indications of civilization and power far above what they had anticipated. Cortez, however, relying upon the efficiency of gunpowder and the cross, marched boldly on. The love of plunder was a latent motive om- nipotent in his soul; and he saw undreamed of wealth lavishly spread before him. At every step vast crowds met him, and gazed with won- der and awe upon his army. The spirit of Mon- tezuma was now so crushed, that he sent an embassy to Cortez, offering four loads of gold for himself, and one for each of his captains, and a yearly tribute to the King of Spain, if he would turn back. With delight Cortez listened to this message. It was an indication of the weakness and fear of Montezuma. With more eagerness he pressed on his way. Of what avail, the unhappy monarch is re- ported to have said, is resistance, when the gods have declared themselves against us. Yet I mourn most for the old and infirm, the women FIRST VIEW OF TILE MEXICAN CAPITAL. 18 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZiNE. and children, too feeble to fight or to fly. For myself, and the brave men around me, we must bare our breasts to the storm, and meet it as we may. The Spaniards were now at Amaquemecan. They were lodged in large, commodious stone buildings, with the hospitality which terror ex- torted. After a rest of two days, they resumed their march through smiling villages, and wav- ing fields of maize, and innumerable flowers, which the natives cultivated with almost pas- sionate devotion. At last they arrived at Ayot- zingothe Venice of the New Worldan ins- portant town, built on piles in the waters of Lake Chalco. Gondolas of very tasteful struct- ure glided through the liquid streets. After a rest of two days, in which the Spaniards re- quited the hospitality they had received by shooting down iu their camp fifteen or twenty of the harmless natives, whom they suspected as spies, the march was continued along the southern shores of Lake Chalco. Clusters of towns, embowered in luxuriant foliage, and crimson with flowers, fringed the lake. The waters were covered with the light boats of the inhabitants gliding in every direction. At last they came to a dike, five miles long, and where but two or three horsemen could ride abreast. In the middle of this causeway, which separa- ted Lake Chalco from Lake Xochicalco, they arrived at the town of Cuitlahuac, which Cortez described as the most beautiful he had yet seen. As the Spaniards advanced, the throng be- came so immense that Cortez was compelled to resort to threats of violence to force his way. They arrived at Iztapalapan, a city of fifteen thousand houses, and embellished with public gardens of vast magnitude, blooming with flow- ers of every variety of splendor. An aviary was filled with birds of gorgeous plumage and sweet song. A vast reservoir of stone contained THE CITY OF MEXICO AXD ENvIRONS. water to irrigate the grounds, and was stored with fish. Many of the chiefs of the neighbor- ing cities had assembled here to meet Cortez. They received him with courtesy, with hospi- tality, but with reserve. He was now but a few miles from the renowned metropolis of Monte- zuma, and the turrets of the lofty temples of idolatry glittered in the sunlight before him. Another night passed away and another morning dawned. It was the 8th of Novem- ber, 1519. As Cortez approached the city, several hundred Aztec chiefs announced that Montezuma was advancing to welcome him. The glittering train of the Emperor soon ap- peared. Crowds, which could not be number- ed, thronged the long causeway which led to the island city, and the lake was darkened with boats. Montezuma was accompanied by the highest possible pomp of semi-barbarian eti- quette and splendor. He was borne on a pal- anquin waving with plumes and glittering with gold. As he alighted, obsequious attendants spread carpets for his feet. The monarch was dressed in imperial robes. The soles of his shoes were of gold. Embroidered garments gracefully draped his person, decorated with pearls and precious stones. A rich head-dress of plumes rested upon his ample brow. His countenance was serious and pensive in its ex- pression. He was tall, well formed, and moved with grace and dignity. The Mexican mon- arch and the proud Spanish marauder met in the studied interchange of all Mexican and Castilian courtesies. Cortez and his companions were conducted to their provided quarters in the imperial city. Cor- tez found himself and his army abundantly sup- plied with all comforts in a range of large stone buildings. With vigilance which never slept he immediately fortified his quarters, and plant- ed his cannon to sweep every avenue by which they could be approached. In the ii evening he decided to let the as- tounded and appalled capital hear his voice. Several volleys of ar- tillery roared like thunder-peals through the streets of the capital, while dense volumes of suffocat- ing smoke, scarcely moved by the tranquil air, settled down over the city. All hearts in Tenoebtitlan for that was then the name of the Mexican capitalwere filled with dismay. Few slept that night. Supernatural beings, with demo- niac energies, were in the bosom of the proud metropolis of the an- cient Aztecs, and the fate of the empire was doomed. The population of this city was probably about five hundred thou- sand. The houses of the common people were small but comfortable cottages, built of reeds or of bricks baked in the sun. The dwellings of the nobles, lining long, spa- THE CONQUEST OF MEXICO BY HEENANDO COIiTEZ. 19 cions, and well-paved streets, were of stone. They were extensive on the ground-floor, gen- erally but one story high, and snrrounded by gardens blooming with flowers. Fountains of cool water, brought through aqueducts of earth- en pipe, played in the court-yards. The police ret, lations were admirable. A thousand per- sons were continually employed in sweeping and watering the streets. So clean were the well-cemented pavements kept, upon which no hoof had trod until the cavalry of Cortez clat- tered into the city, that a man could walk, says one of the Spaniards, through the streets with as little danger of soiling his feet as his hands. Day after day was passed in the interchange of visits, and in the careful examination, by Cortez, of the strength and the resources of the city. He, however, never for one moment for- ~ot his great object of converting the heathen. He was truly instant, in season and out of sea- son, in urging his canse. No hour was deemed inappropriate. But Montezuma manifested no disposition to abandon the cruel idolatry of his fathers. One day the idolatrous monarch led the war-girt, blood-stained propagandist into the shrine of the great god of Mexico. Three hu- man hearts, just cut from their victims, were smoking and almost palpitating upon the altar. The chapel was stained with human gore. The soul of Cortez was roused. Turning to Monte- zuma, he exclaimed, How can you, wise and powerful as you are, put trust in such a representative of the Devil. Let me place here the cross, and the image of the blessed Virgin and her Son, and these de- testable gods will vanish. Montezuma was shocked, and hurried his ir- ~everent guest away. The zeal of the Spaniards was roused by the horrid spectacle of pagan idols polluted with blood, and they immediately converted one of the halls of their residence into a Christian chapel. Here the rites of the Roman Catholic Church were introduced, and the whole army of Cortez, with soldierly devo tion, attended mass every day. Good Father Olmedo, with a clouded mind, but with a sin- cere and devout heart, prayed fervently for Gods blessing upon his frail creatures of every name and nation. Notwithstanding all delu- sions and all counterfeits, there is such a thing as spiritual Christianity. So far as man can judge, Father Olmedo was a Christian. Cortez had now been a week in the capital. lie was perplexed what step next to take. He was treated with such hospitality that there was no possible ground for war. To remain inact- ive, merely receiving hospitality, was accom- plishing nothing. It was also to he apprehend- ed that the Mexicans would gradually lose their fears, and fall upon the invaders with resistless numbers. In this dilemma the hold Spaniard resolved to seize the person of Montezuma, who was regarded by his subjects with almost re- ligious adoration, and hold him as a hostage. By the commingling of treachery and force he succeeded, and the unhappy monarch found himself a captive in his own capital, in the in- trenched camp of the Spaniards. He was magnificently imprisoned. A body- guard of stern veterans, with all external indica- tions of obsequiousness and homage, watched him by day and by night. The heart sickens at the recital of the outrages inflicted upon this ami- able and hospitable prince. Cortez had alleged, as a reason for arresting Montezuma, the sense- less pretext that two soldiers of the company left at Vera Cruz had been waylaid by the natives and THE MEETING OF CORTEZ AND MONTEZUMA. 20 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. slain. The Indian governor in whose province the violence had occurred, was sent for hy the humiliated and powerless monarch. Obedient- ly he came, with fifteen chiefs. Cortez doomed them all to be burnt alive in the great court of the city. He gathered from the public arsenals the arrows, javelins, and other martial weapons, to form the immense funeral piles. Thus the city was disarmed. While these atrocities were in progress, Cortez entered the presence of his captive, Montezuma, accused him of being an accomplice in the dcath of the Spaniards, and pitilessly ordered the manacles of a felon to be fastened on his hands and his feet. The cruel fires were then kindled. Thousands gazed with awe upon the appalling spectacle, and the In- dian chieftains, without a remonstrance or a groan, were burned to ashes. Step after step of violence succeeded, until Montezuma was humiliated to the dust. The helpless and bewildered monarch was thus com- pelled, with tears ofanguish rolling down his cheeks, to take the oath of allegiance to the King of Spain. Cortez then extorted from him, as presents to the Spanish monarch, more than six millions of dollars in silver and gold. The conquest of iVilexico seemed achieved. Six months had now passed since Cortez had landed on the coast. The Governor of Cuba, indi~nant in view of the haughty assumptions of Cortez, fitted out a strong expedition to take possession of Mexico and bring Cortez home a prisoner for punishment. Cortez was informed that these, his formidable enemies, had landed in the vicinity of Vera Cruz. The indomitable Spaniard, leaving Alvarado in command of the strongly intrenched camp in the heart of the me- tropolis, took seventy picked men and marched rapidly and secretly to meet his Spanish foes. The journey was long and perilous. He moved ~vith great celerity, gathered some recruits by the way, fell upon the Spaniards by surprise in a midnight attack, in the midst of a black careering tempest, took their commander, Nar- vaez, sorely wounded, a prisoner; and having compelled the whole body to surrender, induced them all, by munificent presents and persuasive speech, to enlist nuder his alluring tanner. But in the flush of this wonderful victory, the alarming news reached Cortez that a ter- rible insurrection had broken out in the capital; that his troops were besieged and assailed by almost resistless numbers, and that several of his men were already killed and many wounded. Collecting his whole force, now greatly ann- mented by the accession of the conquered Spaniards with their cavalry and artillery, he hastened back from Zempoalla to the rescue of his beleaguered camp. Tie had now, with this strangely-acquired reinforcement, about a thousand infantry and a hundred cavalry, be- sides several thousands of the native allies. By forced marches they pressed along. The natives, however, in the region through which they passed, no longer greeted them with cour- tesy, but turned coldly and silently away. The Spaniards arrived at length at the cause- way which led to the city. It was a solitude. No one was there to welcome or to oppose. Fiercely these stern men strode on through the now deserted streets, till they entered into the encampment of their comrades. The insurrection had been excited by a most atrocious massacre on the part of Alvarado. He suspected, but had no proof, that a conspiracy was formed by the Mexican nobles for the ex- termination of the invaders. He took occasion, while six hundred of the flower of the Mexican nobility were assembled in the performance of some religious rites, in a totally defenseless state, to fall upon them with sword and musket. The massacre was horrible. Not one escaped. This infamous butchery was too much even for the crushed spirit of the natives to endure. Notwithstanding all the terror of horses, steel, and gunpowder, the city rose to arms. Even Cortez was indignant when he heard this story from his lieutenant. Your conduct, he exclaimed, has been that of a madman. Cortez had now with the efficiency of his European weapons of war, truly a formidablo force. In the stone buildings which protected and encircled his encampment he could mar- shal in battle array twelve hundred Spaniards and eight thousand Tlascalans. But all were in danger of perishing from starvation. A terrible battle soon ensued. The Mexicans, roused by despair, came rushing upon the in- vaders in numbers which could not be counted. Never did mortal men display more bravery than these exasperated Mexicans exhibited strug- gling for their homes and their rights. But the batteries of the Spaniards mowed theni down like gra~ss before the scythe. The con- flict was continued late into the hours of the night. The ground was covered with the dead, when darkness and exhaustion for a time stopped the carnage. In the early dawn of the morning the contest was renewed, and was continued with the most demoniac fury by both parties through the whole of another day. The Spaniards fired the city wherever they could. And though the walls of the houses were mostly of stone, the inflam- mable interior and roofs caught the flame, and the horrors of conflagration were added to the misery and the blood of the conflict. All the day long the dreadful battle raged. The streets ran red with blood. The natives cheerfully sacrificed a hundred of their own lives to take that of one of their foes. Another night darkened over the blood-stained and smouldering city. The Spaniards were driven back into their fortress, while the na- tlves, in continually increasing numbers, sum- rounded them, filling the night air with shrieks of defiance and rage. Cortez had displayed the most extraordinary heroism during the pro- tracted strife. his situation now seemed des- perate. Though many thousands of the Mcxi- cans had been slaughtered during the day, re TIlE CONQUEST OF MEXICO BY HERNANDO CORTEZ. 21 cruits flocked in so rapidly that their numbers remained undiminished. Cortez was suffering augnish from a sorely wounded hand. His men were utterly exhausted. Large numbers were wounded and many slain. The maddened roar of countless thousands of the fiercest warriors almost deafened the ear. Every moment it was feared that the walls would be scaled, and the inundation of maddened foes pour in resist- lessly upon them. In this extremity Cortez appealed to his captive, Moatezuma. Cortez was a fearless soldier. He could also stoop to any measures of fraud and perfidy. Assuming the tone of humanity, deploring the awful carnage which had taken place, and affirming his wish to save the nation from utter destruction, he, by such representations, influenced Montezuma to inter- pose. Reluctantly the amiable, beloved, per- plexed monarch at last consented. He was adored by his people. The morning had again dawned. The battle was again renewed with increasing fury. No pen can describe the tu- niult of this wild war. The yell of countless thousands of assailants, the clang of tl~eir trum- pets and drums, the clash of arms, the rattle of musketry, and the roar of artillery presented a scene which had never before found a parallel m the New World. Suddenly all was hushed as the venerated Emperor, dressed in his imperial robes, ap- peared upon the wall, and waved his hand to command the atthntion of his people. For a few moments they listened patiently to his ap- peal. But as he plead for the detested Span- ]ards their indignation burst all bounds. One ventured to assail him with an exclamation of reproach and contempt. It was the signal for a universal outbreak of vituperation against the pusillanimity of the captive King. A shower of stones and arrows fell upon him. Notwith- standing the efforts of his body-guard of Span- iards to protect him with their bucklers, a stone struck his temple which brought him senseless to the ground, and three javelins pierced his flesh. The wounded monarch was conveyed to his apartalent, crushed in spirit, and utterly broken-hearted. lie firmly refused to live. He tore the bandages from his woun& s and would take no nourishment. Silent, and brooding over his terrible calamities, he sat the picture of dejection and woe for a few days, until he died. In the mean time the battle was resumed with all its fury. All the day long it continued with~ out intermission. The wretched city was the crater of a volcano where a demoniac strife was raging. The energies of both parties seemed to redouble with despair. At last another night spread its vail over the infuriated combatants. In the darkest watches of midnight the Span- iards made a sortie and set three hundred build- ings in flames. The lurid fire, crackling to the skies, illumined the tranquil lake, and gleamed upon the most distant villages in the vast mountain-girdled valley. The tumult of the midnight assault, the shrieks of women and children, and the groans of the wounded and the dying, blended with the roar of the confla- gration. Cortez now summoned the chiefs to a parley. He stood upon the wall. The beautiful Marina, as interpreter, stood at his side. The Mexican chiefs were upon the ground before him. The inflexible and merciless Spaniard endeavored to intimidate them by threats. If you do not immediately submit, said he, I will lay the whole city in ashes, and ~EHE FALL OF MONTEZUMA. 22 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. every man, woman, and child shall be put to the sword. They answered defiantly: The, bridges are broken down, and you can not escape. You have better weapons of war, but we have great- er numbers. If we must offer a thousand lives for one, we will continue the battle till you are destroyed. Saying this, they gave the signal for attack, and a storm of arrows and javelins darkened the sky and fell into the beleaguered fortress. Notwithstanding the bold tone assumed by Cortez the Spaniards were in great dismay. A mutiny now broke out in the camp. They murmured bitterly, and demanded permission to cut their way through their foes and escape from the city. The extraordinary energies of this iron fanatic still remained unshaken. Calmly he reflected upon his position, examined his resources, and formed his plans. He immediately constructed moving forts or towers to be pushed through the streets on wheels, under the protection of which his sol- diers could make every bullet accomplish its mission. A platform on the top could be let down, affording a bridge to the roofs of the houses. The army thus commenced its peril- ous march through the smoking, gory streets. Every inch cf the way was contested. The advance was slow but resistless, the cannon and the musketry sweeping down all obstacles. At last they arrived at one of the numerous canals which every where intersected the city. The ridge was destroyed, and the deep waters of the canal cut off all retreat. Planting the can- non so as to keep the natives at bay, every availahie hand was employed in filling the chasm with stones and timber torn from the ruined city. Still stones, arrows, and javelins fell thickly among the workmen. For two days this terrific strife raged. Sev- en canals the Spaniards were thus compelled to bridge. But the natives could present no effectual resistance. The Spaniards advance sternly over the mutilated bodies of the dying and of the dead. Still, at the close of this day the condition of the Spaniards was more des- perate than ever. As the gloom of night again descended, a deeper, heavier gloom rested upon the hearts of all in the Spanish camp. A wailing storm arose of wind and rain, and nature moaned and wept as if in sympathy with the woes of man. An immediate retreat was decided upon. At midnight all were on the march. In the dark- ness and the storm they passed through the war- scathed streets of the city without opposition. But when they reached one of the long cause- ways, two miles in length and hut twenty fee wide, which connected the island city with the main-land, they found the lake alive with the fleets of the natives, and the Spaniards were assailed on both sides by swarming multitudes who, in the fierce and maddened strife, set all danger at defiance. War never exhibited a more demoniac aspect. There were three chasms in the causeway, broken by the Mexi- cans, which the Spaniards, in the darkness and assailed by innumerable foes, were com- pelled to bridge. The imagination can not compass the horrors of that night. When th first gray of the lurid morning dawned, the whole length of the causeway was covered with the bodies of the slain. The chasms were clogged up with the fragments of artillery, bag- gage wagons, dead horses, and the corpses of Spaniards and natives with features distorted by all the hateful passions of the strife. A few only had escaped. Nearly all the horses, all the plundered gold, all the baggag TIlE BATTLE urea ra~ cAUsEwAY~ TIlE CONQUEST OF MEXICO BY HERNANDO CORTEZ. 23 wagons, all the cannon, were either sunk in the lake or floating upon its surface, which was blackened with the canoes of the Mexicans. Not even a musket remained. As Cortez gazed upon the feeble baud of exhausted, torn, and bleeding soldiers which now alone remained to him, even his stern heart was moved, and he sat down and wept bitterly. Is it revenge which leads us to rejoice that some drops of retributive woe were wrung from the heart of that guilty conqneror? He had overwhelmed a benighted nation with misery. Such a crime must not go unpunished. There is a day of final judgment. But this was no time for tears. By night and by day the discomfited and imperiled Span- iards continued their long and precipitate re- treat toward the sea-shore. They were often assailed; but with their few remaining horses, their steel swords, and the mental energies which European civilization confers, they beat off their assailants, and continued their flight. Cortez, who promptly recovered from his mo- mentary weakness, manifested the utmost se- reneness and imperturbability of spirit, shared every hardship of the soldiers, and maintained their confidence in him by surpassing all in the gallantry and the magnanimity of his courage. Exhausted and wounded as they were, it re- quired the toilsome march of a week to reach the mountain summits which encircle the great valley of Mexico. Upon the other side of the ridge innumerable warriors had gathered from all the provinces to cut off the retreat. From an eminence the ap- palling spectacle suddenly burst upon the re- treating Spaniards of a boundless, living ocean of armed men, with its crested billows of gleam- ing helmets and waving plumes. Even the heart of Cortez sank within him. It seemed certain that his last hour was now tolled. There was no possible hope but in the energies of utter de- spair. Cortez harangued his troops as angels of mercy, who might surely depend, in their holy mission against the heathen, on Divine protection. He succeeded, as usual, in rousing all their religious enthusiasm. Plunging upon the enemy in solid column, they cut their way through the dense, tumultuous, extended mass, as the steamer plows through opposing billows. The marvelous incidents of the fight would occu- py pages. The Spanish historians record that the native army was two hundred thousand strong, and that twenty thousand fell on that bloody field. Though this is, of course, an exaggera- tion, it gives one an idea of the appearance of the multitude and of the carnage. At last Cortez arrived in the territory of his friendly allies, the Tiascalans. He was received with the utmost kindness, and was now safe from pursuit. his followers were extremely anxious to re- turn to Vera Crnz, send a vessel to Cuba for some transports, and abandon the enterprise. But this indomitable warrior, while lying upon the bed in a raging fever, while a surgeon was cutting off three of his mutilated and inflamed fingers, and raising a portion of the bone of his skull, which had been splintered by the club of a native, was forming his plans to return to Mexico and reconquer what he had lost. I can not believe, he wrote to the Emper- or, Charles V., that the good and merciful God will thus suffer his cause to perish among the heathen. Upon the death of Montezuma the crown of Mexico passed to his more warlike brother, Cuitlahua. He immediately, with great vigor, fortified the city anew, and recruited and drill- ed his armies, now familiar with the weapons of European warfare. He sent an embassy to the Tiascalans to incite them to rise against the de- feated Spaniards, the common enemy of the whole Indian race. Cortez succeeded in in- ducing them to reject the proffered alliance of their ancient foes. He also succeeded in fo- menting war among some of the rival provinces, and in thus turning the arms of the natives against each other. He established his head-quarters at Tepeaca. The Spaniards, among other woes, had intro- duced the small-pox into Mexico. The terrible scourge now swept like a blast of destruction through the land. The natives perished by thousands. Many cities and villages were al- most depopulated. It reached the Mexican capital, and the Emperor Cuitlahua fell a vic- tim. Recruits soon arrived at the Spanish camp from Vera Cruz, with twenty horses and an abundant supply of arms and ammunition. With indefatigable diligence Cortez prepared for a new campaign. Five months had passed since the disasters of the Dismal Nigkt, as the Span- iards ever called the midnight strife upon the causeway of the city of Mexico. It was now December. Cortez, with a new army, well appointed and disciplined, with the hardy valor of the natives, guided by the skill of the Spaniards, commenced again his march for the conquest of Mexico. Guatemozin was now the monarch, a bold, energetic young man, of twenty-five yeats of age. The army of Cortez consisted of six hundred Spaniards, many of whom had recently arrived from Cuba. He had also nine cannon. The allied army of the natives marching under his banner was esti.~ mated at over one hundred thousand. In an address to the army, Cortez exhorted the Span- iards to punish the rebels. He also declared that it was his great object to promote the glory of God by converting the heathen to the cross of Christ. Prayer was offered, mass was cele- brated, and the army recommenced its crusade. Day after day they pressed unimpeded on, till again they surmounted the heights which com- manded the magnificent valley. Like an ava- lanche the combined host of Europeans and Tiascalans poured down upon the valley where the doomed city reposed. A series of scenes of horror ensued, at the recital of which the heart sickens. Battle suc- ceeded battle. Cities and villages were sacked and burned, and the soil and the rivers were red 24 HAEPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. with blood. But no valor on the part of the natives could resist the demoniac energy of the invaders. They arrived upon the shores of the lake before the capital. Cortez soon obtained possession of Tezcuco, the second city of the empire, about twenty miles from the metropo- lis. Here he fortified himself, and commenced the construction of boats to transport his troops to the island city. Three months were spent in this work and in ravaging pitilessly the ad- jacent country. His arms were every where triumphant, and city after city became obse- quious to his will. The siege of the capital en- sued, with daily sanguinary assaults. The valor which the Mexicans displayed extorted the praise even of their foes. For more than a month this incessant war- fare was continued, and the Spnniards were every where thwarted by the devoted defenders of their own firesides. Cortez at last resolved upon a general assault. It was fiercely urged, but entirely unsuccessful. The Spaniards were driven back with great slaughter, and forty of their number were made prisoners, to be offered in bloody sacrifice to the heathen gods. This victory was celebrated at midnight in the city by the natives, with all the accompaniments of l)arbaric clangor. The army of Cortez was now augmented to a hundred and fifty thousand, as the conquered cities had been compelled to furnish him with troops. Sternly he pressed the siege. Day after day he drew nearer. One obstacle after another was surmounted by military science and the terrible energy of his batteries. Gua- temozin nobly rejected every overture for peace, resolved to perish, if perish he must, be- neath the ruins of the monarchy. Famine be- gan to consume the city. Gradually Cortez forced his advance along the causeways. lie got possession of a portion of the city, and lev- eled it with the ground. Every inch was dis- puted, and an incessant battle raged. At length Cortez had three-fourths of the city reduced to ashes. The Mexicans now decided that their revered Emperor Guatemozin should endeavor to escape in a boat and rouse the distant prov- inces. The unfortunate monarch was captured in the attempt. When led into the presence of Cortez he said, proudly, I have fought as became a king. I have defended my people to the last. Nothing re- mains but to die. Plunge this dagger into my bosom, and end a life which is henceforth use- less. The Emperor being a captive, the resistance of the Mexicans instantly ceased. Thus term- inated this memorable and atrocious siege of seventy-five days of incessant battle. But the avarice of the Spaniards encountered a sad dis- appointment. Guatemozin had cast all the treas- ures of the capital into the lake. Cortez cele- brated his awful victory with thanksgivings and masses. The terrible t.idings of the fall of the capital and of the captivity of the monarch spread rapidly through the empire, and all the provinces hastened to give in their submission to the conqueror. To the eternal disgrace of Cortez, he allowed the monarch who had so nobly defended his people, and also his chief favorite, to be put to the torture, that he might wring from them the confession of hidden treas- ures. With invincible fortitude Guatemozin en- dured the torment; and when the chief who was suffering at his side groaned in agony, and turn- ed an imploring look to his sovereign, Guate- mozin replied, Am I, then, reposing upon a bed of flowers ? TuE CAPTUE OF OUATEMOZIN. REMEMBRANCES OF THE MISSISSIPPI. By such deeds of infamy the inhabitants of Mexico were robbed of. their independence and of their country. For three hundred years the enslaved natives continued under the yoke of their conquerors. The idols ~f Mexico gave place to the idols of Rome. Three hundred years have passed away. The government of Spain and the religiou of Spain have cursed the land. Mexico has made no progress. From all these dark storms of war and misery we can as yet see but little good which the providence of God has evolved. It is true that human sac- rifices have ceased, hut Mexico is still a land of darkness, ignorance, and crime. The curse has also fallen upon Spain and upon all her posses- sions. Is it thus that national sins are pun- ished? REMEMBRANCES OF THE MISSISSIPPI. BY T. B. THORPE. T11~ excitement that prevailed in Europe as e first- fruits of the discovery of America manifested themselves, can at this day be but (limly realized. The riches that seemed inex- haustible, time grandeur, the mystery, the strange people of the new continent inhabiting it, affect- ed the imaginations of every class of society the mind of the civilized world was suddenly startled into wild wakefulness at the prospect of a future which had no apparent limits in its promises of wealth, and in the traditions of the I)ast no precedents for its unfolding magnifi- cence. The man, however, who led the way sprung from obscurity; he had no patent of no- bility from the existing sovereigns, and imperial as were admitted to be his triumphs, they were hut grudgingly acknowledged, and were finally repaid by neglect and disgrace. Cortez and Pizarro, who followed Columbus in the path of glory, were also adventurers, and depended upon their genius alone for their success. When De Soto, therefore, announced his proposed ex- pedition to Florida, his enormous wealth, his known valor and prudence, his high standing with Charles the Fifth, and his acknowledged connection with the aristocracy of the country, gave a personal interest to his expedition in circles not before affected. Armed with vice-regal power, De Soto estab- lished a court at Seville, which, for splendor and the number of its attendants, rivaled that of the Emperor. Men of all conditions of lifemany of noble birth and good estateenrolled them- selves as his followers. Houses and vineyards, gardens of olive-trees, and land devoted to till- age, were sacrificed in order to obtain military equipments. Portuguese hidalgoes, famed for brilliant exploits in the wars with the Moors, volunteered their services. The port of San Lucca of Barrameda was crowded by those who wished to embark in the enterprise. A whole year being consumed in preparations for depart- ure, each day was distinguished by a tourna- ment, or some costly celebration, such as had never before been witnessed in the land. Spain, with the prolonged entertainment, became Florida mad,~~ and, forgetting what had already been accomplished, indulged in dreams of new discoveries under the lead of the munificent Adelantado that would sink into insignificance the already realized glories of Mexico and Peru. De Soto remained some months in Cuba, where he assumed the reins of government, and indulged his followers in enacting over again the showy spectacles which had preceded his departure from Seville. At last, amidst salvoes of artillery, the waving of plumes, and a lavish display of the gorgeous ceremonies of his church, he departed for the promised land. From this time forward his history becomes one of melancholy interest, his life a display of fruit- less bravery, joined with a courage that met with no adequate reward. In his wanderings De Soto finally reached the banks of the Mississippi, and this seems to have been his last appearance surrounded by the peaceful possession of the pomp and circumstance of a Spanish cavalier. Unsuc- cessful as had been his enterprise, up to this moment he had never indulged the idea of failure. Stories of the existence of great cities and of untold treasures, somewhere in the ~vil- dcrness, still, allured him on, and these reports were always confirmed by the natives imme- diately around him, in order to hasten his de- parture from their midst. As the broad, un- broken river, more than a mile wide, and fill- ed with floating trees, rolled in silent grandeur before his astonished eyes, he seemed to feel the mysterious influence of an important cul- minating era in his history. In the presence of thousands of gayly-dressed natives, attracted by curiosity, and for the time inspired by fear, he commemorated the event by the firing of can- non, the rejoicing of his followers, the erection of a gigantic cross, and the celebration of high mass by the attendant priestsa proper hallow- ing by Christianity of the flood-tides that drain the most remarkable and richest valley of the world. The exploration of the country west- ward of the Mississippi only increased De Sotos misfortunes. After wandering for more than a year among interminable swamps, his followers thinned by disease and the weapons of an unre- lenting foe, when again he reached the shores of the river his body was weakened by fever, and his great soul overcome with hopeless melancholy. Some rude brigantines were constructed, in which De Soto and the remnant of his follow- ers launched themselves on their way to the South. The deep mists of the river enveloped them as in a shroud, the overhanging moss of the trees waved as funeral pulls, and the genial sunshine only lighted the way for the missiles of an exasperated and now triumphant foe. The hero despaired and died; and where the dark Red River mingles its bloody-looking waters with those of the Mississippiwhere all was desolation and deathhis body, amidst silence and tears, was consigned to its last resting- place, and the mighty river became at once his glory and his grave.

REMEMBRANCES OF THE MISSISSIPPI. By such deeds of infamy the inhabitants of Mexico were robbed of. their independence and of their country. For three hundred years the enslaved natives continued under the yoke of their conquerors. The idols ~f Mexico gave place to the idols of Rome. Three hundred years have passed away. The government of Spain and the religiou of Spain have cursed the land. Mexico has made no progress. From all these dark storms of war and misery we can as yet see but little good which the providence of God has evolved. It is true that human sac- rifices have ceased, hut Mexico is still a land of darkness, ignorance, and crime. The curse has also fallen upon Spain and upon all her posses- sions. Is it thus that national sins are pun- ished? REMEMBRANCES OF THE MISSISSIPPI. BY T. B. THORPE. T11~ excitement that prevailed in Europe as e first- fruits of the discovery of America manifested themselves, can at this day be but (limly realized. The riches that seemed inex- haustible, time grandeur, the mystery, the strange people of the new continent inhabiting it, affect- ed the imaginations of every class of society the mind of the civilized world was suddenly startled into wild wakefulness at the prospect of a future which had no apparent limits in its promises of wealth, and in the traditions of the I)ast no precedents for its unfolding magnifi- cence. The man, however, who led the way sprung from obscurity; he had no patent of no- bility from the existing sovereigns, and imperial as were admitted to be his triumphs, they were hut grudgingly acknowledged, and were finally repaid by neglect and disgrace. Cortez and Pizarro, who followed Columbus in the path of glory, were also adventurers, and depended upon their genius alone for their success. When De Soto, therefore, announced his proposed ex- pedition to Florida, his enormous wealth, his known valor and prudence, his high standing with Charles the Fifth, and his acknowledged connection with the aristocracy of the country, gave a personal interest to his expedition in circles not before affected. Armed with vice-regal power, De Soto estab- lished a court at Seville, which, for splendor and the number of its attendants, rivaled that of the Emperor. Men of all conditions of lifemany of noble birth and good estateenrolled them- selves as his followers. Houses and vineyards, gardens of olive-trees, and land devoted to till- age, were sacrificed in order to obtain military equipments. Portuguese hidalgoes, famed for brilliant exploits in the wars with the Moors, volunteered their services. The port of San Lucca of Barrameda was crowded by those who wished to embark in the enterprise. A whole year being consumed in preparations for depart- ure, each day was distinguished by a tourna- ment, or some costly celebration, such as had never before been witnessed in the land. Spain, with the prolonged entertainment, became Florida mad,~~ and, forgetting what had already been accomplished, indulged in dreams of new discoveries under the lead of the munificent Adelantado that would sink into insignificance the already realized glories of Mexico and Peru. De Soto remained some months in Cuba, where he assumed the reins of government, and indulged his followers in enacting over again the showy spectacles which had preceded his departure from Seville. At last, amidst salvoes of artillery, the waving of plumes, and a lavish display of the gorgeous ceremonies of his church, he departed for the promised land. From this time forward his history becomes one of melancholy interest, his life a display of fruit- less bravery, joined with a courage that met with no adequate reward. In his wanderings De Soto finally reached the banks of the Mississippi, and this seems to have been his last appearance surrounded by the peaceful possession of the pomp and circumstance of a Spanish cavalier. Unsuc- cessful as had been his enterprise, up to this moment he had never indulged the idea of failure. Stories of the existence of great cities and of untold treasures, somewhere in the ~vil- dcrness, still, allured him on, and these reports were always confirmed by the natives imme- diately around him, in order to hasten his de- parture from their midst. As the broad, un- broken river, more than a mile wide, and fill- ed with floating trees, rolled in silent grandeur before his astonished eyes, he seemed to feel the mysterious influence of an important cul- minating era in his history. In the presence of thousands of gayly-dressed natives, attracted by curiosity, and for the time inspired by fear, he commemorated the event by the firing of can- non, the rejoicing of his followers, the erection of a gigantic cross, and the celebration of high mass by the attendant priestsa proper hallow- ing by Christianity of the flood-tides that drain the most remarkable and richest valley of the world. The exploration of the country west- ward of the Mississippi only increased De Sotos misfortunes. After wandering for more than a year among interminable swamps, his followers thinned by disease and the weapons of an unre- lenting foe, when again he reached the shores of the river his body was weakened by fever, and his great soul overcome with hopeless melancholy. Some rude brigantines were constructed, in which De Soto and the remnant of his follow- ers launched themselves on their way to the South. The deep mists of the river enveloped them as in a shroud, the overhanging moss of the trees waved as funeral pulls, and the genial sunshine only lighted the way for the missiles of an exasperated and now triumphant foe. The hero despaired and died; and where the dark Red River mingles its bloody-looking waters with those of the Mississippiwhere all was desolation and deathhis body, amidst silence and tears, was consigned to its last resting- place, and the mighty river became at once his glory and his grave. 26 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. One hundred and thirty years elapsed be- fore any farther attempt was made by Euro- peans to explore the river. Under the auspices of France, Father Marquette, a missionary among the Indians, and M. Joliet, an intelli- gent fur-trader residing at Quebec, accomplish- ed, to some extent, the important undertaking. When these adventurous travelers arrived at the high ridge of land which separated the waters of the north from those which flow toward the tropics, their Indian guides refused to go any farther, and endeavored to dissuade the party from presuming on a perilous voyage among unknown and cruel nations, where they would encounter the hideous monsters which inhabit- ed the great river, and which, rising from the boiling waves, swallowed all who ventured upon the treacherous surface. The party proceed- ed, however, eleven hundred miles below the mouth of the Wisconsin without meeting with any startling incident. Then it was that the difficulties of the voyage increased; the weather became intensely hot, and the insects which filled the air made life almost insupportable. Deciding to go no farther, and deeming their mission accomplished, the voyagers retraced their way homeward, and after many weeks of hard labor a~ainst the strong current, they reached the mouth of the Illinois River in safety. Finding that this gentle stream afford- ed a direct and easy route to the great lakes, the travelers soon reached their homes. The information gained by the self-sacrificing cour- age of these men filled New France with re- joicing. It was believed that the long-desired route to China h d been discovered. Five years later, Monsieur La Salle, a native of Normandy, and one of the most remarkable and most unfortunate men of his age, by de- scending the Mississippi from the Falls of St. Anthony to the Gulf of Mexico, completed the imperfect discoveries of De Soto and Marquette. The river, at its mouth, instead of possessing a channel proportionate to its extent and mag- nitude, pours its contributions to the ocean through three principal outlets and a great number of natural canals, all of which are, to the inexperienced eye, lost in the vast expanse of the Mexican Gulf. Approaching them from the sea, you first become aware of their vicinity by the appearance of floating trees, or the more strange phenomenon of vast bodies of fresh but turbid water, rolling unmingled with the green salt waves. La Salle, after a fruitless search of several weeks, missed these outlets altogeth- er; and his colony, intended for Louisiana, es- tablished itself in Texas. Do Iberville was the first white man who ever entered these passes from the sea, and he was loth to believe that the almost indistin- guishable lines of coast were all that indicated that he was on the bosom of the mighty river of the West. Ascending, however, the firmer banks began to develop themselves; gigantic trees cast their dark and impenetrable shades over the landscape, and the native inhabitants appeared to greet his arrival among their sol- itary abodes. A new era of civilization on this continent was now inaugurated, and the inci- dents following, though stripped of the charms of mystery, receive the higher interest arisin~ from witnessing, in forest wastes, the rapid de- velopment of the highest civilization. The details of the struggles between the French and English for the possession of the country drained by the Mississippi, are among the most thrilling chapters of our early history. Braddocks defeat was the last of the many signal victories which the French obtained in the contest; a series of triumphs then ensued to the British arms, which resulted in the military possession of the head-waters of the Ohio, a precursor of other victories which ended by the official acknowledgment by France of her loss of empire in America. Then followed the War of Independence ; and, lastly, a complete tri aUnIAL OF DE SOTO. REMEMBRANCES OF THE MISSISSIPPI. 27 umph over the hostile aboriginal population of the North and West, and for the first time were the pioneers from the Atlantic States ena- bled to quietly establish themselves in the rich valley of the Ohio and her tributary streams. From this time forxvard the Mississippi River be- came a subject of constantly-increasing inter- est. The vast country it drains, the rapid in- flux of population into its fertile valleys, the wonderful enterprise of the people, the devel- opment of wealth, the triumphs of steam, the progress of empire, have had no precedents in the past, and there can be nothing to equal it in the future. The interest excited hy the Mississippi con- sists not in attractive scenery visible to the eye at any given point, but in the thoughts it sug- gests: for the most stolid mind is impressed, if it hut even dimly comprehends the extent of this great aorta of a mighty continent, affording internal navigation for thirteen States and Terri- toriesa more extensive line of coast to our empire than the Atlantic itself, and far surpass- ing that ocean in the number of its ports and the value of its commerce. It has been esti mated that the commerce of the Mississippi out- let, both ways, is equal to three hundred millions; and the commerce of the lakes, west of Buffalo, is two hundred millions. The value of the com- merce carried on in Western steamboats can not be less than five hundred millions! This in- cludes more than one thousand steamers, trav- ersing a distance of fully thirty thousand miles upon the waters of Our great rivers and inland lakes. In natural objects the Mississippi differs from other rivers, more particularly in the extent of its spring floods, its friable banks, primitive forests, its floating trees, its snags, and its sawyers. At low water, the voyager perceives the stream comparatively narrow and confined within high banks. If inexperienced, he can scarcely real- ize that possibly in a few weeks or days, the en- tire appearance of the country ~vill he changed, that the bed of the river will be full and over- flowing, and that houses and plantations, in- stead of being upon a high hluW are literally below the usual level of the river, nnd but for the artificial protection of levees, would be entire- ly submerged. Untold acres of rich land, form- SAME SCENE ~ WATEP.. TIlE MISSISSIPPI AT LOW WATEII. 28 IIAP~PERS NEW MONTHLY ~LWAZINE. irig the banks, annually cave into the stream, nloosing thousands of forest trees, which are, by this means, drifted from the cold regions of the north, to decay prematurely beneath a trop- ical sun. The majority of these forest giants, however, accumulate on sand-bars, and in the short bends, fasten by their roots and limbs to shal- low places, and are soon wholly, or in part, covered by the constant depositcreating in a single year new-born islands, and turning swamp into high land. Others, again, will firmly fasten themselves in the deep channel, with their trunks pointing np-stream, and then shedding their more delicate limbs, they present the long, for- midable shafts, known as snags in Mississippi navigation. Other trees, again, will fasten them- selves in the current with their trunks down stream. The ever-rolling tide ~vill force them under, until the tension of the bending roots overcomes the pressure, and they will slowly ap- pear in sight, shake their drifting limbs, and then disappear for awhile in the depths below such is the dreaded sawyer.. These last-de- scribed obstructions were the terror of the early boatmen of the Mississippithe Scylla and Charybdis of its early navigation. Among other physical peculiarities is pre- sented the singular phenomenon of a mighty river, as you approach its termination, gradual- ly narrowin~ within its hanks. Soon after you pass New Orleans, the soil begins to grow les: firm, and the depth of the river continues to diminish all the way to the sea; in the progress of a hundred miles it becomes lost in the low marshes, and all vegetation, except long rank grass, disappears. here the current, without any visible reason, divides into three passes almost undistiugnishable channels, which cut through the accumulated deposit, the half-form- ed soil, and reach out into the Gnlf. The depth of water in these outlets, unfortunately for the purposes of commerce, is never great, and con- stantly varies under the influence of wind and storm. A vessel, many years ago, was huilt at Pitts- burg, and from that town cleared for Leghor When she arrived at her place of destination the captain produced his papers before the cus- tom-house officer, who would not credit them, observing, that he was well acquainted with the name of every shipping port that no such place as Pittshurg existed, and that the vessel must be confiscated. The American, not at all SAWYERS. bNAO~. REMEMBRANCES OF THE MISSISSIPPI. abashed, laid before the unbelieving receiver of customs a map of the United States, and directing the attention of the functionary to the Gulf of Mexico, pointed out the Belize, and then carried his finger a thonsand miles up the Mississippi to the mouth of the Ohiothea pro- ceeding up the last-named river another thou- sand miles, he reached the port whence his vessel cleared. The astonished Italian, in his amaze- ment, devoutly crossed himseW and could have been but little less surprised had the skipper kept on with his inland navigation until he reached the north pole itself. He did not know that his fellow-countryman, Columbus, had (liscovered so mach. Two classes of people originally crowded into the virgin fields of the West. Marietta, the first permanent settlement on the Ohio, waschar- acteristically of those timesmade up entirely of renowned men of the Revolution: officers and soldiers, who, at the close of seven years privation and suffering, found themselves turned loose upon the world, their private fortunes ruined, themselves estranged from their early and perhaps desolate homes, and to them all profitable occupation gone. Such men pro jected cities, opened farms, and laid wide and strong the foundation of future empire. There was another class to whom the excite- ment of the war-path was a necessity, as it was difficult for these rude yet brave men to control themselves so as to perform their allot- ment of the rough and confining labors of a frontier life. A place, however, was unexpect- edly prepared for them, which required all their energy of character to fill, and which blended most happily the labors of civilization with those of the scout and hunter. The surplus, of the rich lands of the West found an active demand, not only at the head- waters of the Ohio, but also among the rich set- tlements of Florida and Louisiana. A race of ,iganiic men was required to guide in safety, against a swift-running current, the rude craft laden with rich stores through a perilous vov- age of fifteen hundred miles, avoiding whirl- pools, snags, and sawyers, and exposed to hostile conflict with the savage foe. The de- mand was supplied by the wild spirits we have alluded to, and thus originated the keel-boat- men of the Mississippimen more remarkable than any other that ever lived, and whose ex- aggerations, physical and mental, have given rise to the most genuine originality we can claim as American character. The keel-boat was long and narrow, sharp at the bow and stern, and of light draft. From fifteen to twenty hands were required to propel it along. The crew, divided equally on each side, took their places upon the walking- boards, extending along the whole length of the craft, and, setting one end of their pole in the bottom of the river, the other was brought to the shoulder, and with body bent forward, they walked the boat against the formidable current. It is riot strange that the keel-boatmen, al- ways exercising in the open air, without an idea of the dependence of the laborer in their minds, armed constantly with the deadly rifle, and feeling assured that their strong arms and sure aim would any where gain them a liveli- hood, should have become, physically, the most powerful of men, and that their minds, often naturally of the highest order, should have elab- orated ideas singularly characteristic of the ex- traordinary scenes and associations with which they were surrounded. Their professional pride was in ascending rapids. This effort of hu- man strength to overcome natural obstacles was considered by them worthy of their steel. The slightest error exposed the craft to be thrown across the current, or to be brought sideways in contact with rocks or other obstructions, which would inevitably destroy it. The hero vaunted that his boat never swung in the swift current, and never backed from a slate Their chief amusements were rough frolics, F U. KEFL-L~OAi. 30 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. dancing, fiddling, and fist-fights. The incredi- ble strength of their pectoral muscles, growing out of their peculiar labor and manner of life, made fights with them a direful necessityit was an appetite, and, like pressing hunger, had to be appeased. The keel-boatman who boasted that he had never been whipped, stood upon a dan- gerous eminence, for every aspirant for fame was bound to dispute his claim to such distinc- tion. Occasionally, at some temporary landing- place, a nnmber accidentally came together for a night. From the extreme labors of the day, possibly quietness reigned in the camp, when, unexpectedly, the repose would be disturbed by some restless fellow crowing forth a defiance in the manner of a game-cock; then, spring- ing into some conspicuous place, and rolling up his sleeves, he would utter his challenge as fol- lows: Im from the Lightning Forks of Roaring River. Im all man, save what is wild cat and extra lightning. Im as hard to run against as a cypress snagI never back water. Look at mea small specimenharmless as an angle- worma remote circumstancea mere year- ling. Cock-a-doodle-doo I I did hold down a bufferlo bull, and tar off his scalp with my teeth, but I cant do it nowIm too powerful weak, I am. By this time those within hearing would spring to their feet, and, like the war-horse that smells the battle afar oW inflate their nos- trils with expectation. The challenger goes on: Im the man that, single-handed, towed the broadhorn over a sand-barthe identical infant who girdled a hickory by smiling at the bark, and if any one denies it, let him make his will and pay the expenses of a funeral. Im the genuine article, tough as bulls hide, keen as a rifle. I can out-swim, out-swar, out-jump, out- drink, and keep soberer than any man at Cat- fish Bend. Im painfully ferochusIm spiling for some one to whip meif theres a creeter in this diggin that wants to be disappointed in trying to do it, let him yellwhoop-hurra I Rifle-shooting they brought to perfection their deadly aim told terribly at the battle of New Orleans. As hunters, the weapon had been their companion, and they never parted with it in their new vocation. While working at the oar or pole, it was always within reach, and if a deer unexpectedly appeared on the banks, or a migratory bear breasted the waves, it was stricken down with unerring aim. By an imperative law among themselves, they were idlers on shore, where their chief amuse- ment was shooting at a mark, or playing severe practical jokes upon each other. They would, with the rifle-ball, and at long distances, cut the pipe out of the hat-band of a fellow-boatman, or unexpectedly upset a cup of whisky that might, at lunch-time, be for the moment rest- ing on some ones knee. A negro, exciting the ire of one of these men, he at the distance of a hundred yards, with a rifle-ball, cut off the offenders heel, and did this without a thought that the object of his indignation could be more seriously damaged by an unsteady aim. Cutting off a wild turkeys head with a rifle- ball at a hundred yards distance, while the bird was in full flight, was not looked upon as an ex- traordinary feat. At nightfall, they would snu candles at fifty paces, and do it without extin- guishing the light. Many of these extraordi- nary men became so expert and cool, that in the heat of battle they would announce the place on their enemy they intended to hit, and sub- sequent examination would prove the certainty of their aim. Driving the nail, however, was their most favorite amusement. This consisted in sinking a nail two-thirds of its length in the centre of a target, and then at forty paces, with a rifle-ball, driving it home to the head. If they quarreled- among themselves, and then made friends, their test that they bore no malice, was to shoot some small object fro each others hearls. Mike Fink, the best shot of all keel-boatmen, lost his life in one of these strange trials of friendship. He had a difficulty with one of his companions, made friends, and agreed to the usual ceremony to show that he bore no ill-will. The man put an apple upon his head, placed himself at the proper distance Mike fired, and hit, not the inanimate object, but the man, who fell to the ground, apparently dead. Standing by was a brother of this vic- tim either of treachery or hazard, and in an instant of anger he shot Mike through the heart. In a few moments the supposed dead man, without a wound, recovered his feet. Mikc had, evidently from mere wantoness, displaced the apple by shooting between it and the skull, in the same way that he would have barked ~ squirrel from the limb of a tree. The joke, un- fortunately, cost the renowned Mike Fink his life. The glorious point upon the Mississippi for the gathering of the boatmen was Natcher- under-the-Hill. It was at this landing that the best market was found for the products of the upper country, and oftentimes there ac- cumulated a mass of richly-laden boats, ex- tending for miles along the shore. The peace- able inhabitants residing on the bluff ofttimes looked down with terror upon the wild bands of powerful men, who, having reached the termin- us of their journey, were paid oW and left Without restraint to indulge their caprices in every form of reckless rowdyism. Generally, they expended their animal prowess amon~ themselves, but they would occasionally break through the acknowledged boundaries of their own district, and carry the devoted city, s beautifully situated, by storm. Taking posses- sion of the streets, with equal impunity they rode over the law and every physical obstruc- tion; rare, indeed, was it that the police could make any headway against these mighty men. Having gratified their humors, drank up, or otherwise destroyed, all the whisky in their reach, with y Ils ad war-whoops, that fairly REMEMBRANCES OF THE MISSISSIPPI. 81 wakened the aborigines sleeping beneath the walls of Fort Rosalie, they would retreat down the winding road that leads to the plateau under the hill, most likely to meet with a number of their own set and engage in a pitched battle, the Herculean force of which finds no parallel, except in Homers descriptions of the fabulous collisions between the gods. False, indeed, would be the supposition that these men, lawless as they were, possessed a single trait of character in common with the law-defying wretches of our crowded cities. They committed, it is true, great excesses in villages where their voyages terminated, and when large numbers of them were assembled together. If they defied the law it was not be- cause it was irksome, but because they never felt its restraints. They had their own laws, which they implicitly obeyed. With them fair play was a jewel. If the crew of a rival boat was to be attacked, only an equal number was detached for the service; if the intruders were worsted, no one interfered for their relief. Whatever was placed in their care for trans- portation was sacred, and would be defended from harm, if necessary, at the sacrifice of life. They would, from mere recklessness, pilfer the outbuildings of a farm-house, yet they could be intrusted with uncounted sums of money, and if any thing in their possession became dam- aged or lost, they made restitution to the last farthing. In difficulties between persons, they invariably espoused the cause of the weaker party, and took up the quarrels of the aged, whether in the right or wrong. As an illustration of their rude code of honor, is remembered the story of Bill MCoy. He was a master-spirit, and had successfully dis- puted for championship upon almost every fa- mous sand-bar visible at low-water. In a terrible row, where blood had been spilled and a dark crime committed, Bill was involved. Moment- arily off his guard, he fell into the clutches of the law. The community was exciteda victim was demanded to appease the oft-insulted majesty of justice. Brought before one of the courts hold- ing at Natchez, then just closing its session for the summer vacation, he was fully committed, and nothing but the procurement of enormous bail would keep him from sweltering through the long months of summer in durance vile. It was apparently useless for him to expect any one to go upon his bond; he appealed, however, to those present, dwelt upon the horrors, to him more especially, of a long imprisonment, and solemnly asseverated that he would present him- self at the time appointed for trial. At the last moment, Colonel W, a wealthy, and on the whole rather a cautious citizen, came to the rescue, and agreed to pay ten thousand dollars if MCoy did not present himself to stand his trial. It was in vain that the Colonels friends tried to persuade him not to take the responsi- bility, even the Courts suggestion to let the matter alone was unheeded. MCoy was re- leasedshouldering his rifle, and threading his way through the Indian nation, in due time be reached his home in Old Kaintuck. Months rolled on, and the time of trial ap- proached. As a matter of course, the proba- bilities of MCoys return were discussed. The public had doubtsthe Colonel had not heard from him since his departure. The morning of the appointed day arrived, but the prisoner did not present himself. The attending crowd and the people of the town became excited all except the Colonel despairedevening was moving on apacethe court was on the point of adjourning, when a distant huzza was heard; it was borne on the wings of the wind, and echoed along, each moment growing louder and louder. Finally the exulting cry was caught up by the hangers-on about the seat of justice. Another moment and MCoyhis beard long and matted, his hands torn to pieces, his eyes haggard, and sun-burnt to a degree that was painful to beholdrushed into the court-room, and from sheer exhaustion fell prostrate upon the floor. Old ColonelW embraced him as hewould have done a long-lost brother, and eyes unused to tears filled to overflowing when MCoy re- lated his simple tale. Starting from Louisville as a hand on a boat, he found in a few days that, owing to the low stage of water in the river and other unexpected delays, it was im- possible for him to reach Natchez at the ap- pointed time by such a mode of conveyance. No other ordinary conveyance, in those early days, presented itself. Not to be thwarted, he abandoned the flat, and, with his own hands, shaped a canoe out of the trunk of a fallen tree. He had rowed and paddled, almost with- out cessation, thirteen hundred miles, and had thus redeemed his promise almost at the ex- pense of his life. His trial in its progress be- came a mere form; his chivalrous conduct and the want of any positive testimony won for him a verdict of not guilty, even before it was an- nounced by the jury or affirmed by the judge. An old resident upon the banks of the lower Mississippi relates an incident strikingly char- acteristic of the early times. On one occasion, when quite a young man, he was sitting upon the gallery of his house looking out upon the wide expanse of the river. In the far distance was seen, lazily moving with the current, a boat, upon the deck of which was dimly discernible two or three men and a number of women and children, evidently a family of emigrants. While he was mechanically gazing, he observed a rude fellow, just in front of him on the shore, en- deavoring, by a series of ridiculous and indecent antics, to attract the attention of the persons on the boat. The effort was quite successful, as one of the men shook his fist threateningly, as an evidence of disapprobation. The landsman continued his performances until he showed a desire to insult the party in the boat. When this was clearly perceived and comprehended, the man at the sweep seized his rifle; but the distance from its proposed victim seemed to 32 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. render it harmless, and the offensive conduct was persisted in. A light cloud of smoke and a dull sonnd followed, when the planter, to his astonishment, saw the reckless landsman press his hand to his side, stagger a pace or two, and fall heavily upon the ground. Hastening to his assistance, he arrived only in time to hear the last sigh of a dying man. The fatal rifle had done its work. The flat, meanwhile, disappear- ed behind a projecting point, and probably its occupants ever remained ignorant of the ex- tent of the terrible revenge taken upon the thoughtless wretch ashore. One of the most noted desperadoes of those early times was a man by the name of Mason. He first established himself at the Cave in Rocka remarkable limestone formation abont one hnndred miles above the month of the Ohio where, under the guise of keeping a store for the accommodation of boatmen and emigrants, he enticed them into his power. After mur- dering these victims of treachery, he would, by the hands of his confederates, send their boats to New Orleans for sale. He finally disappeared from his old quarters, and established himself on the great trace made through the wilder- ness of Mississippi and Tennessee by the flat- boatmen and traders while returning, by land, from New Orleans to their homes in the West. Mason increased in power, and, with his organ- ized band, became so celebrated for his rob- heries and murders that he was dreaded from the banks of the Mississippi to the high lands of Tennessee. Over all this vast extent of coun- try, if the buzzards were seen high in the air, circling over any particular spot, the remark was made, Another murder has been com- mitted by Mason and his gang. Numerous attempts were made to arrest him, hut he always managed to escape. A romantic incident is related of one of these unsuccessful forays into his domain: A party of gentlemen, mostly wealthy planters from about the vicinity of Natchez, organized themselves into a party, and went in pursuit of the bold robber. Com- ing to the banks of Pearl River, signs were manifest that his camp was in the vicinity. Be- fore attempting to make the proposed seizure, it was determined to rest the horses and partake of refreshments. These things having been ac- complished, two of the party, seduced by the beauty and coolness of the stream, went in to bathe. In the course of their recreation they crossed to the opposite bank, and found them- selves .in the hands of Mason. The outlaw, aware that he was pursued, determined to effect by stratagem what he did not deem policy to ef- fect by force. It was therefore that he rushed down and seized the two prisoners. The party on the opposite shore saw the manceuvre, and in- stantly seized their arms. Mason, who had a commanding figure, admirably set off by a hunt- ers dress, presented a bold front, and announced that any further hostile demonstrations would result in instant death of his helpless captives. lie then ordered his pursuers, if they desired to save the lives of their friends, to obey him implicitly and at oncethat for the time being he was willing to negotiate for the safety of himself and men. He then ordered the party to stack their arms and deposit their ammuni- tion on the beach, stating that he would send for them, but that any violence offered to his messenger or upon any visible hesitation to obey, he should destroy his prisoners; if oth- erwise, they were to be set at libertyMason pledging his honor that he would not take any advantage of his victory. There was no choice. The weapons were duly deposited as directed, and two of Masons gang, out of a number who had arrived, dashed into the stream to take possession of them, the prisoners meanwhile standing in full sight with rifles pointing at their heads. The desired prop- erty was finally placed in the outlaws posses- sion, whereupon he released his prisoners, and waving a good-humored farewell, he disappeared in the deep shadows of the surrounding wilder- ness. Treachery, however, at last effe.cted what courage and enterprise could not accomplish. A citizen of great respectability, passing with his two sons through the forest, was plundered by the bandits; their lives, however, were spared. The public was aroused. Governor Claiborne, of the Mississippi Territory, offered a large re- ward for the outlaw, dead or alive. The procla- mation was widely distributeda copy reached Mason, and was to him a source of intense merriment. Two of his band, however, were determined to obtain the reward; and while they were engaged with Mason in counting some money, one of them drove a tomahawk into his brain. His head was severed from the body, and, placed in a sack, borne in triumph to Wash- ington, then the seat of the Territorial Govern- ment. The head of the robberwasrecognized bymany of the citizens who saw it. Large crowds from the surrounding country assembled to assure themselves that their enemy was really dead, and curious to see the individuals whose daring prowess had relieved the country of a scourge. Among the spectators were the two young men, who, unfortunately for the hero-traitors, recog- nized them as the robbers of their father and themselves. The wretches were seized, tried for their crimes, and hung. And thus ended the last and most noted gang of robbers that in- fested the Natchez and Nashville trace. At the close of the year 1811, the Valley of the Mississippi was agitated by repeated shocks of earthquakes, which continued, with mere or less violence, for nearly three months. The country seventy miles below the mouth of the Ohio River seems to have been near the centre of the convulsions, and the locality, for many miles, was seamed with wide chasms, and dis- figured with immense subterranean holes, the re- mains of which are still pointed out. The scenes which occurred during the several days that the shocks continued, are represented as being REMEMBRANCES OF THE MISSISSIPPI. 33 terrible beyond description, and many weeks remains of the first steamer that ever dashed its elapsed before nature resumed her usual quiet wheels into the waters of the Great West, and sway. During the commotion, suiphureted awakened new echoes along the then silent gases tainted the air, and, for more than a hun- shores of the Father of Waters. Tbis boat dred and fifty miles, perceptibly impregnated was built at Pittsburg by Messrs. Fulton and the rolling floods. The river banks, the sand- Livingston. It was launched in the month of bars, and islands dissolved away, engulfing vast March, 1812, and landed at Natchez the follow- tracts of forest. Out of the seething waters rose ing year, where she loaded with passengers, huge snags and the remains of gigantic trees, and proceeded to New Orleans. After run- which, after resting for ages in the accumula- ning some time in this newly-established trade, tions of the bed of the river, were again born and meeting with a variety of misfortunes, she into daylight to become merciless enemies of finally snagged, and sunk in the half-exposed navigation. grave we have designated. Every shock of the earthquake was accom- The two succeeding years produced the boats panied with what seemed to be the discharges named Cornet and Vesovius, and also the En- of heavy artillery, while every few moments the terprise. This last-named vessel, after making surface of the river rose and fell many feet. two very successful trips from Pittsburg to Finally, records a witness of these strange Louisville, took in a cargo of ordnance stores, phenomena, after escaping many dangers, my and, on the 1st of December, 1814, under com- boat suddenly swung around in the conflicting mand of Captain H. M. Shreeve, started from currents, and rapidly shot up the river. Look- New Orleans, and was the first steamer that ing ahead, I beheld tbe mighty Missis4~pi cut made the entire passage from that city to Pitts- in twain, and pouring down a vast opening into burg. This was considered a great triumph, the bowels of the earth. A moment more and for it was doubted whether this new power the chasm filled; but the strong sides of the could displace the strong arms of the keel-boat- flat-boat were crumbled to pieces in the con- men in stemming the powerful tide. vulsive efforts of the flood to obtain its wonted On this return trip from New Orleans the level. Enterprise, starting for Pittsburg, reached Louis. New Madrid, at that time a flourishing town, ville in twenty-five days. The excitement occa- was completely ruined, and the bluff on which sioned by this event can not now be imagined. it was situated sunk down to the level of the Captain Shreeve was greeted by a public demon- river, and was afterward submerged. Most of stration. Triumphal arches were thrown across the inhabitants would have met with the fate the streets, and his appearance every where call- of those of Caracas, a city destroyed at the ed forth bursts of enthusiasm. At the public dem- same time with New Madrid, had their houses onstration given in his honor patriotic speeches been of similar materialheavy stones, were made, and it was formally announced that Among the incidents remembered is that the Enterprise had accomplished all that was of a poor Indian, who, completely bewildered possible in inland navigation. Nothing tended by what he saw, stoically gave himself up to to dampen the hilarity of the hour but a sugges- what he deemed to be inevitable destruction. tion of the gallant Captain, that, under more Upon being asked what was the matter, he sig- favorable circumstances, he could make the nificantly and solemnly pointed to the heavens, same trip in twenty days I This was deemed and replied, Great Spiritwhisky too much. an impossibility, and his boast was looked upon It was on this occasion that a keel-boatman, as the pardonable weakness of a man already after escaping a thousand dangers, finally strad- intoxicated with unprecedented success. died the trunk of a huge tree that had fallen Thus the dreams of Fulton became realities: across one of the chasms made by the earth- as a prophet, he foretold the future glory of the quake, and holding on with commendable per- valley of the Mississippi; as more than a seer, tinacity, looked into the profound depths be- his genius provided the means for its realiza. low. Gaining courage, he advised his com- tion. panions to take a place at his side, for he did After that time boats continued to increase, not think the earthquake was any great shakes their usefulness was acknowledged, and the after all ! means for the glorious triumph of Western com- A few years ago, the Mississippi, from an un- merce was complete. As the pioneer of com- usual drought, shrunk within its banks to a com- merce steam aided i~i opening all the rivers of paratively small stream, and, as a consequence, the West, and its benefits in this respect can not under the protection of a high bank nearly op- be appreciated. The ascent of the river in keel- posite the town of Baton Rouge, there was ex- boats occupied one hundred and twenty days, posed the wreck of a small boat, the timbers of and during the dry season and the time of floods which, as far as could be ascertained, were in a it could not be ascended at all. The same jour- good state of preservation. No one particular- ney, by the means of steam, is now accomplish- ly noticed the object, because such evidences of ed in ten or fifteen days, and at all seasons of destruction form one of the most familiar feat- the year. The strong arm of muscle has given ures of the passing scenery; yet there was really way to unfeeling and never-tiring machinery an intense interest connected with those black- the rude craft is displaced by floating palaces. ened but still enduring ribs, for they were the Who can ~orrectly estimate the mighty tri. VOL. XILNo. 67.C 34 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. umphs of steam in the Valley of the Missis- Rocky Mountain costume; a gun-ca~ e reposes sippi? upon a bandbox; and a well-preser4ed rifle is The crowd of passengers ordinarily witnessed half-concealed by the folds of an umbrella. The on our Mississippi steamers present more than volume of a strange, eventful, and ever-chang- is any where else observable in a small space, ing life is before you, on the pages of which are the cosmopolitanism of our extraordinary pop- impressed phases of original charaqter such ~s ulation. Upon their decks are to be seen im- are nowhere else exhibited, nowhere seen, but migrants from every nationality in Europe; in on the Mississippi. the cabin are strangely mingled ev9ry phase of The passengers being usually together from social lifethe aristocratic English lord is in- five to seven days, there is, from necessity, en- truded upon by the ultra-socialist; the conserva- couraged a desire to he pleased, and many of tive bishop accepts a favor from the graceless the happiest reminiscences of well-speitt lives gambler; the wealthy planter is heartily amused are connected with the enjoymenls, novelties, at the simplicities of a Northern fanatic ; the and intellectual pleasures of such prolonged farmer from about the arctic regions of Lake trips. Superior exchanges ideas, and discovers con- After the first day out genial minds nat- sanguinity, with a heretofore unknown person urally gather into sympathetic circles; conver- from the everglades of Florida; the frank, open- sation is relieved by continued change of scene; handed men of the West are charmed with the every landh~g-place suggests a reminiscence business-thrift of a party from down East ; of early times, and varies, without interrupt- politicians of every stripe, and religionists of lug, the flow of conversation. Groups of per- all creeds, for the time drop their wranglings sons snugly dispose of themselves under the in the admiration of lovely women, or find a shady side of the guards ; among which are neutral ground of sympathy in the attractions often found ladies and gentlemen but recently of a gorgeous sunset. from the worn-out fields and ruined cities of Upon an examination of the baggage you Central Europe, and they find something par- meet with strange incongruitiesa large box ticularly inspiring in the surrounding evidences of playing-cards supports a very small package of vitality as exhibited in the rich soil and hope- of Bibles; a bowie-knife is tied to a life-pre- ful settlements. There are also present per- server; and a package of garden seeds rejoices sons who have for many years been in some in the same address as a neighboring keg of way connected with the river, who have learned powder. There is an old black trunk, soiled its traditions, and love to repeat over the thou- with the mud of the Lower Nile, and a new sand reminiscences that are constantly revived carpet-bag direct from Upper California; a col- by the moving panorama. lnpsed valise of new shirts and antique sermons The social hall of a Western steamer is is jostled by another plethoric with bilious pills the lounging-place, and the bar the centre and ch6lera medicines; an elaborate dress, di- of attraction. However munch we may be op- rect from Paris, is in contact with a trappers posed to the abuse of alcoholic beverages, the opposition is, in intellectual minds, here often neutralized by the professional ~nan- ncr displayed in their indulgence, and is charmed by the entire ignorance that many evince of any possible moral or physical wrong in their use. To make the consumption of intoxicating liquors a business, and its most minute phenome- na, as exhibited by personal experience, a close, scientific speculation; and, above all, to devote the entire intellectual facul- ties and muscular energy to the one sin- gle ambition of consuming the largest amount of alcohol while displaying the least possible physical evidence of its ef- fects, is entirely characteristic of no ordi- nary specimens of the human race; it is in keeping with the highest display of genius, the most brilliant success in con- cealing art. One of these specimens was a tall, gaunt, wiry looking man, who could flour- ish in the malaria of the swamps, and be perfectly insensible to attacks of inter- mittent fever. He was unmistakably one of those persons who consider a bar- rel of whisky a week but a small allow- ance for a large family without any SO NE AT TuE LA~NIiEO. REMEMBRANCES OF THE MIS~JSSJPPI. cow. He took his place beside the bar when somewhere about the month of tbe Ohio, and maintained bis position and his legs, though constantly liquoring, all the way down to Orleans. With him alcohol was not an in- toxicating liquor; his mind, to be sure, floated about in its mortality like a slice of lemon in a bowl of, punch, but the muscles, the hard ten- dons of the man, were never weakened, never gave way at the joints. Just before the end of the trip there came on the boat an individual physically the very op- posite of the hero we have described, for he was short, phlegmatic, and disposed to puff up; his business, however, had been, and was, simply to drink. The two worthies met: it was Napoleon and Wellington for the first time face to face. The social glass now flew fast and furious: genial sympathebc souls had metthe passen- gers became interested in the joustit was a sublime exhibition of what outrages the human frame could bear up against. The tall man throughout was unphasedthe dewy and least compact one surrendered! The defeated one, with regret stamped upon his face, and deep, heart-rending disappointment in his tones, acknowledged himself at his own game fairly conquered ; and as he sank into unconscious- ness, he seized his opponent by the hand and murmured, My friend, the boat is coming to the end of its trip and we must part, but dont think, if I had a fair chance, that you can outdrink me. No, sir-ee! Take a six days trip, and see what would become of it; under such circum- stances youd be a mere teetotaller compared with me. In all that pertains to getting tight, Id pass you under weigh. Quite different, but equally original in his character, was Bob Lawton. His face was round, and woultI have been considered rather red, were it not for the violent scarlet tint on the en(l of his nose, which, by contrast, gave the rest of his countenance a delicate roseate hue. Tie was rotund in form, and with a place to lean aqaiast, was graceful to the last degree. It was Bobs theory that there was no poetry in the Western country, and he gave his reasons after this novel fashion: Gentlemen, what is poetry but the truth exaggerated? Here it can never arrive at nay perfection. What chance is there for exag- geration in the Great West, where the reality is incomprehensible? A territory as large as cia- TILE IxaxazeTan EmJOuaTau. HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. sic Greece annually caves into the Mississippi, and who notices it? Things to be poetical must be got up on a small scale. The Tiber, the Seine, the Thames, appear well in poetry, but such streams are overlooked iu the West; they dont afford water enough to keep up an expansive duck pondwould be mere drains to a squatters pre-emption. I have heard of frontiersmen who were poetical, because their minds expanded beyond the surrounding phys- ical grandeur. Books are not yet large enough to contaiu their ideassteam is not strong enough to impress them on the historic page. These men have no definite sense of limitation, know of no localitythey sleep not upon a couch, but upon the Government landsthey live upon the spontaneous productions of the earth, and make a drinking-cup of the mighty Mississippi. Set- tlements within fifty miles of them occasion the feeling of overcrowded population, and they are obliged, if they would exist at all, to penetrate more deeply into the foreststhey have an in- stinctive dread of crowdswith them, civiliza- don means law and calomel. No one ever saw Bob out of humoran ache or a pain never visited his bodyhe is as un- impressive to disease as an alligators hide is to water. The malaria of the swamps, and the bracing airs of the high lands of Tennessee, equally agree with his constitution; his laugh is catching, his voice exhilarating; the man, gener- ally and particularly, is genial as sunshine. His appearance at all times is glorious, but we once saw him in a moment of particular effulgence. He was, on the occasion alluded to, reclin- ing with Phidian grace against the shelf of the steamboat bar. In his right hand was a fragrant Havana; his left was occupied with a delicate bouquet of mint, confined in a crystal goblet, and nourished by some Boston ice, re- fined sugar, and most excellent dark-colored brandy. From among the vernal leaves pro- truded a golden-tinted straw, which proceeded upward, reposing its extremity upon his under lip. Thus disposed of he looked out upon the world with a happy, fraternal, patronizing eye, such as might be supposed to peep from under the lids of contentment itself. While thus poised, a number of hoosiers, sallow and thin from agee, came to the bar, and Bob, with his innate hospitality, requested them all to smile at his expense. The in- vitation was accepted, and the ceremony was cordially performed. A variety of small talk ensued, when one of the enraptured up coun- trymen suggested I suppose, stranger, you hail from old Kain- tuck ? Not a bit of it I returned Bob, who was full of State pride. Im from Louisi- ana. Wal, I reckon I am sort o taken back, said the querist, for I thought people who live so far down the Massissip was thin and yaller. No !returned Bob, with considerable animation, and at the same time mechanically renewing his bouquet, and getting his constituents to follow his example the peo- ple in my country are neither thin nor yaller, except, and he put great emphasis on the word, except they get the yal- ler fever. The yaller fever ! exclaim- ed the crowd in one breath, drawing back, and swallow- ing the contents of their tum- blers as if to prevent conta- gion. The yaller fever, slowly repeated Bob, his face wreath- ed in smiles, as if the words suggested the pleasantest of ideas. You dont mean to say that it is raging, do you ? alarmed- ly asked a dozen persons at once. I say nothing about it, hut it is well to be cautious, re REMEMBRANCES OF THE MISSISSIPPI. 3 turned Bob; and perfectly unconscious of the effect he was producing, he went on: It dont take the acclimated nor the old uns; none of you need be afraid of it; but let it catch hold of a crowd of Johnny come late- lvs, and it plants them at once. Thems the boys that turn saffron-colored about the gills, and go off as easy as sazarac in an election crowd. Its hard on them thats subject to the buck agee, for you see then the constitution doesnt withstand the miasmaeven the quaran- tine cant save em. Bob having thus delivered himselg and most summarily dissipated his audience, he next pro- ceeded to do something else, and by close at- tention to it, managed to pleasantly pass away his valuable time. The story is familiar of the man who took passage in a flat-boat from Pittsburg bouad for New Orleans. He passed many dreary, listless days on his way down the Ohio and Mississippi, and seemed to be desponding for want of ex- citement. Superficially, he was quiet and inof- fensive; practically, he was perfectly good-na- tured and kindly disposed. In course of time the craft upon which he was a passenger put into Napoleon, in the State of Arkansas, for groceries. At the moment there was a gen- eral fight extending all along the front of the town, which at that time consisted of a single house. The unhappy passenger, after fidgeting about, and jerking his feet up and down, as if he were walking on hot bricks, turned to a used-up spectator and observed: Stranger, is this a free fight ? The reply was prompt and to the point: It ar; and if you wish to go in, dont stand on ceremony. The wayfarer did go in, and in less time than we can relate the circumstance he was TILE MAN OF TIlE FREE FICLIIT. literally chawed up. Groping his way down to the flat, his hair gone, his eye closed, his lips swollen, and his face generally mapped out, he sat himself down on a chicken coop, and soliloquized thus: So this is Na-po-le-on, is it ?upon my worU its a lively place, and the only one at which I have had any fun since I left home. Insensible as this man was to wounds and bruises, we think that we once met with a more striking example in a half-horse, half-alligator fellow, who by some accident was cut up with twenty dirk-knife wounds at least, some of which, according to his own statement, reached into the hollow. On our sympathizing with his de- plorable condition, he cut us short by remark- ing: Stranger, dont be alarmed about thes. scretclwsIve mighty healing flesh. The negroes of the Mississippi are happy specimens of Gods image done up in ebony, and in many lighter colors, and they have fre- quently a deserved reputation as deck-hands. It is astonishing what an amount of hard work they will perform, and yet retain their vivacity and spirits. If they have the good fortune to be employed on a bully boat, they take a live- ly personal interest in its success and become as much a part of the propelling machinery as the engines. Their custom of singing at all im- portant landings, has a pleasing and novel ef- fect, and if stimulated by an appreciative audi- ence, they will roll forth a volume of. vocal sounds that, for harmony and pathos, sink into obscurity the best performances of imitative Ethiopians. With professional flat-boatmen they are al- ways favorites, and at night, when the old ark is tied up, their acme of human felicity is a game of old sledge, enlivened by a fiddle. On such occasions the master of the instrument will touch off the Arkansas traveler, and then gradually sliding into a Virginia hoe-down, he will be accompanied by a genuine darkie keeping time, on the light fantastic heel-and- toe tap. It is a curious and exciting struggle between cat-gut and human muscle. It af- fects not only the performers, but the con- tagion spreads to the spectators, who display their delight by words of rough encourage- ment, and exclamations of laughter, which fairly echo along the otherwise silent shores. But the glory of the darkie deck-hand is in wooding up. On a first-class steamer there may be sixty hands engaged in this exciting physical contest. The passengers extend themselves along the guards as spec- tators, and present a brilliant array. The performance consists in piling on the boat one hundred cords of wood in the shortest possible space of time. The steam-boilers seem to sympathize at the sight of the fuel, and occasionally breathe forth immense sighs of admirationthe pilot increases the noise by unearthly screams on the alarm whistle. The mate of the boat, for want of / Ak 38 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. something better to do, divides his time be- tween exhortations of Oh, bring them shavings along ! Dont go to sleep at this frolic, and by swearing of such monstrous proportions, that even very good men are puzzled to decide wheth- or he is really profane or simply ridiculous. The zar~svu SAM LoAnan or. laborers pursue their calling with the precision of clock-work. Upon the shoulders of each are piled up innumerable sticks of wood, which are thus carricd from the land into the capacious bowels of the steamer. The last loads are shoulderedthe last effort to carry the largest pile is indulged in. Zephyr Sam, amidst the united cheers of the admiring spectators, propels his load, and, for the thousandth time, wins the palm of being a model darkie, the Prince of deck hands. Old Captain Scott, before steamboats were invented, had been a flat-boatman and pilot, and his innumerable trips down the Ohio and Mis- sissippi gave him a perfect knowledge of the dangers of the navigation. He was once heard to say, that he could look in his hand and imagine that he saw every snag, sawyer, sand bar, and cut-oft; from Pittsburg to New Orleans. He never lost his presence of mind but once, and the circumstance is related tis follows: One dark night, conceiving that his boat (which was one of the very largest size), was running with unusual risk, he descended from his wonted look-out on the hurricane deck and seated himself on the capstan. From great fatigue he finally fell asleep, when some wags perceiving it, quietly turned the capstan, bring- ing the captains face from the how around to the stern of the boat. On waking, he was greeted, of course, with a view of the fires and boilers of his own steamer. Raising his hands in consternation, he sang out, REMEMBRANCES OF THE MISSISSIPPI. CAPTAIN SCOTT. Pilot, for Gods sake give the engine a lick backheres a first-class boat coming right down upon us, and if she, with all her steam on, hits the Emperor in the bows, it will smash up every insurance office between hl and Saint Louis The rafts on the Mississippi are crude masses of cypress timber, which find ready sale at the nnmerons saw-mills in the vicinity of New Orleans. By an accepted law of the river, every thing is obliged to get out of the way of a raft. We dont know of any persons more independent than the first officers of these prim- itive flotillas. Their chief unhappiness is occa- sioned by the sneering remarks made by spec- tators, relative to the speed of rafts, and allusions to their propensity to leak, and of the necessity of having the bottom pumped dry. The men- MISSiSSIPPI RAPT. tion of any of these subjects always excites the ire of the raftsmen, and for the ten thousandth time, and for the same cause, they get in a pas- sion and hurl back abuse. They also have their seasons of real trouble; the sand-bars check their onward course, and the swift running shutes suck them into unknown and impossible-to- get-out-of waters. Their time of triumph, how- ever, arrives when some brisk wind drives them crashing against the sides of a flat-boat, and if they can put a scare on a first-class steamer, their joy is complete. The wood-yards on the Mississippi are some- times of a size corresponding with the magni- tude of their surroundings. We have seen twenty thonsand cords of wood in one pile, the value of which as it lay upon the ground was seventy thousand dollars. We can hardly comprehend what must be the aggregate amount of all the fuel consumed in one year npon the Western waters. These large yards, however, result from a combination of capital and enter- prise, and are exceptions rather than charac- teristic. It is quite a relief to the traveler, after many days confinement, to get out at one of these temporary landing-places, and if the chief wood- chopper be at leisure, much valuable informa- tion is often obtained. It is a singul~ r fact, that when a steamer hails a wood-yard no direct answer to any question is ever obtained. We believe there has been no exception to this rule even in the memory of the oldest steam- boat captain on the river. The steamer is desirous of getting ash wood, provided it is seasoned. The captain, as his boat ap- proaches the shore, places his hands to his mouth, and forming them into a tube, calls out, What kind of wood is that ? The reply comes back, Cord wood. The captain, still in pursuit of information 40 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. under difficulties, and desirous of learning if the fuel be dry and fit for his purpose, bawls out, How long has it been cut ? Four feet, is the prompt response. The captain, exceedinglyvexed, next inquires, What do you sell it for? Cash, returns the chopper, replacing the corn-cob pipe in his mouth, and smiling benign- ly on his pile. Wood-yards are apparently infested with mosquitoeswe say apparently infest- ed. Such is the impression of all ac- cidental sojourners; but it is a strange delusion, for thou~h one may think that they fill the air, inflame the face and hands, and if of the Arkansas species, penetrate the flesh through the thickest boots, still upon inquiring of any permanent resident if mosquitoes are numerous, the invariable answer is, Mosquitoesno! not about here; but a little way down the river they are awfulthar they torment alligators to death, and sting mules right through their hoofs. Squire Blaze was a model wood- chopper. He settled at low water at a place so infested with snags that the flat-boatmen christened it the Devils Promenade. It lies at the mouth of Dead Mans Bend, just at the foot of Gouge-your-eye-out Isl and. Here he prospect- ed a wood-yard, and soon after, exchanged some of his dry goods for whisky and tin cups; and then, for the accommoda- tion of travelers, he con- nected a grocery to his other occupation. His early life had been di- varsifled, and he gave some of the principal in- cidents with great zest. Having served for a long time as first mate on a raft, he grew ambi- tious for higher distinc- tion. By one of those magical elevations so pe-. culiar to a new country, he got possession of a stain-wheeler, and en- tered the pine-knot bus- iness, the pursuit of which took him so high up Red River, that he says he got sometimes clean out of the way of taxes. His pride was to be called captain ; his ambition, to run a race. Circumstances oc- curred that brought about the wished-for consum- mation. We give the particulars in his own words: I was coming down Little Crooked with a full head of steam on, when I overtuck the Squatter Belle, loaded, like myself, with pine- knots, and bound for the Massissipp. The race was excitin, a parfect scrougerthe steam yell- ed and the hands swore; youd a-thought all the univarse was poundin sheet-iron. Twas no useI was always a misfortunate man: the A FRESHET. TuE woon-CLIOPPEa. DISINTERESTED FJUENLSHIP. 41 Fairy Queens ingia (that was my boat) had To bear the ills they have, light weights on the safety-valve, and the fur- Than fly to others which they know not of. naces got choked with rosin. The Squatter I am a bachelor, and, of course, am not in Belle was getting ahead; twice I raised my rifle the fashion. I am an old bachelor, and my to shoot her pilotfor you see I didnt like to habits are fixedfixed as fate, for, of course, I be beat, when I smelt something warm, and the shall never marry now. Since I did not marry next I knew I was lodged in the limbs of a when such an act could be carried to the credit dead cypress, thirty-two feet six inches from of juvenile indiscretion, I shall not verify the the ground. This was the proudest moment of coarse proverb, that There is no fool like an my life, I arterward got a limner to draw the old fool. My experience has been ample and scene, and when the picter was finished, I various enough. I am too old to turn over a chopped out a frame for it myself. What new leaf. grieves me, continued Squire Blaze, with un- The common destiny of the race seems to usual feeling, what grieves me is, that my title sweep all, or nearly all, into the hymeneal vor- of captain didnt stick, and Ive been called tex. If I have escaped, is it the wrong I did squire ever since. in escaping that encourages bitterness and cal- umny against me? Or is it envy that incites the married multitude to speak with affected pity of the unmarried? Do they really despise my loneliness, or, under assumed contempt, do they conceal covetousness of my negative fe- licity? It is commanded, Thou shalt not covet thy neighbors wife. I dont. But do not they covet my no wife? They talk of the delights of mutual confidence. But can there be no mutual confidence unless one of the par- ties wears flowlug drapery, and the other is en- cased in bifurcated continuations? Can not there be friendshipcan not there be even love under broadclothlove of a man for a man, I mean? To deny it is preposterous. There is my old friend James Hayden. I am sure he loves me. I am sure I love him. I am sure he is disinterested, I am disinterested, we are disinterested. There is none of the pounds- shillings-and-pence selfishness of housekeeping between us. There is none of the selfish man- - ~ agement and jealousy of the loves of the sexes. We were schooled together. When I was puz SQUIRE ERASE 5 Picruiiz. zied he telegraphed relief. When he was pauled Sadness overspread Squire Blazes counte- I signaled the word that unlocked him. We nance for a moment, as he referred to the un- transacted business together. If I lost, his win- pleasant circumstance of losing his well-earned nings made it up, and vice versa. He never be- title of Captain, but lighting his pipe, with trayed or took any advantage or preference of resignation visible upon his intelligent features, me. He never deceived me, and he never will. he concluded What husband can say that of his wife? What But the wood-choppin business aint so bad wife can say it of her husband? There is only though; and if it wasnt for the freshes over- one venture in which we have not shared. He flowing the dryest location and the best land- took a wife. Here could be no jo4nt-stock in- ing on the river, and the low water keeping terest; and I wanted none. I pitied his weak- the steamboats off; Id have nothing, bless God, ness, and resolved to make allowance for it, to complain of, so long as hog meat is plentiful, though with some misgivings. It is safer to and whisky keeps at a price whar a poor man trust one than two. Yet never has my confi has a chance. dence been betrayed; and I am not jealous of Jamess wife, though she is of me. My friends DISINTERESTED FRIENDSHIP. misfortune has put his virtues in a stronger BY A BACHELOR, light. He can be true to friendship in spite TT is the fashion to marry. It is the fashion of matrimony. My house has always offered - I to abuse those who do not. It is the fashion him a daily refuge from the storms, which, with many who do, to regret that they ever though they clear the atmosphere of the hous~ did what can not be undone. But this fashion hold, demand a shelter; even as the most wel- belongs to the occult mysteries of an institution come growing rains are best appreciated un- which was the first of the Know Nothing der an umbrella. order ever established. Those of the uniniti- I am an uncle. All bachelors are uncles. ated are the wiser who mitigate their curiosity, It is their destiny and vocation. PerhapsI and choose rather say perhapsfor with my friend Jamess mel-

DISINTERESTED FJUENLSHIP. 41 Fairy Queens ingia (that was my boat) had To bear the ills they have, light weights on the safety-valve, and the fur- Than fly to others which they know not of. naces got choked with rosin. The Squatter I am a bachelor, and, of course, am not in Belle was getting ahead; twice I raised my rifle the fashion. I am an old bachelor, and my to shoot her pilotfor you see I didnt like to habits are fixedfixed as fate, for, of course, I be beat, when I smelt something warm, and the shall never marry now. Since I did not marry next I knew I was lodged in the limbs of a when such an act could be carried to the credit dead cypress, thirty-two feet six inches from of juvenile indiscretion, I shall not verify the the ground. This was the proudest moment of coarse proverb, that There is no fool like an my life, I arterward got a limner to draw the old fool. My experience has been ample and scene, and when the picter was finished, I various enough. I am too old to turn over a chopped out a frame for it myself. What new leaf. grieves me, continued Squire Blaze, with un- The common destiny of the race seems to usual feeling, what grieves me is, that my title sweep all, or nearly all, into the hymeneal vor- of captain didnt stick, and Ive been called tex. If I have escaped, is it the wrong I did squire ever since. in escaping that encourages bitterness and cal- umny against me? Or is it envy that incites the married multitude to speak with affected pity of the unmarried? Do they really despise my loneliness, or, under assumed contempt, do they conceal covetousness of my negative fe- licity? It is commanded, Thou shalt not covet thy neighbors wife. I dont. But do not they covet my no wife? They talk of the delights of mutual confidence. But can there be no mutual confidence unless one of the par- ties wears flowlug drapery, and the other is en- cased in bifurcated continuations? Can not there be friendshipcan not there be even love under broadclothlove of a man for a man, I mean? To deny it is preposterous. There is my old friend James Hayden. I am sure he loves me. I am sure I love him. I am sure he is disinterested, I am disinterested, we are disinterested. There is none of the pounds- shillings-and-pence selfishness of housekeeping between us. There is none of the selfish man- - ~ agement and jealousy of the loves of the sexes. We were schooled together. When I was puz SQUIRE ERASE 5 Picruiiz. zied he telegraphed relief. When he was pauled Sadness overspread Squire Blazes counte- I signaled the word that unlocked him. We nance for a moment, as he referred to the un- transacted business together. If I lost, his win- pleasant circumstance of losing his well-earned nings made it up, and vice versa. He never be- title of Captain, but lighting his pipe, with trayed or took any advantage or preference of resignation visible upon his intelligent features, me. He never deceived me, and he never will. he concluded What husband can say that of his wife? What But the wood-choppin business aint so bad wife can say it of her husband? There is only though; and if it wasnt for the freshes over- one venture in which we have not shared. He flowing the dryest location and the best land- took a wife. Here could be no jo4nt-stock in- ing on the river, and the low water keeping terest; and I wanted none. I pitied his weak- the steamboats off; Id have nothing, bless God, ness, and resolved to make allowance for it, to complain of, so long as hog meat is plentiful, though with some misgivings. It is safer to and whisky keeps at a price whar a poor man trust one than two. Yet never has my confi has a chance. dence been betrayed; and I am not jealous of Jamess wife, though she is of me. My friends DISINTERESTED FRIENDSHIP. misfortune has put his virtues in a stronger BY A BACHELOR, light. He can be true to friendship in spite TT is the fashion to marry. It is the fashion of matrimony. My house has always offered - I to abuse those who do not. It is the fashion him a daily refuge from the storms, which, with many who do, to regret that they ever though they clear the atmosphere of the hous~ did what can not be undone. But this fashion hold, demand a shelter; even as the most wel- belongs to the occult mysteries of an institution come growing rains are best appreciated un- which was the first of the Know Nothing der an umbrella. order ever established. Those of the uniniti- I am an uncle. All bachelors are uncles. ated are the wiser who mitigate their curiosity, It is their destiny and vocation. PerhapsI and choose rather say perhapsfor with my friend Jamess mel- 42 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. ancholy experience before me, I can not say what might have been my weaknessperhaps had I not been an uncle, I might have been a husband. Here is an old lettertear-stained, and worn in the folds from frequent opening. It was written by an early lovea true love an unselfish lovemy sister. Read it: Mx DEAR BROTHERI think there is more than a half reproach in the tone in which you answer my invitation. If you only knew what a struggle it cost me to write it! But I would not suffer you to be invited to my wedding with the polite formality in which gilt-edged notes were sent to mere acquaintances. I can not endure that you should think, as you seem to think, that there can be no room in a sisters heart for an only brother, because she has open- ed it to receive a husband. We are orphans. We have been lonely. Why should we persist in keeping ourselves apart from all the rest of the world? I am sure that when you will per- mit yourself to know the gentleman for whom you seem to have now no feeling but suspicious distrust, you will love him as a brother should; for, will you not be brothers ? There is more of it. But though I can not read it without tears, it is not to be expected that others will feel the same interest in it. So I spare the rest. My sister was half grieved, half angry, because I would not be pleased when she was about to surrender her whole life, hopes, happiness to a stranger. How could Ibe pleased? I had never thought of marrying; why should she? But she did. I submitted. I witnessed the ceremony. I even gave away the bride. And I felt, while I did so, that I was giving away losing my only sister. And so it proved. Her husband was no better or worse than most men. He died, and left her no wealth save five children. She was not endued with physical strength to manage such a bequest. The sister whom I had given away I took home again. Heaven forgive me! But I thought less of his death and of her sorrow than of my gain; for my sis- ter was once more under the same roof with me. But my sad pleasure was brief. She fol- lowed her husband, and her children became mine entirely. James Hayden said they were well provided for. So they are. But, he said, if I had only a wife, now, to be their mother. I came as near quarreling with him as I could for say- ing such a thing. With such a charge on my hands, what time have I to think of marrying? And how can I be sure that my wife would be their mother? The fact seems to be, that some of us must keep our senses to repair the dam- age done by the loss of their wits in others. I ,#m determined to be a father to my sisters lit- tle ones, now my own; and not to risk the dis- traction of being husband to somebody who might cause me to become recreant to my trust, by making me a father on my own account. I am too old a business man for that, and James hayden knows it. Havent we discharged more than one cashier for doing paper in his own be- half? The cases are parallel. The little rogues have wound themselves round me. They could not be more my own if they wore my name. But all love in this world is troublesome comfort. Such perils as they have exposed me to! Yes, perils; but I have survived them. I am myself still, and will keep so. such an upsetting of my bache- lor ~nebage! Such encounters with teachers, an~ governesses, and housekeepers! Such mis- takes as tradespeople are constantly making! I am continually fathered in spite of myself; but that I care nothing about. There is one thing I can not stand. I have sent away six housekeepers, because each was mistaken for the mother of the children, and each was no- thing loth, for they all understood what that im- plied. And so did I. There was but one guess where such mistakes could endif not correct- ed. That end I have guarded against by in- stalling Madame Pickle in the housekeepers room. Nobody conld mistake her for the wife of any thing except the kitchen range. But such a housekeeper is no companion for the children. I asked James Hayden what I should do. He said, engage a governess, and I did. She came highly fecommended, and has not belied her good character. The children have improved under her instruction and exam- ple. Their manners are subdued and polite. Their progress in the brancbes they have stud- ied is notable. Their respectful attention to me is most remarkable. Come, now, thought I, aft- er a few months experience, this being at the head of a family is not so bad a thing after all! Such pleasant thrice-daily meetings as were our repasts! There was no keeping the chil- dren away in the nursery, to feed them like lit- tle pensioners, and let their manners form as it pleased fate and the cook. They were brought square to the table, and taught how to demean themselves. And after tea they had always something so pleasant to say to Uncle-pa, as they called me, that their stay was protracted till I gave certain understood signals that I had had enough of them. When I unfolded the paper, or looked at my watch, or put away my tooth-pick, with the air of one who has trifled long enough, and now intends to do something to the purpose, our governess took the hand of the youngest. The rest followednot without some little rehearsal of Romeo. Parting is such sweet sorrow, that they would have continued it till midnight at least Still signing to go, and still loth to depart. Miss Amity was sometimes obliged to return for some little matter which the children had forgotten in their prolonged hurry of departure. Politeness would not suffer me to see her enter and depart without a word. The dear children were a never-tiring topic for me; and Miss Am- ity, while as sensible as I was to their remark- able perfection, never failed to remember to whom they owed ittheir kind and paternal ucle. Wh~ t she said upon this headrather DISINTERESTED FRIENDSHIP. 43 by implication and innuendo than in direct words I could not but feel the justice of. I feebly l)ari~ed her praises, and thus gave a pleasant little piqnancy and prolongation to the door- knob-in-hand conversation. And it came to pass that these conversations at first held occasionally with Miss Amity as a standing interlocutorbecame of daily repeti- tion. And then, at my request, Miss Amity ventnred to sit a moment, though always in the chair nearest the door. And then, being at- tracted by something over the fire-place, she advanced to that point to continue her remarks. And then it became natural to her always to stand, with some waif belonging to the dismissed children (it was wonderful how invariably some- thing was left behind when they went out), di- rectly opposite my chair, on the other side of the grate. And then she would unconsciously rest in unrest on the outer edge of a chair, like one ready to flit from a forbidden perch. And then she learned to sit a few moments, grace- fully and at ease, as if there were no harm in it. And then One night the nurse asked, peeping in at the door, Please, Miss Amity, maynt I put the children to bed before you come up? I should like to go out, if you please, miss. Oh, yesno matterrh go up now. But the nurse went, and Miss Amity did not make haste to follow. And so, by nice degrees, the nurse was taught tocome to the parlor and take away the children herself; and Miss Amity wait- ed till her own hour for retiringexcept when the door-bell rang, when she disappeared before the caller was ushered in. And at length some particular friends, like James Hayden, for in- stance, calling very often, Miss Amity became familiar with their approach, and lost her terror of it. By-and-by another advance was made. Miss Amity paused to bid her patrons friends good-evening before she withdrew. The next amelioration in her condition was to wait and talk with them a moment about education in general and the dear children in particular. When this topic became exhausted we found others, which took up more time; and Miss Amity certainly made a very pleasant impres- sion on all my friendson James Hayden in particular. He would even inquire for her if she happened not to be presentwhich inquiry would he a very great liberty in any one else; but he is my most intimate friend, and stands not on conventional etiquette. Every thing went on delightfully. Never was a better ordered and more quiet house and fam- ily. Never had I been so placidly content with bachelorhood; so fixed in my determination that nothing should ever induce me to forego my independence and change my state. Here was perfect comfort. The presence of Miss Amity was sunshine in the house. A perfect being in her mannersdelicacy and refinement in her thoughtsvirtue incarnatethe best pos- sible guardian for the dear orphansand so charmingly unsophisticated, childlike, and un obtrusive. And I had to thank James Hayden for it all. Poor fellowits a pity hes married! We might make a joint establishment of it; for I have satisfied myself that entire happiness can be secured without matrimonial chains. The children sallied out for their daily walks or rides so delightfully happy that I once caught myself wishing that they were mine indeed, and that I were father instead of uncle. But I checked my foolish thought at once. Were they not mine? And was not I myself mine, my own, besides, with nobody to claim pro- prietorship in me, or assert over me any right to domination on the plea of being the mother of my children? Had I not all the comforts of home without any of its disadvantages? I put the question one day to my old friend James Hayden, who had dined with me. Miss Amity and the children had left us, and we were taking the second cigar. There might have been something of triumph in my tone, for his wife is a little acid, and the subject is a tender one. You are very comfortable, my dear fellow, he said; and pausing to pu~ added, of course you will soon make permanent arrangements. Per-ma-nent ar-range-ments Dont repeat after me, nor look so wonder- struck. Dont deny to an old friend that you intend to marry CarrynhMiss Amity ! I never dreamed of such a thing Then your sleep must be very sound in- deed, said my friend, laughing. Every body is full of it, and we only wonder that you have waited so long. It is a very embarrassing situation to keep the young lady in. Embarrassing! Why she is only the chil- drens governess. She was educated precisely to that expectation, and I venture to say enter- tains no other. My friend whistled, and took his hat. What plague was in it? What had I done? What should I do? After tea came the old comedy. Children dismissed. Me with evening news- paper. Miss Amity opposite. And now be- hold a new thing under the gas-light! I, so calm the night before, nay, at dinner that day, so free from care or vexation, now perturbed, and with nobody to tell it to. There was no speaking to Miss Amity on that subject, for there was no telling where to begin it, or where it would end. And I could talk of nothing else. And I must speakor burst. The silent t~te-a-t~te was very awkwardto me. Miss Amity worked away at embroidery or crochet, as unconscious and unconcerned as the spoiled cat on the hearth-rug. As I peeped over my paper at her, I could not help regretting that such a fine vis-a-vis as we presented must soon, in all human probability, be spoiled forever. A caller relieved my perplexity. It was my pertinacious friend, James Hayden. I was al- ways glad to see himnever more so than this very evening. Miss Amity had seemed unusn- ally disposed to stay, and there is no knowing what folly I might have been guilty of. I trem 44 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. ble now when I think of it; bnt,~thank fortune! the danger is over. I breathe freer and deeper! Miss Amity soon withdrew after Hayden entered. Though, as I said just now, there was only one thing of which I could think, I was determined not to talk of that. I tried Sebas- topol. It was stale. I said it never would be taken. James said He didnt know. Quite as obstinate resistance had been conquered by regular approaches. What did the man mean? I would not see any equivoque, and turned the theme to Kansas. But it was of no use. We gabbled commonplaces for a while, till at last our heads drew nearer together, and we talked long and earnestly in an undertone. What we talked of may be inferred from Haydens parting re- marks: If it is really as you say, and you have no intention of proposing; or if it is not really as you say, though you think it is, but dont know that you do really mean Irose,forl was becoming excited. James Hayden abrupt- ly concluded, In any case, it will not answer for Miss Amity to retain her present position. But what is to become of the children ? That is a difficulty. But there are abund- ance of good schools in which you can place them, and your house will resume its old com- fort and quiet. Old comfort and quiet! I winced under it. Why did he not tell me to board up the win- dows, and shut out the day? What is a house good for without children? Grant all you say, I replied at length, grant all you say, and how am I to manage it? I-low shall I tell that contented and unsuspect- ing young woman that she must go? What rea- son shall I give for dismissing her? It will not do to put it upon the ground you state. Oh! well, said my friend, trust to fortune, and wait. You will not need to wait long, I fancy, for female delicacy and tact will get you out of the difficulty, and that soon, or I am mis- taken. Out of the difficulty! thought I, as the door closed after him. A plague of these disinter- ested advisers, who can prescribe with such per- fect composure when the blister does not touch their own epidermis! The first disturbed rest which I had endured for years was mine that night. The more I studied my quandary, the more of a quandary it seemed to me, and the less appearance of solution presented itself. Even the mirth of the children at breakfast did not relieve or inspirit me. They were in delightful spiritstip-top! Philosophic little roguesthey can enjoy the present, undisturbed either by gloomy retrospections or melancholy forebodings. But Miss Amity: there was an air of constraint over her manner which I had never observed before. It quite spoiled my breakfast. Her charming naivete was gone entirely. When she rose to leave the table she put in my hands a note. I read the superscription looked upand she was gone, children and all. It was a politely-couched notice, advising me that she found herself obliged to desire me to fill her place in a house which she must leave with the deepest regret, and should ever re- member with pleasure, etc., etc., etc. Ubiquitous James Hayden! Why did he drop in just then? Simply to walk down in the city with me, as he has done daily forno matter how many years. It is well he is not a woman. Had he been female, one of the best old bach- elors who ever livedyour humble servant, to witwould have been nipped in his twenties, if not in his teens. Now, James, said I, hand- ing him the note, whats to be done next ? Whats to be done? Why, it is done! The very thing you were punishing your foolish head about last night is completed to your hand. Its only to inclose her salary, with a remembrance from the children in a tangible form, regret, etc., and theres an end of it. But after dinner will do. Come; were late. As wewalked through the ball I heard a dole- ful noise up stairs. The change had been an- nounced, and the children were howling over it. Perhaps they will be best at school. Now, Mr. Harper, I know you dont adver- tise; but cant you let me say here, that if any ladyfit for nobodys wife, and above the sus- picion of fitnessbut still fit to teach any bodys children, as well in manners and morals as in mindan attractive piece of feminine repulsive- ness, and a repulsive specimen of female loveli- nessif such an one wants a situation, in the family of a single gentleman of large family she may address Charles, at your office. [NOTE SiT THE EDITORAfter the foregoing was in type, we received the following. But it is absurd to think our forms can be delayed by any whim of our correspond- ents. He must settle matters with his disinterested friend in the best manner that he can. Instead of sup- pressing his first communication we print both.] Please dont print my nonsense about our late governess, now the recogniRed head of the household. Marriage is not so very dreadful, after all: A rings put on, a prayer or two is said, Andnothing more. My friend, James Hayden, gave away the bride, and I received her. The children could not do without her, and I married merely to please them. It would not do for her to hear that, I suppose; but I am new to matrimonial etiquette, and bachelors are proverbially free-spoken. I suppose I must say, with Benedick: When I said T would die a bachelor, I did not think I should live to be married ! Our late governess and present lady is of good family. She is James Haydens niece. Its very remarkable that he never mentioned it while she was a dependent. I did not think so noble a fellow had among his weak points so much foolish pride. Heigho! The vis-& -vis is resumed. I cant discharge her now, if I would. Well, I suppose its destiny, and we must all submit. Perhaps it is better to yield while you are young, with a good grace, than to fight fate till you cant any longer. I am now in the fashion! A TRIP TO NEWFOUNDLAND. 45 5 13110 LIGHT. vT~ CE TO HALIFAX HAIIBOK. A TRIP TO NEWFOUNDLAND. A BRIGHTER sun never shone upon a hap- pier party than that which beamed upon those who, on hoard the steamer James Adqer, left Pier No. 4, North River, on the morning of the seventh of August, 1855. A crowd, com- posed of the curious, the idle, and the friends of those who were leaving, had gathered on the wharg and as the moorings were cast loose and tile enormous paddle-wheels began to revolve, shout after shout went up from those on shore, lustily returned by the outward-bound, and many a God-speed ! was sent after us, and many a prayer went up for our success. We were going to carry out a great enter- prise; not to carry hostile messages, nor batter down walls, but to lay the first link of a chain which should eventually, bind the nations of the earth together in bonds of amity, and hasten tllat good time coming, XVhen every transfer Of earths natural gifts shall be a commerce Of good words and works. In a word, we were going to lay tile cable of the Submarine Telegraph, which is destined to unite the Old World with the New, and by means of which Gothamites and Cockneys shall be placed within speaking-distance of each oth- er. The wire we were about to consign to the bottom of old ocean was intended to reach from Port an Basque, Newfoundland, to Cape North, the extremest point of Cape Breton Isl- anda distance of between sixty and seventy milesand had been brought from England in the bark Sarah L. Bryant, then, as we expect- ed, waiting for us at Port an Basque. We num- bered in all sixty passengers, including the offi- cers of the Company whose guests we were, and all on board seemed to have made up their minds not only to be happy themselves, but to be the cause that happiness should be in others. As we steamed down our beautiful bay, a light southeast wind greeted us wooingly, and the green shores of Long Island and Staten Island seemed to have put on their holiday looks, as though, by their beauty and freshness, they would make us long, when away over the deep, deep sea, to return to them once more. The sea, outside Sandy Hook, wore an unruf- VOL. XLI.No. 67.D fled surface,. and night overtook us off Moriches, where the hull of the Franklin, like a huge skel- eton, lies a monument of Neptunes might. After admiring a grand display of Natures pyrotech- nics, in the shape of beat-lightning, all sought the cabin, where an impromptu concert whiled away the hours till midnight. We passed Mon- tank Pointa locality ever-memorable to many who have yielded. compulsory tribute to Nep- tune thereabout 11 P.M. We rounded it, however, without a qualm; and many, who had been rather suspicious ofthemselves before, find- ing that they were still all right, began to think themselves good sailors, and to talk about a life on the ocean wave as something very delightful. On the eighth we took our last look at the Yankee coast, and were soon off soundings and making our course direct for Cape Sable. Soon after leaving Nantucket shoals, however, the ocean, before so smooth, began to assume a rougher look, and a cross sea soon tried the nerves of our more confident passengers. Its effects were shortly visible in pale faces, whIle many sought below a relief from strange emo- tions entirely beyond their control. The ladies won much credit by the manner in which they bore themselves; and though their lips paled, and the rosy hue departed from their cheeks, they still manfully kept their places upon the paddle-boxes, and with light songs and merry words strove to drive off their pe- culiar sensations. During the next day we saw some whales, whose spoutings caused many exclamations of wonder and delight from those who had never before seen these Inonsters of the deep; and about sunset we came in sight of Seal Island off the southern coast of Nova Sco- tia. Every telescope through which a more definite view of the low, barren, rock-bound coast could be obtained, was brought into requi- sition; but nothing of interest was discernible. We soon found ourselves on the fishing-ground, covered with French and Colonial fishing-craft, which, by their picturesque appearance, relieved the dull monotony of the sky and se~. Threatenings of a coming storm with a strong head-wind destroyed our hopes of making Hal- ifax that night, and when off Sambro Head at dusk. the weather was so thick that it was de

A TRIP TO NEWFOUNDLAND. 45 5 13110 LIGHT. vT~ CE TO HALIFAX HAIIBOK. A TRIP TO NEWFOUNDLAND. A BRIGHTER sun never shone upon a hap- pier party than that which beamed upon those who, on hoard the steamer James Adqer, left Pier No. 4, North River, on the morning of the seventh of August, 1855. A crowd, com- posed of the curious, the idle, and the friends of those who were leaving, had gathered on the wharg and as the moorings were cast loose and tile enormous paddle-wheels began to revolve, shout after shout went up from those on shore, lustily returned by the outward-bound, and many a God-speed ! was sent after us, and many a prayer went up for our success. We were going to carry out a great enter- prise; not to carry hostile messages, nor batter down walls, but to lay the first link of a chain which should eventually, bind the nations of the earth together in bonds of amity, and hasten tllat good time coming, XVhen every transfer Of earths natural gifts shall be a commerce Of good words and works. In a word, we were going to lay tile cable of the Submarine Telegraph, which is destined to unite the Old World with the New, and by means of which Gothamites and Cockneys shall be placed within speaking-distance of each oth- er. The wire we were about to consign to the bottom of old ocean was intended to reach from Port an Basque, Newfoundland, to Cape North, the extremest point of Cape Breton Isl- anda distance of between sixty and seventy milesand had been brought from England in the bark Sarah L. Bryant, then, as we expect- ed, waiting for us at Port an Basque. We num- bered in all sixty passengers, including the offi- cers of the Company whose guests we were, and all on board seemed to have made up their minds not only to be happy themselves, but to be the cause that happiness should be in others. As we steamed down our beautiful bay, a light southeast wind greeted us wooingly, and the green shores of Long Island and Staten Island seemed to have put on their holiday looks, as though, by their beauty and freshness, they would make us long, when away over the deep, deep sea, to return to them once more. The sea, outside Sandy Hook, wore an unruf- VOL. XLI.No. 67.D fled surface,. and night overtook us off Moriches, where the hull of the Franklin, like a huge skel- eton, lies a monument of Neptunes might. After admiring a grand display of Natures pyrotech- nics, in the shape of beat-lightning, all sought the cabin, where an impromptu concert whiled away the hours till midnight. We passed Mon- tank Pointa locality ever-memorable to many who have yielded. compulsory tribute to Nep- tune thereabout 11 P.M. We rounded it, however, without a qualm; and many, who had been rather suspicious ofthemselves before, find- ing that they were still all right, began to think themselves good sailors, and to talk about a life on the ocean wave as something very delightful. On the eighth we took our last look at the Yankee coast, and were soon off soundings and making our course direct for Cape Sable. Soon after leaving Nantucket shoals, however, the ocean, before so smooth, began to assume a rougher look, and a cross sea soon tried the nerves of our more confident passengers. Its effects were shortly visible in pale faces, whIle many sought below a relief from strange emo- tions entirely beyond their control. The ladies won much credit by the manner in which they bore themselves; and though their lips paled, and the rosy hue departed from their cheeks, they still manfully kept their places upon the paddle-boxes, and with light songs and merry words strove to drive off their pe- culiar sensations. During the next day we saw some whales, whose spoutings caused many exclamations of wonder and delight from those who had never before seen these Inonsters of the deep; and about sunset we came in sight of Seal Island off the southern coast of Nova Sco- tia. Every telescope through which a more definite view of the low, barren, rock-bound coast could be obtained, was brought into requi- sition; but nothing of interest was discernible. We soon found ourselves on the fishing-ground, covered with French and Colonial fishing-craft, which, by their picturesque appearance, relieved the dull monotony of the sky and se~. Threatenings of a coming storm with a strong head-wind destroyed our hopes of making Hal- ifax that night, and when off Sambro Head at dusk. the weather was so thick that it was de 46 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. cided to stand off and on till morning. The sea rose high, the wind blew a gale, and oar gallant steamer rolled so heavily that all were forced to retire to their berths. In the morn- ing, which broke clear and beautiful, we fonnd ourselves abont twenty-live miles to the sonth of Sambro Light, and taking a pilot on board, were soon steaming up the harbor of Halifax, of which the Nova Scotians are so justly prond. The entrance is protected by a fort and mar- tello tower, built on a small island about two miles in circnmference, about half a mile from the city, which stands on the side of a hill com- manding a splendid view of the harbor. On the summit of the bill a large and apparently impregnable fort is in process of constructjon. Some six hnndred soldieis are already quar- tered in it. As soon as our ship touched the wharf, nearly the whole of our party rushed on shore, and immediately spread themselves about the town, bent on seeing all the lions of the place at once, to the no little astonishment of the natives, who regarded our Yankee peculiarities with. much curiosity. We soon ransacked the city, visited every public building or place worthy of notice, and by engaging every carriage we could press into our service, obtained in a few hours a pretty clear idea of the place, the people, and their character and condition. Some of our party visited a French frigate lying in the har- bor, and were received very kindly by the offi- cers on board. We left Halifax about half past seven in the evening, amidst loud cheering from the people who had gathered on the wharg which was returned by the party on board the JamesAdger with three times three and a tiger, which rather astonished them. Before leaving we took on board a pilot thoroughly acquainted with the coast of Cape Breton and Newfound- land, as far as St. Johns, the place of our ulti- mate destination. We stood directly for Port an Basque, where we expected to find the Sarah L. Bryant, with the cable on board; but on reachin ~ tbat place, on Sunday morning, our anxious gaze was not re- warded by the si~ht of the bark. She had not yet arrived, although two weeks over-due. This was a great disappointment to all, as the weather was propitious for laying the cable, and it was the intention to commence the task early on Monday morning. It was for~some time a question whether, un- der the circumstances, we should wait at Port an Basque for the arrival of the Sarah L. Bryant, or proceed to St. Johns. As we intended to visit the latter place before returning, in order to pay our respects to the authorities of New- foundland, it was decided to go there at once, and after a short stay return for the Sarah L. Bryant at Port an Basque. During the three or four hours we lay outside the harbor, about a dozen of us went on shore, with a view of find- ing out what manner of men and things the place produced. It is little more than a village, containing some forty or fifty houses, built of wood, most of them two stories high. About a dozen of them are grouped together, while the rest are scattered over an area of over half a mile, giving one an idea that the houses are on bad terms with each other. The site on which this unsociable-looking place is built commands a very fine view of the surrounding country to the distance of six or seven miles. On the north rises the high promontory of Cape Ray, to the height of fifteen hundred feet. The country seems to be almost entirely destitute of vegetation, though a little turf here and there forms a pleasant relief to the general barren as- pect, while a few low stunted bushes, bearing a hALIFAX, FP.O I ma cITAn L. A TRIP TO NEWFOUNDLAND. 47 brown berry, are scattered in small clusters at distant intervals. However, what the place lacks in vegetation it makes np in fish. The l)eople fish for a living, and live on fish. Fish for breakfast, fish for dinner, toi~jours fish. There are fish every where, in-doors and out, where they are piled up in immense stacks, looking like ricks of hay, hut smelling like any thing but the perfume of Araby the blest. The people seem neither to know nor care about any thing else than fish, and twist the conver- sation how yon will, it is sore to come back to lish. All is fish that comes to their net, and so long as plenty come, they bother themselves very little about other matters. After a consultation with Mr. Canning, one of the best engineers in England, who had been engaged by the Telegraph Company to superin- tend the layin~ down of the wires, we left Port au Basque for St. Johns, where we arrived, without any incident transpiring worthy of note, on the morning of the 14th. The entrance to the harbor of St. Johns and the snrrouuding scenery are remarkable for their beanty and snblimity. The island is pro- tected on its eastern side by the same bold, mountainous line of coast that characterize the whole southern extremity of it. The rocks rise precipitously to the height of seven or eight hundred feet directly from the water, which is snificiently deep to enable even the largest ships to pass in safety within a few feet of their rugged and deeply-seamed sides, which are perforated at their base with large caves; and a romantic imagination might find amuse- ment in peopling them with bold smngglers and wild buccaneers. The entrance to the harbor is so concealed from the view, when hot a short distance out at sea, that it was not observable till we had ap- Iroached within half a mile of it. Signal Hill rises to the right, on the summit of which stands a fortification, while another frowns at its base. Neither of these defenses, however, looked a~ though they were capable of offering a very strong resistance, hut the narrow entrance is amply protected by other works. During the last war a heavy iron chain was stretched across this entrance to prevent the passage of hostile ships, the remains of which, and an old cannon or two, called to our minds the fact that an American ship would not always have heen al- lowed to pass so quietly. Opposite Signal Hill rises another elevation, to the height of about six hundred feet, which bears upon its side a formidable-looking fort, while still another forti- fication has been erected at its base, from the centre of which rises a light-house. These nar- rows are less than half a mile broad at their widest part, and about a mile long. When about the middle of this narrow gorge we noti- fied the good people of St. Johns of our ap- proach by a salute, which was echoed and re- echoed a hundred times among the hills, mak- ing an awful pother oer our heads for some time. The city of St. Johns presents a very pic- turesque appearance, being built on the side of a hill with a gradual ascent of about two hundred and fifty feet, overlooking the beau- tiful harbor, which has the appearance of a lake after you have passed the narrow en- trance. Large hills rise on every side, upon which the fishermens huts, each surrounded by a green garden spot, are scattered here and there, taking from the natural wildness of the scene. At the base of these hills are erected the stages, or flakes, where the codfish are cleaned and cured, preparatory to being packed for market. These stages are made of light poles, and some- times stand on the sides of steep rocks overlook~ ing the water. We were most hospitably received by the au- thorities and citizens of St. Johns, who are very anxious to extend their present limited com- mercial intercourse with us, and regard the ENTRANCE TO TOE HAEOOE OF ST. JOHNS. 48 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. Transatlantic Telegraphic enterprise as a power- fal means of bringing about such a result. Dur- ing our stay among them they seemed to vie with each other in paying us attention; every vehicle was put out at our disposal; and press- ing invitations poured in upon us from all sides to accept the hospitality of their houses. Our limited stay, however, prevented us from ac- cepting half of them. There are no public buildings in St. Johns that are remarkable, either for their size or ~rchitectural beauty, if we except the Catholic Cathedral, which is a magnificent building of fine proportions, and capable of containing at least ten thousand persons. Its cost was over half a million of dollars. The Colonial Building is a square structure of granite, two stories high. It coatains the chambers of the two Legislative branchcs, the House of Assembly, and the Legislative Coun- cii. A short distance from this building stands the Governors honse, where the recently ap- pointed Governor, Mr. Charles H. Darling, re- ides. Oa th~ evening of the 15th a grand banquet wa given on board the steamer to the public authorities of St. Johns. The military band from the garrison was in attendance, and about one hundred persons, including the party on board the James Adger, participated in the fes- tivities of the occasion. Peter Cooper, Esq., the President of the Telegraph Company, pre- sided, supported by Mr. Field as Vice-Presi- dent. On this occasion Professor Morse, in re- ply to a toast in his honor, entered into a brief ~I~istory of the telegraph, and the many obstacles which were thrown in his way on his first ap- plication to Congress for an appropriation to enable him to construct an experimental line between Washington and Baltimore. Other speeches were made and listened to, and then we joined the ladies in the saloon, where the song and the dance wound up the evening in the most delightful manner. On the following evening the authorities of St. Johns returned the compliment by a splendid ball in our honor in the Colonial Buildings. It was a delightful occa~ion, and, the bright eyes of the fair maids of St. Johns left an impression upon the hearts of more than one of the bachelors of our party that will not soon be obliterated. We were to have left for Port an Basqne the next morning, ii ~ K ASCENT TO A FLAK . A TRIP TO NEWFOUNDLAND. a 0 C a z 40 but the Telegraph Company, wishing to make About a mile and a half from St. Johns is some return for the generous hospitality which the small fishin~ village of Quidi Vidi, where had been extended to us, postponed our de- reside those hardy sons of toil whose labors sup- parture till Saturday, and invited two hundred ply the city of St. Johns with its great staple, of the principal inhabitants to participate in an Codfish. The Newfoundland fisheries first grew excursion on hoard the James Adger. Accord- into importance about the year 1596, and in ingly, with our guests on board, we proceeded 1615 England had at Newfoundland 250 ships, about ten miles outside the harbor. After a and the French, Biscaynas, and Portuguese delightful day, which will ever he rememhered 400 ships. The French always viewed the by all who participated in its varied enjoyments, participation of the English in these fisheries we returned to the harbor, where we hade fare- with great jealousy. It was a maxim of the well to our guests, and the hospitable city of French Government, that the North American St. Johns, and steered our course for Port an fisheries were of more natural value, in regard Basque to join the Sarah L. Bryant. to navigation and power, than the gold mines / / / (Ii IJAIIPEWS NEW MONTI-ILY MAGAZINE of Mexico could have been, if the latter had been possessed by France. The French pur- sue what is known as the hultow system of fishing, and annually 360 vessels are oa the Banks, each with 8 to 10,000 fathoms of bultows spreading over 500 miles of ground, and bait- ing over one million of hooks. The annual catch of all the fisheriesthe American, French, and Colonialamounts, in the aggregate, to a total of 4,400,000 quintals of codfish, valued at 3,038,675, or about $15,000,000. The fishermen are an honest, frank, and gen- erous class of men, for whom the elements seem to have no terrors. Their life is a continuous succession of perils and hardships, yet it has a strong fascination for them, and they rarely voluntarily retire from it till old age or prema- ture decrepitude, arising from its exposure, com- Tel them to do so. They are, as a general thing, extremely im- provident in the disposition of their limited means; which fact destroys, in a great meas- ure, any thing like independence on their part in their dealings with the merchants of St. Johns, who are the only purchasers of their fish. A considerable degree of ill feel- ing grows out of this state of things, and the fishermen would gladly find competitors with the merchants of St. Johns for the purchase of their commodity. After leaving St. Johns, we discovered that many additions had been made to the live-stock on board our vessel, in the shape of numerous specimens of the Newfoundland dog. These animals abound in St. Johns. You meet them at every step. They are at the door of every house, the entrance to every store, and in every room. Dogs are ever before, beside, and be- hind you; and though they are not at all fierce or belligerent in their character, still they evi- dently recognize a stranger in you, and seem to ask, by their looks, what you are about, how you came there, and where you are going. Though there is no question about their being dogs of Newfoundland, it is very questionable whether they are all genuine thorough-bred Newfoundland dogs. While in St. Johns, nearly every one of our party seemed seized with an uncontrollable dis- position to possess at least one of these dogs, while others, still more covetous of canine prop- erty, purchased whole families, includina large litters of pups. The consequence was, that the good steamer, James Adger, became, in one sense at least, a regular doggery. There were dogs on the quarter-deck, dogs forward, and dogs aft. Dogs in every coil of rope, and dogs bask- ing in the heat of the smoke-stacks. Pups iii boxes and baskets, pups in berths, puppies in ladies arms and on ladies laps. Go where you would, on board the steamer, dogs met you at every turn; and if we had climbed to the main- truck, we should not have been much surprised to have found one of our canine friends there, in the shape of a dog-vane! They yelped, and howled, and whined, and barked, through every note of the gamut; but, as an insane individual on board, given to the despicable practice of making bad jokes, observed, their bark was on the C, as a general thing. Standing on the quarter-deck, and looking down the length ef the vessel, the eye wandered through long vista~ of dogs, the wagging of whose tails was enough to make a nervous man uneasy, and affected one like the monotonous ticking of a clock in a still room. Every body, too, that had a dog, imagined his dog better than the dog of any body else, and once, during our return voyage. when about half-way home, the excitement al over, and time hanging rather heavily on our hands, one of the reverend gentlemen on board worked himself into such a state of excitement on the merits of his own peculiar dog, that he proposed to the Captain a general dog fight, in 50 CLEM4JLNG Full. A TRIP TO NEWFOUNDLAND. 51 which his dog should take the field against all corners. It is a remarkahle fact, that though o urea- nine cargo indulged in their Propensity for howling almost continuously, they never so thoroughly exhihited their powers in this way as during the performance of divine service in the cahh~. The moment prayers commenced, or a psalm was sung, the rascals hogan, and kept up one unceasing howl until the act of devotion was over. This roused the supersti- tious fears of the sailors, who protested that we should never make port, and insisted that the presence of so many dogs and ministers on board would insure our finding our wayto Davy Joness Locker, and that we should all go to the dogs together. From the numerous adver- tisements which have appeared in the daily papers, announcin~ dogs for sale, since our re- turn, we are of the opinion that many of those who made extensive purchases have grown sick of their bargains. As we neared Port an Basque, the greatest anxiety prevailed on board to know whether the Sarah L. Bryant had arrived. We came in sight of Cape Ray ahont five oclock on the morning of the 20th, and when we were sufficiently near to the place of our destination, every telescope was hrought to hear upon the place, all he- lug anxious to make the first announcement of the pleasing intelligence that the ohject of ocr search was within the harhor. Some of our company went aloft, and discovered a large ves- sel lyin~ behind the high rocks at the mouth of the harhor; hut, rememhering our former dis- appointment, we did not like to he too sanguine. While we were thus in douht and fear, a small hoat put off from the shore. As soon as it came within hailing distance, the momentous ques- tion was asked: Has the hark arrived ? The reply came over the waters amidst a breathless silence: She has When? On Wednesday! The enthusiasm of all on hoard now hroke out in such a volley of cheers as the hills on shore never echoed back since the creation. Every face heamed with joy, and every hody shook hands with every hody else. The very dogs wagged their tails more energetically thaii ever, as if they sympathized in our joy. Our faith in the success of our enterprise was re- stored. We should yet be ahle to lay the first link of the great electric chain, which should make the hoasting gasconade of Puck practi- cahle, and enahle us to put a girdle round the earth in forty minutes. As we neared the entrance to the harhor, the masts of the long-expected vessel hove in sight. On our approach the stars and stripes were run up, and flouted the hreeze from the mizzen peak. while a salute from our cannon roused the slum- hering echoes of the hills. The little Victoria responded again and again, till a cloud of dense smoke almost hid her from our sight. The fisher folks of Port an Basque, the quiet of whose little village had never hefore heen so hoister- ously intruded upon, hardly knew what to snake of all this fuss. In a short time we were alongside the hark hroadside to hroadsideand all was excitement and curiosity. It was soon ascertained that, to give time for necessary preparations, the task of laying the cahie could not he commenced for three or four days, so that there would he ample opportunity for us all to gratify our desire to go on shore. The fishing-hoats soon put off from the land in great numhers, and in these we left the James Adger, and landing, once snore stood on terrafirma. The company divided itself into detached parties; the one to which I attached myself proceeding to the residence of one of the codfish aristocracy. We were received with great courtesy and hospitality, and were treated PORTIJOAL covs, risnixe VILLACE NEAn ST. Jonas. HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. to codfish cooked in every conceivahie style. It was exceedingly l)alatable; and when we had (lined heartily from it we did not feel half the sympathy we had formerly conceived for those who lived on it exclusively. As we were desirous of making the most of 4)ur time, and of seeiu~ and enjoying every thing to he seen or enjoyed, all at once set ahout tanking preparations for the gratification of their various tastes. Some went fishing, some started for the hills, or paid unsolicited visits to the fishermens huts, with the view of increasing their stock of knowledge of human nature in general, and the idiosyncrasies of the fishermen of Port an Basque in particular. Others again, inspired thereto most probahly hy the spirit of the mighty Nimrod, and by their credulity in believing the yarns which were related to them by the natives concerning the abundance of game a little way back, started on a hunting expedition ten miles into the interior. The fish- ing parties were remarkably successful; to use the usual expression on such occasions, they caught them as fast as they could throw in. Large cod, small cod, and codlings, fell an easy prey even to the most inexpert, and one of the p~ rty returned with a trophy of his skill or good fortunein the shape of a gigantic cod measuring four feet in length, and weighing over thirty-five pounds. Like the man who was the fortunate winner of an elephant at a raffle, however, he was somewhat puzzled to know what to do with his prize, so he hired a young piscator of the village to carry it, while he turned showman and exhibited it to the ad- miring gaze of the party on board the ship, and the villagers, who rather cooled his enthusiasm and took the edge off of his self-conceit, by looking at it askance, as though such cod were taken every day. The hunting party, however, which started off with such high hopes xnd such glorious visions of fat elk, moose, and leer, and whose greatest difficulty on setting out was to know how they should hring back their game, were not so successful. The waters swarmed with cod, and the merest tyro could take them, hut the woods did not swarm with deer, for they could find none, and they came back as unincumbered as they ~vent, and quite chop-fallen at their want of success. Their hearts were heavy but their stomachs were light; for, depending upon the assurances of those who so sadly misled them, they had in- dulged in pleasing anticipations of a supper of game of their own killing, and neglected to supply themselves with a sufficient quantity of provisions. After a walk of ten miles over rugged rocks and barren beach, during which they saw nothing to shoot, night and hunger overtook them together. There was no fat buck from which to cut a roasting piece or cutlet, not even a rabbit had crossed their path; so, after building a fire, they proceeded to inves- tigate the commissariat department, and found that all their stores consisted of a dried cod- fish of hom~opathic proportions, a paper of to- bacco, and one ships biscuit, which a dyspeptic youth of the party had slipped into his pocket before leaving the ship. In this predicament a council of ways and means was held to decide the momentous question, whether the sole cod- fish should be devoured then and there, and they should start for the ship in the morning breakfast- less, or whether they should go supperless that night and eat the codfish in the morning. Opin- ion was equally divided, so the question had to be decided by chance. A penny was tossed in the air, and the codfish winning, the innings were devoured on the spot. The party spent a cheerless night, protected from the bleak winds by the side of a friendly hill, and the next morning the disappointed hunt- ers started for the village, ~vhere they arrived about noon almost famished, to make a general onslaught upon the nearest grocery. All the crackers and cheese which the establishment afforded, hardly served to stay their appetites till dinner time, when it was ohserved that all the viands in their immediate vicinity disap- peared with marvelous celerity. CAPE RAY. TEazeaApa 7101J5E A TRIP TO NEWFOUNDLAND. As the arrangements on board the bark for on Wednesday the Sarah L. Bryant was towed laying the cable were not completed, it was to that point, where a frame telegraph house thought advisable that the steamer should pro- was put up, the telegraph instruments conveyed, ceed to Cape North, and select the best and and a battery of one hundred cups erected. nearest point to Cape Ray to make the connec- Every thing being thus prepared, the opera- tion. Mr. Cooper and some twenty or thirty tion of laying the cable was commenced on of the passengers accordingly departed in the Friday, the 24th of August. steamer, while the rest of our party remained A sufficient length of cable was taken from at Port au Basque, on board the Sarah L. Dry- the hold, and placed on board a boat to be con- (nit. We took advantage of the opportunity veyed to the beach. As soon as the boat up- thus afforded to inspect the cable and the me- proached near enough, the workmen stationed chanical arrangements for paying it out. The there rushed into the surg and seizing the end cable weighed four hundred tons, and was say- of the cable, bore it to the place fixed upon as enty-four miles in length thus allowing nine the point of connection-the TelegraphHouse miles for the inequalities of the bottom of the where it was firmly secured around the capstan sea, the distance between the points of connec- under the floor, the three copper wires hem tion being but sixty-five miles. The cable was placed in connection with the machine. Owing stowed in the hold of the vessel, in gigantic to a kink formed in the cable, while passing over coils. The machinery was of a simple kind, the stern of the bark, it was found, on making hut seemed extremely well adapted for its pur- the test, that the insulation was not perfect, so a pose, and was the same as used in laying the buoy was attached to it at the weak point, in order Mediterranean cable. The cable passes from that at some future time it might be repaired. the hold over iron rollers, and thence between So much time was thus occupied, that it was vertical guide rollers, from which it passes over thought better not to commence paying out two other rollers eight feet in diameter. As until the next day, on account of the foggy these revolve, it passes on to a cast iron saddle, weather. In the morning, a strong breeze from and so over the stern of the vessel. The wheels the northwest was blowing, but Mr. Canning, are controlled by four bre~ ks worked by long whose experience in laying the Mediterranean levers, and two compressors, which are employed cable gave authority to his opinion, decided to prevent the cable from surging as it passes that the cable could be laid with safety in round tIme wheels, as well as to prevent its be- even a higher sea than that then running, so ing carried off by its own weight. This plan the order was given to commence operations. was found to work most successfully. The bark was taken in tow by the fames Ac~ger, It was found that Cape Ray Cove, ten miles with the assistance of the Victoria, and after distant from Port an Basque, offered more facili- some difficulty in getting under weigh on the ties as a point of connection, besides being over part of the bark, we attempted to start. But five miles nearer to Cape North. The .Thmes Ad- by this time the sea ran so high, and the wind qer therefore returned on Tnesday evenin~ , and blew so furiously, that both bark and ~tenmer soucrsamxo TO Tow TJJE aAaa. hARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. were at the mercy of the elements. In a few moments it was found that the bark was drift- ing rapidly down upon us, making a collision inevitable. It was a fearful moment, for no one could tell the result of the shock; the bark was coming down upon us stern foremost, and the moment when we should be in contact was looked for with the greatest anxiety. In vain the wheels of the fames Adqer were put in motion; some strange fatality seemed to be hanging over us. and in a moment after the order to back her ! was given, the two ships struck. The violence of the shock was not so great as we anticipated, and both vessels escaped with very slight injury, which, under the circumstances, seemed almost a miracle. The excitement soon died away, and the ladies, who at the request of our Captain had retired to tlte cahin, were ignorant of our danger until it was all over. Though out of immediate peril, we were not yet clear of the bark, and it was found neces- sary to sever the hawser which attached her to us. She then let go her anchor, we doing the sante; but shortly after, she hoisted signals of distress and immediately shaking out her sails, put out to sea, having lost her anchor, and been obliged to cut the submarine cable in order to prevent drifting upon the rocks. We mime- diately put to sea after her, and in about an bout succeeded, by means of a hawser from our stern, in getting her safely in tow. The following day being Sunday, we did not g a S a z a 0 a C 51 a a a A TRIP TO NEWFOUNDLAND. leave the cove, but spent most of the time in repairing damages to the cable, which broke again in a short time, so that there was no other course left but to re-land it and commence all our work over again. Accordingly, on Monday morning, the bark was aga in towed near the shore, and the end of the cable taken to the Tele- graph House by means of boats, and made fast as before. The wind, however, continued to blow with such violence, that we remained at anchor all night, in the hope that the weather would prove more propitious the following morn- ing. The next morning broke clear and calm; hardly a ripple played upon the surface of the ocean, and our hopes brightened with the sun, which rose withont a cloud to mar its splendor. The bark was soon placed en rapport by means of a hawser; and the steamer getting under weigh, the work of paying out the cable began in earnest, a ad with every prospect of suc- cess; for, with fair weather, success seemed certain. For two miles all went well; the machinery worked admirably, and the cable slipped over the rollers without let or hindrance; but when that length of cable had been laid, a kink oc- curred, and it was found necessary to stop the steamer to repair the damage. This occupied only an hour, and then we went on again; but the white flag, which had been agreed upon as a signal for stopping the steamer, soon made its appearance on board the bark, and notice was given that even the slowest speed of the steamer was too fast to allow the workmen on board the Sarah L. Bryant to pay out the cable with safety to it and to themselves. We again proceeded as slowly as possible, no accident oc- curring, though a report reached us at midnight that the cable had parted. This report was al- together without foundation, as we afterward learned that it was only a kink that had oc- curred, which it was necessary to take entirely out, and splice the cable, which was success- fully done. On starting again, all went on fa- vorably till about 4 oclock in the afternoon, when the wind, which since 2 oclock had been gradually increasing, rose to a gale, and it was found impossible to continue the work on board the bark, and another kink occur- ring in the enble, both vessels were compelled to lay to. The storm now raged with great violence; the sky was wild and threatening, and the ocean was covered with a dense mist, that completely hid from our view the island of St. Pauls, fourteen miles distant. Some forty miles of the cable had already been laid, though the distance in a straight line was several miles less. Under these circumstances Mr Canning was forced to abandon the original plan of making Cape North the place of con- nection, and endeavor to land the cable at the island of St. Pauls, which was considerably nearer. Had the weather continued moderate. our task would have been completed in a few hours; but the fates willed it otherwise, and we were obliged to cease our exertions, and devote all our energies to maintaining our position un- til the storm should abate. An attempt was now made to take the kink out of the cable, but the bark pitched so macli that it was with the utmost difficulty that the workmen could keep their feet, and to work was impossible. Every one now turned to Mr. Can- ning, expecting momentarily to hear him give the word to cut the cable, as for some time ev- ery hope of saving it had been abandoned, and fears were entertained for the safety of the ves- sel. But Mr. Canning was loth to give the word which should stamp the enterprise a fail- ure, while there was the slightest possibility of carrying it out successfully. The strength of the cable was severely tested; for, during the height of the storm, both vessels held hy it, and it would undoubtedly have held to the end had it been deemed prudent to have tried it so se- verely. The gale, instead of abating, continue(l to increase; still the cable held; but, at 6i oclock, the captain of the bark informed Mr. Canning that the safety of his vessel required that the cable should be cut, and that he should himself be obliged to give the fatal word in case Mr. Canning still refused to do so. Under such circumstances, Mr. Canning wa forced to sub- mit. A few blows of the ax accomplished the sad work, the vessel pitched forward as though she would bury herself in the waves, and forty miles of the cable lay at the bottom of the ocean. Thus did the war of elements set at naught the energy, enterprise, industry, and ambition SO creditably displayed by the projectors of this great work. Thus man proposes, thus God disposes! The cable, of which we give a sectional view, was manufactured by Messrs. W. Kuper and Co., at their Submarine Cable manufactory, SEeTXoNAn ASS) SIDE VIEW OF CABLE, FLJ.L SIZE. 56 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. London. The copper wire was insulated in butta percha by the Gutta Percha Company, of City Road, London, under the immediate su- perintendence of S. Statham, Esq. The pro- cess of manufacturing the cable is as follows: rue insulated copper wires are first laid round a centre core of hemp, the exterior and spaces between each wire being wormed with hemp yarn so as to form a perfect circular rope or cable. It is then provided with another cover- ing of hemp yarn, the whole of the yarn used being soaked in a preparation of Stockholm tar, pitch, oil, and tallow. It then receives its outside covering of twelve No. 4 gnage iron. The whole of this process, except the insulation of the wires, is carried on at one time by exten- sive and ingenious machinery erected for the purpose, and cables can thus be manufactured of any combined length that can ever be re- quired. After the cable parted we headed for Sydney, with the bark in tow, where we arrived safely on Thursday afternoon. Here we spent two days and a half in taking in coal and provisions. It is a flourishing place of about five thousand in- habitants. It is the great coal d~p& t of Cape Breton, and carries on considerable trade with Boston. The principal mine is situated three miles from the port, and employs about two hun- dred men and one-fourth as many horses. The coal is raised through a perpendicular shaft three hundred and six feet in depth. The daily product of the mines is about seven hun- dred tons. A railroad conveys the coal to Sydney. After being tossed about in the merciless manner we had for 50 long, the prospect of standing firmly upon our feet again was too alluring not to be at once enjoyed, and the steamer had barely dropped her anchor before every body rushed for the boats. The town itself presented no particular objects of inter- est; but on the hill which rises above it stood an encampment of the Miemac Indians, and thither the whole of the party soon made their way. The encampment or village consisted of about twenty lodges made of white birch bark, and the Indians numbered, including children, about one hundred. The children formed more than half the population, which, for filthiness and wretchedness, we should think, was with- out a rival in the civilized or uncivilized world. The men were lounging about, devoting all their energies to doing as little as they could, and yet continue to breathe; while the women, near- ly every one of whom was strapped to a pap- poose, which in its turn was strapped to a board, were engaged in making baskets, bows and ar- rows, and little birch canoes, specimens of which were eagerly purchased by their visitors. Every body bought a basket, most of us were provided with an impracticable canoe, and bows and ~r- rows enough were enrried off to put out the eyes of the officers, passengers, and crew. In one of the lodges more cleanly than the rest, and showing some slight indications of care and neatness, was seated a young Indian maid- en about eighteen years of age. She was very beautiful, both in form and features, and soon became the centre of attraction to all the young men of the party. The baskets and other traps made by her fair hands met with a ready sale. Every one of our Benedics seemed desirous of carrying off with him sonic token of remem- brance of her; and so great was the competi- tion, that the price of her wares soon rose in the market three hundred per cent. Her stock was quickly exhausted; but as she promised to have a flesh supply ready in the morning, the disappointed ones comforted themselves with this assurance. She must have been the most industrious Indian maiden on record, for early in the morning, when the disappointed of the night before visited her lodge, they found the supply even greater than at first. In a single night she had woven dozens of baskets, made a score or two of canoes, and bows and arrows enough to equip her whole tribe for the war path. This would have been enough to have redeemed her from the charge of idleness which lies against the whole Indian breed, but for the fact that tile other lodges were destitute of the wares we ~mad observed in them the night be- fore. The conclusion was forced upon us, that the members of the tribe, seeing what good prices her articles commanded, had consigned MIIJMAC JNnIANS. THE KNOCKER. 57 their whole stock of baskets to her, for sales and returns, and that she was doing business on commission, and not on her own account. A few miles from Sydney there is another In- dian village, where the remainder of the tribe, to the number of three hundred, reside. Having replenished our stock of coal, we left Sydney on Sunday morning, homeward bound; and though a general feeling of sadness pre- vailed, on account of the unavoidable failure of our expedition, every heart beat lighter at the thought of home. Our gallant captain partici- pated in this feeling, to some extent at least, as he showed by the manner in which he gave the order to start her. During the operation of laying the cable his voice was continually heard giving directions to the engineer. We were obliged to proceed at a snails pace for the rea- sons before mentioned, and our stoppages were frequent. Whenever we started again, the cap- tain would call out from his place on deck, Hook her on, Mr. Scott, and let her go slow but as soon as we were clear of the wharf at Sydney, and the bows of the steamer were point- ed homeward, his clear voice rung in our ears, Hook her on, Mr. Scott, and let her go fast And fast we went! the paddle-wheels fairly spun in the water, and the spray flew from the steamer in a Niagara of foam. While at the top of our speed, the mate w~ over the bows with a thoughtful gaze. Thinking something was ong, a young gentleman with an inquiring mind asked what the matter was. The mate, with a quizzical look, which plainly informed the young gentleman in search of knowledge that he was sold, answered that he was afraid the friction of the water would set the hows on fire. Our homeward voyage was marked by no par- ticular incident, if we except a grand fancy- dress hall which took place during the time. It was to a great extent an extempore affair, hut none the less delightful on that account. The dresses were varied, none of them particularly splendid, but a more outrf or grotesque assem- blage was never collected. Every thing that could give oddity to expression of face or cos- tume was brought into requisition, and even the waiters dusters, composed of peacocks feathers, were pressed into the scene, and served to set off the charms of one of our most beautiful lady passengers to great advantage. Indians, Nuns, Apollos, Cupids, Sultanas, Jim Baggsall ap- peared in the saloon, dancing and flirting to- gether in the most amiable manner possible. Jim Baggs found a capital representative in the person of a distinguished artist, and won thun- ders of applause by his vocal efforts, which were so successful that no one could he tempted to offer him the shilling, without which he re- fused to move on. We had fair weather during nearly the whole of onr return trip, and as the green shores of Staten Island hove in sight, and we passed Sandy Hook, every body commenced their pre- parations for going on shore. As we were gone longer than we anticipated, many of the passen- geis had been obliged from necessity to neglect their toilets, and some of the party had present- ed a very faded appearance for some days; but as we passed the Narrows every body made his or her appearance looking trim and neat. The gentlemen, even those who had during the greater part of the voyage affected red shirts, ~ la Mose, displayed spotless fronts and collars, so that a generalfeeling of surprise was elicited at the sudden respectable appearance of one another. It seemed that all had saved at least one of those articles of apparel without which no gentlemans wardrobe can be considered complete as a corps de reserve, with an idea of astonishing the Browns, but the general co- incidence of a prudential feeling destroyed the singularity of the effect expected to be pro- duced. We arrived safely at the pier from whence we started on the 5th of September, having been absent just twenty-nine days. The excursion, though unsuccessful in its principal object, was still rich in delightful in- cidents, and will be remembered with gratifica- tion by all who participated in it. Another at- tempt to lay the cable will be made next year, which will undoubtedly be successful, as it will be payed out directly from a steamer. THE KNOCKER. nv THE AIJTiOE OF LOSS AND GAIN: A TALE OF LYNN. Wake Duncan with thy knocking! I would thou couldst.Mecbeth. T PAUSE at the threshold of my story to re- member that in the life of every human be- ing there is an experience which seems to be detached from it~ an awful and soul-thrilling episode of some unearthly epoch, which was in the world, and yet not of it. Phantom-like and strange, it is shadowed upon the memory. Such an episode is this in my own. Several years ago I renewed my intimacy with a gentleman and his wife who were then residing in Boston. The gentlemanhis name was Paul Barryhad been a schoolmate of mine, and at a later day my friend and compan- ion at college. He left before me, and, con- trary to all expectations, entered upon mer- cantile pursuits. Our friendship was always soniewbat anomalous in its character. When we were in each others society, there could be no friendship more devoted, confiding, and in- timate than ours. At separation, it seemed to fail, and reserve its warmth for our next meet- ing. We never correspontled, and were con- tinually losing sight of each other. For my own part, I believe that I never felt any con- siderable degree of interest or anxiety for him in his absence. I think his feeling for me was much the same. I do not pretend to explain this. Perhaps it was the result of an idiosyn- crasya twin peculiarity in our natures; or of mutual habits of concentration, or absorption into our individual pursuits. Ilis life was an

THE KNOCKER. 57 their whole stock of baskets to her, for sales and returns, and that she was doing business on commission, and not on her own account. A few miles from Sydney there is another In- dian village, where the remainder of the tribe, to the number of three hundred, reside. Having replenished our stock of coal, we left Sydney on Sunday morning, homeward bound; and though a general feeling of sadness pre- vailed, on account of the unavoidable failure of our expedition, every heart beat lighter at the thought of home. Our gallant captain partici- pated in this feeling, to some extent at least, as he showed by the manner in which he gave the order to start her. During the operation of laying the cable his voice was continually heard giving directions to the engineer. We were obliged to proceed at a snails pace for the rea- sons before mentioned, and our stoppages were frequent. Whenever we started again, the cap- tain would call out from his place on deck, Hook her on, Mr. Scott, and let her go slow but as soon as we were clear of the wharf at Sydney, and the bows of the steamer were point- ed homeward, his clear voice rung in our ears, Hook her on, Mr. Scott, and let her go fast And fast we went! the paddle-wheels fairly spun in the water, and the spray flew from the steamer in a Niagara of foam. While at the top of our speed, the mate w~ over the bows with a thoughtful gaze. Thinking something was ong, a young gentleman with an inquiring mind asked what the matter was. The mate, with a quizzical look, which plainly informed the young gentleman in search of knowledge that he was sold, answered that he was afraid the friction of the water would set the hows on fire. Our homeward voyage was marked by no par- ticular incident, if we except a grand fancy- dress hall which took place during the time. It was to a great extent an extempore affair, hut none the less delightful on that account. The dresses were varied, none of them particularly splendid, but a more outrf or grotesque assem- blage was never collected. Every thing that could give oddity to expression of face or cos- tume was brought into requisition, and even the waiters dusters, composed of peacocks feathers, were pressed into the scene, and served to set off the charms of one of our most beautiful lady passengers to great advantage. Indians, Nuns, Apollos, Cupids, Sultanas, Jim Baggsall ap- peared in the saloon, dancing and flirting to- gether in the most amiable manner possible. Jim Baggs found a capital representative in the person of a distinguished artist, and won thun- ders of applause by his vocal efforts, which were so successful that no one could he tempted to offer him the shilling, without which he re- fused to move on. We had fair weather during nearly the whole of onr return trip, and as the green shores of Staten Island hove in sight, and we passed Sandy Hook, every body commenced their pre- parations for going on shore. As we were gone longer than we anticipated, many of the passen- geis had been obliged from necessity to neglect their toilets, and some of the party had present- ed a very faded appearance for some days; but as we passed the Narrows every body made his or her appearance looking trim and neat. The gentlemen, even those who had during the greater part of the voyage affected red shirts, ~ la Mose, displayed spotless fronts and collars, so that a generalfeeling of surprise was elicited at the sudden respectable appearance of one another. It seemed that all had saved at least one of those articles of apparel without which no gentlemans wardrobe can be considered complete as a corps de reserve, with an idea of astonishing the Browns, but the general co- incidence of a prudential feeling destroyed the singularity of the effect expected to be pro- duced. We arrived safely at the pier from whence we started on the 5th of September, having been absent just twenty-nine days. The excursion, though unsuccessful in its principal object, was still rich in delightful in- cidents, and will be remembered with gratifica- tion by all who participated in it. Another at- tempt to lay the cable will be made next year, which will undoubtedly be successful, as it will be payed out directly from a steamer. THE KNOCKER. nv THE AIJTiOE OF LOSS AND GAIN: A TALE OF LYNN. Wake Duncan with thy knocking! I would thou couldst.Mecbeth. T PAUSE at the threshold of my story to re- member that in the life of every human be- ing there is an experience which seems to be detached from it~ an awful and soul-thrilling episode of some unearthly epoch, which was in the world, and yet not of it. Phantom-like and strange, it is shadowed upon the memory. Such an episode is this in my own. Several years ago I renewed my intimacy with a gentleman and his wife who were then residing in Boston. The gentlemanhis name was Paul Barryhad been a schoolmate of mine, and at a later day my friend and compan- ion at college. He left before me, and, con- trary to all expectations, entered upon mer- cantile pursuits. Our friendship was always soniewbat anomalous in its character. When we were in each others society, there could be no friendship more devoted, confiding, and in- timate than ours. At separation, it seemed to fail, and reserve its warmth for our next meet- ing. We never correspontled, and were con- tinually losing sight of each other. For my own part, I believe that I never felt any con- siderable degree of interest or anxiety for him in his absence. I think his feeling for me was much the same. I do not pretend to explain this. Perhaps it was the result of an idiosyn- crasya twin peculiarity in our natures; or of mutual habits of concentration, or absorption into our individual pursuits. Ilis life was an fs HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. active one, mine nomadic. Our friendship al- ways renewed itself naturally upon meeting, and in our long intercourse was always frank and earnest, and never marred by any disagree- ment. Barrys wife was a singularly beautiful wo- man. I had known her, too, in my boyhood. We were all, in our young days, residents of the same country village. She was then, as re- membrance pictures her, a gentle girl, with a countenance as clear as the light of the morn- ing, and eyes as softly blue as the summer sky. As such she passed into my boyish heartits ~raceful image of First Lovethe pure seraph that changed with maturer years into a quiet and tender memory, and hallowed its object forever. Our love had never been confessed; it had never thought of confession. It had never dreamed of consummation. It was the highest form of an unimpassioned devotion; it was spiritual, pure, and adoring. The old tale of the sculptor inspired with a divine passion for the holy beauty of the statue, was a symbol of my love for her. But no; mine was even more shadowy. I am inclined to think that Barrys attach- inent for her was formed suddenly, within a few months after his departure from college. If it was otherwise, then I knew nothing of it. She never seemed to be an object of peculiar inter- est to him when we both dwelt in the same vil- lage with her, and he was never more than an acquaintance of the relations with whom she resided. They were both orphans, dwelling at opposite extremes of the small hamlet, in the families of their guardians. I heard nothing of his love when we were both at college, though I was then on terms of the closest intimacy with him. After his departure, and during the time that I remained there, I heard nothing of him, except that he was about to engage in business. [mmediately after my own emancipation I vis- ited him in Boston, and met with a double sur- prise; first, in finding him married; and sec- ond, in meeting, as his wife, the half-forgotten maiden of my boyish devotion, now lovely in the full bloom of her womanhood. My meet- ing with her, under the circumstances, was very Pleasant. My affection for her, touched with a deeper reverence, was as true as ever. It had been pure and innocent; it could pass into a high and gentle friendship without a pang. The tender beauty that I had once loved as a sweet spring blossom was as dear to me when gather- ed in its summer loveliness to the bosom of my friend. It was a very happy reunion. A triad of ex- planations took place amidst much laughter. Barry was momentarily surprised to hear of my attachment for his wifeonly momentarily. He seemed to comprehend, with a fine instinct pe- culiar to him, the relations we now bore to each other, and subsequently, and in many ways, gave every possible encouragement to our intimacy. He loved me well. I can not better explain the nature of his regard, as I now understand it, than by supposing that when I was absent he gave it all to her, and when I was present shared it between us. I spent much time with them, at frequent in- tervals, for many years. My own life was rather vagrant, and passed for a long period unmarked by any unusual event. A man of leisure, with a moderate income, I spent my years with the restless happiness of a butterfly, wandering from place to place as the insect might fly from flower to flower, as carelessly as if the golden summer of existence were eternal, and time were to bring no other season. Yet there was one spot where my nomad wings rested often and longest where the flowers were sweeter for the one little bud that had grown among them. Our three- fold love became four-fold. Barry (when I was present) must needs have divided his regard between myself, his wife, and his child. There was enough for all, for the years brought in- crease of love to us for each other. The affec- tion that I bore for my friends baby-girl was as tender as their own. The little being loved me, too, with familiar interest. When I first bent down to look into her tiny face, I saw the soft- ened likeness of her fathers dark eyes in hers. As years passed, and she could stand by me, her face revealed itself into a living memory of her mothers gentle beauty, and the mothers soul shone strangely from her soft dark eyes. So I used to thinkas time takes away the bloom of her youthful loveliness, it will be but to be- stow it, with added graces on her child. GraduallyI know not whymy affection for the parents seemed to centre in the little girl. A strange and mystic tenderness toward her took possession of me. Thus it continued for a long period. At last, an event occurred which, for a time, seemed to have utterly di- vorced this mysterious feeling from me. The circumstances of that event led me to another city, and terminated in my marriage. My wife died a year after our union. A slight cold that she had contracted resulted in a virulent scarlet fever, attended with infl~ m- mation; and although every medical attention was paid her she died, and died in the night, suddenly. All the circumstances of her death were tragical. I can not recall them now with- out horror. From the moment she died until the body was removed, the house was filled with an overpowering odor of camphor. I do not know what it meant. I was too much stricken to direct any details; but from that moment the smell of camphor became intoler- able to me so closely and terribly was it asso- ciated with my fearful calamity. It was an appalling blow. I shut myself up for weeks, and saw no one. I was stunned with grief. But I recovered soon, for my hour of sorrow had not yet come. The wound closed; it was to open again, in anguish, hereafter. The quick stroke had paralyzed me. Consciousness was to come slowly with other years, and agony and the blackness of spiritual darkness were to follow. THE KNOCKER. 59 Before two months had elapsed my bewilder- ment, my stolid sorrow, passed into a feeling of restlessness. I gave up my house and went from Philadelphia, where all this had happened, to New York city, where I had relatives. As I began to resume a cheerfulness, which was hut the pallid ghost of my former tone of mind, a desire to see my friends again stirred within me. The same mysterious feeling for the child, the weird attraction to her, returned with ten- fold force. I obeyed it. I went to Boston. This was the period mentioned in the com- mencement of my narrative as that in which I renewed my intimacy with the Barrys. It is marked by the incident which I am now to re- cord, and which is impressed on my mind with mournful distinctness. I remember it as one might rememher the shadow of a cloud which passed over him at noonday, before some ter- rible calamity befell him, and which remains in his memory forever as the precursor of his dis- aster. One summer day I was at Barrys house. It was the little girls seventh birthday. She was sitting on my knee, with her dark tresses lying loosely on my arm, and her soft, earnest eyes looking into mine. Mrs. Barry sat at the piano, playing, as she conversed, a lively tune that rippled and tinkled airily from the keys. Her husband was carelessly reclining in a cushioned chair near her, heating time with his fingers on the cover of a book. We had been chatting gayly for some timethe pleasant tune, and the singin~ of a canary bird in a gilded cage by the window, trilling brilliantly in our light and mirthful talkwhen our conversation paused, and a sudden silence, so common and so strange, succeeded. As if that silence was ordained that it might flash upon my brainclear and strange as if an unearthly voice had spoken it a singular thought, lighting up a wide range of recollections, revealed them to me, bathed in the wild colors of fatality. I can not determ- ine how these instantaneons mental transitions, which seem to know no intermediate process, are effected. Some bold metaphysicians have thought that there are ideas which are resolved in the mind by mental processes so subtle that they esc~ pe cognizance. It may he that this thought, which hurst up like a colorless flame, irradiating things long known to me with the pallid tints of supernaturalism, was the residi- um left by such mental chemistry. I happened to think that my friends had been each only children, and orphans from their infancy! And then the darkness was lifted from the long waste of memoryI remembered more! Let me endeavor to present the details of a re- collection which was seen by me at one glance whose every relation was comprehended at one view. Barry and his wife were both only chil- drenorphans from their infancyand brought up under guardianship. Their parents had been also only children, and were also orphans from ir infancy! How much further this peculiari- ty reverted to their ancestry, I did not know. I fancied that it indicated a hereditary fatality. I knew of no living relations remaining to my friends. They were then, to me, the sole repre- sentatives of their respective families. If there was a hereditary destiny, it centered in the race of Barrys; for the children born to that house had been males for two generations, to my knowl- edge, and had therefore kept their individuality, whereas the orphan brides whom they had wed- ded were of different families, and had merged their nominal identity in theirs by marriage only resembling them in the peculiarity of soli- tary orphanage and decease at childbirth. It is strange, though common, how things known in youth, and even of peculiar interest to us then, will become blurred or obliterated as we grow to manhood. We strive to trace the im- agesthe effaced inscriptionsthe dim dates upon its surface, and fill the smooth gaps with conjectures; and then we are uncertain. I remembered, or thought I did, having heard some gossips tale in my youth, which averred that the Barrys were an old family, whose an- cestora fugitive Huguenothad, by some wild sin, entailed the curse of male descent and per- petual orphanage on the line until the offense was expiated. The memory was half-effaced in my mind. I was doubtful whether it was a re- membrance or a fancy. Yet it now took plausi- ble form and vague likelihood when I thought of what I knew. Was it accidental coincidence that had for two generationsit might he for more brought to the solitary children of an ancestral line such a fate as this? Accident! As if in the majestic order of the universe, there can be ac- cident! as if what we coil accident, is not renlb the cerL in effect of a certain cause proceeding from a certain occasion, which is governed by, and proceeds from, Law! Here was coinci- dence, declaring the existence of a fatal and impassable destiny which hung over the chil- dren of an ancient house in obedience to some stern ordinance, which brought to them orphan brides, and then, at every lonely birth, the final shadow, the coffin, and the sepulchre, and guid- ed their solitary scions to unions forever fraught with the same results, and over~hadowed by the same doom! How long had this been? TJ~as it hereditary retribution for some original evil some ancient blot on an ancestral scutcheon a doom involved in the great mystery of some un- expiated sin? The time had died awayI knew not when. The bird was quiet in his gilded cage. No sound came from the street without. A single ray of yellow sunlight streamed through the curtains, and floated like a golden shadow on the wall. The little girl sat quietly with her head resting on my arm, and her eyes closed. The doom had been revokedafemole child had been born to the house of Barry: she had outlived her in- fancy and was not an orphan: the mystic judg- ment had not been repeated on her parents. Looking down into her face, as the thoughts crossed my mind, I was conscious of a vague sense of dread to see her eyes unclose, and, for 6%) HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. an instant, look into mine with a strange bright- his losses, although considerable, were far from ness, and a startled, supernatural expression being total; yet they had been sufficient to place that I had never seen in them before. It van- him in comparatively reduced circumstances. ished instantly, and I almost thought at the Let me say, in a word, all I afterward learned time that I had fancied it. A breath of air on this subject; namely, that his retirement coming, like a sigh, through the open casement, from business was a voluntary, and not a com- and the motion of a light curtain which waved pulsory act, occasioned by the intense disgust toward me with a phantom grace, seemed to with which he had been inspired by the perpe- disenchant the spell of silence. A moment tration of one of those legal frauds, which the after we were conversing gayly, as though we law can neither prevent nor remedy, practiced, were unconscious of our pause, arid the birds in this instance, by a mercantile firm with whom song, and the silvery music, rippled through he had been connected in trade, and which had our playful talk as before. But for a long time clutched away one half his fortune. I felt as if I had been in a trance, and dreamed I now resolved to waste no time in seeking a dream. for further information until I saw him person- The incident made some impression on my ally. I was about taking leave of my inform- mind. At another time I might have regarded aiit, when he asked me if I was aware that Barry it as a premonition, and endeavored to establish had left no clew to his present place of residence its connection. But at that period I was in a What? Yes; his present place of abode wiis state of comparative mental stupefaction. I not known. It was surmised that he still re- rather indulged in vague reverie than thought. sided in the city, or more probably in some one My intellect was purblind, of the suburban towns; for he had been fr - Two days afterward I was called away on quently seen, at the usual hours, on Change, business to the South. I took leave of my and at various haunts familiar to merchants. friends for some time, as I did not know how My informant had not seen him, however, for soon I should see them again. It proved that three days past. TIe judged that his dwelling- I was absent for seven months. At the expi- place was unknown, from the fact that Barry ration of that time I again found myself in had evaded answeriiig a question to that effect, Boston. and also from having heard some speculations It was in the mid-winter of the year 1840 from different persons on the same topic. The that I again visited that city. There was snow reason for his seclusion was not apprehended. on the ground. On the day of my arrival there This was the substance and most definite extent had been another fall, the last flakes of which of the information I received. Bewildered and were floating in the chill, gray air. The severe saddened, I regained my hotel. Whi~t to do I cold which had characterized the season had knew not. How to find him in the great laby- in consequence abated, but at that time was riuth of a city! I spent the rest of the day at again increasing. My spirits, however, rose as the street-windows of the house, wishinghop- the mercury in the thermometer fell. The ingthat he might pass by. Several times, de- pleasure I felt in the anticipation of soon meet- ceived by some resemblance to him in distant ing my friends was heightened into exhilaration pedestrians, I ran into the street, only to return by the wintry atmosphere. After an hours disappointed. The dull day thickened into rest, I left my hotel and went to the wharf on night, with a northeast storm of driving snow ubich Barrys counting-room was located. I and hail; and I, fatigued and dispirited, ~vent remember. that I bounded up his stairsthrew to rest. open his door, and, entering, closed it behind I arose the next day with a vigorous resoln- meexpecting, of course, to see him and grasp tion to find him, if any effort of mine could his hand. The furniture was unfamiliar~ the avail. But where shall 1 find him ? I murmured room, too, had an altered look; a. young clerk to myself as I went iiito the street. The snow a strangerwas at the desk! I uttered an had fallen heavily during the night. Where exclamation, apologetic in its character, for I shall I find him ? I repeated to myself at inter- thought, at first, I had blundered into the wrong vals. I could hear the scraping of shovels clear- office. Yet, in a moment, I saw it was the ing off the sidewalksthe jingling sleigh-bells same. I managed to extricate one stammer- the occasional shouts of derisive mirth, as lug question frum my embarrassment. It was some passenger received an avalanche from the to ask if Mr. Barry was in. When I made the house-tops. All the bustle of the busy city was young man comprehend me, I was told that for loud under a still, gray sky. I was reminded the preceding three months the office had had of an interval between my school and college another tenant; of its former occupant he knew years, when, during a visit to this city, I had nothing. I descended the stairs, and entering passed just such winter days in the dusky studio the basement store, with whose owner I was ac- of an artist-friend of mine, where we had heard quainted, renewed my interrogations. To my the same sounds reaching us in dreamy noises utter astonishment, I learned that, within a few as we lounged on cushions in the warm gloom. months, Barry had met with heavy reverses, In my sadness, and in contrast with the tumult and bad retired from business! I sank into a whirling around me, the memory floated out in chair, and, for a moment, looked at my inform- the past like a perfume. It changed into a de- ant speechless. It was some relief to bear that sire that impelled me to wander to the building THE KNOCKER. 01 within whose cloistral quiet we had once eaten the lotus, and forgotten in the present the fu- ture. My artist-friend had since attained ce- lebrity; he was in RomeI knew I should not find 1dm there. I walked, stepping over rest- less shovels, to the altered street. The old building still remained. Standing on the curb- stone of the sidewalk, near the doorway, where I could look up the stairs into the dim interior, I sank into a mood of reverie whose essence was memory. I remembered the road over which, many nights, I had walked in the artists com- pany to our home in the adjacent town of Rox- bury. There are two avenues to that town, both running parallel with each other. Ours was Washington Street, which, as any person familiar with the locality will recollect, lies through what was then a half-redeemed waste of meadows and marshes, commonly known as the Neck. It is in fact a neck, or strip of land, between Boston and Roxhury. It has been much improved of late years; but, at the time I allude to, it was a barren and desolate place. I had seen it most frequently in the stormy gloaming of winter evenings. Hence it was never associated in my mind with the day or the milder seasons, but only with night, and storm, and winter. Memory kept no picture of the region in any of its other aspects; only those were retained which were tinged with the gloomy hues that made them kindred with the imaginary pictures of haunted moorsenchant- ed landstracts blasted by wizards cursesthe cloudy suffusions of romance which filled the reveries of my youth. The mile-long walk when the giant city was behind us; the vast rack of stormy clouds drift- ing over a dreary waste that stretched away into blacker darkness on either side; the few houses edging our solitary wayby sullen fields where pi- rates were once hung; the lurid brand of wintry sunset on the western sky, above the undulated line of the dark hills; these were the features of the place in my mind. Remembrance, jour- neying bythem all, paused before the phantasm of an old, weather-stained, brick mansion, situ- ated near the town of Roxbury, hard by the town line of division, which had acquired, from the reclusive character of its inmates, an air of mystery that had often made it the theme of our speculations, and caused it to be woven round with all the wizard meshes of my fancy. As I dreamily dwelt upon the recollection, I was suddently startled out of my abstraction by a slide of snow from the roof above, which came full upon me, prostrating me with a force that shook my reveries into nothing. Regaining my physical and moral equilibriumthe latter with some difficulty,owingto the laughter of the pass- ers-by, and a few unnecessary snowballs from the boysI walked away, fancying that the good genius of my past had, not unkindly, warned me to the duties of the present. I was somewhat impressed by the occurrence. At least I looked out warily for snow-slides in the course of my perambulations from place to Von. XII.No. ~37.E place, seeking some one who might chance to know the whereabouts of Barry. I had con- eluded that some person must know, and follow- ed my idea resolutely. My diligence was not rewarded with even a gleam of hope until late in the afternoon, when, meeting a person with whom we had both been acquainted, I heard from him, to my great joy, that Mr. Wadleigh, a commission merchant on India Street, who had had intimate business relations with my friend, could probably inform me. I immedi- ately went to his counting-room, and found him alone. Introducing myself, I frankly mention- ed my friendship for Barry, and the circum- stances which had caused me to lose traces of him, and requested some clew to his abode. I fairly gasped with delight when he said he could direct me. He was a very methodical man I saw that while I was addressing himhence I was not much surprised to see him slowly un- fold a city map and lay it before me. He knew I was a stranger to the cityor thought so, at leastand it was considerate. But when point- ing with his finger along Washington Street along the Neck, the scene of my mornings memoryand indicating a street running west- ward from the main street, he mentioned its name, and told me that my friends residence was the first corner-housethen I looked at him! For a moment I forgot every thing in a mental effort to establish the connection between my mornings reverie and this disclosure. SingularI leave my hotel asking myself audibly, Where shall I find my friend ? Com- mon sounds apparently divert my mind from its one anxiety, and call np a foreign remembrance. This impels me to wander in my indecision to an old building; there my memory dwells on former travels along the street on which this gentleman has his finner. Before it wanders to aught else, an accident happens to me, and closes the record; and here I am directed, in answer to the same question, along the very route on which, a few hours since, the feet of my remembrance trod! The occurrence of the recollection, then,. was a presentiment! As these reflections rapidly crossed my mind, I be- came aware that I was staring vacantly in Mr. Wadleighs face, with an intensity which he must have thought, at least, singular. Apolo- gizing, on the plea of abstraction, I observed in obedience to a sudden query that arose in my mindthat I had formerly been familiar with the locality, but, referring to the map, I saw that streets had been laid out since the date of my recollections and the position of that which he had designated, and its name being unfamiliar to me, it was probably one of these? To this he replied that my observation was un- doubtedly correct in these particulars, but that the house referred to was an old one, which im- provements had spared. As he proceeded to describe its position and appearance, I recog- nized in his description the mansion that had been curious to me in my youth, and, more than all, the last object in my reverie! The 62 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. final link of coincidence was added to the chain. Without another question I rose, thanked my informant, and left the office. Strange that Barry should have chosen his residence in that house of all others; but oh! how much more strange was all this! The occurrence of my recollection was not only a presentiment, but an index to the object of my search. The topo- graphical map that the merchant had opened before me was no clearer to my sight than that which had been previously presented to my minds eye. My soul had, in her own way, answered the enigma I had pronounced to her. She had said, bringing before m~ a pan- orama of memory, Here shalt thou find him whom thou seekest ! But, with all my world- ly wisdom, I bad not spiritual understanding. Completely enervated in mind, I reached my hotel. I resolved to visit Barry that evening. I would have gone immediately, but I was fa- tigued and prostrated by the travel and occur- rences of the day, and needed a few hours rest. As the afternoon waned the snow began to fall again. It was weather that made me think of New England as the Nova Zembla of an un- traveled man. It was very bitter weather even for the North. Night came, and, muffling myself well, I prepared for my visit. My mercurial temper, which, in the alternate exaltation and depres- sion of the last few days had emulated the changes of the thermometer, again rose to the height of exhilaration in the glow of my antici- pated pleasure. I dispatched a servant for a arriage. There was some delayit seemed to rae, in my impatience, half an hourbefore it came. Then the driver hesitated when I gave him the direction: it was a long distance for his horses on such a night, and the snow was falling fast. I had to remove his scruples by the magic promise of a double fare. This done, I entered the hack, which was redolent of the damp straw that thickly covered its floor, and was soon gliding along the phantasmal streets. The conveyance moved rather slowly through the confused double procession of vehicles that continually passed each other and I was ab- sorbed in the contemplation of the strange and unreal spectacle which a crowded street with its silent multitude of muffled figures passing like dark phantoms before the brilliant win- dows, its looming buildings, and its confused penumbras of flickering lights and shadows pre- sents through the falling snow of a winternight, when there was a shocka crashloud cries a convulsion, and the carriage was overthrown, and Ihurled violently back on the side cush- ions, from. whence I rolled upon the prostrate door, breaking its glass panewas immediate- ly submerged in the damp straw, which the con- cussion threw over me. Fortunately I was not hurt; and I could not restrain my hearty laugh- ter when (forgetting that the width of the car- riage would not allow me to stand upright), scrambling, springing to my feet, I thrust my head and shoulders through the other pane, shattering it instantly. It was doubly well that the glass was thin, and that my head was pro- tected by a thick fur cap, or the feat might have been less ludicrous for me; much less had my head chanced to have come in contact with the panel of the door instead of the pane! It will be understood that the carriage lay upon its side, and I was looking out from the broken window. In this position I at once comprehended the state of affairs. The vehicle had been overturned by a lumbering omnibus, whose driver was looking down from his emi- nence on the accident; having, with a curious exception to his class, even condescended to stop his horses. I put out my hand, and, throw- ing back the door, clambered out, amidst the laughter of the crowd, before the coachman came round to me. lie was in a high rage, only abated by my mirth into a truculent surli- ness, which spirted out in broken jets of oaths against the omnibus driver. That person listen- ed in silence, with a stolid and equable com- posure, and evidently coming to the conclusion that nothing further could he done on his part, drove off. The overthrow of the carriage had been much facilitated by the sinking of the off- runner into a deep rut at the moment of collis- ion. The by-standers aided the driver in right- ing it; but the shaft was splintered in such a manner as to render further progress impossible. I paid the unwilling driver liberally for his trouble, and proceeded up the street on foot. Before I had gone far an omnibus overtook me, and I stepped in; but wearied before many minutes by its spasmodic plunges over the ruts and snow-drifts, I alighted again, and resolved to walk. It was a wild night for a pedestrian, but I was now just in the mood to have braved any weather, even had I been less securely pro- tected from the storm. If omens meant any thing, I had had enough in one evening to have dissuaded me from my visit. But Roxhury Neck was my Rubicon, and defying auguries, I was resolved to cross it. The wind had veered from northeast to north- westa fact of which I was reminded as I reach- ed the first open space below the level of the street, upon which a great, fantastic circular gas-house still standsand felt a cold blast sweep by, driving the snow in my face. The gust instantly died away, and yielding to an in- voluntary feeling of interest at again beholding one of the familiar places of my boyhood, I stood still, resting my arms on the wooden fence that bordered the street, and gazed on the dusky waste, whose confines blended with a dim streak of gray sky which faintly defined the western horizon. I can not, even now, think of the omnious incident which followed my halt with- out a shudder. The shawl in which the lower part of my face had been enveloped, became loosened and disarranged, and I took it off again to adjust it. I was much heated by my rapid walk, which was, perhaps, the reason that I did not immediately reassume it, but holding it in THE KNOCKER. 68 my hand, continued to gaze on the scene before me. I do not know what I was thinking of; my mind was certainly in a pleasant and quies- cent mood, when I became sensible that ehe air around me was impregnated with the strong, stifling scent of camphor! I have said before, that the circumstances which followed the death of my wife had inspired me with a deadly, an insuperable disgust, amounting to an absolute hatred for the drug. But now it was more than revolting. A sense of dreadful horror swept down upon me like a shadow; a sickening chill stole through my blood, as if I had touched a putrid corpse. The air was silently stricken with an unnatural palsy; the hideous odor alone had motion; it seemed to crawl around me with the writhing and puckering movement of a gi- gantic grave-worm. I held my breath. There was no one near me; the street was deserted. Some strange meaning haunted the solitude. I felt as if I was verging slowly to some new, some unfathomable abyss of fright. I listened. There was no sound but the audible throbbing of my heart. The snow was dropping silently. Far away in the murky west, a row of sullen lights burned dimly, like funeral lamps upon some dusky road to death. As I listened in the dead hush, the sound of a bell, muffled in the storm, sank upon my ear like a knell. I shuddered. The scent failed, and the wind rushed by me, whirling the snow-flakes wildly in the air. Then a breatha long sigh arose within me, and my fantastic terrors died. The hell had sounded from a remote steeple; I now heard another, and a nearer, striking the hour of seven. Wrapping my face again in the shawl, I rushed on to my destination. The occurrence I, of course, conceived to be entirely accidental. It had impressed me vivid- ly for the time; but as I strode on, the observ- ation of the manifest changes which had al- tered the aspect of the neighborhood since my youth, diverted my mind from dwelling upon it; and when at last I stopped before the old house, with my heart beating joyously, it bad faded en. tirely from my thoughts. I paused for a mo- ment, and surveyed the mansion. The side windows looked on the main street; the back windows were parallel with the new street run- ~1ing westward. It stood alone, for there was no other house on that side of the new street, and but two or three, at unequal distances, on the opposite side. Its western windows, conse- quently, commanded an uninterrupted view of the marshes beyond, in which the street termin- ated. The front of the building faced its own precinctsan inclosed court-yard. This was an elevation above the ground-level of the street. A spectral elm, with its giant branches laden with snow, stood within the court-yard, before the ball door. There were two or three leafless elms and poplars at the inner extremity of the inclosure. The house, so far as I could judge in the darkness, was much the same as heretofore. Its side shutters, which faced me as I looked, were closed. The old air of mys. tery and secrecy still hung about it. Entering the yard I ran quickly up the steps to the front door, grasped the knocker, and gave a double rap. There was a light in the lower room of the right wing, as I sawfor the outer blinds were unshut, and the upper half of the inner shutters was unclosed, leaving a portion of the cornice and ceiling of the chamber visible through the white muslin curtains. As I knock- ed I saw a shadow that I had noticed on the ceiling suddenly start, and thought I heard a slight cry. I waited a few minutes, and was about to knock again, when I heard a footstep behind me, and turning, saw a woman ascend- ing the stepsan Irish servant-girl, with a small parcel in her hand. I immediately asked if Mr. Barry resided in the house? Yes ; but he was not at home. Not at home! ohnot come in from the city? No; he was out of town. Out of town! I felt disappointed. I had felt so sure of seeing him, that I had not calculated on his possible absence. Well, no matter, Mrs. Barry was in? Yes. Then I would like to see her. The girl opened the door with a latch- key, and admitted me. I produced my card, and handed it to her for her mistress. She waited until I had hung my coat and mufflers on the clothes-tree in the entry, and then ushered me into a parlor on the left side of the passage. I was too much excited with the anticipation of soon seeing Mrs. Barry and her child to no- tice any thing about the room, save that it was well lighted, and, to meheated by my walk exceedingly close and warm. I had sunk into a cushioned chair, and, in a confusion of mind that I could not explain, was endeavoring to define something that oppressed methat seem- ed to intrude between me and my thought of theni. It was as if I were returning to some- thing that I ought to remember, and although on the very verge of recollection, was vainly en- deavoring to advance. What is it ? I asked myself. What is the matter with me ? The room! the air! camphor! Great God! It flashed upon me. The air of the chamber was thick.with the odor of camphor! I sprang to my feet. The event of a few minutes before whirl. ed on my brain. What does this mean? There was a light, rapid step in the passagethe door flew open, and Mrs. Barry rushed into the room with a cry, and fell fainting in my arms. My brain reeled, and a deadly sickness over~ came me. Summoning my energies with a vio- lent effort, to prevent myself from sinking to the floor, I lifted her in my arms, and laid her on a sofa. I looked about for a bell-rope, and not perceiving one, rushed into the entry and called some name, I knew not what. The serv- ant-girl came running up from below. Here, my good girl, your mistress has faintedsome water, quick ! I believe the girl fell down stairs in her hurry; she was not hurt, however, for she immediately returned and entered the room with a tumbler. I sprinkled some drops on Mrs. Barrys face, and threw open the win- dow, then kneeling beside her, I took her small 64 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. hands in mine, and gazed into her colorless face. The excitementlhad passed through had left me as weak as a child. My actions had proceeded from a desperate instinct rather than reason. I now began to be calm again, and to question the meaning of all this. The camphorthe mere singularity of the coincidence overcame me; she entered, and alarmed me by swooning in my arms. Why should she swoon? Such demonstrations were not in keeping with her: what could be the reason? The camphorwas I the sport of coincidence? Why should that accursed odor fill the air when I was a mile from the house? And why should it be here again in this house? The last mental question seem- ed to stun and bewilder me. The preceding thoughts flashed upon my mind with the daz- zling brevity of lightning, illuminating the truth, but binding my mental vision to its nature. I felt that I was on the very brink of apprehen- sion; that another, the next gleam of clear re- flection, would reveal the form of the mystery. I strove to be calmto collect my faculties. I gazed intently into her face, pallid as marble that was the color of the swoonbut then I saw that the cheeks were wan, the eyes sunken. She has been ill, I murmured; my sudden visit has perhaps occasioned an excitement too powerful for her feebleness. Yet some inex- plicable feeling refused me satisfaction from this conjecture. I suddenly remembered that the servant was standing behind me, and that I might determine my speculations by a question. I was about to make an inquiry to this effect, when a slight motion from Mrs. Barry an- nounced the return of consciousness, and chain- ed my attention to her. A faint flush deepen- ed gradually on the pale face, the eyes slowly unclosed. As they met mine, and the life brightened in them, and a thin smile stole soft- ly, like celestial light, over her features, I thought that I had never seen a face more sad- ly beautiful. A feeling of tender awe filled my heart. I raised her, a moment after, from her recumbent position, and, with a sigh, the swoon ended. Clinging to my arm with a con- vulsive grasp, she laid her head upon my shoul- der, and tears flowed lightly from her eyes. I assisted her to a deep-cushioned chair. Dis- missing, with a motion of my hand, the poor girl who had stood staring at ns in silent won- der, and closing the window, I drew a chair near her and sat down. Now, I thonght, this will be explained. My first words were spoken with the design of tranquilizing her. She was, however, calm far calmer than I was. Turning her pale, beau- ful face toward meher face was very pale in the softened light of an astral lamp hanging from the ceilingshe spoke of her joy in my pres- ence. I understood from her that she had been very lonely, and that the relief experienced at my unexpected arrival had so agitated her that she had given way. This explanation did not satisfy me. I felt that her agitation was con- nected with another cause but I hardly knew how to tell her so. I inquired for Barry. She informed me that urgent business had called him to New York several days before; that he was expected home daily. Will he never, nev- er come ! she added, with an emotion that sur- prised me. Is it possible, I thought, that his absence for a few days can have thus depressed her ? I knew her strength of character so well, that I imagined it improbable. Helen, I said, tell me; you are, or have been illis it not true ? No, she answered; but I have been very lonely, and he is absent when Her voice faltered; she was silent. I felt my blind foreboding of some evil dilate until my brain was giddy; but I never, at that mo- ment, apprehended the truth, or the shadow of the truth. I endeavored to speak cheerfully playfully. Now, Helen, I said, how can you have allowed yourself to be lonely and melancholy, when you have your little Helenmy little dar- lingwith you, and I stopped suddenly; I remember these things perfectly. As I mentioned her childs name, a change passed over her face. She trembled, and laid her hand on my arm; her lips moved, as if she was about to speak, but no sound came from them. And then I thought I knew all. While I had been speaking, I confess there had been but one thought in my mind; and that was of the scent which had surrounded me when I was a mile from the house, and which now oppressed the atmosphere of the chamber. If it is thought strange that I did not immedi- ately divine, or at least question more directly, the occasion for its presence in the room, let me answer, that my mind was so entirely occupied and confused by the simple fact of the coincidence, that up to that moment I had been endeavoring to account for that, and that only. Even when I had chanced to ask myself the reason for its being in the house, the mere abstract fact of the coin- cidence had paralyzed the inquiry; and my un- natural excitement, caused by the unexpected concurrence of circumstances, and augmented by the manner of my reception, had blinded and perplexed my understanding. But now, when I saw her voice fail on her quivering lips at the mention of her childs name, a terrible presentiment of the reason. for its being here fell upon me. Yet I feared to ask directly for the childI feared to hear at once that it was no more. I spoke hurriedly: Tell me; why is there so strong a scent of camphor in the room A vial was broken here a few minutes ago, she replied; seehere it is. In fact, a broken vial was on the adjoining table. Is it disagreeable to you ? I did not reply; this was not the answer I had expected. Helen II took her hands in mineyou have something to tell me; is it not so? Do not fear to let me know the worst. Your child is THE KNOCKER. 65 I feared to say it; then something in her face told me it was notit could not be that. No ? I inquired. No she said, not dead, hut she is ilL I was relievedyes, glad! For a moment I felt a sense of positive exultation. My heart was light to know that the calamity which had befallen was less than I had feared. I inquired, almost mechanically, in the full flush of my gratification, if there was any danger? She answered that the physician who had been called in, and who bore the reputation of being a scientific and skillful practitioner, had assured her that the case was an ordinary one, and gave no cause for alarm. My exultation swelled into a feeling of triumph. And what is her malady? I asked. It is the scarlet fever. I looked at her. A yawning gulf seemed to have opened at my feet for an instant, and closed before I could see what it contained. The camphormy wifethe child ; I found myself faintly murmuring these words. I was on the point of telling the hideous details of my wifes death. I paused; I resolved to postpone the narration until a more fitting period. With a strenuous mental effort I dismissed the whole subject from my thoughts, and changed the course of the conversation. My speculations respecting the unusual ex- citement of her manner in receiving me, were now, as I thought, finally resolved. Her hus- band absenther child illand the loneliness and anxiety arising from these circumstances depressing her mind, it was not singular that she should be overpowered by the unexpected arrival of a friend so near to her as I was. For a time I felt perfectly satisfied with this conclusion. Then I again became uneasy and perplexed; for my attention, rendered unusual- ly active by. my excitement, was directed to certain peculiarities In her manne5~, which I could not explain, and which half-alarmed me. I noticed first, that she seemed averse to enter- ing into conversation about her child. My questions and remarks relating to the little girl elicited from her only indistinct and brief re- plies. This would not, perhaps, under differ- ent circumstances, have surprised me. I have never met with a woman who, loving deeply and tenderly, had less of the pedantry of affec- tion than Mrs. Barry. But at a time when even morbid prolixity on such a subject might have been expected and pardoned, I could not but observe the want of allusion to it. She was taciturn on that subject only; on any other she conversed readily, and with a feverish, though deliberate, fluency. Then I began to observe something, which I intuitively con- nected with the topic she seemed so anxious to avoid, and which perplexed rae more and more as I continued to notice it. I sawand know- ing, as I did, the utter absence of any morbid nervousness in her temperament, I could not but notice, and wonder at itthat she was un- usually susceptible to, and cognizant of, the occurrence of any slight sound in the room. Once, while she was detailing the reasons for Barrys retirement from business, she started suddenly in her chair at a slight noise, made by an unfastened shutter without, swaying in the gust. Again, while she was telling me the causes for their occupation of the present house, I saw her turn pale, and pause in her relation, at a sound occasioned by the falling of an ivory ball from the table to the carpeted floorthe table having been jarred by .a movement of mine. I have remembered these two instances because they convinced me at the time that her mind, which would naturally have been supposed to be intent upon her narration, was preoccupied by another thought, and that she was listening for the occurrence of the sounds to which she was so nervously alive. This ex- treme sensitiveness was so marked, and its manifestations were so frequent, that I was forced to perceive it. I could not suppose that this was induced by despondency for her child, by restlessness at her husbands absence, or by over-agitation at my sudden visit. It rather indicated to me that her mind, abstracted and removed by an absorbing interest to some un- known object, was in a condition of vague and passive terror! Imagining as yet that all this might he acci- dental, I strove to divert her thoughts by re- lating in an exaggerated and graphic style of humor the series of misadventures that had befallen me in my endeavors to reach the house. I watched her naiTowly as I went on, and saw that, even when most interested, she was per- fectly cognizant of the slight noises that took place in the room, and evinced the same sub- dued alarm at their every occurrence. Indeed the symptoms seemed to increase, as if har mind, diverted at first by my advent, and be- coming gradually familiarized with my pres- ence, was resuming a former channel. I no- ticed on these occasions that her glance rested on the door behind me, with an intensity which had induced me several times to turn my head in order to ascertain what she was looking at. I felt grieved. I d~d not wish to question her regarding this strange disquietude, for I thought that it would hardly be abated by its cause be- coming known to me. Besides, I trusted to my own observation to ultimately satisfy my curi- osity. One thing I felt sure of: that her man- ner was in some way connected with the illness of her child. I was right in my conjecture. We had been talking in this way for some time, and, with an unkind perversity which was determined to engage her attention to the topic she seemed to avoid, I had spoken for some minutes only upon that, when a knock was heard at the parlor door. At the same time it may have been, I thought, an accidental mo- tionI observed that she suddenly placed her hand upon her bosom. Wondering at my own silly stupidity in not divining from her restless- ness and frequent glances in that direction, that a visitor was expected, I immediately rose 66 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. from my seat and opened the door. To my astonishment, there was no one there. So cer- tain was I that I had heard a knock, that I stepped into the entry to assure myself that no one was without. The passage was dimly hut sufficiently lighted by a swinging lamp de- pending from the ceiling, sufficiently to con- vince me at a glance that I had been deceived. Re-entering the parlor, and closing the door, I resumed my seat; observing as I did so, to Mrs. Barry, who sat with her eyes covered by her small, jeweled hand, that I thought there was a knock. She raised her head, and quietly answered, I thought so. We were mistaken, I said, it was some casual noise. Yes, she replied, in a tremulous voice, an accident. Her face was very pale, and I thought her eyes had a singular expression as she looked directly in my facean intense earnestness, as if they sought to detect a thought I might be anxious to conceal. The look was only mo- mentary, and she again shaded them with her hand. I did not, at the time, so much observe the expression as to be attracted by it into any spcculation, nor even think of it in connection with the knocking. For the latter, though I had distinctly heard it, yet having failed to cerroborate an opinion testified to by one sense by the evidence of another, I had come to the conclusion that I had been deceived by some accidental sound, and gave it no further thought. After some desultory conversation, we rose to visit the bedside of the child. The room in which she lay was on the opposite side of the entrythe same in which I had seen through the window the shadow start on the ceiling. As I entered, I recognized in the furniture and arrangement of the antique chamber a counter- part of that where, a few months before, I had held the little girl in my arms. Whatever in- voluntary feeling of pleasure the memory awak- ened was now tempered with melancholy, when I thought of the fallen fortunes of my friends, and when I sawthe only strange object in the chamberthe small carved bed in which the child lay. She was asleep. The red flush of fever was on her face; the lustrous eyes were closed; the beautiful dark tresses had been shorn from the fair head. As I bent over her, a spectral memory of the destiny which hung above her house passed across my mind. Then all the wild love that I bore in my nature for her came up in blinding tears to my eyes, and an aspiration, mighty as a prayer, rose from my soul to God, for a blessing that no mortal words could name. We sat down near each otherMrs. Barry and Iand conversed in low tones that did not disturb the hush of the chamber. The shaded lamp gave a dim light that seemed to expand the large proportions of the shadowy room. A few red rays from the smouldering coals in the grate rested on the carpeted floor. Without was the faint wailing of the wind, rising at intervals into a rushing sound, as if something were sweeping through the air around the house, and pausing, to sink into a hushed and mourn- ful sigh. The constant ticking of a small clock of black marble sounded like dropping water. There was no other sound but the low murmur of our voices, whispering together. Gradually these died away, and we were mute. I sat and watched her. She reclined in a low cushioned scat beneath me, in the shadow of the bed, which gave a duskier pallor to her pale, sweet face. The eyes were closed. Only upon her white hands, laid together as if in supplication, fell a faint light from the lamp beyond. It shone upon the jewels, which gleamed like sparks of golden and crystal fire. And thus in my latter years, whenever the tempest broods with night over land and sea, and in the dark- ness, when the winds are wild and lowwith a deeper shadow on a brow made holy with the peace of answered prayer, and holier light rest- ing in promise on her praying handsshe rises in the mists of vision, and sits in my memory forever! The hours waned slowly away. We had not spoken for some time. The tempest was dying away, and there was no sound but the monoto- nous ticking of the clock. She had risen quiet- ly from her seat, unknown to me, so deep was the reverie in which I bad been lost. I was awakened suddenly to consciousnessand saw her standing by the bed, looking at the sleeping childby a loud rap at the door. Without re- flection, I arose and opened it. I started back with surprise at beholding no one there! Re- covering myself instantly, I sprang into the entry. There was no one! I stood amazed, petrified, struck dumb with wonder. Was I dreaming? NoI heard it; distinctlyclearly plainly heard it. I peered about the entry; there was no place of concealment there; the dim light of the lamp illuminated the entire passage. I was conscious of supernatural fear. I turned and looked into the room. She was standing by the bedside, with her averted face covered by her hands. A secret fire leaped through my veins. I knew then that she had heard ityes, and heard it before! Chilled and pale, I entered the room, and shutting the door, ~vent to her side and laid my hand on her arm. She turned quickly; her face was white, and large tears stood in her calm eyes. A forced smile played on her colorless lips, as she said, How pale you are I Helen ! I screamed, what is this ? She looked at me, with the same smile on her pallid face. My friend, said she, and her voice was sweet and clear, be calm; you must be calm! She laid her hands in mine, and the tears flowed from her eyes, steadily fixed on my face. Come, I said, come, Helen, into the next room, where we can talk without disturb- THE KNOCKER. 67 ing her, and tell me what was on your mind all this evening. We crossed the passage to the room where we had previously sat, and resumed our former seats. For a few minutes we looked at each other ia silence, as if listening for the recur- rence of the mysterious noise. At last I spoke, and after asking if she had heard these sounds hefore my visit, which she answered that she had, I requested her to tell me every thing about them. She complied, without a mo- ments hesitation. What she told me was sub- stantially as follows: On the day after her husbands departure, the little Helen, her child, came to her and complained of being unwell. She was sitting in her chair, and the little girls head rested in her lap, when she heard a knock at the door. She was surprised, for she had not heard the hall door open, and visitors were usually shown by the girl into the opposite parlorthe room in which we were now sitting. Thinking that it might be the servant, although she was accus- tomed to enter the room without formality, Mrs. Barry said, Come in. The door not opening, she rose, and was still more surprised to find no one without. The sound had been singularly distinct; however, she thought no more of it until a couple of hours afterward, when it again occurred, and the result was the same. She was amazed. Nothing of the kind had been heard during the few months previ- ous occupation of the house. It was not heard again that day until late in the afternoon, when it came with great plainness. She began to feel uneasy, the more so that the child was becom- ing seriously ill. She took her up stairs, and, putting her to bed, sent for a physician. He came; pronounced the nature of the disease, prescribed, and went away. That evening, after a long silence, the child suddenly said, Mother, do you think I am going to die ? As the words were spoken, the mother heard the knock at the door. This, it will be understood, was in a chamber overhead, clearly showing that the noise was not confined in its manifestation to any particular part of the house. The mother did not answer the question. From that mo- ment she instinctively connected the phenom- enon with the illness of the child. She remem- bered that its first evidence was given at the time when the child complained of being un- well. A gloomy and tremulous foreboding filled her mind. That night she did not sleep. The dreadful noises came at intervals during the long vigil, seeming to increase with the delirium of the child. She did not dare to call the servant-girl, fearing that she might hear them, and, becoming alarmed, desert the house and leave her alone. She knew none of the neigh- bors, and the fear of creating any excitement dissuaded her from summoning strangers. She could only pray for her husbands return. The physician came again in the morning, and went away, assuring her that there was no danger, She did not mention to him the cause of her anxiety. But the chamber was dreadful to her. Sending out for a porter, she had the bed conveyed down stairs to the room it now oc- cupied. The noises only came at long intervals that day; the very fact made them more omin- ous. That afternoon she slept a few hours. Toward evening, as she thought of the certain- ty of another night, thronged with the terrors of that which had passed, the anticipation be- came almost insupportable. She prayed for re- lief. She began to hope that the noises might be accidental, or might cease. That evening, as she was bending over the child, a loud knock came, so suddenly that it forced a cry from her. She immediately recovered herself, for she rec- ognized the challenge of a visitor on the hall door, and nothing supernatural. Remembering that the girl was absent on an errand, she was about to go to the door herself, and only paused to regain her composure, when she heard the door open, and the voice of the servant ushering in the visitor. The courage which had uphorne her in the trials of the preceding days gave way as she fainted in my arms! Every thing respecting her nervous manner that evening was now explained. It was her cry that I had heard at the hall door; it was her shadow that started on the ceiling. I now understood the reason for her attention to the casual noises which took place in the room which continually reminded her of the sounds mysteriously connected in her mind with the fate of her childand her frequent glances to the door at their occurrence. She had hoped that my presence was the announcement of their ceasing; and when I had heard the first evidence of their existence that evening, and thought myself deceived, she knew that she was not, and her hope had faded. In my re- membrance of her pale face, shaded by her hand, when I re-entered the chamber, the trem- ulous voice in which she had assented to my opinion, and the intense expression of her earn- est eyes, seeking to ascertain if I suspected the truth, I now read the reassumption of a former foreboding, already sinking in her mind to the cold resignation of despair. I began to repent having permitted myself to become so agitated and excited, fearing that I might have strength- ened her belief in a fatality by evincing a toe ready adhesion to the theory that these sounds were the result of a supernatural agency. With this repentance came a hesitating doubt. The sounds had certainly occurred, yet they might have been the singular effect of a vulgar cause, only mysterious because unknown; and the facts of their occurrence at the childs first ill- ness, and apparently in answer to her question regarding the possibility of death, merely casual coincidences. But no; that answered nothing. Even if the (not impossible, but still) monstrous hypothesis were admitted, that a sound, the same in all its peculiarities, can be produced by a simple and natural cause, in several places absolutely removed and apart from each other and is intelligent, and bears reference to a 68 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. human lifethen, at least, it is ominous of a relation that it bears to the law which controls that life. It is not the less terrible because it is the blind vassal of a destiny; it can not have become so by accident; and if it can, it is not the less appalling, for it has ceased to be acci- dent. I shall be accused of superstition, of unintelligent credulity. I repel such accusa- tions with scorn. The phenomenon, so simple, so direct, so palpably removed from uncertainty in its manifestations, was mysterious enough to thrill any one with horror. As I listened to Mrs. Barrys story, I could not but admire the courage which had nerved her to bear such ter- rors, and the admirable balance of mind which had not tottered from reason. When I myself had been so powerfully excited by a single even- ings experience, and in her company, what must have been her feelings, compelled for days of loneliness to hear such sounds, without a single clew to their cause or meaning but one, and that one so dreadful. There was no doubt in my mind, there could be none, of the verity o~ their occurrence. The raps were on the door, distinctly on the door. They were pecul- iar, not only in distinctness, hut in a deliberate abruptness, as if they were given by an unfal- tering hand. They were always double raps, varying in loudness, but never faint or hesi- tating. Nothing earthly but the human hand could have produced such sounds. I say no- thing earthly; and I base this opinion upon the conviction acquired by subsequent experience and investigation. My only course was to assume an indifference that I did not feel, and endeavor to impart it to her, trusting that all this might, yet be ~x- plained away. A strange ideaThat I have held at different periods of my lifea shadowy and fluctuating fancynow took possession of me. I felt a vague confidence, that if she could be- come strongly informed with the faith that her ehild would live, it would exert a mystic and magnetic influence on a life which was hound to her own by all the strong affinities of love, and preserve it to her. I said every thing I could to induce this belief in her; but I failed. It was in vain for me to attempt to undermine her conviction of portended death. I could not explain the phenomena on which it rested; and although I did not share her belief as to their meaning, yet there was a strangeness, a homely horror in the manifestations, under the circumstances, that completely awed and be- wildered me. It was nearly eleven oclock. We were en- tirely alone. The servant-girl had long since retired, and I resolved to watch with Mrs. Barry by the bedside of her child. She assent- ed to my determination; and after extinguishT ing the entry lamp, and replenishing the fire in the grate, I prevailed on her to occupy a couch near the bed, where she might sleep, if so in- clined; and taking a cushioned chair for myself, sat down to watch the night away. At two oclock the sound occurred again, with a distinctness absolutely fearful. We did not hear it again that night. The child awoke once about four,, and required attention. She relapsed into a state of relative insensibility without recognizing me. This awakened a sad- der feeling in my heart than all that had passed. It haunted me in a chaos of reveries until the dim lamplight began to sicken in the cold gray of the cloudy daybreak. The cheerless dawn melted gradually into my waking dreams, slow- ly blotting them away, until my mind in its blank conscionsness felt that it had something akin to the faded fire smouldering in the dead ashes, and the sallow light of the lamp, paled in the deathly, unnatural morning. Rising from my seat, I softly crossed the room and looked out. The snow lay deeply on the blank street. A naked tree before the house shivered noise- lessly as the gust shook its black branches. All was desolate without, and a desolation like death, or the shadow of death, rested heavily within. My heart was sick. Turning from the window my eye fell upon the pale features of Mrs. Barry. She slept. A happy smile, like the light shed from a pleasant dream, was upon her wan and spiritual face, and vailed its se- raphic sorrow with an. unearthly beauty. A tender and solemn feeling rising in my awed heart, as I gazed upon that sweet and noble countenance, dilated into peaceful hope, and rebuking my doubts and fears, stood within me in deep and unutterable prayer. Softly, very softly, fearing to awaken her, I crossed the room and looked upon the child. Then came the awful knock at the doorlow and distinct thrilling my heartcurdling my blood with its mysterious meaning I I turnedshe was sitting up; her slumber had been light, and she had heard it. We looked at each other in si- lence, with a look that understood each others thoughts. She sighed heavily, and my eyes grew dim with tears. I turned away to repress them, and bent over the child of our common affection, for whom were our hopes, and pray- ers, and fears. Then the reality of the day, and the need of courage to sustain it, came upon me, and I grew calm. My story darkens to a close. Before the maid came down I wrapped myself up and left the house for an early walk through the streets of the adjacent town. I had need of exercise after a long night spent in the sick chamber. The air was warm, and at every step my feet sank deeply in the soft snow. I did not heed the difficulty of my progress. My every thought was absorbed in the fate of the child, and the strange tissue of presentiments in which that fate was involved. I returned to the house in a couple of hours. The servant answered my summons at the door, and seemed rather surprised at what she un- doubtedly supposed was an early visit. I was glad to see that she did not know I had passed the night in the house. As I stood in the en- try, divesting myself of my overcoat, the knock occurred very near me, on the right hand door. THE KNOCKER. 69 Before I could speak the girl threw it open, supposing that her mistress had summoned her thus from within, and was very much surprised at seeing her standing hy the childs bed, at a distance which she could not have attained in the slight interim elapsing hetween the rap and the opening of the door. I relieved her hy say- ing, with a laugh, that I had made the noise with the heel of my boot on the floor, in this way, said I. Before I could produce a sound, which, to a fine ear, would have home no simili- tude to it, the knock came again on the open door, sounding, of course, within the chamber. So, said I, coolly. The girl looked at me with the most perfect expression of stupefaction that I ever saw on a human countenance. I bore it like a Stoic, although strongly tempted to laugh in earnest, despite the dread I felt at this demoniac jestingthis singular anticipa- tion of my purpose by the unknown cause of the sounds, and by the fear that the noise might occur again while she was watching my motions, or that she might doubt my assertion as it was. Had she done so, I firmly believe she would have left the house instantly, although she was much attached to her mistress. She was not, however, incredulous of my assertion, but won- der-struck at my ability to produce a sound, evidently in another place, on the floor beneath me. My boot heel must have passed into her mind to take place among its strongest concep- tions of the miraculous. She never discovered that the house was haunted by such noises, as they were invariably confined to the neighbor- hood of the child, and she was kept away by Mrs. Barry as much as possible, on the score of the danger of infectiou. I entered the room and closed the door be- hind me. Mrs. Barry still stood by the bed. It was not you ? she asked, in a gentle voice. I shook my head. She knew that it wus not, but the impudence of my assertion to the girl, and the coincidence of the last sound with my intention, had doubtless induced the question. It was singular, I said, alluding to the last. She assented by a motion of her headher thoughts were with her child. The morning grew darker. The leaden sky without had changed to a deeper tint and hung nearer to the earth, and was puckered and ugly, with low, dark, sullen clouds, that crept slowly along, and filtered down a dismal rain upon the fallen snow. A vague mist, which had hung about the distance, gradually deep- ened, and shrouded every object till its shape was formless. I sat at the window, watching gloomily the cheerless scene, with a heart sink- ing from deep to deep, and a cold mist gather- ing in my mind. The slow, monotonous tick- ing from the black marble clock struck my ear. Tick, tick, tick! and my thought unconscious- ly fashioned the sound into one warning word, slowly and constantly repeatedDeath, death, death! Yes; it began to be familiar in my mind. Vague and awfula shadow, slowly gathering form. Haunting mesullenly dogging my fail- ing hope through every dim avenue of thought the shrouded angel, terrible and silent, whose dreaded name was Death! A light hand touched me on the shoulder. I started, and followed her to the adjoining room. We sat down to the table. I could not eat, but I drank cup after cup of strong coffee, until it acted on my nerves with the first effect of opiumonly narcotizing unrest, and soothing and strengthening the mind into calm activity. I began to feel more cheerful, and conversed with her tranquilly on indifferent topics. We had finished breakfast, and re-entered the sick chamber, when the physician was announced. He was an old gentleman, grave and kind in his deportment, and with a certain subdued cordiality of manner. He said much to assure Mrs. Barry that her child was in no imminent danger, and after expressing his opinion that the fever was rapidly attaining its crisis, which, safely passed, would terminate all doubt as to the result, and prescribing the usual remedies dictated by the common method of treatment, with some further general directions, he cheer- fully left us. I can not describe the feeling of confidence with which his visit reinspired me. I strove to impart it to her, but she only answered with a sad smile. Her mournful incredulity only gave fresh strength to my reinvigorated hope. The fate of my wife might have warned me to be cautious in my anticipations. It did not, how- ever. I had begun by striving to convince Mrs. Barry of the truth of fables which I did not be- lieve; I ended by deceiving and convincing my- self. I now talked extravagantly and buoyantly of the certainty of the childs recovery. My hope no longer caught at straws to save it from sink- ing. It clung to the physicians assurance as to a life-preserver. Alas ! like that, its support was only filled with human breath. The fatal knock came again at the door while I was talking. I cared not; I defied auguries. Yet, after a time, the excitement began to de- crease, and the old feeling slowly began to re-. turn. I went to the door and examined it. It was of solid oak, old, but utterly free from de- cay. For an hour I wandered about the pas- sage-waysounding the walnut wainscotsthe floorstrying to discover some plausible natural - reason for these noises. It was in vain. I re-entered the chamber. The child was in a state of partial insensibility, sometimes broken hy the low, incoherent wanderings of delirium, and then sinking into brief uneasy slumber. Every attention that could be bestowed on her was, of course, given by the mother. As the slow morning crept toward noon, the snow already began to dissolve under the inces- sant torrents that poured from the heavy clouds. The frantic wind rising, dashed the rain against the streaming panes, shook the elm trees before the window, and swept through the sullen air. The storm was wild withoutwithin all was quiet. So the morning wore away. 70 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. At two oclock the physician came again. After he had gone I hegan to think of going to the city to my hotel, so as to return in the early evening, but it rained so furiously that I resolved to wait a couple of hours, hoping that the storm might ahate. I earnestly desired, more than all, the return of Barry. We had heard no- thing from him. She had sent two letters. When I mentioned to her my anxious wish for his presence, she expressed her conviction that he would not return hefore all was over. The thought chilled me, and I begged her not to cherish a presentiment so distressing. She only replied with a sad and fatal smile. The circumstance gave a deeper color to my thoughts. The smile, cold with the unimpas- sioned grief of despair, haunted me. If she had wept, wildly and hitterly, I could have borne it; hut this fatal and prophetic sorrow was dreadful. I could not answer her, and sat in painfUl silence. An old rememhrance came slowly to me. It gathered form from every object in the room, and brought me hack to the day, months before, when I had held the child upon my knee, and seen her eyes unclose in the silence, and a strange, supernatural gaze look from them into mine. I rememhered the fatal family tradition. Mrs. Barry was sitting near me. helen, I said, you were an orphan from your childhood. Yes. I was silent for a moment. Do you know, I resumed, that Paul, like you, was an orphan ? I know it, she replied; we were both orphans from our childhood. Yes, I answered; and his parents were also both orphans. It is true, she said; they were also, like us, only children; so were mine. - You know it I I inquired you know this to be true ? Yes, she answered, I know it. And have you ever thought of it as strange ? I asked. Many times, she answered and more than strange. We have sometimes wondered if it reverted to our great-grandparents; hut we do not know. It is said that some of Pauls familyperhaps his great-grandfather, but he thinks nil earlier ancestor-lived in this old house before the Revolution. What ! I exclaimed in this house ? In this house, she replied. Why did you not tell me before ? I in- quired. She did not answer, nor did I care that she should. Nothing more was said. I feared to say more. I rose and looked at the child. The face was hidden in the bedclothes. I did not disturb them, but resumed my chair by tbe win- dow. For a long time the sound of the storm was confused and dim in my ears. I thought if my va~ue reveries can be so termedof the words I had just heard, and all the mystery and meaning of their theme gathered into one vast, awful sense of coming doom! The rain did not abate. I prepared to go, promising to return soon. Taking an umbrella, I sallied out. The snow was quite washed away from the streets. Some waste white ridges lay along the gutters, and on portions of the sidewalk a cold, gelid substance, trod- den by the feet of many passengers, still re- mained. There was a breath of fever in the warm, fitful south wind. The rain, whirled about in the currents of air, shaken from the trees, dashed out of the spouts on the black, drenched eaves, was streaming every where. A fever in my veins pulsed with the gust, and a wild spirit in my bosom exulted in the storm. I reacbed my destination in less than half an hour. Sitting down in the parlor of the hotel, I wrote a few lines to Barry, imploring him to return immediately. This I dispatched at once to the post-office. What I wrote was earnest enough, God knows; and yet, while I was writ- ing, I felt a sinaular gayety of mind. When I had finished, and the letter was gone, I was conscious of a still greater exuberance of spirits, accompanied by a slight giddiness, and a dull pain; or rather pressure, in the back of my head. With this feeling increasing, I walked into the reading-room, and took up an evening paper. Glancing down its columns, my eye fell upon this paragraph. SUDDEN DEATHWe learn from the New York Sun of yesterday, that Mr. Paul Barry, of Boston, who was stopping at the Astor House in that city, fell down suddenly in the reading- room of the hotel, and was taken up dead. An inquest was to be held on his body the same afternoon. I read this item without emotion of any kind. I read it slowly, carefully, and gravely. This too, I thought, is a reading-room! Then I walked up stairs slowly to my own apartment. On the stairs, I laughed once. I changed my clothes with the utmost deliberation, and with- out moving a muscle of my face. Raving com- pleted my toilet, I. walked very slowly lip and down the room twice. I laughed again. Then going down stairs into the street, I rushed hack to the house with the speed of a whirlwind. It was nearly six oclock in the evening when I re-entered the chamber. The child slept. Mrs. Barry was sitting tranquilly by the bed. I took a chair near her, and, seating myself, looked at her with a placid interest. I noticed then, without any sense of sadness, but rather with a feeling of pleasure, how frightfully she had altered within the two preceding days. Her, eyes were sunken, and of an unearthly brightness. Her face was very pale and wan, giving a strange brilliance to the sad smile with which she welcomed my reappearance. The hair, arranged in long, dark tresses by her face, made its pallor more apparent. I thought that the face wore a singularan indescribable look. Its supernatural beauty seemed to vail, and half reveal, another face w~thia, whose features were THE KNOCKER. 71 those of withered ageold and worn, and seem- ing to look through the outward couNtenance. At timesparticularly when her eyes were downcastthis appearance of age was more strongly visible; the face wore a secret, blind, meaningless expression, as if the lineaments of another blended with, andpartially confused it. In a word, it impressed me as if the counte- nance was introverted; or as having somewhat the appearance of the back of a transparent mask, where the features appear semi-neutral- ized. I gazed at her quietly. With the same placid, happy feeling, I thought that all this was but the work of a deep inward agony, changing her beauty to premature decay. Sitting near her, I tried to converse; but our voices soon ceased to murmur. I began to feel an uneasy awe. The sounds had not been heard since the morning. I now feared them. Yet I found myself in a few minutes wishing that they might re-occur. Their cessation gave me uneasiness; it seemed unnaturalit seemed to me that it must predicate evil. I began to feel a morbid propensity to discover shapes in the furnitureto fancy every thing sentient, and imagine it watching me. I thought I must be getting over-excited! To overcome my fan- cies, I covered my eyes with my hand, and en- deavored to abstract my mind from feelings which seemed to be gathering like a crowd of spectres, to surround me before the uprising of some infernal terror. In this effort I succeeded so far as to lose the impressioa of sentience in the inanimate objects around me. Then I thought that I would enter upon a calm, a very calm, mental review of the chain of circumstances which had been forced upon my cognizance. I would look at them, one by one. I could not refrain from smiling. I was conscious of a singular expansion in my brain; I was disposed to imagine very strange things; yet I could think very calmly, clearly; the human brain was such a marvelous mechan- ism! I began to recall the incidents, one by one; the first shadow on my mind, months be- fore, when I remembered the ancestral sin that brought orphan brides, and lonely births, an& death to the house of Barry; the look in the eyes of the child; my return to hear of the fallen fortunes of my friend; the warning of the accursed scent of camphor on the black night; the whirl of emotions that greeted my entrance to the haunted house; the illness of the child; the revelation of the warning sounds; the fathers absence; the silent agony of the mother; the dreadful repetition of the noises an invisible, perhaps an ancestral, hand for- ever challenging at the door; the spectres of the mind; my fear, fright, doubt, and horror, while his cold corpse lies, white and rigid, in a distant city, and all rounds on to the final blackness of the doom! I look upa fierce fire in my brain. We sat in silencean awful silence. No sound but the stormy wailing of the desolate winds, sweeping about the mansion. No sound but the slow ticking of the clockDeath, death, death! A slow whirling in my headfasterfaster! No, no; I am the fool of chimerasI am yielding to imaginary terrorsI must be calm. Death, death, death! Helen, your clock is a good time-keeper remarkably good. She looked at me in surprise. I did not look at her, but I knew she was looking at me in sur- prise. I drew out my watch, and compared it with the clock. I-low very pale you are, she said. I rose to my feet. But your clockyour clock does keep good time Yes; it belonged to my father why! what is the matter ? She sprang up and caught my arm. I would have fallen to the floor. She assisted me to my seat. A sudden faintness, I said, nothinc, but that. I made a strong effort to compose myself. She left the room. Can I bear this much longer! ryhese thoughts are killing me! Oh! agony, agony! She returned with a glass of water. I drank it. You are ill; what is the matter? Oh! how pale you are Nothing, Helen, I said, faintly, positive- ly nothing. I am fatiguedI felt a moment- ary weakness which nearly overcame me. Do not be alarmed. I am better nowmuch bet-. ter. There was a mirror in the room. I arose and looked in it. Pale; I was livid! I re- sumed my seat. You know, Helen, I did not sleep last night; my fatigue and the warmth of the room brought on a passing faintness. Oh! forgive me, she said; I forgot that you had no sleep; you must be wearied. Come, you must go up stairs and rest. No, no, Helen; I will not go up stairs. I am quite well. Come, and I tried to 1 ugh, you must not imagine me so delicate as to he exhausted by one nights vigil ! But you are so pale, she answered; von look unwell. At least, if you will not go up stairs, go into the other room and lie down on the sofa. Do not hesitate to leave me here. I will call you if any thing occurs. I yielded. I was in truth very weary, but I did not intend to sleep. I only wanted to be alone for a few minutes, that I might give vent to the feelings which were becoming insupport- able, and regain my composure. I went into the room, which was well lighted. I turned down the lamp until it only gave a dim light, and throwing myself upon the cushions, covered my face with my hands and wept like a child. Then I grew cahner. I sat in silence for a long time, sad and weak with the storm of feeling which had passed within me. The tempest was at its height without. I drew aside 72 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. the curtains from the western window, and pressing my face close to the cold panes, looked out. There were no houses before me; my eyes rested only on a sullen waste of murky marshes, stretching away until it ended in a curving line of darkness against the faint gray of the horizon. Over this waste rolled a low, drifting rack of stormy clouds, with a dim, phosphorescent light, revealing their gray edges. The rain had ceased; only the wild, despairing winds raged over the waste fields. Opening the window, I let the cool air blow on my fore- head and lift my hair. There was a strange, sweet odor on the night. As its spicy breath played on my brow, a tenderer feeling awoke within me. The phantom of the happier hours of my childhood, filled with hope and blessing, floated out from the darkness of the Past upon the gloom, an4 murmuredPeace. The pres- ent sorrow grew dim. I closed the window gently and sat down. Soon a feeling of weariness stole upon me. I reclined on the ottoman, and listened to the wailing and shrieking of the frantic winds sinking at intervals into mad whispering and gibbering, and then rising with low moanings into deep, sonorous, drowning cries. Gradu- ally their hoarse and howling voices seemed to die entirely away, and I slept. I awoke slowly to a vague consciousness that my slumbers had been long and deep. I had a faint remembrance of having heard the winds jarring a shutter during my sleep. They were silent now; the tempest was over. There was a soft, luminous dimness in the chamber, which I could not account for. The lamp burned very low, giving really no light. I felt startled. Could I have slept until morning? I looked at my watch. Noit was just twelve oclock; I had slept four hours. I arose and lifting the curtain looked out. The mystery was then, ap- parent. The sky was a floating mass of vapor, illuminated by a misty, yellow moon, which hung, large and gibbous, below the zenith, de- scending to the west, and diffused a drowsy light over the dead waste below. The night was very still. The very essence of Lethe drugged the air of the chamber, and drowsed my senses. Sinking down on the cushions, I again slept. My sleep this time was troubled. I was haunted by a vague sense of hearing the winds blowing about the house, and again jarring the shutter. Then it seemed to me that the shut- ter was l)eating in the wall of the mansion, and with a feeling of alarm, I tried to awake. I was in the midst of an uneasy and ineffectual struggle to shake off the spell which held me, during which the shutter, I thought, was beat- ing more furiously, and the wall was beginning to totter, when I felt a touch, and immediately started up, perfectly aroused. Mrs. Barry stood before me with a lamp in her hand. Her un- bound hair hung in heavy black masses by her face, fearfully relieving its ghastly pallor. I saw her white lips move, and heard her voice, low and clear, and seeming to reach me from an hameasurable distance: Helen is dying I My eyes were bound to hers. I felt no alarm I was not startledonly a cold thrill stole slowly through my blood. Hush ! said she. We stood and listened in the dead silence. I noticed the yellow moonlight that lay in a sluggish pool upon the floor. Have you heard them ? No, I answered. I remembered mydreams. They have been loud, very loud, for the last hour. Hark ! No sound in the silence but the beating of my heart. My watch lay on the cushion. I took it up; it was an hour past midnightthe hands pointed to one. And he is dead I she resumed in the same low, clear voice, still seeming to reach me from an immeasurable distance, but now filled with an awful tenderness; he is dead; my Paul my light of lifesoul of my soulheart of my heartmy husband! He is cold and dead Who has told you ? I murmured dreamily, without emotion, watching the unearthly calm- ness of her white face. They have told me, she slowly answered; they have been loudvery loud. My heart has told me. Come ! The hollow tones seemed to linger and re- verberate on the strange quiet of the air. I followed her. We softly entered the room where the child lay. I bent over her and lis- tened to her faint, heavy breathing, broken only by low moans. I lifted her in my arms, and pressed her close to my heart. As I held her thus, the knock caine, low and secret, at the door. I listened with the feeling of desperation for minutes. The ticking of the clock! I laid her again on the pillow and sat down, feeling like one in a dream. The mother lifted her in her arms and spoke her name. There was no answer; she lay pas- sively, without any motionwithout any sound but an occasional moan. Gradually the moan- ing ceased; only a faint, unsteady breathing denoted that she lived. Then the mother laid her down, still holding her in her arms; and bending over her, she pressed her lips to the face in the last kiss of agonized love, and her dark tresses fell upon the pillow like a vail. A quarter of an hour had passed. I sat list- ening to the slow, measured ticking of the clock. Death! death! death! clear as if a low voice was repeating it. No other voice on the still- nessno other sense in the mind. The mother rose from her position. Her face was wet with tears, but calm and nearly stern. I took her hands in mineI could not speak. She returned the pressure, and said, It will end soon. Then she retired to a lit- tle distance. I understood by her position that she had taken her farewell of the child, and was listening and waiting for the last. I stood silently by the bedside. I listened to THE SENSES. 73 the low voice whispering slowly in the shadows of the roomDeath! The ticking of the clock began to excite me. So slowso monotonous; it numbed my brain; it grew louder, beat by heat. Formless things, with a terrible smooth- ness to their surfacewith a terrible silence in their motion, began to whirl and dilate in my mind, revolving with an awful velocity, but silentlysilently; and I grew giddy with their dreadful speed, and although marble-calm with- out, became frantic within, and longed to burst out in shrieks and wild raving. I looked at the dial; the hands pointed to half past one. I sighed. Something seemed to mimic the sigh. There were two small key-holes in the circular white face. They became strange eyes, and looked at me quietlyvery quietly! I looked away. Every object in the room as- sumed some wild form, and all were watching me. There was an oblong table, covered with hooks and other articles, standing near the centre of the chamber. The lamp, which had heen placed for some reason on the floor, threw its shadow upon the wall in the exact semblance of a coffin! Not an outline was wanting to complete the likeness. I watched it, and with every thought and emotion rushing frantically with the silent current of that awful whirl in my mind, I watched it calmly. The small lid of the coffin opening over the face of the dead, was counterfeited in the mocking shadow by a book which stood on end upon the table. The shadowy lid was, of course, uplifted. I moved to the table, standing between it and the lamp, and saw my own shadow on the wall, bending over the coffin, in the attitude of one looking on the face of a corpse within. I felt a de- moniac interest in the contemplation of the dread phantasma. Slowlyimpelled by a de- sire which I could not controlI laid down the book upon the table. Slowly the spectral lid sank, under the touch of the shadowy hand, into the level plane of the coffin.1 stood, and looked, and listened to the faint respiration of the child. Timing with its low breathing timing with the gigantic eddying sweep of that tremendous lunacy of size and motion in my mind, I still heard the ticking of the clock, the low word that left no echo on the air Death! death! It grew louderlouderwith no accompanying increase of quickness, but steady and slow, till it seemed to swell into a roar, and stunned my brain with the appalling thunder-strokes of that wordDeath! death! death! I could bear it no longer. I fixed my burning eyes upon the dial. The hands pointed to a quarter of two. A thought leaped to my mind; I obeyed it. I went over and stopped them. A blessed silence followed. The phantoms faded. I felt a sense of exult- ation and relief. Although still in a state of powerful abnormal excitement, a reactionary movement had commenced; I was regaining my self-command. I resumed my place by the bedside. The mother had taken no notice of my actions; she had not once changed her positionher attitude was still that of a listener. I drew out my watch, and hung it on one of the carvings of the bed, where I could note the time. The child scarcely breathed. As I took notice of this decrease of consciousness, a wild sense of the approaching moment which would end the life so dear to me swelled in my heart until it became agony. I took the little form in my arms and held it to my bosom. Every tender emotion, every fading hope and gentle memory linked with her, melted into one agonizing fer- vor of affection, and held her there, as if to be retained forever. Over that last embrace the slow minutes passed away. An icy torpor suc- ceeded; my soul grew blank and desolate, and a dull despair gathered over it, like a frigid sky. I laid her on the pillowwithdrawing my arms from her bodyand looked quietly on her face. The hands of my watch indicated the hour of two. As I noticed them, a sudden motion from Mrs. Barry startling me from my apathy, caused me to look round. At one glance I saw her with her hand upraised, looking at the child, and listening! In that brief; rapid view, her colorless face, livid by contrast with the ebony tresseswith its white lips, partly open, and its strange, unhuman expression, made more appalling by the dim, distorted light and shadow of the chamberwas so dreadful, that instantlyinstinctivelyI averted my eyes. At the same momentour action had been almost simultaneousthe hideous knock, loud and vio- lent, struck upon the door, andgreat God the eyes of the child suddenly unclosed, and for an instant looked directly into mine with that wild, unearthly brightness, that supernatu- ral meaning which I had never but once seen in them before! The past and present, in that look, were linked with a shock. I was petrified with terror. My blood curdleda cold sweat started on my foreheada stifled shriek rose in my throatmy reason swooned upon its throne! I looked away. For a moment of awful horror, in which the very silence became more still, I held my breath, and did not dare to move. Fearfully, at last, I looked round, and saw that the eyelids were closed. I laid my trembling hand upon her heart. Then darkness rushed with a roar upon my brain, and I sank slowly down. Every sensation with me became, for a time, mercifully lost. The child was dead. THE SENSES. 1.TASTE. Our mouth shall show forth Thy praise.~ WHEN Turandot, the far-famed princess of the East, who gave her lovers riddles to solve, and took their lives if they failed, saw one more favored suitor near victory, she sud- denly asked him, What is that palace that even the poorest possess, and the richest can no further adorn? Its portals are hung with crimson curtains of wondrous fabric; they fall upon gates of whitest ivory, carved with subtle cunning, firm and fast as the mountains, and

THE SENSES. 73 the low voice whispering slowly in the shadows of the roomDeath! The ticking of the clock began to excite me. So slowso monotonous; it numbed my brain; it grew louder, beat by heat. Formless things, with a terrible smooth- ness to their surfacewith a terrible silence in their motion, began to whirl and dilate in my mind, revolving with an awful velocity, but silentlysilently; and I grew giddy with their dreadful speed, and although marble-calm with- out, became frantic within, and longed to burst out in shrieks and wild raving. I looked at the dial; the hands pointed to half past one. I sighed. Something seemed to mimic the sigh. There were two small key-holes in the circular white face. They became strange eyes, and looked at me quietlyvery quietly! I looked away. Every object in the room as- sumed some wild form, and all were watching me. There was an oblong table, covered with hooks and other articles, standing near the centre of the chamber. The lamp, which had heen placed for some reason on the floor, threw its shadow upon the wall in the exact semblance of a coffin! Not an outline was wanting to complete the likeness. I watched it, and with every thought and emotion rushing frantically with the silent current of that awful whirl in my mind, I watched it calmly. The small lid of the coffin opening over the face of the dead, was counterfeited in the mocking shadow by a book which stood on end upon the table. The shadowy lid was, of course, uplifted. I moved to the table, standing between it and the lamp, and saw my own shadow on the wall, bending over the coffin, in the attitude of one looking on the face of a corpse within. I felt a de- moniac interest in the contemplation of the dread phantasma. Slowlyimpelled by a de- sire which I could not controlI laid down the book upon the table. Slowly the spectral lid sank, under the touch of the shadowy hand, into the level plane of the coffin.1 stood, and looked, and listened to the faint respiration of the child. Timing with its low breathing timing with the gigantic eddying sweep of that tremendous lunacy of size and motion in my mind, I still heard the ticking of the clock, the low word that left no echo on the air Death! death! It grew louderlouderwith no accompanying increase of quickness, but steady and slow, till it seemed to swell into a roar, and stunned my brain with the appalling thunder-strokes of that wordDeath! death! death! I could bear it no longer. I fixed my burning eyes upon the dial. The hands pointed to a quarter of two. A thought leaped to my mind; I obeyed it. I went over and stopped them. A blessed silence followed. The phantoms faded. I felt a sense of exult- ation and relief. Although still in a state of powerful abnormal excitement, a reactionary movement had commenced; I was regaining my self-command. I resumed my place by the bedside. The mother had taken no notice of my actions; she had not once changed her positionher attitude was still that of a listener. I drew out my watch, and hung it on one of the carvings of the bed, where I could note the time. The child scarcely breathed. As I took notice of this decrease of consciousness, a wild sense of the approaching moment which would end the life so dear to me swelled in my heart until it became agony. I took the little form in my arms and held it to my bosom. Every tender emotion, every fading hope and gentle memory linked with her, melted into one agonizing fer- vor of affection, and held her there, as if to be retained forever. Over that last embrace the slow minutes passed away. An icy torpor suc- ceeded; my soul grew blank and desolate, and a dull despair gathered over it, like a frigid sky. I laid her on the pillowwithdrawing my arms from her bodyand looked quietly on her face. The hands of my watch indicated the hour of two. As I noticed them, a sudden motion from Mrs. Barry startling me from my apathy, caused me to look round. At one glance I saw her with her hand upraised, looking at the child, and listening! In that brief; rapid view, her colorless face, livid by contrast with the ebony tresseswith its white lips, partly open, and its strange, unhuman expression, made more appalling by the dim, distorted light and shadow of the chamberwas so dreadful, that instantlyinstinctivelyI averted my eyes. At the same momentour action had been almost simultaneousthe hideous knock, loud and vio- lent, struck upon the door, andgreat God the eyes of the child suddenly unclosed, and for an instant looked directly into mine with that wild, unearthly brightness, that supernatu- ral meaning which I had never but once seen in them before! The past and present, in that look, were linked with a shock. I was petrified with terror. My blood curdleda cold sweat started on my foreheada stifled shriek rose in my throatmy reason swooned upon its throne! I looked away. For a moment of awful horror, in which the very silence became more still, I held my breath, and did not dare to move. Fearfully, at last, I looked round, and saw that the eyelids were closed. I laid my trembling hand upon her heart. Then darkness rushed with a roar upon my brain, and I sank slowly down. Every sensation with me became, for a time, mercifully lost. The child was dead. THE SENSES. 1.TASTE. Our mouth shall show forth Thy praise.~ WHEN Turandot, the far-famed princess of the East, who gave her lovers riddles to solve, and took their lives if they failed, saw one more favored suitor near victory, she sud- denly asked him, What is that palace that even the poorest possess, and the richest can no further adorn? Its portals are hung with crimson curtains of wondrous fabric; they fall upon gates of whitest ivory, carved with subtle cunning, firm and fast as the mountains, and

THE SENSES. 73 the low voice whispering slowly in the shadows of the roomDeath! The ticking of the clock began to excite me. So slowso monotonous; it numbed my brain; it grew louder, beat by heat. Formless things, with a terrible smooth- ness to their surfacewith a terrible silence in their motion, began to whirl and dilate in my mind, revolving with an awful velocity, but silentlysilently; and I grew giddy with their dreadful speed, and although marble-calm with- out, became frantic within, and longed to burst out in shrieks and wild raving. I looked at the dial; the hands pointed to half past one. I sighed. Something seemed to mimic the sigh. There were two small key-holes in the circular white face. They became strange eyes, and looked at me quietlyvery quietly! I looked away. Every object in the room as- sumed some wild form, and all were watching me. There was an oblong table, covered with hooks and other articles, standing near the centre of the chamber. The lamp, which had heen placed for some reason on the floor, threw its shadow upon the wall in the exact semblance of a coffin! Not an outline was wanting to complete the likeness. I watched it, and with every thought and emotion rushing frantically with the silent current of that awful whirl in my mind, I watched it calmly. The small lid of the coffin opening over the face of the dead, was counterfeited in the mocking shadow by a book which stood on end upon the table. The shadowy lid was, of course, uplifted. I moved to the table, standing between it and the lamp, and saw my own shadow on the wall, bending over the coffin, in the attitude of one looking on the face of a corpse within. I felt a de- moniac interest in the contemplation of the dread phantasma. Slowlyimpelled by a de- sire which I could not controlI laid down the book upon the table. Slowly the spectral lid sank, under the touch of the shadowy hand, into the level plane of the coffin.1 stood, and looked, and listened to the faint respiration of the child. Timing with its low breathing timing with the gigantic eddying sweep of that tremendous lunacy of size and motion in my mind, I still heard the ticking of the clock, the low word that left no echo on the air Death! death! It grew louderlouderwith no accompanying increase of quickness, but steady and slow, till it seemed to swell into a roar, and stunned my brain with the appalling thunder-strokes of that wordDeath! death! death! I could bear it no longer. I fixed my burning eyes upon the dial. The hands pointed to a quarter of two. A thought leaped to my mind; I obeyed it. I went over and stopped them. A blessed silence followed. The phantoms faded. I felt a sense of exult- ation and relief. Although still in a state of powerful abnormal excitement, a reactionary movement had commenced; I was regaining my self-command. I resumed my place by the bedside. The mother had taken no notice of my actions; she had not once changed her positionher attitude was still that of a listener. I drew out my watch, and hung it on one of the carvings of the bed, where I could note the time. The child scarcely breathed. As I took notice of this decrease of consciousness, a wild sense of the approaching moment which would end the life so dear to me swelled in my heart until it became agony. I took the little form in my arms and held it to my bosom. Every tender emotion, every fading hope and gentle memory linked with her, melted into one agonizing fer- vor of affection, and held her there, as if to be retained forever. Over that last embrace the slow minutes passed away. An icy torpor suc- ceeded; my soul grew blank and desolate, and a dull despair gathered over it, like a frigid sky. I laid her on the pillowwithdrawing my arms from her bodyand looked quietly on her face. The hands of my watch indicated the hour of two. As I noticed them, a sudden motion from Mrs. Barry startling me from my apathy, caused me to look round. At one glance I saw her with her hand upraised, looking at the child, and listening! In that brief; rapid view, her colorless face, livid by contrast with the ebony tresseswith its white lips, partly open, and its strange, unhuman expression, made more appalling by the dim, distorted light and shadow of the chamberwas so dreadful, that instantlyinstinctivelyI averted my eyes. At the same momentour action had been almost simultaneousthe hideous knock, loud and vio- lent, struck upon the door, andgreat God the eyes of the child suddenly unclosed, and for an instant looked directly into mine with that wild, unearthly brightness, that supernatu- ral meaning which I had never but once seen in them before! The past and present, in that look, were linked with a shock. I was petrified with terror. My blood curdleda cold sweat started on my foreheada stifled shriek rose in my throatmy reason swooned upon its throne! I looked away. For a moment of awful horror, in which the very silence became more still, I held my breath, and did not dare to move. Fearfully, at last, I looked round, and saw that the eyelids were closed. I laid my trembling hand upon her heart. Then darkness rushed with a roar upon my brain, and I sank slowly down. Every sensation with me became, for a time, mercifully lost. The child was dead. THE SENSES. 1.TASTE. Our mouth shall show forth Thy praise.~ WHEN Turandot, the far-famed princess of the East, who gave her lovers riddles to solve, and took their lives if they failed, saw one more favored suitor near victory, she sud- denly asked him, What is that palace that even the poorest possess, and the richest can no further adorn? Its portals are hung with crimson curtains of wondrous fabric; they fall upon gates of whitest ivory, carved with subtle cunning, firm and fast as the mountains, and 74 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. yet opening and shutting with lightnings speed. Within are hid mans costliest jewels, and from the depths of that palace cometh forth a voice that ruleth the world ? The reply was instantaneous: It is the Mouth of Man. Three features there are in the human face, representing as many great organs of the senses, which constitute the noblest part of the body of man as he was made after the image of God. They are at the same time the most active in- struments of the soul, and therefore placed in such prominence that without any one of them the countenance is not only disfigured, but the divine impress seems to have vanished. They are eyes, nose, and mouth. Of these, the mouth would seem to be by far the most important, for its principal duties alone in the marvelous house- hold of the human structure are four-fold. One it has, in man in common with all animals, that of receiving the necessary food, solid or liquid, and of thus supporting the earth-born body. The mouth becomes thus the great gate of all ma- terial supplies which enter through the two portals, the lips, and repeats, in its anatomical structure in the head, the wholelower-digestive apparatus, as the nose repeats there, in like manner, though on a much reduced scale, the organs of respiration. Nor can this be claimed as a high prerogative in man. Among the Buddhists the custom prevails to this day that the priest of Brabma can not eat from a vessel that has heen used by an Indian of lower caste, nor must he suffer himself to be seen eating by human eye. In like manner there is upon earth a whole numerous class of beauteous be- mb5 who hold their meals in secret, far from the eye of man, and never take food from the plate of others. This is the great kingdom of Plants. The tree hides his food-imbibing root in the dark depths of the earth, and neither the eye of man nor the sharp senses of the keenest of anhnals can discern the faint vapors that feed the majestic agave, as it raises its magnificent candelabra high into the air, and crowns them with gorgeous flowers. But among animtds, almost without excep- tion, the table is set, as with the monarchs of former days, in the open light of heaven,, and all the world may come and witness their daily meals. Not that they all sit at the same table, or feed in the same manner. For here, also, we find that our great mother Earth brings her- self the required food to the young and the helpless. Tiny birds, lying weak and wingless in their dark nests, are fed by loving parents; and other animals, that have no parents in the sense of this world, and yet can not move, are cared for by a love higher and stronger than all earthly love. The poor oyster is chained to the rock in the midst of the moving waves; it has neither eyes to see nor hands to grasp its daily breadnothing but a mouth that ever craves food, a stomach that needs being filled without ceasing. Yet it has but to open its shell, lined with the brilliant colors of the rainbow, and ample supplies are always at hand. The helpless, diminutive worm in the hazel-nut caa hardly move on its imperfect legs, and knows not at first where to seek for food. Butlike the boy of the German story-teller, who was shut up in a mountain made of pancakes, and lived upon its savory walls until he had made an opening through which he beheld the light of heaventhe worm sits in the very heart of the sweet kernel, and has only to bite and to eat without moving from the spot. There are some animals in the very lowest classes who either really take no food at all, or so secretly that it has as yet escaped the eye of man and the powers of the microscope. The mouth of certain insects, for instance, is, during their perfect state, as irnago, actually closed, and apparently no food at all can be taken. But there is at least one animalthe Notommata which, from the day of its birth, when it leaves the egg, to the moment of death, never takes the slightest nutriment. It has neither mouth nor digestive apparatus; it is built up by the gradual absorption of the stores laid up for it by bountiful Nature in the egg itself, and its life, moreover, is only of short duration. In the higher animals food is generally in- troduced through a single orifice, which has, significantly, in most languages a name differ- ent from that which designates the mouth in man. Here, however, the greatest variety pre- vails; what is single in one class is a thousand- fold multiplied in another, and numerous fam- ilies exist endowed with almost countless open- ings or pores, which all empty into a common centre. Even the size and the form of the sin- gle orifices differ greatly, and present some most beautiful instances of Gods marvelous crea- tions. Some insects are destined to feed on the sweet juices of flowers, which the large expanse of their wings prevents them from entering. Most of these have, like the butterflies gener- ally, a long tube, which lies snugly coiled up under the head when it is not used, but can be extended in the twinkling of an eye, and with unerring precision sucks up the honey from the bottom of deep blossoms, while the insect itself rests lightly on the outer edges. Among the most beautiful of such contrivances are the long, straight suckers of the most of the hated tobac- co-worms. The proboscis of one of this class, living at the Cape of Good Hope, is three inches long, while the whole animal measures but eight lines! Others again have, as is w~ll known, a most elaborate set of instruments for the pur- pose of making incisions into the skin, and thns flies, fleas, gnats, and mosquitoes feast royally upon our lifes-blood. When food consists of solid matter, nature generally adds to the simple opening new means of seizing the desired morsel. The simplest of these are hair-like cilia, which, by their inces- sant and violent vibration, cause a current richly laden with varied stores to enter the mouth. Such is the case in most mollusks; nor are the very giants of the earth exempted from such THE SENSES. 75 most humble operations. The colossal whale must thus race from icy Greenland to the trop- ics in search of his diminutive, almost invisible food. The huge animal gulps continually enor- mous volumes of water into his capacious mouth, and then ejects them again through his blow- holes, straining, as it were, through his exqui- site whalebone sieve, all the small fishes and marine animals which the water may have con- tained. In the simplest animals the passage of food to the mouth is direct and almost instantane- ous; then follow more and more ingenious mechanisms to convey it there; and lastly, special organs are given, independent of the mouth, to seize food and to carry it to the head. Mastication itseli and the whole inner or- ganism of the mouth are almost always con- cealed by Nature. Even among men there is often a certain shyness perceptible as to per- forming the humble act of feeding the earth- born body in public. In some nationsand those frequently the most barbarousit is con- sidered a disgrace to be seen eating; and even in highly civilized countries, one sex has not rarely a reluctance to admit the other as wit- nesses of the unpoetical process. Even the great Goethe could not escape many a bitter sarcasm, when he introduced sentimental, deli- cate Lotte, on her first meeting with Werther, as distributing bread and butter to hungry chil- dren, leaving the lurking suspicion in the mind of the reader that she herself was not a stran- ger to such enjoyment. The second great duty of the mouth of man is to render indispensable aid in taking in and giving out the breath of life. It is true that respiration can be carried on without such as- sistance by the nostrils only; but our daily ex- perience, and still more so an exceptionable climate, disease, or a death-laden atmosphere, convince us at once of the important services which the mouth always renders us in breath- ing. Both these purposes, however, the mouth of man fulfills only in like manner with that of all animal creation. But in man it has loftier duties assigned it, and greater ends to achieve. Free from all sensual necessity or enjoyment, it serves, in the third place, to modulate the air of heaven so as to assume the form of language and song. Thus the month becomes the beau- tiful organ through which man rules and reigns supreme upon this earth; it fashions for him, out of matter that can not be seen nor felt, the wordthat word which is master of this world, which connects man with his God on high and creation below, which holds in its marvelous mysterious power the blessing and the curse, the weal and the woe of all mankind. Nor must we, lastly, omit the sexual func- tions of the mouth; its secret power to give, by the simple touch of lip and lip, pleasures for which men are willing to sacrifice all other things earthly; to send a th ill through the body, and to raise the enraptured soul to a bliss than which this world can give none higher nor purer. It is this wonderful, four-fold duty, and the vast importance of the mouth with regard to all the inner life of man, as well as to his outward existence, which make this feature so specially expressive in our face, so strangely sug~estive to the student of the human countenance. What higher praise can we bestow upon the most in- telligent eyes than that they speak? Brow, eye, and nose, have been found to refer more to the theoretic and intellectual in man, while the mouth represents more fully and directly what is ethical in himhis character, in fact. The distinctive mark of the human head, whose roundness and symmetry depend mainly upon this one great feature, it is large and l)rominent in animals; but in man, it stands back and leaves the main power and the strongest im- pression to the upper partnot in vain placed above itthe lofty browand the bright, speak- ing eyes, the organs of the higher life in God- like man. It strikes the more careful observer at the first glance, that the fine human mouth, resting on delicate, finely-traced jaws, and displaying the symmetrically arranged teeth in a semi- circle within, is not like the mouth of animals, intended for grazing on herbs, or seizing and tearing bloody prey. It has here no menial, degrading labor to perform; it but receives the food handed up by its obedient servants, the hands, and at once shows that, besides this humble and unavoidable purpose, it possesses the higher power and fulfills the loftier duty of uttering speech. Hence the German poet, Herder, could say with justice, A well-cut, delicate mouth is perhaps the best recommend- ation in life, for us we find the portal to be, so we expect will also be the guest that steps forth from it, the Word, coming from the heart and the soul. Even its lowest and humblest part, the chin, so simple in appearance, so insignificant in comparison with other features, is here made in a manner peculiar to man, and in this, its genuine form, not met with among animals. With us, it is formed by the two arms of the lower jaw, which elsewhere separated, or, as in beetles and crawfish, lying horizontally, are in man grown together. It thus becomes, of it- self, one of the most striking characteristics of the human figure. In animals, generally, the skull is developed more lengthways, and the lower part of the head, with the mouth, pre- dominates largely. This indicates clearly the superiority of sensual necessities and enjoy- ments over the intellect, by the preponderance of the feeding apparatus over the upper parts of the head with the brain and its more immediate organs. In man the reverse takes place. Here the lower part withdraws modestly and leaves room and expression to the broad brow, the seat of intellect, with its life-sparkling eyes. The great physiognomist, Lavater, u ed therefore tQ 76 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. say, The more chin, the more man : referring, of course, to the original formation of bones and muscles, and not to the fat, which often accumu- lates there in masses. Both extremes of size, however, are, in the chin as elsewhere, equally objectionable and repugnant to our finer and often unconscious sensibilities, in precise propor- tion as they approach corresponding forms in animals. A prominent lower jaw, which always causes the upper one likewise to protrude, has invariably the effect of giving a more or less animal appearance to the human head. Hence its almost unfailing increase of size among the lower races, where it becomes a distinctive mark, and its striking effect on the head of in- dividuals. It is necessarily accompanied by an inferior development of the skull behind and above, its own substance having been obtained at the expense of these parts, thus giving an expression of deficient energy and intellectual- ity to the whole. But as a large chin always indicates greater strength and energy of life, and is therefore more frequently met with in man, so a lower jaw of too small dimensions gives a childish appearance to the head. This is very natural, though we may not all be aware of the cause, as the jaw is in children but very small, and develops itself perhaps more slowly than any other feature, the nose only excepted. Hence also the diminished size of the chin in very old men, with whom it becomes, from the loss of teeth and the shrinking of fat, once more as small as it was in early infancy, and suggests, among other sad symptoms of the kind, the coming of the second childhood. A scanty chin is never considered a favorable sign of par- ticular strength of mind, and even a deficiency of flesh and fat, allowing the bone formation to become too prominent, is apt to leave a painful impression. The exuberant chin, it is true, is said to indicate a phlegmatic, Bmotian nature, given to sensual enjoyments, and little troubled with scrupulous cares. The mentum subquadratum of the ancients is in all parts fully developed, and suggests, thus, perfection within, as it seems to be perfect without. But they disliked scanti- ness even more than exuberance; a very small chin in men they considered unnatural and a very bad omen, suggesting that its owner was false, and given to lying like serpents. With us, also, a lean and very pointed chin is consid- ered either a sign of old age, or, in youth, of a narrow character, such as we find in the miser or the bigot. It is well known that the action of the mouth rests mainly upon the movable lower jaw, the upper part having but a very limited play. But their combined power is truly enormous, thanks to certain muscles which belong to the strong- est of the human structure. The nerves of vo- lition, in their secret throne behind, send their order along the mysterious channels that lead from the spine to the forward parts, and, like the flash of lightning, seen only to vanish in an instant, the two jaws meet with a force far exceeding that of the most powerful engines. How small, how diminutive appear these mus- cles, even when laid bare by the scalpel, in com- parison with the whole size and power of the body, and yet their strength exceeds that which the whole frame, working by pressure, could ever produce. To crush a peach stone a mass of several hundred weights is required, and yet every healthy person can break it in a moment! The lips are, as we have seen, the beautiful gates through which pass both earthly material food and the word, that is and was spirit. While all other parts of our mouth are more or less exclusively instruments used for the physical life, the lips are far more important in their in- timate connection with mind and soul. Among animals, where hands and feet are encased in hoofs, single or cloven, or hid amidst thick fur and unsightly coverings, so that they serve not for the sense of touch, the lips become the al- most exclusive seat of that sense, especially when they or the nostrils are prolonged, as in the pig, the mole, and the elephant. But how inferior are they even there, with all their as- tonishing power and marvelous adaptation, in comparison with the exquisite delicacy of the lips of man? If any part of the face may be called articulate, it is surely this part of the mouth, repeating, as it does, in strange beauty, the general contrast between the upper part of the countenance, the intellectual, and the low- er, the sensual or practical features. This is seen even in the outlines; the upper lip, shaped like an arrow bent in the middle, thus repro- duces the two main lines of the eyes, their up- per arches, while the lower lip repeats the roundness of the china correspondence seen in this also, that the motions of both these feat- ures invariably go together, so that if the eye- brows are raised in joy or astonishment, the mouth also opens; if the eyes droop and are dejected, the corners of the mouth also are drawn downward, conveying at once the expres- sion of sorrow. There prevails here also, of course, a great variety of forms, and not in individuals only, but in whole races. A remarkable instance of this is shown in the difference between the Ne- gro and the Caucasian races. With the former the lips are thick, fleshy, and protruding, and indicate thus, at once, a much duller, more ma- terial nature of mind and of senses, than is sug- gested by the firmly drawn and finely cut lips of more favored nations. But even among the noblest of our kind there are differences, broad and striking, in the varied forms of the mouth. Strongly marked and fully developed lips be- long to men of strong will, endowed with abound- ing energy. Too full and too large, overfed and overhanging, they betray still more clear- ly that their main use has been to seize and convey food, and thus cause us to suspect the owner as a gourmet, or a person of great in- dolence. In dry, heartless men, where the in- tellect has been fostered and developed at the expense of the heart, they are apt to be large, but lean and drawn in, and as an exuberance THE SENSES. 77 of material indicated coarseness and gross sens- thus to the whole face a permanent expression. nality, so we seldom err if we suspect the heart Nor ought it to be forgotten that thebest judges hid behind very narrow, pale lips, to be cold, of men have ever most carefully watched the avaricious, or wicked. Where they are pecn- delicate and unconscions play of the lips, while liarly soft and beautifully shaped, they rarely the owner was speaking, and thus professed to fail to belong to a noble, perhaps slightly sens- obtain the most accnrate and reliable insight nal, but always poetical mind; and the finer into his character. and the more delicate they appear nuder such Passing through these truly eloquent gates,. favorable circumstances, the more we fancy we meet at first the formidable instruments that they are used and adapted for mans highest serve to destroy solid food, and to prepare it for prerogative, speech. Of the two lips the upper the much narrower gate through which it will decides as to the tastes and the affections of man. soon have to pass when swallowed. Here also Pride and wrath curve it, often painfully; good- nature has combined most beauteous forms with humor and love round it in pleasing outlines; highest utility. The well-rounded lines of the and on it hang, in mysterious attraction, love lips open slightly to show us behind the square and desire, the kiss imprinted, and the longing massive teeth, whose straight and perpendicular desire. Hence, also, the great attention that lines contrast not less harmoniously with the painters and sculptors give to the proper con- round lines near them, than the ruby of the lips nection of this part of the mouth with the nose. with their own immaculate whiteness. Classic beauty in Greek sculpture, and in the Where fluids only are taken as food by ani- ideal heads of Raphael, shows it to us ever short mals, teeth are utterly wanting, as in diminutive and fine, when a noble, sensitive character is to insects or gigantic fishes, like the sturgeon. In be represented. Physioguomists tell us that the birds and other insects they would make the effect is produced by thus placing the mouth head too heavy for their aerial flight, and so nearer aud closer to the regions of intellect in they have been transferred nearer to the centre the face, and it is certain that a long and gen- of gravity, and assume the shape of gizzards. erally slightly bulging upper lip is only met Among the higher animals the ant-cater is the with in coarse individuals, and in low, uncivil- only one who is entirely without them. In the ized nations. lower orders, on the other hand, they abound, The lower lip embraces and bears up the and are even found in the stomach, where the upper one like a cushion of roses, on which food is finally ground and crushed, while some rests the crown of dominion, but i~ serves al- fish, like the trout and pike, possess a marvel- ways more to receive food, and is consequently ous number and variety of teeth, now blunt and less in psychological expression. Hence a truly now sharp, aud of all possible forms and sizes. noble face must necessarily show us the upper Mastication itself is, however, here carried on lip overhanging and overruling the lowerif not in the mouth but in the funnel-like entrance the latter protrude, even but slightly, vulgarity to the gullet. It is well known that their ar- or wickedness are instantly there depicted. raugement and structure, in their wonderful Pierced by some savages to receive barbarous adaptation to food and habitation, a.re among ornaments, painted and tattooed by others, the the most striking evidences of the agency of a lips attain their highest beauty among us by Divine Will in the creation. Hence their al- their exquisite delicacy of expression. What most paramount importance in the study of the can equal the subtlety and the speaking power animal kingdom, and the certainty with which of the nervous tremor of the upper lip as occa- Cuvier could, even in his dreams, scorn the Dcv- sionally seen in highly sensitive persons? To ils threat to eat him, because cloven feet aud in- express scorn and contempt we raise the eye- cisors showed Satan unable to take animal food! brows and turn up our nose, but intense dis- With man they lie in two close parabolic gust finds its highest expression at last in the ranks, and are all on a level; the two protrud- raised lower lip. Vanity and supercilious pride, lug corner-teeth, which give so decided a char- often mere haughty ignorance, repeat the same acter to animals, as expressive signs of rude, motion, and give finally a permanent bend to physical force, are here missing, because they the lip, and with it a painful, because irritating, are not needed. The upper teeth are beauti- expression to the whole face. A similar re- fully grouped around the palate, which sepa- markable power is given to the corners of the rates the mouth from the inner cavern of the mouth where the lips meet. Drawn up or down, nose; the lower are, in like manner, arranged they alter instantaneously the expression of the around the tongue. In this, all races agree, countenance; and change perhaps, more swiftly though not in the minor details; for in some than any other feature, with each new whim of nations the two rows fall just one upon another, the ever-changing mind. They droop in the so that all the front teeth are gradually worn weary, the grieved, and the suffering; they rise away horizontally, as we observe in the skulls with cheerful hopes and heartfelt joy; hence we of the old Egyptians, the Esquimaux, and most raise them when we laugh, and let them sink of the first inhabitants of Northern Europe, when we are weeping. As one or the other whose remains have been discovered in the tendency prevails in our mind, the frequent famous giants harrows accompanied by stone repetition of either of these effects gives, here utensils. In other races the upper teeth slightly also, finally a fixed position to this feature, and project beyond the lower; here the pressure is VOL. XII.No. 67.F 78 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. better distributed, each tooth falling commonly upon two, so as to lessea the wear and tear con- siderably. Thepeculiar structure of the teeth, which was first discovered by the celebrated Leuwenhoek though he knew no Latin, and worked with a microscope consisting of drops of molten glass is calculated to excite unbounded astonishment and admiration. In the second mouth of exist- ence the double provision for teeth is observed in the head, although the second set rarely ap- pears before the eighth year, or later! The mi- croscopic researches of our own day have only re- vealed new wonders and heightened the marvel. Teeth have, of course, different forms accord- ing to the different purposes which they are made to serve. The boar and the elephant have two especially developed for defense; the narwhal has only one, to break through the thick layer of ice that covers his home in the great ocean; and the walrus employs his to de- tach the mussels, on ~vhich he feeds, from their rocky resting-places. In gnawing animals the teeth do not meet, but work as scissors do, and thus are always kept sharp, being covered only on one side with enamel. They must, however, be used, or they grow out to an unnatural length as is not rarely the case in mice and rats when they bend back again into the mouth, so that the poor creatures die ofstarvation. Man has, as we know, thirty-two, but the last appear only at an advanced age, when the jaws have, with the whole skeleton, grown sufficiently large to hold the entire number. The front teeth, or incisors, take the food, and with their fine sharp edges cut and mince it delicately; what is thus prepared next reaches the tip of the tongue, which is waiting close behind ready to receive and forward the morsel. The harder parts of the food go at once to the sides of the mouth, where the molars grind them, their mill- ing surface becoming more and more powerful as they standfarther backward. Between these two are the canine teeth, so large in carnivorous animals, which both pierce and cut their food, and submit it to the molars. Thus every new tool has its new action, and our food is carved by the front teeth, pierced by the middle, and ground down by the molar teeth, until it is re- duced to a pulp and all the nutricious juices have been set free. We consider teeth most beautiful when they are not too large, are closely set, and of a pure, but not dazzling white. Barbarous nations find pleasure and beauty in mutilating them; they file them until they assume the form of a saw; they grind them to the gum, or dye them a deep black. The ancients considered strong and close teeth a sign of great strength and bold- ness. The great master Porta, following Scot- us, considered such to be a good omen for a long life, and predicted to those with small and iso- lated teeth a short and sickly life. Experience, however, does not always confirm this opinion. Ta phthisis, where the innate imperfection of the re~piratory organs necessarily hastens the dissolution of the body, long and very white teeth are not unfrequent, while in scrofulous persons they are often imperfectly developed, and quickly destroyed without serious danger. Protected by these double gates, the rosy lips and the ivory teeth, there lies behind them the palate, covered with a thin, exqnisitly sensi- tive skin. In the rear its upper part, form- ing, as it were, the floor of the inner cavity of the nose, and its lower skin, the ceiling of the mouth, unite in the so-called soft palate. There we find one of the most marvelous structures in this wonderfully and strangely made body of ours, a delicate double curtain, held back on both sides by peculiarly powerful muscles. As we swallow, they are drawn together, by an un- conscious action and with the rapidity of light- ning, to protect the windpipe that lies open be- neath them. This is instantaneous; for as long as they are closed all within is shut off from month or ear, and we are prevented from breath- ing. Hence the movement is so wondrously rapid, that it remained unknown to anatomists until within some twenty years, when it was first discovered by Professor Dzondi. So little do we know of our own bodyso wide is the vast field yet open for research and discovery! This is, at the same time, the first of a series of actions over which man no longer exercises dominion. So far, all has been subject to his will; now, however, begins the instinctive, in- dependent part of the great process of feeding man. As long as the food is yet in our mouth, we feel it, we taste it, we handle it just as we choose. Jaws, and teeth, and tongue are all subject to our will. By touch we judge of the time when the morsel is ready for swallowing; as soon as the feast of the tongue is over, we roll it up into a tiny ball and drive it backward, aiding the movement by saliva or the fluids we may have taken. But the instant the pellet touches those mysterious curtains, it is beyond our control, and, under ordinary circumstances, becomes even lost to our consciousness. A faint impression of taste is all that lingers behind. Few steps in the great process of life are more strikingly eloquent of the beautiful, self-acting mechanism of the human body. We touch one tiny nerve or a bundle of nerves, and in a mo- ment a whole system begins silently but indus- triously to perform its various duties. A mor- sel of bread is no sooner seized by the lips than the chewing muscles begin instantly to stretch and to move; saliva gathers, we know not whence, and moistens the food; other muscles follow, each one exciting the neighbor, and the whole play of nerves is restlessly active until the morsel is changed into nutritious pulp, and distributed all over the system. Whatever, thoughts may in the mean time engage our mind, whatever impulses the ten thousand mus- cles of our body may follow, the process is faith- fully going on, and no part rests until the whole duty is well performed. Within the silent realm of the palate dwells that wondrous little member that no man can THE SENSES. 79 tame, and in whose power are death and life the Tongue. There is many a mystery yet connected with that powerful instrument, even as far as its mere physical nature may be con- cerned. It is evidently the most sensual part of the sensual regions of the mouth, hence it is carefully concealed from the observation of man, and to show it without necessity is a vul- garity above all others, and an unpardonable insult. And yet what can surpass the intensity of affection when tongue meets tongue in a long- drawn kiss? Nor is it without interest that of the four haudmaids of the senses which man has in common with animals, that is most per- fectly developed which is generally least known and appreciated. Many animals surpass us in the acuteness of other senses, but man stands supreme in the delicacy of his perception through taste. This arises probably from two sources. Among animals the skin on the surface of the tongue is often very thick and hard, evidently little adapted to perform the duties of taste; in some it is even covered with warts, changed, as in cats, iuto little hooks turned backward. Their prey and food are generally bloody, and the tongue serves less to enjoy than to aid in de- stroying the solid tissue of animal fibres. The lions tongue, when caressing the hand of a painter who had become the friend of the royal beast, took the whole skin away with it, such was the force of the small spines and hard em- inences with which it is furnished. All animals are, secondly, in their choice of food, much more guided by smell than by taste; most of them only apply their nose to the food, and instantly swallow the morsel. We learn thus that, with them, the tongue is simply a mechanical instru- ment for seizing their food; but even in this humble capacity it exhibits a fullness of forms and a variety of structures as beautiful as they are striking. The ant-lion, for instance, has it shaped in the form of a long, thin worm, which, by the aid of a sweet, odorous juice with which it is covered, attracts the tiny insects, and re- turns to the mouth laden with countless vic- tims. Our common woodpeckers have a sharp- ly-pointed tongue, which they suddenly dart out from their bill by a most violent effort, and thus transfix the unlucky insect whose dwelling they have laid open. The frog has but a soft valve grown on to the lower jaw; while the chame- leon boasts of a tongue in the shape of an elastic ribbon, rolled up like a spiral spring in a thick, cylindrical cover. This curious instrument is held back in a state of rest by most powerful sinews, but the animal can unloosen them with great rapidity, and then displays an organ longer than its whole body, and furnished at the end - with a prehensory tip, resembling the finger of the elephants trunk. The tongue of snakes is forked, and ever moving; that of crocodiles never stirs from the part of the huge mouth to which it is immutably fastened. Even here, however, the tongue of man sur- passes, in the beauty of the contrivance and the perfection of mechanism, that of all beings en- dowed alike. In its humblest merely sensual capacity, it stands like a faithful watchman at the door of entrance to the inner part of our body, to test all that goes in by taste before it goes farther on to be swallowed, where another watchmanthe ~ft palatestands guard, to measure its size, and thus its right of admission. But what has been much overlooked even by physiologists is the three-fold duty which the tongue of man has to perform, corresponding to the three distinct capacities of motion, touch, and taste, with which it has been endowed by its heavenly Maker. Its marvelous mobility fits it peculiarly for service as one of the organs of speech. Without the tongue there are sounds, but no words; hence tongue and language are synonymous. The velocity of the unruly member far surpasses that of any other mus- cular movement in animals. It is quicker than the arrow-like flight of the bird, and more en- during than the well-trained race-horse or the powerful lion. The muscles in the wing of the swiftest bird under heaven move but five or six hundred times each second; those in the tongue of man eight hundred times. The sinews of a race-horse contract about seventy times in the second, and can continue the same motion but for a short time; the little world of diminutive organs of speech connected with our tongue con- tinue their infinitely quicker and more frequent motion for hours, without fatigue or danger. The other two faculties of touch and taste are, however, more intimately connected with the sense, to which the tongue serves as organ. By the first it decides on the inequalities of the food introduced, whether it be hard or soft, sharp or mild, and on the temperature of solids and liquids. By taste proper it decides not the material, but the chemical nature of food, and hence this peculiar sensation is given only to the hindmost part of the tongue, and a por- tion of the palate is endowed with the same power. The two functions are so entirely dis- tinct, that the tongue may feel without tasting, and taste without feeling. Cruel experiments have taught us that when certain nerves are cut, a red-hot needle may be passed through the tongue without causing pain, and food may be placed on it without any effect on the adjoining nerves and muscles, because it does not feel the contact. But taste remains in full vigor, and the insensible tongue will show, and cause symp- toms of suffering when a drop of bitter quassia is suffered to fall on its surface. Trials made as to the delicacy of the sense of touch on this organ have shown it to be the most exquisitely sensitive, far surpassing that of the special or- gans of touch, the tips of the fingers. This marvelous subtlety is, moreover, combined with not less surprising strength. While it is cover- ed with a vast number of nerves coming from all parts of the face to endow it with touch and taste, it is powerfully suspended by at least three well-secured bones, and hence, although so sup. pIe and soft, endowed with uncommon mechan- ical power. Taste itself is not, as many believe, 80 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. merely an abstract notion, a vague, arbitrary, or not only of different persons, but even of the imaginary sensation, hut the result of an actual same individual at various periods of life. The absorption of food. For the tongue adds to its sense of taste is, in this respect, more subjective many strange functions that of being the first than any other, and all nations abound in prov- of the many absorbing organs which are em- erbs like the French Okacan son gozit. ployed in nutrition. Wine and other fluids, merely held over it in the month and not swal- lowed, recruit the nervous and bodily powers of the body; water retained there refreshes in like manner. The tongue thus obtains, at once, its reward for doing its duty; it enjoys and con- sumes its share of the food, and only sends on what is fit exclusively for the lower organs of digestion. For taste was evidently given to man in pro- portion to the higher development and the greater refinement of his physical structure. It has been argued that the highest and finest or- ganization must needs also be most exposed to pain and suffering, and that hence man might have hesitated to maintain his poor, earth-born body, preferring to let the heaven-horn soul es- cape to the realms from whence it came. But an all-merciful God taking pity on feeble man, and willing to aid the soul through the body, added a feeling of rdeasure, a sense of enjoy- ment to the irksome task, and blessed the eat- ing of bread in the sweat of our face. Thus the faithful performance of the duty we owe our body was secured by a new sense which derives from good, appropriate food a pleasing and exhilar- ating impression, and rapidly diffuses it through the whole system. Hence the remarkahle fact that taste, and especially its pleasures, are most lively and powerful in early years. The young citizen of this world, when as yet unconscious of the lofty purposes for which he was sent hith- er, is thus induced to build up his house on earth, and to prepare ample and proper material for the future. Later, when the temple is raised, which is holy, which we are, the perceptions of this sense become less powerful, but, on the other hand, much more refined and fastidious, as if they also had been gradually spiritualized, so that now, when the high aim of our earthly life is understood and appreciated, a finer discrim- ination of food suggests also the best and safest means for maintaining the decaying structure. As to the nature of the sensation itself, it is contended that it is neither a mechanical soft- ening of the skin, and of its countless little warts, as some have thought, nor a chemical change, hut an electric or galvanic action. A proof of this is found in the fact that not only fluids endowed with chemical powers produce this effect, but a mere contact with the insolu- ble metals, nay, the slightest galvanic current brought in contact with the tongue. Every body knows that the taste of tin is very differ- ent from that of clay, and that we need only place a piece of copper under the tongue, and a piece of tin upon it, to perceive, when the two metals meet, a decided acid taste. This extreme delicacy, and almost incomprehensible subtlety of instantaneous impressions explains also, at once, the astonishing differences in the taste, But it ought not to be forgotten, that the tongue is an organ of the sense of touch as well as of taste, and that hence the latter will in- variably be much heightened by motion. The food, thus moved about, is constantly brought in contact with new parts of the sensitive sur- face, and the sensation both multiplied and strengthened by each one of the almost count- less little tongues on the great parent tongue. This has led to an opinion that motion is in- dispensable to taste. It is certain that when the tongue is only touched, the taste produced is very faint and almost imperceptible; the mo- ment, however, that a motion is made to swal- low or the tongue moves, the taste becomes clear and decided. The tip of the tongue feels most distinctly, but tastes imperfectly; sugar and aloes, for instance, produce no impression. The end of our fingers can, with equal accuracy, distinguish whether we touch oil or water. On the other hand, we find that the sense of taste is most developed in the root of the tongue; hence connoisseurs, when trying wines, let the liquid go as far hack as can he done without swallowing. Touch is thus gradually and almost imperceptibly passing into taste; the change be- gins at the extremities of the lips, it extends in- side toward the root of the teeth, and then from the tip of the tongue to the last part of the palate. Although taste is a sense excited, like touch, by contact, it is of a vastly more refined nature, giving us a knowledge of properties of which touch knows nothing. The process itself is as marvelously subtle as it is precise. A single atom of an acid, an oil, or a salt, conveys at the instant in which it touches the delicate surface of the tongue, and especially the nerve-covered little warts upon it, a decided perception to the nerves that lie behind, and which in reality give effect to the taste. The dainty tongue absorbs and sends the fairy gifts to the aerial regions of the brain, and there causes pleasure or disgust. The degree and the variety of perceptions of taste in animals are necessarily unknown, as we have no standard by which we could judge. Even with man, we find that the savors are as numerous as the odors. What pleases us, sick- ens others. The aphrodisiacal derioa, the de- light of men and women in India, has the odor of a spoilt onion, and the Greenlander drinks the putrid oil of the whale with as much real pleasure as the son of the East his skillfully perfumed sherbets. How many elderly men prefer an advanced cheese to the fresh milk which was the delight of their young days! But our taste may be trained, like all the other senses, as is shown by the exquisite delicacy and acuteness of professional wine-tasters and tea-tasters, who distinguish the nicest shades in the flavor of different kinds of wine and tea, WINIFREDS VOW. Si and affix their relative value to each with great accuracy. A quick successioa of such experi- ments, however, blunts the sense, and after many repetitions even sweet and bitter taste alike. Anomalous tastes are daily met with, and arise mostly from disorder in the body. Certain dis- eases produce regular changes; fever gives often a sour, affections of the lungs a salty, and hem- orrhage of the lungs a sweetish taste. As most senses stand in a peculiar mutual relation to each other, so also taste and smell. Hence it is a familiar remedy against the bad odor of medicines, to prevent the nose from smelling; and hence, also, the curious fact, proved by the careful experiments of Dr. Rous- seau, that it is impossible to distinguish differ- ent kinds of wine with bandaged eyes and firmly compressed nostrils. Taste has no memory, such as smell has. How vividly does not the fragrance of a Ilower, passing on the light breeze, or a favorite per- fume, at once conjure up the images of distant friends, or the scenes of long-forgotten events! But these sudden and vivid, though rare, recol- lections excepted, our memory rests exclusive- ly upon light and hearing. Taste has as little memory as touch, because it has no nerves as- signed to its exclusive uses, but shares them only with other senses. Hence we may recollect having had a certain taste, but we can not, by any effort of recollection or fancy, conjure up and actually perceive that taste, as we can, at will, paint on the eye scenes of all lands, and hear in our ear melodies by which we have once been charmed or saddened. On the other hand, we find that taste has sympathies as strong and as active as any other sense. The whole delicate system of glands, in palate, eye, and stomach, stand in closest con- nection with the organs of taste. The latter has sensations so very disgusting, that they cause almost instantaneously nausea and vio- lent emotion. Others, again, are so pleasing, that the saliva begins to collect in abundance, and, by an as yet unexplained co-operation of the adjoining organs of smell, tears also flow in profusion. Such are only a few of the wonders of this one of the many senses with which our heaven- ly Father has endowed us; but surely enough has been said to remind us of the words of the Psalmist: I will praise Thee, for I am fear- fully and wonderfully made. WINIFREDS VOW. \ Y INIFRED JAMES sat in the autumn moonlight by the sea-shore with her friend Grace Wilson. The heavy dew had soaked through Graces thin muslin gown, so that it clung dank and close about her; her hair lay uncurled on her bosom, and her wan face looked paler and sadder than ever in the waning light of the pallid autumn moon. There were no tears in her sunken eyes looking mournfully out on the dark waves, but they were full of a deeper sorrow than is ever told or lightened by tears. Her thin hands lay listlessly in her lap, and their palms, curved inward, were burning as if on fire; her lips were drawn and hard, and the veins on her brow were blue and swollen: no hope, no joy, no energy, no life was round her; there was nothing but the dull oppression of despair, the quiet of a sorrow which can only be dissolved by death. Winifred had often tried to understand the strange mystery which of late had hung round Grace. For she had net always been the broken-hearted creature she looked to-night. But excepting a promise that she would tell her sometime, Grace used to change the sub- ject as soon as her friend approached it. How- ever, to-nigl~t she let her say what she would. Either the time fixed by herself for her con- fession had arrived, or she was conquered by the tenderness and love and quiet strength of Winifred. Suddenly taking her hand, she placed it on her waist; and, leaning forward, whispered something in her ear which made Winifred shrink and start, and cover her face with both her hands, trembling. Now you will hate me, said Grace, in a hollow voice, letting her hand fall dead in her lap. Like all the rest, when they know you too will despise and desert me. I deserve it! Never! never ! said Winifred passionately, looking up through her tears and kissing her. Never, Grace ! Nor it? said Grace. When I am dead will you take care of it I No; nor itand I will take care of it. But you will not die, Grace! You can not die, then! When you hear that little voice your soul will come back again to earth, were it at the very gates of heaven. Heaven? For me ? said Grace. No, Winifred, my birth-right on earth and my hope of heaven lie in the same grave with my honor. Do not wish me to live as I am now. Why should I? Whathave I but to support eternal shame myself, and to see all that I loveall that belong to mecast into the deep shadow of my disgrace? It were better for us all that I and it should die together. For when I am gone, who will be its mother? Poor baby! What wrong has it done to be born to an in- heritance of sorrow and infamy ? I will be its mother, Grace, said Winifred. I will love it, and care for it, all my life. If you leave itif you dieit shall never feel that it has lost its mother. While I live, it shall have one in me. You swear this, dear Winifred ? I swear it ! said the girl, soleziinly, raising her hand to heaven. Now I shall die happy, said Grace, kissing her cheek. Death has no pang for me, now that I feel I shall not leave my poor child wholly motherless. A pang? No! Death is my best friend, my only hope, truly an angel messenger from God! Oh, Winifred, how can I thank you for your goodness! You little know

WINIFREDS VOW. Si and affix their relative value to each with great accuracy. A quick successioa of such experi- ments, however, blunts the sense, and after many repetitions even sweet and bitter taste alike. Anomalous tastes are daily met with, and arise mostly from disorder in the body. Certain dis- eases produce regular changes; fever gives often a sour, affections of the lungs a salty, and hem- orrhage of the lungs a sweetish taste. As most senses stand in a peculiar mutual relation to each other, so also taste and smell. Hence it is a familiar remedy against the bad odor of medicines, to prevent the nose from smelling; and hence, also, the curious fact, proved by the careful experiments of Dr. Rous- seau, that it is impossible to distinguish differ- ent kinds of wine with bandaged eyes and firmly compressed nostrils. Taste has no memory, such as smell has. How vividly does not the fragrance of a Ilower, passing on the light breeze, or a favorite per- fume, at once conjure up the images of distant friends, or the scenes of long-forgotten events! But these sudden and vivid, though rare, recol- lections excepted, our memory rests exclusive- ly upon light and hearing. Taste has as little memory as touch, because it has no nerves as- signed to its exclusive uses, but shares them only with other senses. Hence we may recollect having had a certain taste, but we can not, by any effort of recollection or fancy, conjure up and actually perceive that taste, as we can, at will, paint on the eye scenes of all lands, and hear in our ear melodies by which we have once been charmed or saddened. On the other hand, we find that taste has sympathies as strong and as active as any other sense. The whole delicate system of glands, in palate, eye, and stomach, stand in closest con- nection with the organs of taste. The latter has sensations so very disgusting, that they cause almost instantaneously nausea and vio- lent emotion. Others, again, are so pleasing, that the saliva begins to collect in abundance, and, by an as yet unexplained co-operation of the adjoining organs of smell, tears also flow in profusion. Such are only a few of the wonders of this one of the many senses with which our heaven- ly Father has endowed us; but surely enough has been said to remind us of the words of the Psalmist: I will praise Thee, for I am fear- fully and wonderfully made. WINIFREDS VOW. \ Y INIFRED JAMES sat in the autumn moonlight by the sea-shore with her friend Grace Wilson. The heavy dew had soaked through Graces thin muslin gown, so that it clung dank and close about her; her hair lay uncurled on her bosom, and her wan face looked paler and sadder than ever in the waning light of the pallid autumn moon. There were no tears in her sunken eyes looking mournfully out on the dark waves, but they were full of a deeper sorrow than is ever told or lightened by tears. Her thin hands lay listlessly in her lap, and their palms, curved inward, were burning as if on fire; her lips were drawn and hard, and the veins on her brow were blue and swollen: no hope, no joy, no energy, no life was round her; there was nothing but the dull oppression of despair, the quiet of a sorrow which can only be dissolved by death. Winifred had often tried to understand the strange mystery which of late had hung round Grace. For she had net always been the broken-hearted creature she looked to-night. But excepting a promise that she would tell her sometime, Grace used to change the sub- ject as soon as her friend approached it. How- ever, to-nigl~t she let her say what she would. Either the time fixed by herself for her con- fession had arrived, or she was conquered by the tenderness and love and quiet strength of Winifred. Suddenly taking her hand, she placed it on her waist; and, leaning forward, whispered something in her ear which made Winifred shrink and start, and cover her face with both her hands, trembling. Now you will hate me, said Grace, in a hollow voice, letting her hand fall dead in her lap. Like all the rest, when they know you too will despise and desert me. I deserve it! Never! never ! said Winifred passionately, looking up through her tears and kissing her. Never, Grace ! Nor it? said Grace. When I am dead will you take care of it I No; nor itand I will take care of it. But you will not die, Grace! You can not die, then! When you hear that little voice your soul will come back again to earth, were it at the very gates of heaven. Heaven? For me ? said Grace. No, Winifred, my birth-right on earth and my hope of heaven lie in the same grave with my honor. Do not wish me to live as I am now. Why should I? Whathave I but to support eternal shame myself, and to see all that I loveall that belong to mecast into the deep shadow of my disgrace? It were better for us all that I and it should die together. For when I am gone, who will be its mother? Poor baby! What wrong has it done to be born to an in- heritance of sorrow and infamy ? I will be its mother, Grace, said Winifred. I will love it, and care for it, all my life. If you leave itif you dieit shall never feel that it has lost its mother. While I live, it shall have one in me. You swear this, dear Winifred ? I swear it ! said the girl, soleziinly, raising her hand to heaven. Now I shall die happy, said Grace, kissing her cheek. Death has no pang for me, now that I feel I shall not leave my poor child wholly motherless. A pang? No! Death is my best friend, my only hope, truly an angel messenger from God! Oh, Winifred, how can I thank you for your goodness! You little know 82 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. the heavy burden of sorrow I lay down, by this desolate sea-shore, to-nighta hurden unclasped hy your hands. But you will not be unrewarded. The God who punishes, recompenses; the hand which has stricken me ~vill strengthen you. Now, let us go home. I am weary, Winifred, and my heart is very full. I must go and pray not for myself; I dare not pray for myself; hut for you and this innocent unborn life, I may; and God will not refuse to hear me when I ask His blessing for you I,, Weeks passed away, and Winifred stood hy Graces dying bed. The supreme moment had come; and, as she had foretold, the hour which gave life to her child closed her ownmerci- fully for her. Winifred did not forget her vow. She took that child of sorrow, shame, and death, and carried it to her own home, as tenderly as if its birth had been the well-spring of a nations joy. Her mother, a kind, good, weak woman, sanctioned the unusual position she adopted; at least, by silence. She did not condemn, if she did not commend, but let things take their own course. She only lifted up her hands and eyes, saying, Grace Wilson, whod have thought it ! and so the sad story passed without further comment. But in time there were not wanting many who ridiculed the idea of such devotion, and who hinted plainly that little Mary was nearer to Winifred than a mere adopted child. It was all very well, they said, for Mrs. James to be so complaisant, and Winifred so generous, hut they had better reasons than a romantic morality between them. Depend upon it, when folks gave themselves out for better than the rest of the world, they were sure to be a precious deal worse. Grace Wilson was dead, and queer things were said of her; but who knew whether they were true or not? And wasnt Miss Win- ifred away out of sight for a long time, too? So the cloud darkening the tomb of poor Grace fell over Winifred as well; and the fatal truth that no wrong is finite, but that the influence of evil spreads and multiplies forever, rested like a blight on the young foster-mother and her child. It was striking the change which this adop- tion worked in Winifred. No, not change, so much as development. Always a girl of deep feelings and an earnest nature, the terrible story of one who had been like her own sister, her mournful death, and now this adoption of her child, brought out all that was most serious in her character, and subdued whatever girlishness she might have had. But this change in her only made her character more beautiful. Al- ways good, she was now admirable; always conscientious, she was now heroic. And how she loved that little one! It was a dear little baby, too, lovable for it- self, if for nothing else more touching. It was one of those round, fat, curly things, that laugh, and cry, and kick up, and crow all day longa thing of unrest and appetite, forever fighting ~vith its fat, foolish arms, and senseless hands doubled into rosy balls, striking wide, and hit- ting its own eyes or nose in the spasmodic way of babyhood; when it wanted to suck that doub- led fist, making insane attempts before it could reach its rosy, ~vet, wide-open mouth, and gen- erally obliged to take both hands before it could accomplish that first feat of infancy; a restless, passionate, insatiable baby, that had strong no- tions of its own importance, and required at least one slave in perpetual attendance; an un- reasonable baby; a willful baby; but a baby after a womans own heart. So to this little life Winifred devoted herself, never heeding the cold looks and slighting words of the world with- out, and never thinking that a day might come when any other love could step in between her child and herself. Louis Blake was Winifreds great friend. They were like brother and sister, and insep- arabIc. Louis was exactly Winifreds own age five-and-twenty; the little Mary about three years old now. It was circumstance and op- portunity that made them such fast allies; for by nature they had not many points of sympa- thy together. Louis was a brave, energetic, ht~norable man, but essentially a man of the worldambitious, clever, and eminently unro- mantic. That in him which pleased Winifred was his manliness. Tall, handsome, powerful, and practical, he was the ideal of masculine strength; while the materialism and worldly pride which marred his character were not brought out in the circumstances of a quiet country life. The only side now seen was his undeniable common sense and personal dignity; and these were graces, not defects, in their pres- ent proportion. They were together a great deal, walking, riding, sitting by the same dark sea which had home away poor Graces tears; reading togeth- er, thinking, talking, studying; until at last the conditions of their daily lives grew so closely interlaced, that neither thought it possible to separate them. Winifred had thought so little at any time about love, that it never occurred to her to ask herself whether this were love or friendship; and Louis knew too ~vell how large his own ambition was, and how it filled his heart, to dream it possible he could give place to nay other passion. So they went on in the old sweet way of descent, and believed they were standing on the high plain above. But Louis began to think more of Winifred than he liked to acknowledge to himself; and he began to think, too, how he could arrange his life if he married her. If this should ever be, he thought the first thing he would do would be to send little Mary to the Foundling Hos- pital, or put her out to nurse, and afterward to school. At any rate he would have her taken from Winifred. Louis thought this the best thing for the girl herself; and as for Marys happiness, she must take the consequences of her painful position. Her birth was na acci- dent, certainly, and it seemed hard to punish her for it; but the birth of a royal duke was an accident too, and yet he got the benefit of it. WINIFREDS VOW. 83 So Louis reasoned, smoking his cigar in the evening, and believing that he reasoned judi- ciously and well. Things went on in the same way for many months, until at last a letter came, demanding the immediate presence of the young student in London, on matters of great consequence con- nected with his future career. Louis was pleased at the prospect of immediate employment; it was the first round of the great ladder won, and was the hest practical news he could hear. But he was more than grieved to leave Winifred and Sonth Shore. He had solved the problem, and found that love and ambition could exist togeth- er. His next lesson would be on their propor- tions. Winifred, he said, I have bad news for usthough good for me too. What is it, Louis ? said the girl, looking up from the ground where she was sitting, play- ing with the little Mary. Leave that child to herself for a moment, if you can, he said, almost pettishly, and come with me into the garden. Winifred gathered up her black hair, which had fallen below her waist, and, sending Mary to her nurse, went out with her friend. They walked some time in silence; Louis pale and agitated, his arms crossed, and biting his fore- finger. What is the matter, dear Louis ? said Win- ifred at last, laying her hand on his shoulder as a sister might have done. You are so pale andwhy, Louis, you are trembling! Oh! what has happened to you ? I am grieved, Winny, he said, affection- ately, taking her hand from his shoulder to hold it between his own. I did not think I should have felt it so much. Felt what, Louis 2 Leaving South Shore. Leaving us? Oh! are you going to leave us ! cried poor Winifred, bursting into tears. What shall I do without you, Louismy friendmy brothermy own dear Louis 1 And are you so sorry, Winifred 2 said Louis, in a low voice, holding her tenderly pressed to his heart. How can you ask, Louis! What will be my life without you? I can not even imagine it without you to share it! Louis! Louis! what shall I do when you have left me 2 Winifredand Louis trembled, so that he could scarcely speak do you then really love me; love me as my wife should ? The girl started back; she flung off his hands, and looked at him with a wild, frightened look. Her color went and came; her heart throbbed violently; her eyes were dim, and she could scarcely see. At first she was about to deny, and then to leave himto rush from him to the end of the earth, if that were possible; and then these two impulses passed, and something broke and something rose within her. She went hack to her old place, threw her arms round his neck, and, sobbing on his shoulder, said, Oh, Louis, I believe this is love There was no time then for explanations. Louis could make no conditions, Winifred op- pose no conflicting duties. The dream must go on for a short time; and, though the pain of separation mingled with the first joy of their love, yet this could well be borne when helped out with such divine stimulant. Months passed before Louis even spoke of return, and months again before he could exe- cute his wish. In all, it was between two and three years before they met again. In the mean time he had been in the heart of the worldin the midst of London lifestruggling, fighting, conquering, so far; but in the struggle his ambition and all his worldly passions were roused and excited. He had been, too, with conventional people; and had got more than ever of that conventional honor and morality which are the farthest possible removed from truth. His object in life was successby all fair means, and honorable. And though he would not have sacrificed love entirely, yet that love must be as compatible and as helpful as might be to the future he had marked out for himself. To Winifred herself there was no kind of objection. She had fortune; she was of good family; and her reputation, even through the undeserved reproaches sought to be cast on it, was yet grand and noble. But his objection was to the child. So long as Mary was with Winifred, she was no wife for him. For so long as she kept the little one by her side, and gave her her name, there would be still the scandal and the sneer; and his wife must be not only pure before God, but blameless before men. No; she must choose between her love for him and the little one. They could not exist together. This was the feeling, then, that Louis brought with him to South Shore, when he returned, after more than two years absence, to arrange for their wedding. And these were the reflec- tions with which he overwhelmed Winifred in the first days of his arrival. You are not serious, Louis? she said, turn- ing pale. Never more serious in my life! My dear girl, we must have a little common sense in this world! We can not always act solely on impulse against our best interests. But dishonor and perjury can never be our interest, Louis, said Winifred. Not to speak of their intrinsic wrong, they are even bad step- ping-stones to fortune. Dishonor and perjury are herd words, Win- ifred. But true ones, dear. That may be. But, dishonor or not, said Louis, rather angrily, it must be done. Once, now and forever, I distinctly refuse to sanction this absurd adoption of yours; nor do I recog- nize your duty or your right in maintaining it. Let the child be sent to school. I do not wish her to go to the workhouse, or to come to harm; 54 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. but I wish absolutely that my house shall be free of her, and your name dissociated from her. Dont say that, Louis, said Winifred, trem- bling. Do not say that I am to desert my child, for that means I am to lose you. I could not break my vow, Louis, though I might break my heart. Folly! The heated fancy of an enthusi- astic girl! Is this to be put in competition with my love, Winifred ? Oh, Louis, nothing in the world can be put in competition with that, cried Winifred, but duty! A mere play on words. Your duty is to me. And to the helpless and the dead, said Winifred, softly. Then you dont love me, Winifred ? More than my life, Louis, cried Winifred, passionately. But not more than this senseless child ? Not more than my honor, my duty, and my vow, she said, weeping. Let us talk no more of it, said Louis, ris- ing. I leave your fate, and mine too, in your hands. Think well before you decide; and re- member, that you have to choose between a superstitious literalism or my love, my happi- ness, and my life. And he left the room, sternly. This was the first of a long series of conversa- tions, all in the same tone, and all on the same point; Louis becoming angry, and Winifred sor- rowful; but both firm, and with each discussion less than ever disposed to give way. At last Louis, one day, more passionately than usual, even swore he would not marry any woman in the world who refused the condition he had made; and Winifred said firmly, she would not buy either her own happiness or his by deser- tion and treachery. So Louis went to London, and the day after wrote, so that Winifred could only reply by releasing him from his engage- ment. This release he accepted with ardent sorroW, but yet with decision; feeling that he had now given up all chance of peaceful hap- piness, and that he must make his life out of amhition. So the lives which should have been united forever, became not only separate and distinct, but estranged. But though Louis went hack to the world and to the strife lie loved, he was not happy; for he was not at peace with himself. Even now, while he still hoped all things from ambition, and while flushed with the passion and the eagerness of the combat, he had mis- givingsindistinct and infrequent, but not the less real; while Winifred sank into a silent sorrowful, prematurely aged woman, whose only joy was in the love which had cost her all her happiness. Without Mary, she would probably have died in the first years of her widowhood for it was a true widowhood for her, so friend- less as she was. But the strength which had enabled her to make the sacrifice enabled her to support it; and the love which had demand- ed it rewarded her. Winifreds mother died not long after this, and Winifred left South Shore with the child. They went into Devonshire, where they took a house in the most beautiful part of the county, and where they lived peaceful and retired Marys education the occupation of Winifreds life. Bearing the same name, Mary passed there for Winifreds niece, and even the moth- erly way in which she spoke to her, and Marys calling her Mamma Winny, did not bring suspicion on them; for, as people said, if there had been any thing to conceal, why did they not conceal it? And why did they come as stran- gers to a place advertising themselves as un- worthy of notice, when they might so easily have avoided all suspicion? So that Winifred found her life pass more easily here than even in her old house; and gradually her spirits gained, if not joyousness, at least peace. Mary was now a beautiful girl of about eight- een or nineteena noble, animated creature, all life and love, and enthusiasm, and innocence. Just, free-spirited, with bright eyes and bright hair, a bright, quick color, and a voice that was like a silver bell; seeing all things through the clear air of her own hope and love, making a very sunshine round her path, and wherever she went taking joy and smiles with her; the true ideal of a glad-hearted girl. This was the de- velopment of that turbulent baby kicking in cradle nineteen years ago. She seemed to have robbed Winifred of all her life, so exuberant was her own, so pale and depreciated her poor foster~nrothers. All Winifreds beauty had gone with her youth. Her black hair had grown thin and gray, her laughing eyes were dim; her lips had lost their tint, her cheeks were pale and hollow; not a trace of any possible beauty in the past was left on her face; and no one who saw her for the first time would believe that as a young girl she had been even more than ordi- narily pretty. But it had been a beauty merely of youth, passing with the bright skin and the happy smile of youth, and leaving the ill-formed features, with all their want of regularity, ex- aggerated and unsoftened. In the midst of his ambition Louis Blake still remembered Winifred. She was the only woman he had ever loved, and as time gave its romance to the past, it seemed as if he had loved her even more ardently than was true. He had gained all he had striven for in life; he was rich and powerful, and his highest flights of ambition were realized. But his heart was empty; his home was solitary. He blamed himself for the part he had acted; and, secure of his position now, thought he had been even unwise in not associating Winifred and all her life with him. He would have been strong enough to have borne them up the ladder with him, and she would have lived down the petty calumny that endeavored to destroy her beauti- ful action. For it was beautiful; yes, he recog- nized that now. Full of these thoughts, and just at the age when the man who has been am- bitious in his youth wishes to be domestic in his WINIFREDS VOW. 85 maturity, he in ade inquiries about Winifred at her old home; and learning her address there, he set off suddenly to Devonshire, to renew his acquaintanceperhaps his love, who knows ? with his former friend andfienc6e. But Louis made one fatal mistake. He did not realize the years that had passed since he parted with Winifred. It was always the same Winifred whom he left sitting on the ground, playing with a baby girlher black hair falling far be- low her waist, and her dark eyes bright and clearwhom he expected to find again. All the world told himand he knew without van- ity, that it was truethat time had been his friend. His curly chestnut hair, a little worn about the temples, had not a silver line in it; his bearing was more manly, and his figure bet- ter developed than when Winifred saw him lust; success had given him a certain commanding manner which might easily pass for majesty; and constant intercourse with the world a pro- found insight into human nature. He was eminently one of the present generationone of the men whose mind and character influence their whole circle. Handsome, noble, and ca- pable, he was a very king and hero to the minds of most women; against whom not the most beautiful youth in the world, were he Apollo himself, would have had a chance of success; and who, like a veritable monarch, might have chosen his queen wheresoever he listed. And he thought that time, which had so beautified him, would have done the same for Winifred. It would be a matured, ennobled, glorified wo- man that he should meet, but still the same that he had left; it would be the nymph be- come the goddess. And thinking, hoping, be- lieving this, it was with all the fervor of his old affection that he knocked at the door of the cottage where they had told him Miss James lived. A beautiful girl came hurriedly and rather noisily into the room, almost as soon as he had entered. She did not know of his visit, and a deep blush broke over her brilliant face. Louis forgot all about baby Mary, and never remem- bered the possibility of this glorious creature being the butterfly from that cradled chrysalis; he only said to himself, that dear Winifred had just as much sweetness as ever, and as little vanity, else she never would have dared the pres- ence of such a beautiful girl as this. He asked for her, however, smiling; and Mary went out of the room to call her, glad enough to get away. Winifred came down almost immediately, bringing Mary with her. When she saw Louis, she stood for a momentstupefied, as if she had seen a ghost from the grave before her; then uttering a low cry, she staggered, turned deadly pale, and holding out her withered hands to- ward him, cried, Louis! Louis ! and My love ! and then fell fainting to the ground. In her fainting the last chance of illusion vanished. Oh! why had he come? Why had he not been content to live on the pleasant ro- mance of memory and faith? Winifreds faintness soon passed; and with it her weakness. When she recovered she held out her hand, smiling; saying, in a firm tone, It was such a surprise to see you, Louis, that I was overcome. And then she began to talk of former days with as calni a countenance as if they had parted but last week, and had never met in love. She thus put them both into a true position, which they had nearly lost, and left the future unembarrassed by any fetters of the past. Louis could not but love the woman s delicacy and tact, and saying to himself, I shall soon get accustomed to the loss of her beauty, believed that he would love her as of old, and that all would go smoothly and happily for them both. He was glad now that he had come. After all, what did a little prettiness signify? Winifred was just as good as, perhaps even bet- ter than, she used to be; and what did it mat- ter if she were less beautiful? Louis was philo- sophicalas men are when they deceive them- selves. He remained in Devonshire for nearly a month, and at the end of that time began to grow perplexed and confused in his mind. In the first days he had made Winifred understand that he loved her still; he had told her why he had come to Devonshire; he had spoken much of the softening and beautiful influence that her memory had been to him all his life, and of how he had hoped and trusted in the future; he had called back all her former love to him, and had awakened her sleeping hopes; he had poured fresh life into her hearthe had given her back her youth. He had spoken of her to herself as a being to be worshiped for goodness, and, in speaking thus, had pressed a kiss on her with- ered cheek; and, when he had done all this, and had compromised his honor as well as his compassion, he found out that she was old and faded; that she was a mother, not a wife; that, considering her age, love-passages between them were ridiculous. If she had been Mary now! Mary was much struck with Louis Blake. His grand kind of bearing, his position, the dazzling qualities of his mind, all filled her with admiration so intense, that it was almost wor- ship. But worship tinged with awe. And, thusshe changed too. Her frank and child- ish manners became fitful and reserved; her causeless tears, her wild excitement, her pas- sionate manner to Winifred, embracing her often and eagerly, as she used when as a child she wanted her forgiveness for an unconfessed, but silently recognized fault; her bashfulness when Louis spoke to her; her restless wretch- edness when he passed her in silence; her eager watching for his eye and smile, and her blushes when she was rewarded; all gave the key to Winifred, so far as she was concerned; though as yet she did not know that this key opened another heart as well. But she began to feel a change, gradual, and perceptible, and sure, in Louis. He grew cold in his manner to her, and sometimes irritable; he avoided her when she was alone, and he spoke no more of the past; 86 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. he was constrained, he was harshhe no lon- ger loved her, and this was what he was teach- iflg her. His manner to Mary was as fitful as her own. Now tender and fatherly, now hard and cruel; sometimes so absorbed ia watching her, or talking with her, that he forgot all the world beside, and sometimes seeming to forget her and her very existence in the room. Winifred saw it all. She was the first to give the true name to this perplexity, and factitious attempts to reconcile impossible feelings; and when once enlightened she accepted her position with dig- nity and grandeur. There was no middle way. Louis no longer even fancied that he loved her, and she could not hold him to the promise made when under the illusion of that fancy. She must again judge between duty and self, and again ascend to the altar of sacrifice. He loved her child; and Maryand Winifred wept as she said it low in her own chamber, kneeling hy her bed, half-sobbing and half-prayingMary loved him. Yes, the child she had cared for as her own, and for whom she would have given her life, now demanded more than her life. And she should have it. It was in the gray evening when Winifred went down stairs, passing through the low French windows of the drawing-room, and on to the lawn, where Louis and Mary were stand- ing near the cistus-tree. But not speaking. A word too tender, a look too true, had just pass- ed between them, and Louis was still struggling with the impulse which bid him say all, look all, and leave the issue to fate. Mary was trem- bling, tears in her eyes, and a strange feeling of disappointment stealing over her; though she could not have said why, for she did not know what she had expected. Winifred walked gen- tly over the grass, and was by their side before they knew that she had left the house. Mary gave a heavy sob, and flung herself on her neck, saying, Darling Winny! How glad I am you have come 1 Louis turned away, painfully agitated. Why do you turn from me, Louis ? said Winifred. Are you afraid of your friend? Do you fear that you can not trust her love ? What do you mean, Winifred ? said poor Louis, passionately. For Gods sake, no enig- mas! Oh, forgive me, dearest friend, I am harsh and hard to you; but I am madmad ! Poor suffering heart, that suffers because of its unbelief, said Winifred tenderly; and taking his hand she placed it in Marys. Clasp- ing them both between her own, See, dear Louis, she said, the tears falling gently over her furrowed cheeks, my hand is no barrier between you and your love. Rather a tie the more. Love each other, dear ones, if therein lies your happiness! For me, mine rests with you, in your joy and your virtue. And when, in the future, you think of Winifred, my Mary will remember the foster-mother who loved her beyond her own life, and Louis will say he once knew one who kept her vow to the last. A BASKET OF THUNDER-BOLTS. WHEN it was ascertained that the orbit of Bielas comet intersects that of the earth, a few very worthy persons prepared for the de- struction of the world by a collision between the two. It was shown that if the earths progress had been hastened, or the comet delayed one month, in the year 1832, the shock would have been inevitable; and though the earth is a mod- el of punctuality, comets, as is well known, are subject to a variety of disturbing causes which might seemingly retard or accelerate their ve- locity. Tradition depicted comets as agents of mischief or messengers of evil. Antiquity viewed them as awful manifestations of the Divine dis- pleasure, and portents of disaster to man. Louis the First of France was so terrified by the com- et of 837, which approached within 2,000,000 miles of the earth, that he emptied his treasury to build churches and convents. Armies have been smitten with panic at the sight of a comet, and cunning demagogues have turned their ap- parition to excellent account. Even so late as a couple of centuries ago, signs in the heaven comets with fiery streaming hairwere re- garded by the pious people of New England as symptoms of the Divine wrath, which it was proper to appease by a revival of the austerities of Puritan discipline. In the wake of such goodly. examples, men of imaginative minds quaked as they watched for the return of Bielas comet. If philosophers had ceased to see fiery horsemen in the heavens waving two-edged swordsif Congress legislated none the more strictly because stars had fallen or auroras gleamedif the world called them superstitions because they set their house in order and pre- pared for eternitywere not these evidences of blindness and obstinacy plainly foretold? Science, meanwhile, pursuing its steady path, unrolls the map of the heavens, and, while it strips many a dreaded apparition of its hor- rors, discovers in the wondrous space above new beauties, it is true, but likewise new causes for apprehension and affright. Eight millions of comets, according to Arago, may revolve with- in our system; six hundred have been actually observed. More than one of these cross the earths orbit in their usual journey through space; others, we know, are liable to be dis- turbed by the attraction of the larger planets and each other; and thus, in the language of Humboldt, from being apparently harmless, have been rendered dangerous bodies. Was there not once a planet between Mars and Ju- piter, and what mighty force shattered it into asteroids? Was it a collision with the solid nucleus of some other cosmical bodya huge comet? Did a day dawn for the inhabitants of that orb in the which the heavens passed away with a great noise, and the elements melt- ed with fervent heat, their earth also and the works which were therein were burned up ? Fifty persons, in round numbers, are killed every year in the United States by lightning. In the single month of July, 1854, thirty-seven

86 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. he was constrained, he was harshhe no lon- ger loved her, and this was what he was teach- iflg her. His manner to Mary was as fitful as her own. Now tender and fatherly, now hard and cruel; sometimes so absorbed ia watching her, or talking with her, that he forgot all the world beside, and sometimes seeming to forget her and her very existence in the room. Winifred saw it all. She was the first to give the true name to this perplexity, and factitious attempts to reconcile impossible feelings; and when once enlightened she accepted her position with dig- nity and grandeur. There was no middle way. Louis no longer even fancied that he loved her, and she could not hold him to the promise made when under the illusion of that fancy. She must again judge between duty and self, and again ascend to the altar of sacrifice. He loved her child; and Maryand Winifred wept as she said it low in her own chamber, kneeling hy her bed, half-sobbing and half-prayingMary loved him. Yes, the child she had cared for as her own, and for whom she would have given her life, now demanded more than her life. And she should have it. It was in the gray evening when Winifred went down stairs, passing through the low French windows of the drawing-room, and on to the lawn, where Louis and Mary were stand- ing near the cistus-tree. But not speaking. A word too tender, a look too true, had just pass- ed between them, and Louis was still struggling with the impulse which bid him say all, look all, and leave the issue to fate. Mary was trem- bling, tears in her eyes, and a strange feeling of disappointment stealing over her; though she could not have said why, for she did not know what she had expected. Winifred walked gen- tly over the grass, and was by their side before they knew that she had left the house. Mary gave a heavy sob, and flung herself on her neck, saying, Darling Winny! How glad I am you have come 1 Louis turned away, painfully agitated. Why do you turn from me, Louis ? said Winifred. Are you afraid of your friend? Do you fear that you can not trust her love ? What do you mean, Winifred ? said poor Louis, passionately. For Gods sake, no enig- mas! Oh, forgive me, dearest friend, I am harsh and hard to you; but I am madmad ! Poor suffering heart, that suffers because of its unbelief, said Winifred tenderly; and taking his hand she placed it in Marys. Clasp- ing them both between her own, See, dear Louis, she said, the tears falling gently over her furrowed cheeks, my hand is no barrier between you and your love. Rather a tie the more. Love each other, dear ones, if therein lies your happiness! For me, mine rests with you, in your joy and your virtue. And when, in the future, you think of Winifred, my Mary will remember the foster-mother who loved her beyond her own life, and Louis will say he once knew one who kept her vow to the last. A BASKET OF THUNDER-BOLTS. WHEN it was ascertained that the orbit of Bielas comet intersects that of the earth, a few very worthy persons prepared for the de- struction of the world by a collision between the two. It was shown that if the earths progress had been hastened, or the comet delayed one month, in the year 1832, the shock would have been inevitable; and though the earth is a mod- el of punctuality, comets, as is well known, are subject to a variety of disturbing causes which might seemingly retard or accelerate their ve- locity. Tradition depicted comets as agents of mischief or messengers of evil. Antiquity viewed them as awful manifestations of the Divine dis- pleasure, and portents of disaster to man. Louis the First of France was so terrified by the com- et of 837, which approached within 2,000,000 miles of the earth, that he emptied his treasury to build churches and convents. Armies have been smitten with panic at the sight of a comet, and cunning demagogues have turned their ap- parition to excellent account. Even so late as a couple of centuries ago, signs in the heaven comets with fiery streaming hairwere re- garded by the pious people of New England as symptoms of the Divine wrath, which it was proper to appease by a revival of the austerities of Puritan discipline. In the wake of such goodly. examples, men of imaginative minds quaked as they watched for the return of Bielas comet. If philosophers had ceased to see fiery horsemen in the heavens waving two-edged swordsif Congress legislated none the more strictly because stars had fallen or auroras gleamedif the world called them superstitions because they set their house in order and pre- pared for eternitywere not these evidences of blindness and obstinacy plainly foretold? Science, meanwhile, pursuing its steady path, unrolls the map of the heavens, and, while it strips many a dreaded apparition of its hor- rors, discovers in the wondrous space above new beauties, it is true, but likewise new causes for apprehension and affright. Eight millions of comets, according to Arago, may revolve with- in our system; six hundred have been actually observed. More than one of these cross the earths orbit in their usual journey through space; others, we know, are liable to be dis- turbed by the attraction of the larger planets and each other; and thus, in the language of Humboldt, from being apparently harmless, have been rendered dangerous bodies. Was there not once a planet between Mars and Ju- piter, and what mighty force shattered it into asteroids? Was it a collision with the solid nucleus of some other cosmical bodya huge comet? Did a day dawn for the inhabitants of that orb in the which the heavens passed away with a great noise, and the elements melt- ed with fervent heat, their earth also and the works which were therein were burned up ? Fifty persons, in round numbers, are killed every year in the United States by lightning. In the single month of July, 1854, thirty-seven A BASKET OF THUNDER-BOLTS. 87 persons were struck dead within the limits of the Atlantic States. Ancient mythology con- tained nothing so terrifying as these colorless statistics. The ancients dreaded Joves thun- der-bolt; hut their awe was mingled with a de- votional sentiment which could not have heen devoid of a certain sense of pleasure. The pastoral Etruscan rejoiced when the lightning played harmlessly over the horizon, for he knew that his prayers had heen heard. Even when it flashed overhead, and perhaps clove some tall tree to the earth, he was not dismayed; his religion told him that the gods had assembled, and that a decree of the divine council had gone forth to authorize Jupiter to launch his bolts. He howed his head, ahandoned the en- terprise on which he was engaged, and cheer- fully sacrificed a bullock. It was a happy day in the Greek camp when Calehas saw the light- ning illuminate the heavens on his right hand, and fearlessly did the heroes go down to battle. Nor was all hope lost when the divin.e token lit up the skies on the left. It meant that more altars must~ be erected, and inexorable justice meted out to the guilty: the gods were irritated, but their wrath was not unappeasable. There is no terror in the soul of Job when he pro- claims that God made a decree for the rain, and a way for the lightning of the thunder. Faded was the prestige of the Olympic gods when the Athenians began to treat lightning as a terrestrial phenomenon. Fled was their poetic fancy when they could stand at their doors in a thunder-storm, and fill the air with hissing sounds, in the foolish belief that the flashing fire would be thus averted. And where were the augurs, when the Roman knights encased their bodies in stout seal-skins, which, according to the science of the Augustan age, the light- ning could not perforate? When the gods fell, all was foolishness until Franklin came. Au- gustuslike the modern Emperors of Japan fled into a deep cellar at the first rumbling of the thunder, and bewailed himself that he could not, so frail was his constitution, drown his fears with his courtiers in draughts of Falernian or Cucuban. Cowardice, conspiring with ignor- ance, has ascribed to fifty different substances and agencies the power of averting lightning- strokes. Feathers were long believed to be an infallible protection. Even in our day, timid girls creep into bed and draw the pillow over their faces when the thunder roars; though it is well known that several persons have been killed in bed, and that in one case at leastin New York, on the 1st of August, 1854lightning has set fire to a mattress without visible flash or audi- ble thunder. A whole host of trees have been honored as lightning-proof. Tiberius, conscience smitten at the approach of a storm, would crown his brow with a wreath of laurel. The Chinese flock for shelter to the mulberry-tree. Colu- mella believed that a large vine growing over a house afforded complete security, and not with- out some shadow of reason. The peasants of the time of Charlemagne found that tall poles erected in their fields near their house afforded protection; but the pole was of no use unless it was crowned with a magic scroll. Sailors have believed from time immemorial that frequent discharges of cannon prevent or dissipate thun- der-storms. It happens that some of the heav- iest cannonades rememberedsuch asthe bom- bardment of Rio Janeiro, by the French, in 1711, and the bombardment of Sebastopol, by the Allies, last Septemberwere immediately followed by lightning, thunder, and rain. The ringing of church bells was long regarded as a specific against lightning. Wyncken de Worde, an old English writer, says: The evil spirytes that hen in the region of th nyre doubte moche when they here the belles ringen; and this is the cause why the belles ringen when it thou- dreth, and when grete tempeste and rages of wether happen, to the end that the feinds and wycked spirytes should hen abashed and flee, and cease of the movynge of tempeste. In France, when the priests blessed a new set of church bells they prayed :. Whenever they ring, may they drive far off the malign influences of evil spirits, whirlwinds, thunder-bolts, and the devastations which they cause, the calamities of hurricanes and tempests ! And the pious peasantry, at the first approach of a storm, would bid the ringer tug at the bell-rope till the very thunder could hardly make itself heard. The Academy of Sciences denounced the practice, and a church has now and then been struck by lightning while the bell was pealing its loudest~ but still, in parts of Brittany, when dark clouds gather, and swal- lows groundward fly, the traveler is startled by the solemn tolling of the parish bell, which sounds like a mournful appeal to Providence for mercy. Curious to see how generation after genera- tion will run its nose against an important dis- covery, walk round it, perhaps pick it up and throw it down again, never dreaming of its value till the right man comes and appropriates it. A trifle over a century has elapsed since Frank- lin gave to the world the lightning-rod, and we honor him as its inventor. Yet Columellas vine was nothing but a conductor, if a bad one; and the poles, with mystic inscriptions, which the French peasants used to set up in the fields, what were they but lightning-rods? Even these were more distant approaches to the discovery than the Temple at Jerusalem, which was pro- vided with as complete an apparatus of con- ductors as could be constructed to-day. The roof which was overlaid with gold, bristled with gilt iron lances, and metallic pipes led from it to large cisterns in the court, in which the rain was collected. The object of the Israelites in erecting the lances was to prevent birds from settling on their holy edifice; but they served so admirably the purpose of lightning-rods that, in a country where thunder-storms were com- mon and violent, the temple stood a thousand years without being struck once. Of late years Franklins conductor has had to stand some criticism. There are builders 88 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. who deny its efficacy. Some people fancy it attracts the lightning. It is well to know, when these opinions are afloat, that the late Monsieur Arago considered it an infallible protector against lightning, and even went so far as to state that the modern improvements which have been made in its form, etc., have rather injured than improved the original conductor as devised by Franklin. It fell to his duty to examine and report upon several buildings among others, a Government powder-magazine which, though provided with conductors, had notwithstanding been struck hy lightning. In every one of these cases he traced the accident to defects in the construction of the conductor. As Monsieur Arago was in his lifetime the high- est authority on questions of meteorology, his opinion is entitled to weight. Indeed, until it is shown to he at variance with indisputahle facts, it is quite safe to abide by it without ref- erence to other scientific theories. Considering that fifty persons at least are killed annually hy lightning in the United States, sixty-nine in France, and twenty-two in England, it is strange that no one has ever devised a conductor to he carried on the per- son. Franklin certainly did hint that it was rather advantageous than otherwise to he drench- ed during a storm. But hy this he intended merely to deny the popular fallacy that a wet skin increased the danger. A moist coat and breeches might act as a conductor; hut few peo- ple would he willing to use them as such with- out a trifle more isolation from the epiderm is. Monsieur Arago threw out a few sugges- tions on the subject. A crowd, he considered, was more likely to he struck in a storm than an individual, hecause perspiration and respiration create an ascending column of vapor which is a hetter conductor than the surrounding air. It has long heen known that lightning invariahly makes for elevated points: hence the two most dangerous situations for an individual to occupy during a storm are, first, the close neighhorhood of a tree, church steeple, or other similar ob- ject; and, secondly, the centre of a level plain. Winthrop whose advice is still excellent recommends persons caught in the fields hy a storm to station themselves hetween two tall trees, at a distance of some twenty feet from each. It has heen imagined that running increases the danger, because, according to Arago, a body passing rapidly through space leaves a partial vacuum, which is a hetter con- ductor than the air. But as railway trains are hardly ever struck, it may be taken for granted that this maxim has more theoretical than prac- tical value. A few years ago, it used to be considered very dangerous to carry pieces of metal, such as keys or penknife in the pocket, or even to wear rings or bracelets during a thunder-storm. Latterly this apprehension has lost ground. Some very curious facts are, however, cited in its support. A flash of lightning struck a group of persons in the prison of Biberach, in Swabia; it killed one only, the chief of a famous hand of robbers, who was chained by the waist. A lady put her hand out of a window to close it; a flash of lightning melted a bracelet she wore, injuring her arm but slightly. Another lady a friend of the traveler Brydonewas caught in a thunder-storm, and her hat, the frame of which was of thin metallic wire, was burnt to ashes without injuring her head. It is perhaps safe to consider these as exceptional cases. At all events, when we rememher how much iron and metal surrounds us on every side, we shall hardly expect that a hunch of keys or a brace- let can exercise much attraction as a conductor. Avoid fire-places, said Franklin; sit in the middle of the room, unless a chandelier hang there; avoid metallic substances, and surround yourself rather with glass, feathers, silk. But does any one believe that a thunder-storm would have driven the philosopher from his printers case, if it had been of moment that he should stay there? After all, as we must die, what objection can there be to the speediest, perhaps to the least painful form of death? There is no trace of agony in the face of a lightning-struck corpse. A black speck or two where the fluid entered, another where it found an exit, and perhaps a dark line or furrow marking its path, are all the evidence of the catastrophe. It has hap- pened that lightning has crushed the bones of its victim as though a celestial giant had felled him with a monstrous club. But on the other hand, men have been found dead ~vithout ex- ternal sign of injury, and lightning has only been suspected of the murder when pieces of metal found on the body were perceived to be magnetic. Men live who have been struck blind or deaf by a lightningstroke; others, whose limbs have been paralyzed by the same cause. These make cheap acquaintance with the dread destroyer; for they generally recover from the injury, and, by way of compensation, nature usually grants them better health after- ward. Rheumatism and nervous complaints seldom survive a smart lightning-shock. Some- times, when no shock is experienced, persons who have been exposed to a thunder-storm find their hair and beard loose next morning, and in a few days become bald. How are all these effects produced? Science is mute. The doc- tors can only say that lightning kills by destroy- ing the vital principlejust as their predeces- sors, in the time of Molibre, announced that opium facit dormire, quia est in eo virtas dormitiva. When Thomas Oliver, who was struck by lightning, and remained senseless for several hours, recovered his wits, he sprang up in his bed, and inquired, with the pugnacity of a true Briton, who knocked him down? Ladies, who start and close your beautiful eyes at a flash of lightning, the story was intended for you. A fatal flash is never seen by its victim. He is struck, and the lightning has gone to its home in the unknown depths of the earth, before he perceives that the clouds have spoken. For the A BASKET OF THUNDER-BOLTS. 89 quickest eye can not mark periods of time much shorter than a quarter of a second; whereas the Lightning which God shoots forth to the ends of the earth, lasts not for the thousandth part of a second. Long before the ray of light reaches the eye it is gone. It flashes, and the roar of the thunder sets out toward our ear with the won- derful velocity of thirteen miles in a minute, hut does not reach us till ten, twenty, thirty, ay even fifty seconds have elapsed; it flashes, and the bright image starts at the inconceivable speed of seven millions of miles in a minute, but does not strike the retina till long after the celestial flame is extinguished, and the clouds are at rest. Savages have worshiped the thunder. Tis our slave. Lightning comes at our call, carries our messages, gilds our plate, prints these lines. More yet it can and must do. On the summits of the Alps and Cordilleras gleam beautiful patches of enamel, sometimes gray, sometimes yellow, sometimes olive-green. On the sandy shores of Brazil, in the sandy deserts of Silesia, and on many a sandy beach where young swim- mers love to bathe, round holes have been found in the earth, fringed round with beautiful hard glass. They are the mouth-pieces of tubes which penetrate through the sand and clay to a depth of many feet. So delicate and fragile are these tubes that it has never been possible to extract them entire; but we know that their inner coat- ing is like their orifice, bright pure glass. It was once supposed that they were vegetables; then it was suggested that they might be the holes of serpents. A higher office is now as- cribed to them. They are the homes of light- ning flashes. Again and again, when the storms burst, and the black night is lit up by lightning, the forked flash glides through the heavens, and seeks rest in these tubes, fusing the sand into the most perfect glass. No human eye sees these mysteries ofits private life; but the re- cord of its visits to the bleak Alpine tops, and its journeyings to the dark abyss where it dwells, is written in characters which man can not counterfeit. Where shall its usefulness stop? Shall it glazeshall it create the most lovely enamel for the delight of the reptile and the eagle only? If the flash which bursts over a dwelling-house, and follows the bell-wire from story to story, fuses it as it goes, shall this wonderful power be used in mere play? Earth is not rich enough to throw away such treasures, nor man blind enough to neglect them. Plutarch, moralizing on superstition to the best of his knowledge and belief; exclaimed: He who stirs not from home does not fear highway, robbers, nor does the dweller in Ethi- opia dread thunder. Some Egyptian had misled the Cheronean philosopher; storms are not un- frequent in the region he called Ethiopia. But substitute Lima, and the reflection will be scien- ~ifical1y correct. In Lower Peru, and on many points of the Pacific coast of South America, it never thunders or lightens. Nature, dividing her favors with impartial hand, has allotted to one region earthquakes, to another thunder- storms. The Liman sees his house totter and quiver with a smiling face; but he can not com- prehend the courage of the men of the North who can watch a thunder-storm without terror. In Spitzbergen, and the polar regions north of the 75th parallel of latitude, no lightning ever bursts through the four months night; the dis- tant roar which startles Arctic explorers is not the sound of thunder, but of icebergs gnashing their sides, and grating angrily against each other. It is in the tropics that the celestial fires burn with the greatest splendor. Districts in Central America take pride in being the seat of tremendous storms, and rival villages have been known to dispute with each other fiercely the honor of having the mightiest thunder in the country. Till very lately no attempt was ever made to guage the annual quota of thunder-storms in various places. Any table of meteorological phenomena must therefore be based on insuffi- cient and possibly erroneous data. The late Monsieur Arago, with more boldness than prob- able accuracy, classed several well-known sites, according to the frequency of their storms, from the best information he could obtain. His list begins as folloWs: 1. Calcutta averages 60 days of thunder per year. 2. Patna (India) supposed to average 53 3. ho Janeiro averages... hOG 4. Maryland (U. S.) sup- posedtoaverage 41 5. Martinique averages 39 6. Abyssinta supposed to average 38 7. Guadaloupe averages 37 8. Viviers (France) aver- ages 247 9. Quebec averages 233 10. Buenos Ayres averages 225 11. Benainvilliers (France) averages 200 The lowest average he gives is that of Cairo in Egypt, three days of thunder per annum. That of Paris and most of the European cities is about fifteen days; he estimates the days of thunder at New York to be about the same. It is probable that they are much more numerous, When the good ship Argoso runs the le- gendhad cleared from Colchos with the golden fleece, and Jason was proudly bearing away his bride, a storm arose, a fietee Black Sea storm, which sorely vexed the bold craft. higher and higher rose the waves; the oars snapped, and the sails tore themselves free. In the depth of despair, clasping the fair Medea to his breast, Jason acknowledged that his science was ex- hausted. He sat him down by the creaking mast, and prepared for death. Thea up sprang his faithful Orpheus, and bade his master be of good cheer, as with inspired hand he drew from Isis lyre a moving prayer to the gods. Above the roaring of the wind and the groaning of the ship rose those sweet sounds, and Jupiter, seated high on Olympus, heard them and was touched. Two swift messengers, bright pink flames, sped through cloud and rain, and rested on the heads 90 HARPERS NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. of the statues of Castor and Pollux. The pious Argonauts accepted the omen, and gave thanks. They were still in prayer when the wind abated, the sea fell, and the danger passed away. In memory of that happy escape, antiquity grate- fully gave the names of Castor and Pollux to the lambent flames which appear on the tops of masts and other elevated points during storms. When Christian saints succeeded to the honors of the heathen demi-gods, the inheritance of the twin brothers fell to the lot of the good Saint Elmo. He it was who, when a fierce hurricane assailed Columbus, and his vessel travailed in the trough of the sea, appeared at the mast head with seven lighted tapers. Litanies, prayers, and thanksgivings were then heard all over the ship, for, as sailors believe, as soon as Saint Elmo appears, the dangers of the tempest are past. Sad that science should demolish so pretty a fancy! But the worthy saint can not be allowed to maintain a reputa- tion as a harbinger of fair weather for the simple reason that he is obliged to be on duty during all storms, from first to last, on sea or on shore. He has been seen on steeples and on tree-tops; he has perched on the bayonet of a sentinel and on the chimney of a private house; travelers caught in a storm have even been favored with his visits, and have started at sdeing their com- panions heads fringedwith fire. A quiet, harm- less saint at all times; never known to have been guilty of mischief; if not entitled to the honors vouchsafed to him by antiquity, at least claiming our admiration as one of the beautiful storm-signs which can be contemplated without dread. How different those other heavenly visitors, which the old poets named thunder-bolts, and this prosaic age of science knows as aerolites! When Jupiter was wearied by the perversity of man, he seized his three-pronged thunder-bolt, and hurled it at the earth. The fiery missile blazed through space, lighting up the darkest night, and filling the air with bright corusca- tions; when it struck, the earth trembled, and mankind acknowledged the sovereignty of Jove. Greek altars rose on the spot it had touched; fences with pious inscriptions warned the Ro- man not to adventure a sacrilegious foot on the ground which Jupiter had deemed worthy to receive his messenger of wrath. When the Israelites saw the hail, and fire mingled with the hailfire which ran upon the ground, they thanked God, who would deliver them out of the hand of Pharaoh. Long and long after- ward they remembered it, and their Psalmist sang: I-Ic gave up their cattle to the hail, and their flocks to hot thunder-bolts. Whence came these fiery visitors? Prom the sun, said the skeptic Anaxagoras. He is the centre of fire; whatever is heated must pro- ceed from him. From the moon, said the philosophers of the last century. A little knowledge had shown them the lunar volca- noes, and they questioned not but that thunder- bolts had been originally projected from thence, had traveled a quarter of a million of miles, and finally sought rest on the earth. Even such acute minds as Laplace and Berzelius allowed themselves to believe that the force of those huge gaping volcanoes in the moon was such that they could project a body beyond the limits of its attraction. Meanwhile science dug and delved, and new discoveries shed further light on the question. On bright nights, observers of the stars watched meteors flash across the sky and disappear into unknown darkness. Twice a yearabout the tenth of August and the middle of November these meteors were so numerous that the old priests piously suggested that the saints, whose natal days occurred at that period, must be weeping for the sins of mankind. Then some renowned philosopher announced that he had seen a ball of fire, equal in size to the moon, roll swiftly across the heavens, and disappear with a sort of explosion. The ice broken, sev- eral other persons declared that they had seen similar balls, some red, some white, some blue, some green. In one or two instances the fall of thunder-bolts was simultaneous with the ap- pearance of these fire-balls. The great thun- der-bolt at A~gos Potamos, which fell in the year 470 B.C., and was described as being equal to a full wagon-load, was certainly accompanied by such a globe of fire. When Livy recounts how heavy rains of stones fell from heaven, he mentions likewise that strange balls of fire appeared in the sky. It was with these data to guide him that the great Olbers undertook his calculations. He proved that a body set free in space between the moon and the earth, or the sun and the earth, would not fall to the latter, but would revolve in a regular orbit round the sun, like the plan- ets. On this law rests the modern theory that shooting-stars and fire-balls are in fact inde- pendent bodies, moving through space in orbits of their own; that the latter occasionally pass so close to the earth that fragments of their substance, in the shape of aerolites, fall within its attraction, plunge through the atmosphere, and sink to rest on the soil or in the sea. The boy who picks up a meteoric stone in the fieldsas who has not ?seldom realizes the wonderful story that stone could tell. A rude heavy massmostly composed of iron, with a little nickel and olivine, with a smooth black crust, marking where the metal has cooled soon- estit lies peaceably a few inches under the soil, or on the out-crop of a stratum of rock, as though that were its birth-place. But that stone is an alien. Alone of all the objects that hu- man hands have handled, it was born beyond the outermost limits of this world. Where its cradle was no man can tell; but this we know, that it is not of this earth. It is a linkthe only onebetween us and the worlds without. To grasp it in the hand is the next thing to vis- iting a planet or one of the other cosmical bodies. That huge thunder-bolt which fell at ~gos Po- tamos, and of which a careless world has actu SISTER ANNE. 91 ally lost all tracethat other mighty stone which lies on a mountaia slope in Brazil, and weighs seven tons, and all the other aerolites scattered in every region from the Pole to the Equator, would tell us, if they could speak, of strange spaces where the earth has never been, where human eye has never penetrated. One almost forgets the grandeur of their history in the purely human contemplation of the mischief they might do. These fire-balls, which are supposed to launch them earthward, seem far more dangerous neighbors than the comets. With a diameter exceeding a mile, they whirl past us at a distance sometimes not greater than thirty and even twenty miles. Some have been seen to explode like a rocket; oftener they sink into night as noiselessly as they came. Seven hundred of them, accord- ing to Olbers, fly close to us every year, and hurl some ponderous fragment contemptuously as they pass. Woe to the man or the house it strikes! They were more, said Joshua, which died with the hail-stones, than they whom the children of Israel slew with the sword. That deaths were not uncommonly caused in ancient times by thunder-bolts, is proved by the frequent mention of such catas- trophes in the Greek and Roman poets. A couple of centuries ago, a monk was struck dead by an aerolite in Italy: one or two other cases of similar deaths have been placed on record since modern history began. Houses have fre- quently been set on fire by these heated vis- itors, and ships are said to have been destroyed by the same means. But how trifling the in- jury actually inflicted in comparison with that which might be caused by seven hundred in- candescent missiles, varying from a ton to a few pounds in weight, and fallingwith a force which, in the case of the larger ones, would shatter the strongest fort in the world! Shooting starsperhaps the most beautiful phenomenon of the celestial worldhave no terrors for man. Similes fail to render any adequate idea of these splendid meteors; there is nothing in nature worthy of being compared ~vith them. The lonely star which shoots mourn- fully downward, threading its way through the heavenly host, and disappearing, apparently without reason, at some point above the hori- zon, is a sight which fills the sensitive mind with gloom; but the gorgeous star-shower, like a heavy fall of snow, which Humboldt saw in Central America in November, 1799, or that still more famous one which every one in this country watched with rapture in November, 1833, is a spectacle which exhilarates instead of depressing the mind, and fills the soul with joy- fulness at the glorions majesty of the Creator. Every November the scene is renewed. On the nights of the twelfth, thirteenth, and fourteenth, the heavens are traversed by thousands of shoot- ing-stars, which almost eclipse the fixed constel- lations. But it is only once in thirty-four years that the earth passes through the great stream of stars which Humboldt has compared to snow- flakes. Those of us who live till November, 1867, will doubtless witness it againunless some new and mysterious change in the laws of these eccentric bodiesand such changes are constantly taking place in obedience to a higher law yet unlearned by manshould hasten or retard their journey through space. Whence do meteors come? To say that they are ponderable bodies revolving round the sun, and becoming luminous when they approach within a certain distance of the earth, is to tell us little of their character or origin. Are they star-seed, revolving patiently through space in expectation of the fiat which shall condense them into a planet? Are they wretched frag- ments of some shattered orb, wheeling sadly in its vacant path, and suffering gradual absorp- tion into the larger bodies of the universe? Or have they no future to hope for, no past to re- gret? In their simple phrase, the old philoso- phers said that Nature abhors a vacuum. We know that every particle of space within and upon the globe is inhabited; that the solid rock has its lodgers, and the polar ice a race of in- sect inhabitants which die when the temperature rises above zero. Is it so with the heavens? Beyond this petty globe of ours, in the vast, measureless depths in which the insect planets float, is space wasted, or has every possible orbit its tenant, far beyond the power of telescopes to discover? A few years ago, it was disgraceful not to know that there were seven planets in our system; now, those only who keep the closest watch on the periodical reports of as- tronomical societies can venture to say how many companions we have. Nature, be it re- membered, knows no capricious beginnings, or abrupt endings. Every thing in her economy is graduated from the infinitesimally small to the infinitely great. A gigantic Jupiter implied a tiny Flora; the latter may snppose myriads of aerolites, mere star-dust, yet endowed with orbs, volume, and orbits, and even peopled with new forms of life, as perfect of their kind as any with which we are acquainted. SISTER ANNE. SISTER ANNE sat in the porch watching the sunset. The luminary whom old-fashioned poets have baptized with all sorts of names, sooner than degrade their verses with the fine old Saxon word sunthis planet of many aliases was never more splendid than on the present occasion. There was a purple edge of hill on which he was hovering, red and enor- mous, as if be was reconnoitering the huge steeps down which he was about to plunge. On the serrated crest of the purple hill waved a few plumy trees, standing blackly against the fiery glow, like watching warriors thrown out against the flame of some besieged and burning fortress. All along the meadows and creeks that stretched from the base of the purple hill to the porch where Sister Anne was sitting, a tide of golden light was slowly ebbing. A moment ago it was rippling over the garden-

SISTER ANNE. 91 ally lost all tracethat other mighty stone which lies on a mountaia slope in Brazil, and weighs seven tons, and all the other aerolites scattered in every region from the Pole to the Equator, would tell us, if they could speak, of strange spaces where the earth has never been, where human eye has never penetrated. One almost forgets the grandeur of their history in the purely human contemplation of the mischief they might do. These fire-balls, which are supposed to launch them earthward, seem far more dangerous neighbors than the comets. With a diameter exceeding a mile, they whirl past us at a distance sometimes not greater than thirty and even twenty miles. Some have been seen to explode like a rocket; oftener they sink into night as noiselessly as they came. Seven hundred of them, accord- ing to Olbers, fly close to us every year, and hurl some ponderous fragment contemptuously as they pass. Woe to the man or the house it strikes! They were more, said Joshua, which died with the hail-stones, than they whom the children of Israel slew with the sword. That deaths were not uncommonly caused in ancient times by thunder-bolts, is proved by the frequent mention of such catas- trophes in the Greek and Roman poets. A couple of centuries ago, a monk was struck dead by an aerolite in Italy: one or two other cases of similar deaths have been placed on record since modern history began. Houses have fre- quently been set on fire by these heated vis- itors, and ships are said to have been destroyed by the same means. But how trifling the in- jury actually inflicted in comparison with that which might be caused by seven hundred in- candescent missiles, varying from a ton to a few pounds in weight, and fallingwith a force which, in the case of the larger ones, would shatter the strongest fort in the world! Shooting starsperhaps the most beautiful phenomenon of the celestial worldhave no terrors for man. Similes fail to render any adequate idea of these splendid meteors; there is nothing in nature worthy of being compared ~vith them. The lonely star which shoots mourn- fully downward, threading its way through the heavenly host